Wednesday, January 05, 2005
We walk to the car and he hands me what seems like yet another ream of papers to sign. The trunk is open, and he asks where my luggage has gotten to. I tell him (politely) that I am not carrying my luggage at the moment, and that I appreciate him having the trunk open, but that I won't be needing it for now.
He closes the trunk and comes back around the car. I hand him the papers, and slide into the car. He has had it running, and the air conditioner is doing its job. Oh, that feels good after the heat and humidity.
I pull the door closed, and my skirt up past the tops of my stockings. He taps on the window as I am getting ready to fasten my seat belt, and I open it to hear what he has to say. "One more signature, please."
He hands me the clipboard with all the papers and the pen balanced on top. As I pull them through the window, the pen rolls off the stack of papers and lands on the far side of the passenger seat. I lean over to get it so I can sign the damned papers and be on my way.
He closes the trunk and comes back around the car. I hand him the papers, and slide into the car. He has had it running, and the air conditioner is doing its job. Oh, that feels good after the heat and humidity.
I pull the door closed, and my skirt up past the tops of my stockings. He taps on the window as I am getting ready to fasten my seat belt, and I open it to hear what he has to say. "One more signature, please."
He hands me the clipboard with all the papers and the pen balanced on top. As I pull them through the window, the pen rolls off the stack of papers and lands on the far side of the passenger seat. I lean over to get it so I can sign the damned papers and be on my way.
