“Ms. Tubman, thank you for coming today. I’m Patricia Goldman. Please follow me,” a smoky voice that seemed straight from a 1940s noir movie requested.

Looking up, Leah encountered a shapely goddess standing by the receptionist desk. Her beauty was old school, when women with a little more weight on their bones ruled. Ample attributes up top, thick thighs below, and the face of a bad girl who knew how and when to be good.

Damn, how good her brownies may taste. This woman is fine, Leah thought.

Gathering up her portfolio, Leah walked toward the woman in the charcoal dress. Her interviewer’s eyes drew Leah’s attention first. They were the color of storm clouds. Instead of giving off a sense of turmoil, they transmitted confidence. Set in a slightly olive face that hinted her family probably didn’t come over on the Mayflower, they drew Leah in and set her at ease. Patricia’s full lips were a contented shade of burgundy, work appropriate and appealing. Leah had never had such an attractive interviewer.

Then this vision turned around and Leah felt her eyebrows rise. The V-neck dress, teasing with a hint of cleavage in the front, paid full homage to a remarkable rump on the other side. Leah liked her women to be a little thick around the hips; Patricia fit that bill and even left a twenty percent tip. Her knit dress clung to her curvy body like a kindergartener leaving his mom on the first day of school. For a minute, Leah almost forgot why she was there.

Walking toward a glassed-in office, Leah felt elevated. It had been so long since a woman struck her fancy. It felt good, like the first rays of sunshine on an early spring day. The pleasure of potential was how she once heard it described. Of course, Ms. Goldman was probably not a member of the girls’ only club, but she was definitely setting some things stirring within Leah that hadn’t budged in a while.

Adding to Leah’s pleasure was the fact Patricia seemed to be on her level -- well, at least, near her same height. Leah knew her stature often put her head and shoulders among other women, but Patricia meet her eye to eye. If Leah had to guess, Patricia had to be close to 5’9” or 5’10”. Then again, maybe it was those heels which made her legs look like highways to seduction.

As Leah settled in the green plush chair across from a faux cherry wood desk, lust retreated into her loins. Her mind shifted into presenting her best professional self. She was very confident in her ability; however, she wanted to put an extra effort for the woman with the welcoming smile, oval burgundy framed glasses, and hair full of amber waves that danced around the bottom of her ears.

“So, Ms. Tubman, how can I help you today?”