The cab driver glanced at the young woman in back. “You new here?”
Though she tried to appear sophisticated, Kathy knew she looked out of place in the city. “Does it show?”
“Yeah, a little,” the cabbie laughed. ”Let me guess, you’re a runaway from Kansas hoping Seattle is your Emerald City over the rainbow?”
“Something like that… Ohio actually.”
The taxi pulled over. “Here you are, 217 Seneca. Good luck, Dorothy,” he joked.
Kathy paid him, grabbed her suitcase and stepped out. The apartment building looked worn out and dusty, but inside it had an inviting, old school ’80s feel to it.
Her room, however, was a different story with its cold, white walls and bare linoleum floor.
‘Was this a mistake?’ she wondered.
Her Mom had tired to stop her. “It’s crazy,” she’d said. “All you have is a job interview waiting for you out there. No guaranteed work and just a couple months of money. What are you thinking?”
But now, standing in the empty room, 2000 miles from home, Kathy felt like she’d gone to the other side of the planet. Maybe Mom was right.
Taking another look around the room she knew with a little inexpensive decorating she could warm up her two-room apartment. “No,” she said out loud. “This feels right. This little country gal is going to take on Seattle and make it hers.
____________________________
”Tom Bronson hated parties—this one especially. It was filled with socialites, lazy people born into old money, and women trying to be someone, anyone, other than who they were. Hoping to marry into that money, they circled the rich like sharks looking for an easy kill.
“Oh, shit," he muttered to himself, “here comes one now.”
“Tommy, darling, are we having a good time? They told me you’d be here. I missed you at last week’s yacht club gala. Where ever were you?”
“Hello, Cybil.”
He knew those were the only two words she’d allow him to squeeze into their conversation. He tried to keep up, be polite, but as she babbled on about parties, charity banquets, who’s marrying, who’s divorcing, who died—his interest was plunging lower than her neckline.
Finally she took a breath, giving him a brief opportunity to jump in. “Sorry, Cybil, but I have to leave. Here, you can have my drink if you like.”
Before she could answer, he handed her his glass and ducked away, hoping no one would notice his escape attempt. But two sharks were swimming by the door.
“Oh, Tom, we were hoping to…”
“Sorry, I was just leaving.”
“But, really you should stay…”
“No, sorry. Important meeting. Gotta go.”
As he stepped out to the street, he felt like a lucky seal who’d somehow managed to escape the jaws of death.
The wealthiest man in the city, he always felt out of place in so-called ‘high society.’ His was a fortune made from hard work, careful planning, and taking calculated risks––all things he’d learned when a teenager, working on his father’s boat.
His dad had a way of wrapping up a world of wisdom into one simple sentence. “You won’t make it out here, son, unless you keep your eye on the weather, chart a steady course through these seas, and put your back to the work.”
Tom missed him.
____________________________
Kathy put down two grocery bags and then remembered she hadn’t closed the door.
“Hey, neighbor!”
A smiling face peaked in throwing a flurry of non-stop words.
“Hi, my name’s Megan, but everyone calls me Meg. I’m right across the hall from you. Oh, I’m so glad this room will finally have a happy person in it. The old man that lived her shot himself, you know.”
Kathy’s eyes widened, “What?”
“Oh yeah, right there in the middle of the room. Blood everywhere.”
“Oh, my god!”
Meg laughed. “Kidding, kidding. I couldn’t resist.”
“Meg!”
“Sorry about that. Here, I brought you something to eat. There’s enough for two if you wouldn’t mind inviting a mean, prankster neighbor in.”
“Ah, yes, sure, thanks. Come in. I’m Kathy.” Despite the weird introduction, Kathy knew that Meg would become her best friend.
They spent the next three days scrounging around antique shops, Good Will, and even an old book store. With Meg’s help, by the end of the week the apartment was much cozier.
“So, tomorrow’s the big day?” Meg asked.
“Yes, I’m a bit nervous. It’s my first job interview since graduating.”
“Where’s it at? The interview I mean.”
“Bronson Marine Industries.”
Meg jumped to her feet. “Bronson Marine? Holy shit! You’re going to work for Tom Bronson?”
"I take it by the name he’s the owner?” Kathy asked.
“You really don’t know about Bronson? He’s the most handsome rich guy in this city. And, added benefit, he’s never married.”
“Well, I doubt I’ll ever meet him. I might not even get the job. And if I do, it’s a big company, I’ll be a lowly design tech off in some basement office.”
