The Girl Next Door
by Marknew742@aol.com
Calvin goes to Princeton and Donna's a working class high school girl.  But is he a match for her?


I was the youngest of three children, and when I went away to college my parents decided they no
longer needed the extra space and upkeep of the house I grew up in and that it was time to move
into a smaller house.  I spent my fall break packing all my high school stuff into boxes, my
winter break with some new friends to avoid having to live in the chaos of a fresh move and my
spring break at school, studying for mid-terms.  So it wasn't until freshman year ended that I
finally spent some time living at my folks new home.


I had to say I wasn't impressed.  The neighborhood was not quite what I was used too, smaller
houses packed fairly closely together, small yards, each with its own tree.  And parked cars on
each side of the street, making the already narrow thoroughfare even harder to navigate.  My Dad
was defensive when I asked him about it, and stalked out of the house.  Mom sighed.  "We don't
care about those things, Calvin.  We want to travel, spend winters down south.  All that takes
money.  You'll always have a room with us if you want it, but this is our life now, and we don't
need a big house or the taxes we paid all these years to support good schools.  You don't have to
like it, but try to understand.  And anyway, you're always free to find another place to stay.  Just
don't worry your Dad with these things.  And that's an order."


I got the hint.  Put up and shut up or get out.   I stalked back to my room, where I could hardly get
to my bed, let alone unpack my stereo speakers.  I plugged in the headphones, popped in some
heavy metal, and let the sound wear away the frustrations.


Somehow, through the fog in my brain, I looked out my window just at the right moment to catch
the girl next door changing her clothes.  I could only see her torso, but what an unbelievable bod! 
Round, proud breasts, a tight ass, great posture.  I was just starting to get beyond the first
impression when she sensed I was looking (somehow, girls always know) and glared at me,
quickly closing the shade.  That was the last chance I'd get, I figured, now that she'd know the
room opposite hers was now occupied.  But what a glimpse.  I'd have to keep an eye out.


But I never seemed to catch her.  Either she never went outside, or she only left when I was out
working.  Once I think I caught a look at her in her family's car, an old Buick, her lustrous black
hair reflecting the sun, but in two weeks at home I never managed to see any more of her than
that.


Then I caught a couple of breaks.  My parents decided to go on one of the trips they'd been
planning now that Dad was retired.  And then, my neighbors came over to introduce themselves
and to tell me that they were go to visit relatives in Oregon.  They were leaving Donna alone for
a while and wanted to know if I'd be around to help her if she needed anything.  I said sure, but
weren't they concerned about a teen age daughter staying home by herself?  Oh no.  We've raised
her well.  She knows how to take care of herself.  She just can't drive yet and might need
something every now and then.  Fine, I said.  You can depend on me.  But I haven't met her yet.  I
haven't even seen her.  Would it be alright if I came over and said hello?  Her parents looked at
each other.  Well, she's kind of shy, her mother said.  She'll introduce herself when she wants to. 
We just wanted to make sure it was alright.  Didn't we honey?  Her husband nodded.  We'll be
going now.  Goodbye.  They left the house and walked quickly down the walk.


That was weird, I thought.  Well, I didn't know a soul in the new neighborhood, and in particular
no souls with breasts.  Opportunities like this wouldn't drop into my lap very often this summer. 
I would have to play it right.


The next day when I came back from my summer job the Buick was gone.  I went into my house,
cooked up a hamburger and turned on the stereo, loud, to signal I was home and ready to play. 
Two minutes later, the phone rang.  I hit the mute and grabbed the phone.


"This is your neighbor, you asshole kid," a gruff voice yelled, "and if that noise starts up again
I'm calling the police, and you better hope they get here before I smash your face in, do you
understand?"


I'd seen that guy.  He was about 6'5", a former football player with a belly that would compete
well with most blimps, but I didn't exactly want to take him on based on the possibility that he
didn't have any muscle left from his playing days.  I said ok and he hung up.  The phone didn't
ring again.


Two more days passed.  Donna seemed about as much in need of my help in easing the
difficulties of her parents' absence as she would be in fitting her for a new brassiere, so I figured
it was time to offer my assistance for an important mission.  


I knocked on the door.  No answer, just a faint sound of clanging metal.  I knocked again.  The
clanging stopped for a few seconds, then started again.  This was ridiculous.  I banged repeatedly. 
The house was quiet.  Then I heard steps.  The door opened.  And there was Donna.


