The nervous tension manifested itself in walking. Mike was trying to watch the TV but he had to get up every few minutes and walk over to the window and look out. Then he'd be back trying to watch the TV, the images flickering across the screen unseen. He was waiting.

He had met her several days before for a working lunch. She wanted some advice on a business problem and had called him. It sounded fairly simple so Mike suggested meeting for lunch. If it turned out to be complex he could set up a longer meeting the following week.

He arrived on time. In the waiting area he saw an attractive woman sitting. She stood as he entered and extended her hand, "Cammie."

"Mike. I'm pleased to meet you." Wow, he thought. She is beautiful. She was wearing a long clinging skirt and a sweater which highlighted her slender build. She was petite but the skirt and sweater served to create a feeling of soaring lines and made her appear taller. "Let's have lunch," he suggested motioning toward the hostess station.

"Sounds good," she said smiling at him.

He followed her into the restaurant not even noticing the hostess. She had magnetized his eyes. Her walk was elegant rather than sexy, understated but definitely feminine. Combined with the understated and tasteful dress it heightened her allure. He could see the sexy woman just under the surface. It had the same effect as a slightly revealed décolletage. It made him want to leap forward and tear off the coverings and reveal the real woman underneath.

They were seated at an intimate booth. Small talk followed. It gave him a chance to really look at her. She looked to be about twenty-five. Medium length black hair worn straight. A round face with faintly almond eyes marked her with Asian genes. But the skin marked her with European genes as well. That made sense he thought. He had a niece and nephew who were half Asian and European. For some reason the blend of European and Asian genes seemed to bring out the best in both sides. He had come to love that combination. It was almost a passion. And before him was an apotheosis. An ideal beauty with all the parts in harmony. He had fallen.

The rest of the lunch was pleasant. He made some suggestions and offered a few solutions which would work for her. About half way through lunch she mentioned her daughter.

"You have a daughter?' he asked.

She laughed. "I have three kids. My daughter is twelve."

He sat back thinking that wasn't possible. She would have to have been thirteen when she got pregnant. "I don't believe you."

She smiled and said lightheartedly, "If you want I could take off my clothes and prove it."

Mike paused, his mind leaping at the suggestion before rationality reasserted itself. It was a jest he reminded himself. "I'm still not sure I believe you. You don't look like you could have a twelve-year-old daughter."

"Good genes," she answered.

The lunch returned to business. As they were wrapping up he offered some more help if needed hoping it would give him another chance to see her. She politely declined. It made sense. It really should be simple. Too bad, Mike thought.

Mike walked her out of the restaurant and to her car. He wished there was some way to say what he was feeling but it didn't come to him. A handshake and she was gone.

She was in his dreams that night. He awoke, the dream lingering into his waking consciousness. Cammie, he said to himself, I wish I could take you up on that offer.

Images of her flashed in his mind at the oddest times; driving to the store, reading the newspaper, working on the computer. She had permeated his thoughts. One time he saw her face smiling at him. The next time he was again following her watching her body move under her clothes. The next time he recalled the one touch of her shoulder and the electricity of that single touch.

For two days he was distracted by images of her. He knew he had to do something. He picked up the phone and called. "Hi Cammie. This is Mike."

Pause. "Oh Hi. I wasn't expecting you to call," she answered.

"I know. The reason I called is, well, I've been thinking about you. Probably more than I should admit to."

He heard a faint laugh. "Mike, that is a very original pick up line."

"No, no," he said. "It's not a pick up line." He paused. "I mean, I didn't mean it as a pick up line." Then he laughed. "Tell you what. If it works it's a pick up line. How about that?"

He heard her laugh on the other end. "I think that's fair. I probably shouldn't admit this either but I've been thinking about you as well."

"Could we meet?" he asked.

She paused. "Yes. But it would have to be someplace private. Just the two of us."

He felt butterflies in his stomach. Was she suggesting what he thought she was? "I could get a room?"

"That would be perfect," she answered. "How about tomorrow afternoon? My calendar is open."

"That sounds wonderful. I'll call you tomorrow."

"I'll be looking forward to it. I did promise to prove it to you, didn't I?" she said lightly.

He laughed. "Yes you did. Tomorrow."

Now he was waiting for her. A knock. He scrambled to turn off the TV and answer the door. He opened the door and stepped back. She looked around and then entered.

"I'm so glad you came," he said. "I admit I was worried that you wouldn't."

She smiled up at him standing quite close. Her dark eyes glinted with mischief. "Oh no. I promised to prove it to you and I'm going to." She moved closer until her head was just inches from his. "What is the best way for me to prove that I've had kids?" She laid her hand on his chest. "I suppose we could pretend we are trying and I could prove I know how."

He was almost overwhelmed by her presence, the faint smell of her perfume, the look in her eyes which seemed full of invitation, her hand gently touching him. He leaned forward until their lips touched. His lips sought hers. The kiss stretched out getting more passionate until there were devouring each other with their lips. He pulled her body to his. She wrapped him in her arms. She felt so good pressed against him. She felt so small and fragile in his arms. He imagined he could lift her with one hand.