the pizza shop

"Tell them it's a 'yes'," I reply to Greta on the phone.

After pocketing my phone, I turn to the guy in front of me. "What would my working hours be?"

"Usually irregular. It depends on the jobs we accept. If the deadlines are close, you'll need to do overtime," he explains.

I pause long enough to give it a thought. "I guess I'm not into that type of schedule," I say, rising from my chair. We attempt a feeble handshake before I finally leave the company premises.

I glance at my phone after feeling it vibrate. "Meet Sandy at corner of 5th & M Sts," the text from Greta read. I quickly head towards the corner on the next block.

When I reach the corner, I slowly glance around, looking for a woman who looked like she was waiting for someone. No one appeared to fit the description I had in mind. There were a couple of old folks about to cross the street nearby. Beside them was a woman in a gray business suit who appeared to be busy with her phone. She was flat-chested, cup-A perhaps, but she had a wide derriere -- larger than most women I knew with her height. Across the street on my left was a group of rowdy teenagers. On the bench to my right was a woman in yellow yoga pants intently reading a thick pocketbook. Her auburn hair was tied in a ponytail. She was bent slightly forward, providing me an unobstructed view of one of her nipples that was slightly dislodged from her cream-colored demi bra showing through her white cotton V-neck tee.

Just then, a large black motorcycle stops in front of me. The helmeted rider was obviously female as her blue jacket failed to contain her large cleavage. Her miniskirt showcased her muscular tanned legs, and her grip on the handlebars exuded optimistic confidence. She reaches tentatively into her cleavage with her left hand and pulls out a phone. She appears to tap on the screen with the other hand then glances in my direction.

"You must be John," she says, flipping open the visor of her helmet. The blue eyes that meet my gaze show warmth and more confidence.

"And you must be Sandy," I reply, extending my hand. She grasps it firmly and motions for me to ride behind her while she hands over a spare helmet, which I didn't notice was strapped below the right handlebar.

After I barely get in a comfortable position, she starts the engine, and accelerates the motorcycle forward. I am slightly jolted backward and instinctively grasp for support, unintentionally groping her right boob in the process. Just as my left hand finds a firm hold on her left thigh, we arrive at the pizza shop.

We both unmount and I follow her into the building. As we enter a small room at the rear end, I ask her how she knew it was me on the corner.

"Greta sent me a photo of you," she replies as she places her helmet on the rack.

I do the same and ask further, "But I don't remember giving her my photo. Where did she ..."

"Here," Sandy adds, reaching into her cleavage for her phone. I stare at a selfie of Greta with me behind her-- our shoulders naked. I blush at the recollection of the "accident" that cost me my job. Sandy grins knowingly and pushes her phone back into her cleavage.

"How I'd love to swap places with that phone," I remark.

"Stop ogling me," she warns, as her hand swiftly grasps my groin through the fabric of my jeans and slowly tightens its grip until my balls begin to hurt. "I'm not into men," she says emphatically, releasing her hold.

I massage my groin as I apologize further, "Sorry for groping you during the ride."

"No problem, that was unavoidable," she replies, heading towards a dimly lit staircase. "Follow me," she says. I stare at the sway of her ass as I close the gap.

We enter a well-lighted room with large windows. A woman with Asian features and long black hair arises from her seat and greets us. "So you're John. I'm Gina," she says, extending her hand in my direction. I shake it hesitantly as Sandy and her exchange a light kiss on the lips. "I make it a point to be close to my employees," she adds with a wink. "So, how are his driving skills?" she asks, turning to Sandy.

"Haven't tested them yet, although his gripping skills are ..."

"I saw everything through the window," says Gina, squeezing Sandy slightly on the hip.

"I'm really sor ..." I start to say.

"No need to apologize," Gina replies with an air of suspense. "Your skills will have to be tested further."

"How?" I venture with some uncertainty.

"Would you do the testing?" Gina asks Sandy, ignoring me with a look of amusement in her eyes.

"Maybe you should do it yourself, mist... ma'am..." Sandy replies with a slight stammer.