Unlike the last times, she was neither dressed to go out nor (which would have been even better)
undressed.  Her hair was tied back in a pony tail, she was wearing workout clothes and her face
was red and sweaty from exertion.  What is it, she wanted to know.  Nothing, I said, just wanted
to say hello.  Well, hello, she said, and goodbye.  I'm busy.  And she slammed the door.


I couldn't believe it.  So this was the girl next door?  What a neighborhood!  I stood there for a
minute, then heard the clanging metal again.  What was she doing there, forging chain links? 
Well, I would never find out, that's for sure.  Realizing I must look pretty silly staring at a closed
door, I turned around and went back to my house.


But a few days later, my luck appeared to turn.  Shortly after I got home, I heard hard, rapid
knocks on the door.  There she was, but this time, her hair sparkled, her face was neatly made up
and she was wearing a cute navy top showing just a bit of cleavage.  Damn she was cute.  The
only imperfection were her thick arms and shoulders, but in all other respects she was a very
appealing fresh-faced 16 year old girl.


"What's up?"


"I need some money. $100."


This wasn't exactly what I expected.  "Didn't your folks leave you any?"


"Yeah, but it's for food and stuff.  I have to make it last until they get back.  This wasn't part of
the budget."


"What is it?"


"Something broke.  I need to fix it."


"Maybe I can help."


"You can help by giving me the money.  You can spare it.  Your family's rich, right?"


"What do you mean?"


"You moved from Cherry Creek, everybody knows that.  You go to Princeton.  I don't know what
you guys are doing here, but as far as the neighborhood is concerned, you're rich.  Anyway, my
folks said to talk to you if I needed anything.  So are you going to be a nice guy and help me
out?"


"I'm not just going to give you $100.  I work for money too, you know."


She pursed her lips.  "Well, how about having a contest or something for it?  Did you ever
wrestle?  I'm pretty good at it.  Winner takes $100."


"Are you kidding?  I'm at least six inches taller than you, and I must outweigh you by at least
sixty pounds?"


"If you know what you're doing, you don't need to be big.  You didn't say if you ever wrestled."


"Well, not since high school gym class, but look, I don't want to take your money."


"OK, then you pay me if you win and I won't pay you if I lose."


"That's not what I meant, I mean, sure I'd love to wrestle you, any day in fact, but paying you
would be like, I don't know, prostitution or something."


"You only pay me if you lose."  She sighed. "Would it make you feel better if you gave me odds,
like you give me the $100 if I win, but I only give you $75 if I lose?"


I looked at her blue eyes gazing steadily at me, her bust rising and falling with her regular
breathing.  What was I, crazy, to be arguing about this?  I was dying to get my hands on her any
way I could.  But this whole thing felt funny.  "I don't know.  It still doesn't seem right."


"$50? $40?  You're being kind of silly, you know, bargaining yourself down."


"Maybe $25."


"Good.  It's a deal.  Come over to my place in half an hour.   Wear something comfortable.  And
bring the $100."


She turned and walked away, her tight ass wiggling slightly at me through her blue jeans.  Mine
suddenly became very tight up front.


I put dinner back in the freezer and changed into running shorts and a t-shirt, then hung around
for fifteen minutes trying not to get too turned on by the idea of rolling around on the floor with
Donna.  Finally it was time and I walked over there a little stiffly.   She answered the door in a
ratty sweatshirt and shorts, her hair tied up in a scrungy.  I noticed her legs were pretty thick.  She
looked me up and down, her eyes pausing briefly at my crotch.


"Just so you don't misunderstand, this is wrestling, not sex.  I don't want you to get the wrong
idea about me."


"Oh, no, of course not."


"Well, that thing of yours looks like it's getting ideas."


"I can't help that.  You're a very pretty girl."


She turned around to lead me downstairs before I could see her reaction.


"So you never wrestled in competition, right?"  I nodded.  "Then we'll keep it simple.  First
person to get three pins wins.  Did you wear a cup?"  I shook my head and she rolled her eyes
briefly.  "Well, I won't grab your balls if you don't grab my breasts, ok?"


"You're pretty direct, aren't you?"


"Uh-huh.  Where's the money?"  I pulled out five twenties and put it on a shelf.  She took out a
ten, two fives and five ones and put it next to my pile.  "Good.  Then let's start."  We went into
the next room, which was an unfinished part of the basement with several exercise mats sewn
together and a weight machine in the corner.  I noticed one of the cables had snapped.


"Is that what broke?"


"Yeah."


"Were you supposed to be using it?"


