Since they’re still actually serious about me coming to work, and I work in downtown for some reason, my company leases me a parking space (I pay a subsidized rate) in a nearby residential building. It’s an old corporate headquarters that’s been converted to high-end lofts and apartments. Still a work in progress, it’s not fully leased and so they’ve leased folks like us a few spaces on a lightly used floor.
I’m permitted to park on 5 or 7…which is really 6 or 8, since there’s a “1.5” floor in the parking garage to get it to line up to the actual main residential building.
There are elevators in the buildings that we have access to, but I generally take the stairs. Yes, I’m a masochist. Six or more TALL floors of stairs makes a good way to get the kinks out after or before the commute. It’s also just a bit of “fitness” work I can get in…in my long day of flying a desk.
So, yesterday after work, I trudged through the rain and entered the parking garage. Feeling a bit blue, tired, and chilly due to the cold rain, the dank concrete colors and harsh HID lighting did nothing for my mood. I *almost* entered the main building to take the elevator up. I do occasionally do this. Unpainted closed in cold concrete stairway or warm and well lit elevator ride? I actually stood there for a moment deciding.
Finally, I turned to the dingy concrete stairwell in the parking garage and started trodging (technical term) my way up. Masochism confirmed.
Usually, along about the third floor, I’ve entered “cardio” mode…head down, just grinding it out. There’s very little entertainment or tactile reward to be found climbing the stairs.
Except this time.
Approaching the fourth floor landing, head down, still rapidly trodging, on my last step up to the landing I ran smack into a cute little dynamo of the distinctly female persuasion. She was maybe 4′-6″ tops, outstandingly proportioned, toned, lean, and lithe. Well, except for her big
tits…ur… assets…ur, eyes. Yep. BIG eyes.
She was just standing there on the landing, in a little black and very short slash cut dress…”slash” as in shoulder-less, angled from a partial sleeve over the left arm, with a diagonal cut down to low under her right arm. The very short hem-line matched the angle from high on her left hip. It accented all of her curves to effect and was defying several laws of physics just staying put on that figure. For an instant I wondered if spray glue was involved.
LOTS of cleavage, which I would have noticed anyway (yeah, I’m a guy, get over it), but got a particularly personal preview as when I say, “ran smack into” what I mean is due our respective heights, my rapid ‘head down and up the stairs’ action, and her facing down the stairs…when I stepped up to the last step before the landing I basically stuck my face right in the previously described…ur…assets.
Not the usual sort of thing I encounter in a dingy concrete stairwell, and totally unexpected. Yet, I’d have known what I ran into even with my eyes closed.
Startled would be an understatement. I stepped back about 4 stairs frantically grabbing the railing while looking up and said, “Holy shit!”
She just stood there, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a red leather bag, which to my credit I actually noticed, matched the belt on the dress. She had a grin on her face.
She was stunning, and now I was looking up her very short dress. The thong matched the belt.
I’m certain my brain short-circuited.
I may have actually blushed.
*systems coming back online*
Shortly I said, “Uh, sorry. That was probably inappropriate.”
She just grinned even larger. “Not at all. *THAT’S* the exact reaction I was going for!” Then she started down the stairs and stepped around me. “I have a date with my boyfriend and want to surprise him.”
I took a breath as she stepped by. The first since our encounter I expect. I was starting to get dizzy. You really should breathe when hard-climbing stairs. The body’s funny that way.
“Well, if you don’t at least get a, “Holy shit!” outta him, you’d best call him an ambulance.”
That got a laugh. I love it when women are women. Many never figure out 90% of beauty is in the attitude. The other 10% is just showing up. This gal was running at about 300%.
I shook my head, took a couple deep breaths to get the blood flowing back to where it was actually needed at the moment, and finished my climb. Normally the only reward for doing so is knowing I can. Today there was something more.
I’m highly in favor of that.
For some reason, my blue mood had completely evaporated. Despite the cold rain I was wishing for my Valk, but hopped in the cage and cranked up the radio, and promptly had another good laugh. Pop station was poppin’.
“It’s going down, I’m yelling timber
You better move, you better dance
Let’s make a night, you won’t remember
I’ll be the one, you won’t forget…”
Scenery is important. Got bless those Texas girls. Some really lucky dude had him a date last night. Hope he knows what he’s got.
I’ll see you on the road.