"be there in 10"

I read the incoming text message. It says, "be there in 10".

"Who's it from?" Doe asks.

"It's from Sandy. Says she'll be here in ten minutes." I notice the excited look on Doe's face. I text Sandy back, "my gf wants to meet u. prepare ur toys"

"great! u serious?" Sandy replies.

"sure. giving u the chance to take her from me." I reply.

The sound of a motorcycle approaching breaks the stillness of the morning. Finally a steady knock on our door is heard. I open it. Sandy is dressed in a checkered tied top that showcased her large boobs and flat abdomen. Her luminous green cycling shorts emphasized her well-toned legs. She is holding her helmet in her left hand.

"Doe, this is Sandy.... Sandy, Doe." I say as I introduce them to each other.

They shake hands. "We're like twins," Doe says. I realize that both of them had shoulder-length blond hair and both were of the same height. The only difference is that Sandy is more muscular and has larger boobs, while Doe has a larger butt.

"I know that this is your first time to see each other, but we could cut down on introduction time. I suggest that you do a three-second French kiss." I say to their surprise.

Sandy initiates the kiss, and before long, they are enjoying each other's mouths.

"Three seconds up," I say. Both of them look flushed.

"So, no job hunting today?" Sandy asks me.

I shake my head. "I found a part-time job in that bakery at the corner. Starts this noon. Still have two more hours."

Sandy appears surprised and apparently wants to say something but decides to keep it to herself. "Great," she says.

"I'd always wanted to ride a motorcycle and feel the wind on my face." Doe says.

"Exactly my type." Sandy remarks. "I could take you around and even teach you how to drive," Sandy offers. Doe excitedly kisses her on the lips, surprising Sandy.

"What are we waiting for," Sandy says. They proceed to Sandy's motorbike, holding each other's hand. Sandy whispers something to Doe, and she releases her hand and runs back towards me.

Doe kisses me on the lips and says, "Bye hon. Sandy says it's irresponsible for me to leave you without a kiss."

I watch them put on their helmets. I wave at them and watch them leave. A beep on my phone signals another text message from Sandy. "u sob, the bakers daughter is hot."

I didn't know the baker had a daughter. I know it was stilll a couple of hours early but Sandy's text excited me. Feeling a little hungry, I decide to order some Chinese food.

A few minutes later, I hear a knock on the door. I open it and a girl who looks like she's still in her teens, dressed in a black jacket and black leather tights, is handing me a paper bag, the smell of noodles evident. I hand her the payment as she hands back some change. I then ask, glancing at her name tag. "Say, Irene, do you know of any job openings in your company?"

She takes off her shades and stares at me in surprise. "You're looking for a job?"

I nod. "Yes. A part-time job would do. Do you know of any?"

She shakes her head. "We're full at the moment, but maybe in a few days, there may be vacant slots. I heard some were planning to move out."

"Well, I'll request for you the next time I order Chinese food. Does your company allow that?"

"Yes," she says with a wide grin. "I get to skip the queue if you mention me."

"Thanks for your time," I say, as I hand her back the change. "Keep the change."

She gets on her red motorbike and waves at me before she leaves.

After the quick meal, I decide to go early for work and maybe look out for other job openings nearby.

I arrive at the bakery one hour before noon but continue to walk on until the end of the block. A couple of restaurants and a hotel filled the rest of the block. A new building was also being constructed, but a large sign read, "No Vacancy".

I return to the bakery and step inside. Henry is sitting idly at the corner. Apparently, there were no orders. He grins at me and says, "You're a bit early for your shift, son, but that's better than being late."

"Well, what do I do?" I ask.

"Here, here," he says as we proceed to the room at the far end. "When the timer rings, get those out of the oven and put this in."

"Okay," I nod.

"And here's a list of the orders for today. You're on up to four, right?"

I nod again.

"Well, just focus on the first five items in the list." Henry shows me how to operate the other machinery as I get into completing the orders.

Before I realize it, the room becomes warm and I am sweating heavily. I finally ask Henry if I could take off my tee and my cargo pants.