"Sure.  It's mine.  Come on.  Are we going to wrestle or what?"


"OK, OK, I was just curious."  Very curious.  I was wondering in fact exactly what she did with it
when she suddenly swooped in on me and cut out my legs, dropping me to the floor, then she
grabbed one of my arms and put hers around my neck, tightening it.


"You give?"


"What?"


"You give up?  Can we call this a pin?"  She tightened her arm around my neck.  "If you don't,
then I'd have to make you pass out, but you can't get out of this position.  It'll really drain you if I
put you out."


I flailed around a little, but she basically kept herself out of my reach, and started tightening her
grip on my windpipe.  "OK, OK, I give."   She let go and bounced back up.


"One-zip.  You can take a minute to rest between rounds if you want."


"I don't need to rest.  That was too quick."


"Suit yourself."  She immediately got into a crouch, but this time I was more alert.  We circled
each other for ten seconds or so, then I went for her legs to do the same thing to her, but when I
tried to pull them out, she didn't fall on her back.  Instead, she went down on top of me and
pulled my arms out so that I was lying flat on the floor with her riding my back, her knees on
each side of my waist.  I tried to shake her off, but she was more solid than she looked and then
she started pressing in with her knees, hard.  Unable to move her, I tried to roll over so that I
could use my hands, and she loosened her grip enough to let me turn halfway, but then
immediately doubled the pressure of her knees on my stomach.


"Bad move.  Your body's soft there.  You better give quickly.  I could do some real damage to
you."  She emphasized her point by giving another hard squeeze.


"Owww!" I moaned.  But I couldn't give in that quickly.  I grabbed her waist and tried to jab her
stomach with my thumb, but it was hard as a rock.  In response, she squeezed mine again and I
saw stars.  "Uggh!"  I started coughing.  "I give!  I give!"


"OK!  Two-zip.  She released me and I rolled away.  "Taking your minute this time?"


I nodded, still coughing.


"Take two if you need it.  You want some water?"


"Yes," I rasped.


"I'll get some."


I was breathing hard, clutching my stomach.  What was this girl made of?  Her legs were as solid
as steel posts, and there wasn't a millimeter of give in her stomach.  I felt mine and gulped at how
easily my fingers penetrated.   At this point, I wasn't so worried about winning the match, or
keeping the $100.  This was a matter of respect.  I couldn't let her beat me so easily three times in
a row.  Well I wasn't going to beat her on moves, on weight or on leg strength.  That left upper
body strength.  I felt my biceps.  I didn't work out with weights, so they weren't exactly world
class, but they'd always served to lift heavy packages and girlfriends when I wanted to show off. 
They'd do.


She came back in with a glass.  "It's from the refrigerator, so it's cold without ice.  I'll wait 'til you
finish."


"Thanks.  Where'd you learn to wrestle like that?"


"My brother taught me.  He wrestles at Colorado State, freshman team.  He's pretty good."


"I bet," I replied, taking my time with the water.  "Where is he this summer?"


"Working on a ranch, a dude ranch.  He likes the outdoors."


"Sounds nice."


"I wouldn't do it for a thousand bucks a week.  Showing rich fat people around all day? 
Pretending to be friendly to those snobs?  No way.  Hey, are you going to finish that or are you
stalling?"


"Sure," I said, gulping the rest down.  "I'm ready."


I put the glass down next to the money and psyched myself for the match.  I circled her even
more warily this time, keeping my distance and waiting for an opening.  She nodded.  Maybe I
was learning and she was showing me some respect.  She bent down, like she had the first match,
but I scampered out of the way and ducked in behind her, and grabbed her arms from behind,
pulling them back, preparing to twist them and force her to submit.  But instead she planted her
legs, locked her arms in place and we were in a standoff.  This can't be, I thought.  I have the
better position and she's matching my force, more than matching it, in fact, as she pulled her
arms to the front, forcing me against her.  Then she ducked down, hoisted me on her back and
began twirling me around.  I couldn't believe it.  She had me in a windmill, like I'd seen on TV.  I
held on to her wrists now to keep her from throwing me to the floor, figuring it would tire her
out, but she was carrying my full weight and didn't even seem to be straining a bit.  Meanwhile, I
was getting dizzy.  She suddenly stopped and pulled her arms down, trying to dislodge my hold
and fling me off her onto the ground.  I lost my grip on her wrists, but managed to catch one hand
on the neck of her sweat shirt, which immediately ripped in two, leaving me at her feet holding
onto a tattered piece of cotton, and looking up at her bare-chested except for a cotton halter
around her breasts.  She was not just a little annoyed.