________________________________
That night Kathy couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning, fretting about tomorrow’s interview, she knew there was only one way to relax. Reaching into the bedside drawer, she pulled out a little box and rolled the three wheel combination lock. This was the one secret in her life no one knew about. She’d had it since she was sixteen.
She took out a penis shaped dildo and a bottle of coconut oil. Not the kind you cook with, the kind processed for sex. Like always, she smiled a little, feeling the “other” Kathy flood into her thoughts. This wasn’t the shy country girl, this secret Kathy was a whole different person.
Pouring the oil over her mound, she felt it sliding down and onto her pussy. Kathy rubbed an oily finger over her soft folds, gently pressing in, pulling it back out, and circling the hardening nib.
Masturbating not only got Kathy horny, it also made her a bit naughty. Climbing out of bed, she walked slowly through the living room, pulled back the curtains, opened the sliding glass door, and stepped out onto a small balcony.
It was late. No one was on the street below.
The “other” Kathy loved the idea of being naked out doors. She always wanted to try a nude beach, but the more conservative, non-horny Kathy never let her.
A cool breeze winding its way through the city flowed over her body. Her nipples hardened, maybe from the cold, or maybe because the idea of public nudity turned her on so much.
A lone car came down the street and Kathy jumped back in, shutting the door and closing the curtains.
Giggling she ran back to her bed, and with more oil and more rubbing, finally let the vibrating cock tickle her clit. An imaginary movie played in her mind of some man named Tom Bronson walking naked with her on a beach.
She eased the dildo in. For the moment it was her mystery man moving inside her. The orgasm flooded her senses, warming her body and finally granting the sleep she sought.
____________________________
Kathy called a cab to pick her up early. She wanted to get to her interview ahead of time to compose herself before going in.
“Hey, Dorthy, where you off to?”
It was the same cabbie from before.
“About to step over that rainbow,” she said.
She arrived 15 minutes early and was surprised to be sent right in.
A thin, stern looking woman sat at a large desk. Kathy took a seat in an awkwardly low chair. A nameplate at one corner of the desk read: Ms. Purdy. That was the only introduction Kathy was going to get.
They talked about her education and why she wanted to work for Bronson Marine––all the usual interview stuff. But when asked about her experience, Kathy said she had an internship for one semester at an architect firm in Ohio. Ms. Purdy’s thin lips tightened into a sardonic smile.
Just then the janitor came in. He looked confused. “Excuse me, ah, this is the time I usually come in and clean up.”
“Well, not today!” the old woman snapped.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said nervously, quickly grabbing three garbage baskets on his way out.
Surprised at the woman’s gruffness, and without thinking, Kathy stood up and walked briskly towards him. “Here, your hands are full, let me get the door.”
She hadn’t really looked at him until just then. His strong chin was painted with the slightest shadow of dark whiskers. His piercing blues eyes looked directly into hers.
Surprised, he said, “Thank you,” then gave a quick glance and a wink toward the woman still sitting at the desk with her arms crossed.
_____________________________
Kathy ran down the hall and pounded on Meg’s door. “Meg! I got it! I got the job!”
The door burst open and Meg, face covered in green gunk, hugged Kathy, getting cucumber mush on her shoulder.
“Did you see Bronson? Was he there? Did he interview you?”
“Oh, sure. He gave me a tour of the whole place.”
“Oh, my god, really?”
“Yeah. Absolutely. And then we made wild love in a broom closet.”
Meg flicked her green mud at Kathy’s face.
_______________________________
The boat yard was quiet, giving Tom time to work undisturbed. His dad’s old purse seiner was perched up high on blocks in the back lot.
He’d spent two years, scraping barnacles off her bottom, sanding and painting, replacing most of the hardware, installing two new diesel engines, and converting the old boat into a cruising yacht.
It would have been easier, and a lot cheaper, to junk it and buy a new boat. But he just couldn’t imagine letting the old gal go. Besides, he’d told himself from the start, other than a few rotted deck boards, the boat was solid. Ugly, smelling of diesel, but solid.
Finally, after years of hard work, he’d be launching the boat tomorrow.
Tom was down in the hold swearing at a wrench that had slipped, banging his knuckles hard against the bilge pump.
“Excuse me. Is someone on the boat? Hello.”
Startled, he raised his head too fast, banging it on a beam.