"It's okay if you're just in your briefs, as long as you have your apron on." he says matter-of-factly. "No one comes in here anyway, except me and the one on the shift after you."

I thank him and proceed to undress.

"There are hangers over there," he adds, pointing to a locker at the corner of the room.

As I place my clothes inside the locker, I notice a couple of blouses, a short skirt, and some boy shorts, neatly folded below. Did Henry have any female workers or were these relics of years past? I hesitate to ask about them.

I put on my apron and tighten the straps on the back. The bib-type apron completely covers my front but my back is almost bare except for strips of cloth behind my neck, my waist, and my hips. I return to work, feeling somewhat cooler.

"Leave you here for a while, John," Henry calls out. "I'll be at the bank if someone asks."

"Okay," I respond, as I pull out pans of freshly baked goodies.

I am intently focused on doing my job that I do not notice that someone else had entered the room. I almost drop what I am holding when I hear a feminine voice call out, "Is Henry around?"

I glance at the person speaking. She is a tall, dark-haired woman with pale skin that looked milky white. Her turtleneck sweater covered the details of her body shape, but revealed that she is probably a cup B or cup C. "Lady," I say. "This area is off limits. If you're looking for Henry, he said he'd be at the bank."

"And who are you?" She asks, as she approaches me.

"Not here please," I say, moving towards her, trying to stop her approach.

"Who are you?" she repeats. "I haven't seen you around."

"I'm John. Just started working today."

"Ohh, so you're the new guy. I'm Coleen, Henry's daughter," she says.

"I'm really sorry Coleen. I thought you were a customer. What can I do for you?"

"Just tell Henry I was looking for him."

"Will do," I say. She observes me for a while before exiting the room.

A few minutes later a truck arrives to claim the first two orders.

The procedures slowly become ingrained in my system as I adjust to the routine. I finally complete the third order. As I wait for the next batch to bake, I sit facing the oven and glancing at the wall clock. It's now three o'clock in the afternoon. Two more orders to go.

Suddenly, Coleen's voice materializes from behind me. "How are the orders coming?" she asks.

"Two more to go before four, then I'm out," I say without glancing at her. "You know what, you walk like a cat. I didn't know you were in the room."

"Sorry for frightening you," she says, as her soft fingers pat me on the shoulder.

I glance at her and I am surprised to see that she is dressed in only a black push-up bra and lace panties, with a partially tied apron hanging from her neck. Her lean frame makes me think of fashion models walking in exaggerated hip sways. Her hair is rolled in a high bun and enclosed with a hairnet. She is attempting to tie the lower straps.

"Need any help?" I ask.

"I can manage," she says.

I watch her pour ingredients into a large pan. I glance at the clock. It is almost four o'clock but still no sign of the assistant. "Does Henry have any other workers?" I ask.

"None that I know of."

"So you must be the assistant Henry was talking about. I thought it was someone else."

"Why? Do I look incapable of baking?" She asks in a challenging tone.

"No, no." I reply. "I'm not underestimating your skills. It's just that you look more suited for the catwalk, although it would be an advantage if you could do both." As the timer rings, I remove the last batch of goodies from the oven. "That's the last batch for order five." I conclude.

"Advantage to whom?" she asks, as she pours the contents of a pan into the mixer.

"Of course, your personal advantage. The more you know, the better, right?" I glance down the list of orders, somewhat feeling stumped. "Wow, I really admire your skills."

"My baking skills or my catwalk skills."

I glance at her, noting how fast and efficient she moved. "I know that you've probably been in this business since you were a kid, and to think that I barely accomplished orders one through five in four hours, while you get to accomplish orders six through twenty-three in about the same time? That's really some skill!"

"Thanks," she says as she glances at me with a grin. "And my catwalk skills?"

"Of course," I say beaming at her, "You have proven twice today that you walk like a cat... so there you have it, cat-walk!"

She laughs lightly. I glance at the clock and see that it is already thirty minutes past four. I know it's now time for me to leave.