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One week at her new job, her first job after secretarial school, and she was quaking. And not with joy but with dread anticipation.At last the doors of the elevator opened and Peggy walked out into the lobby of the Meisian glass tower box housing the ad agency where she worked, or hoped to continue working, and prayed to continue working. Although it was a bright early summer’s day in midtown Manhattan, she was shivering as she walked up Madison Ave. toward the street where she would catch the cross-town bus that would take her to the West Side address that Joan had given her. ?Be there by 6:00 and we will take things the next step? were the instructions given her. ?If you’re not there I will take it as an indication that you are no longer interested in this job? was the verbally stated conclusion. Each click of her heels as they struck the sidewalk seemed to match a thump of her terrorized heart and she mulled things over. She had cut her ties with home quite thoroughly. All. .. you know ... being with you,” he said.I slowly ran my hands through his sparse chest hair. “For how long?”“The past sixteen years.”I giggled. “Really, that long?”“No, maybe the last three or four ... since you got these...”His hands cupped my large breasts and I let out a little involuntary moan.We took a few moments and basked in the post-coital glow. Being with an older man was so much different from being with guys my age and my head was spinning. I could hear the waves gently colliding against the shore outside his Malibu beach house and it was an interesting juxtaposition to the nervous turmoil I was feeling inside. Then his voice broke me out of my deep reflection and brought me back to the now.“When will Liz get home?” he asked.“She’s your daughter, you should know.”“Hey, now, she’s your best friend, you know her schedule better than I do.”“She’s golfing today and won’t be home until around two, so we have plenty of time.”A sly, little grin broke across his face. “Just.
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And she was. But she was wrong. I was really doing research. I can't help it if some of my research subjects are pretty teenagers." He grinned back, not a little sheepishly."Well, if it makes you feel better, some of the working men I photograph are pretty good-looking, too."Ned looked at her soberly. "Toni, I know what you mean. And I like the way you put it. The things we need to look at are things that increase our world-view. It's a mistake to put the wrong spin on those things." He looked back at her. "Tell you what. You take pictures of all the working men, and I'll look at all the teenage girls. Is that a fair division?" No," she smiled, "you need to look at the guys, too. I'm sure you do. And I take more pictures of working women than of men. They change faster and it's harder to suit them."They paid for their lunches and walked out onto the mall, chatting. As they walked along, they stopped to listen to a young woman playing the hammer dulcimer, dropped some coins in her box.

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