“God damn it!” Rubbing his head with his sore hand, Tom stepping on deck, and looked over the side.
Green eyes, shoulder length auburn hair—Holy crap, it’s her.
“Oh, hi. Sorry about the swearing. Bumped my head.”
“That’s okay…, wait aren’t you that janitor?”
“Ah, yeah. I like to work on my dad’s boat on my days off.” Looking down on her like this seemed somehow erotic. Tom shook off the thought.
“Well, I’m supposed to deliver these plans to our harbor office somewhere near dock ‘B,' but I’m a bit lost. Can you point me in the right direction?”
“Let me walk you there, it’s a little tricky to find.” It wasn’t tricky at all. Tom wasn’t quite sure why he offered to walk her, the directions would have been simple. Perhaps he found it intriguing to walk beside a woman who didn’t know he was wealthy.
He climbed down a ladder and jumped onto the ground. It was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at her. She was almost as tall as him, just a few inches shorter. Her dress, appropriate for work, revealed an appropriate amount of breast, giving him a very inappropriate tickle in his jeans.
Kathy watched the tall man jump off a ladder and walk towards her. His white t-shirt did little to hide a muscular chest and arms. He moved with a confident stride. As he got closer, those blue eyes she’d seen the week before sank into her.
There was a streak of grease on his cheek. Kathy, glancing down, grabbed a rag from Tom’s front pocked and wiped it off. She felt a blush coming on, realizing what she’d just done. “Sorry, you just had a little grease, ah… sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”
Tom laughed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind a little mothering.”
They walk quietly, Tom not quite sure what to say, and Kathy embarrassed by her brash behavior.
He had the overwhelming urge to hold her hand, but didn’t. “So, ah, you got hired. Congrats. How do you like it?”
“Well, I’ve only been there a week, but everyone seems nice. I’ve never met the owner. He’s probably some rich guy who hardly ever comes around and when he does he just hides in his office.”
“Oh,” said Tom. “You don’t like rich people?”
“No, it’s not that. How could I dislike someone I’ve never met? It’s just my experience that a lot of wealthy people today are born into it and don't really appreciate what it takes to make a living. At least the one’s I knew in school were snobbish privileged brats.”
“Oh,” laughed Tom. “So you don’t really have any strong opinion then.”
“Sorry, showing a bit of prejudice there. I’m sure Mr. Bronson is a nice man. I just prefer the company of us working folk. Men like you, for instance, that know the value of work, who, I would guess, lives a real life, not jaded by the trappings of too much money.”
Tom found this beautiful young woman alarming. “Yeah, but I’ll bet if you had the chance to marry into wealth you’d jump at it.”
“Excuse me?” Kathy said with a stern frown. “You don’t know me. You don’t know who I am, or what I believe. I’m not as shallow as all that. Sure, everyone needs money to get by, but I have no need to be rich.
“I’ve got enough to deal with without drowning myself in social engagements I’d hate with wealthy elites I’d rather have nothing to do with.”
Tom tried, but was too shocked to speak. Who is this young woman? It’s like she knows me. I do hide in my office and hang out at parties I hate.
“Well, here’s dock ‘B’, Kathy. If you're delivering paperwork, it will be to that building over there.”
“Okay. Thanks. Wait, how’d you know my name?”
Tom had to think fast. “Well, ah, whenever there’s a new employee, it gets around the company pretty quick. And, well, Tom the janitor here gets to hear all the scuttlebutt.
“You’re name’s Tom too?”
“Yeah. Anyway, Kathy, I… For the first time in his life, Tom felt weirdly shy. “I know this might seem, well, I mean, you did after all wipe grease off a my face. So I was wondering. Would you like to have a coffee sometime? I mean, if you don’t mind being seen with a swearing, greasy, boat nut, janitor type.
Kathy was going to say no, but something behind those blue eyes intrigued her. “Sure, of course. We working stiffs have to stick together.”
__________________________
Pikes Place Market is an eclectic mixture of fish mongers, produce booths, and gift shops. Once a harbor for square-rigged cargo ships, its piers are now covered with hot dog venders, a curiosity shop, historic Ivar’s Seafood Restaurant, an aquarium, and other tourist traps.
Everyday locals and tourists alike fill the waterfront. But the city’s rich mostly avoided the place.
That’s precisely why Tom bought a little Mom-and Pop coffee shop perched at the very end of pier 33. He kept the original owners, Bob and Sara Timble, and their staff on, paying them generous salaries. He didn’t care about running the store, or even if it made a profit. The little shop was Tom’s hideout.