But my eyes didn't linger very long at her scowling expression.  Because under that sweatshirt lay
an upper body that in no way belonged on a pert, fresh-faced teenage girl.  Her arms weren't just
thick, they were packed chock-a-block with hard round muscles erupting angrily, their dark blue
veins threatening vengeance and pain.


"Donna, your arms . . . they . . . they . . . they're pretty big, aren't they?"


"Yep, I guess they are," she replied evenly, then pursed her lips into a puckish grin, "compared to
yours at least."


"Hey!  What do you   oh, I get it.  You're trying to get me mad, off my guard.  Well, it won't
work.  I'm learning your techniques fast."


"Really?   What techniques are those?  I thought I was beating you just by being stronger."  I
stared at her dumbfounded, amazed that she was challenging me so openly.  "If you don't agree,
let's double the bet and make this round winner takes all.  And I promise not to use any 'tricks' to
get you down"  She brushed her hair out of her eyes, arching her back as she did so and pointing
those perky breasts right at me.  She knew how distracting that was.  She had to know.


"Yeah, sure," I said, not entirely confidently.


"Deal!" she smiled at me.  She just stood there looking up at me, making her eyes round, looking
more and more like an innocent little teenage girl every second.  Her lips were so full, I wanted to
kiss them, and she just stood there, her face lifted up to mine.  Did she want me to?  I felt my
blood pound and put my hands on her arms and let her do the same on mine.  She pulled me
slightly and I bent down to her, then suddenly she squeezed hard on my upper arms.


"Ha!" she said, as I simultaneously let out a gasp of pain.  "I figured you didn't have much there! 
I can squeeze them right through to the bone."


I glared at her and tightened my hand against her arms to give her a dose of the same medicine,
but I got nowhere, the muscles of her arms were even tighter than her legs.


"Too much for you to handle, huh?  But I haven't even given you a real handful yet, have I?"  I
could feel her start to flex her arms and incredibly I felt her muscles grow and harden even more,
forcing my hands open, until my hands simply sat cupped on top of two enormous mounds that
between the rise of the biceps and the rounded curves below were larger than softballs.  And
harder.


"Well, may as well finish this off.  Gotta get to the mall, you know."  She reached down and
picked me up easily now.  


I gaped at her, amazed.  "You little --


"Con artist?  Yeah.  I'm bad."  I twisted to get away, but she pulled my arms behind my back like
there were just pieces of spaghetti.  As much as I wanted to, I couldn't put up the slightest bit of
real resistance to her power.  "You really fell for it too, Princeton boy.  Now, surrender or you
won't be able to use them much, for whatever you use them for."


I glared at her, but I knew I was beaten.  "I give, I give!"  I yelled as quickly as I could.  


"Smart move.  Three-zip.  You can go now."


"Wait.  Wait.  Not so fast."


"Hey, match is over.  I don't need anything else from you."


"Yeah but, at least tell me.  I mean, I've never seen a girl with arms like yours."


"So?  What's that supposed to mean?"


"But how did you get them?"


She rolled her eyes.  "What is this, biology?  I was born with them."


"I mean, were you always so strong?"


"Stupid question.  Working out makes me stronger, and I do it a lot.  Like duh, OK?  Any
comments you wanna make about that?"


"No, I, I was just interested, you know."


"Yeah?  Well this isn't the freak show and you can take your interest back to your room and do
whatever you want to do with it there, ok?  With the windows closed.  Now, I've got to get out to
the mall before it closes, so I can replace this cable."


Man, what a bitch.  She was ignoring me now, not even caring that was watching her walk
around without a proper shirt.  I supposed that she wasn't exactly worried about provoking my
interest, having just handled me so easily.  I looked at her outsized muscles bunch and expand as
she pulled the broken cable off the weight machine.  She rolled it up and then turned around,
staring at me.


"Why are you still here?"


"I don't know.  I could give you a lift to the store."


"Ha!  You would do that, huh?  I've just beaten you up and conned you out of your money, and
now you want to be my driver?"


"I-I well"


"Hmmph.  So you like getting beaten up by girls then?"  She stared at me, her tongue
absentmindedly licking her lower lip.  "Maybe another time, Princeton.   I need the road work. 
For now, just find your own way out."


I watched her go upstairs, staring at the smooth skin on her muscled back, watching the muscles
of her legs dance as she climbed the stairs holding the cable, and very aware of her tight ass as it
waved back and forth inches from my face.


