[[This is part of a post that originally appeared on LinkedIn. A friend asked me for some help and I spoofed it a bit (after helping her, of course). I’m repubbing this section to use as an example in Characters Part 3 – Secondary Characters.]]
She opened my office door and the room temperature went up ten degrees. She wore a wide brimmed blue fedora that slipped down, covering her face slightly and it was the only loose thing she wore. She was shaped like an hourglass and it was only a few minutes past the hour. Her fedora matched her eyes and there was a cool shower of blond hair framing her northern european features. I noticed this even though I could hear my mother telling me it was impolite to stare.
The lady in the fedora said, “May I come in?”
I was going to comment that some of her all ready had but my tongue was too busy falling out the side of my mouth to form words. “Ungh-nghe,” I said.
I was about to leap over my desk to get her a chair when she smiled and said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
A chair wasn’t necessary because she walked around my desk and sat on the edge, facing me. She crossed her legs. Her spaghetti-strapped mermaid gown – which also matched her fedora, by the way – was slit up the side. When she crossed her legs the slit opened and I could tell that her legs went all the way up. She either had a miraculous tan or her nylons ended somewhere around her neck because no lines were visible, but then she leaned over towards me holding out a cigarette and I could see she wasn’t hiding much up around her neck, either. You could have parked a Studebaker in there with room to spare.
“Have a light?” she said.
Three matches later I finally got one lit and touched it to the end of her cigarette, now gently held between lips that hinted at a smile. She inhaled and so did I.
I so wanted to be that cigarette.
She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, held her cigarette away from her with her left and raised my head with her right so that I was staring at her face rather than her richly coffee colored thighs. I halfway considered reaching for my richly Scotch colored bottle but that would have meant opening a drawer and I didn’t want her to move.
“I can’t get men to respond to me,” she said.
“Mrfnik mrrgh?” I replied.
“I know. It’s hard to believe.”
I nodded vigorously.
“At least not in the way I want them to respond to me.”
“Nrk flm.” I shook my head in disbelief.
“And everyone’s telling me you’re the man who can help me.”
I smiled. Talking wasn’t working so I smiled.
She leaned over again and my eyes dropped to follow. She stroked my hair like I was her favorite puppy. “You want to help me, don’t you?”
I considered showing my appreciation like a favorite puppy would and decided…