Leaning back with his feet up on a chair, he sat at the corner table where a large window looked out over the water. It was a spot perpetually reserved only for him. The sweet aroma of coffee mixed with sea air filled the room.
Mrs. Timble set his usual 16 oz mocha on the table. “You look especially happy today.”
He smiled. “I’m meeting someone.”
“Here? You never bring anyone here.”
“Today’s different.”
“Why so? I thought, wait… it’s a woman, right?”
He gave her a sheepish grin.
“Tommy Bronson… after four years in a city of nearly a million people, you’ve finally found a woman.”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Well, good luck handsome… hey, I do believe the richest man in Seattle is blushing!”
“Sara, stop it. I am not. Now go away. Can’t you find another customer to annoy?”
“Speaking of, there’s one now.” Sara walked quickly to the door . “Welcome to Timble’s Coffee.”
“Thanks, Um, I’m with him.”
Tom turned around and quickly stood. The sunset’s warm light bathed her body as she approached, making her red dress glow. Long dark brown hair covered her right breast, The hair on the other side disappeared behind her back.
“What can I get you?” Sara asked.
“Oh, a mocha would be great.”
“Mocha it is.” Sara gave Tom a quick glare, knowing toward Kathy, silently ordering him to say something.
“Hi, Kathy. Thanks for coming.” He pulled out a chair for her, its wooden legs scrapped the cement floor making a loud, echoing screech. It happened again, only louder when he took his own chair. Why the hell am I so nervous? He wondered.
“Here’s your mocha.” Sara set the cup in front of Kathy.
“So, does he bring all his lady friends here?”
“No. Actually you’re the first.” Sara gave Tom a wink, then turned to greet another customer.
“Is that true, Tom?”
“Yeah. This is my secret spot in the city. I come here to relax, get away from people, and just spend time by myself.”
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve blown your cover. You just revealed your secret hiding place to a stranger.”
Tom laughed. “You're no stranger.”
Kathy raised an eyebrow. “No stranger? We’ve barely met.”
“Oh, I mean, you don’t feel like a stranger. You’ve already wiped grease off my face like a mother hen. And somehow I managed to talk you into meeting me here.”
“Well, you are pretty persuasive. Sorry about the face cleaning, I shouldn’t have acted so familiar.”
“It’s okay. To tell the truth, I feel like I’ve known you longer.”
Me too, thought Kathy, not really sure why.
The horizon glowed as yellow/orange clouds were set ablaze by the setting sun. A gull landed on the railing in front of them, just outside the window. A lone sailboat was heading to harbor.
“It’s beautiful here, Tom. Do you come here often?”
“Yes, I own… I mean I feel like I own the place, I’m here so often. It helps me relax being near the water.”
“Is that why you’re working on your boat?”
“Yeah, it was my Dad’s. We used to fish together when I was a teenager. I think I spent more time on the water than off.”
Kathy had sensed Tom’s nervousness when she first arrived, but he seemed to relax as he leaned back into his chair. HIs blue eyes looked confidently into hers as they spoke. She liked a man who looked at you when he talked, and listened, really listened.
Was it the smell of the shop? The sound of gulls calling? The warm light flooding the room? Or was it this man, someone she’d only met, yet seemed so familiar, smiling at her with those alarmingly blue eyes. What ever it was, she felt so embraced in the moment, a warmth moved through her body.
“So, Kathy, you look dressed more for an evening out than a mere coffee shop.”
Was he criticizing her? “What, you don’t like the dress?”
Tom laughed. “Are you kidding? What man wouldn’t? You fired me up the minute you walked in. Red is my favorite color. I just meant, well, you look like you belong at a dinner table where there’s good food and lots of dancing.”
“Sounds like you have plans,” she said.
“Well, actually yes. This whole coffee shop thing was merely a ruse to reel you in, catch you in my net, and take you out.”
“So I’m a fish now.”
“Come on, let’s go. I know a place. That is, if you don’t mind a bit of a drive.”
________________________________
Seattle’s iconic Space Needle slipped behind them as they headed north. Kathy wondered if she should have gotten into the car of someone she barely knew. “We leaving town? Where exactly are you taking me?”
“Everett, it’s just about half an hour from here.”
“Another town? Aren’t there good restaurants in Seattle?”
“Sure, lots of...
