I first meet her alone in an elevator in the morning as I start work. It’s one of those skyscrapers that never seems to stop going up. I’ve gotten a job as a maintenance person and have my bland coveralls on, my little cart with its detergents and garbage containers and all… tap tap tap she steps in lightly just as the doors are about to close.
She is short and feisty and cute as a bug’s ear. I’ve never seen her before but it’s almost as if she was expecting to meet me, yes, me in particular, in this elevator right now. She has a very cute round head that seems just a little too big for her body and short, spiky orange hair. It’s almost the air of an anime figure she has about her.
She’s lean, but not washboard lean if you know what I’m saying. Her tummy really strains at that skirt. It’s a knee-length leather skirt, a classy wine red. A tight black sweater too, very nice. She smiles at me, almost conspiratorially, impish, innocent.
“They say you’re from Alberta. Is that right?” She’s eating what seems like a giant apple, too big for her little hand.
“Ever roped a cow?”
“Roped a cow? You mean a steer, don’t you?”
“My family are farmers. Not ranchers”
“Whatever,” she smiles. “As long as you feed everybody.” Crunch with the apple. “Ever wear a cowgirl hat?”
“You’d look good in one. You know how to ride?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Sexy. Riding is very sexy.”
“You have something for cowgirls, maybe?”
“Maybe. What do you think of the Big Smoke?”
“You mean the smoke you’re blowing up my ass?”
“Nice one. Toronto.”
“It’s okay, I guess.”
“Don’t you mean ‘I reckon’?”
“I left that kind of talk behind with my raft.”
“With your raft?”
“And my overalls while I was sailing down the Mississippi.”
“Really? I didn’t know that river ran through Alberta.”
“The Mississippi is a mighty big river,” I say.
“Alberta’s big too.”
“Exactly. They’re bound to come together at some point.”
“And that point was where you left behind your overalls.”
“What were you wearing under that?” Crunch.
“Why, long johns of course.”
“With the buttoned flap in the back?”
“I don’t imagine you wear them in Toronto, but out West the flap is for strictly practical purposes.”
“I’ll bet it is. Naughty!”
“In the outhouse, I mean.”
She puts her hand on her lower tummy. “All those burgers you make for us have made me poochy. It’s your fault, cowgirl.”
She is anything but poochy. Vain city girl! She is nice and firm. “Burgers don’t come from farms. They come from ranches.”
“I’ll have to wear a girdle some day, thanks to you.”
“Is that what city girls do? Eat burgers and wear girdles? I thought you were all feminists out here.”
“Meat eating feminists in girdles. Really tight girdles, cowgirl, girdles ready to explode under the pressure of our city girl eastern feminist lust. Take care, honey.” She steps out of the elevator, stops, turns her head slightly, whinnies over her shoulder like a horse in the most shockingly convincing way and she is gone.
I am a little wet.