"Oh, and turn out the light."  She went on upstairs, alone, without even stopping, while I went
back to do as she'd asked.  She had me, and she knew it.


I left without seeing her and slunk back to my house, eating my dinner but hardly tasting it,
watching some television but not really seeing it, and then going up to my room, whacking away
at one of the stiffest hardons I'd ever had while I explored in my imagination every chiseled cut
of her body.


I thought about her constantly the next few days and spied on her house every chance I had, but I
never saw her.  I felt completely absent-minded, finding my wallet always a bit emptier than I
remembered, although always just $10 or $20 at a time.  Then one day, a couple of weeks later, I
came home from work early, on a whim.  As I walked in, I heard someone in the house, and was
startled to see it was Donna, wearing a bright red tank top and shorts.


"What are you doing here?"


She smiled.  "I needed some more money."  She held up $10.  "Just a little."


"You've been stealing from me?"


"Yeah, I figured either you didn't miss it, or you didn't mind.  You never said anything."


"I didn't know it was . . . but how'd you get in?"


"Oh, your folks gave mine a key.  So, are you going to report me to the police?"


"No, but you have to stop."


"Do I?  Why?"


"You just can't steal from people."


"Maybe.  But what if you gave it to me.  That would be alright then.  So, just give it to me.  Say,
Donna, I meant for you to have it.  And here's another twenty for your trouble."


"What if I didn't?"


"What if you did?  I might do something nice for you."


"Like, what."


"I don't know.  I might let you come over some time and talk to me."


"I have to pay you to talk to me?"


"You want me to get undressed for you?  What kind of girl do you think I am?  You think I'm a
prostitute or something?"


"No.  No. It's not that.  Listen.  Why can't we just be friends?  Why can't I take you out on a
date?"


"Why would I want to do that with you?  So you can tell me how smart you are?  How rich you
are?"


"No, we could talk about other things."


"Like what?  Your fancy college?  How you're going to be a doctor or lawyer or something?  You
think I'm impressed by that?  Well, I'm not."


"Donna.  Why does this have to be so difficult?  I think you're very attractive.  I want to go out
with you."


She smiled.  "I know you do.  I've noticed my body drives you crazy.  I like that.  It gives me
power.  Not that I need any more around you."  She stretched her arms into the air and suddenly
cut a double biceps pose, her muscles exploding out of her arms like cannonballs. My mouth
popped open.  "Surprised?  I've gotten even bigger the last few weeks.  Those protein shakes
you've been buying me make me grow faster."  She folded her arms across her chest, her flexed
pectoral muscles enhancing her cleavage.  "So, are you gonna buy me more?"


My mouth dry, I nodded.


"Good.  Don't bother to stop by.  I'll just take what I need."  She walked by, giving my ass a
painful squeeze as she passed.  "See you . . . sometime."


I watched her disappear.  I felt so stupid.  She treated me like absolute dirt.  And I was going to
stand for that?  This little 16 year old.  And after humiliating me, what was I doing, helping her
get even stronger?  I had to assert myself.


So I changed the locks.  I stayed home that day and waited for her to try the door.  She didn't.  I
stayed home the next day, and the next.  It was getting boring.  I went next door to look for her.  I
heard the clanging of her weights.  I knocked.


"Yeah, who is it?"


"Calvin," I said, making my voice as deep as I could.  I heard her stomp up the stairs.  The door
opened and she yanked me inside and shut it.


"How much did you bring me?"


"What?  Nothing."


She looked down at my pants pocket.  "I see your wallet.  What do you got in it?"  I didn't
answer.  She took my arm and twisted me around, then pulled the wallet out.  "Two hundred
bucks.  Big day for Donna!"


She dropped it on the ground and walked away.  I followed, while she headed downstairs,
ignoring me completely.  Finally she stopped short and turned around.  I stopped too, but she
took a step forward.  We were inches apart.


"Donna, please give me a chance."


"A chance to what?"


"To get to know you better.  And for you to know me.  I've just ... I've never known anyone like
you."


She chuckled.  "That's your problem.  Look, Princeton.  As far as I can see, the only thing we've
got in common is I'm a girl and you're a boy.  Now, maybe you like my body, but what's in it for
me?  I mean, I've got the tits here, and the muscles.  All you've got is your tool, which, from what
I saw before, probably works just fine, but it's not enough to set my heart racing."


"Hey, I've got other good qualities.  I'm smart, people like me, I've got a promising future."


She laughed.  "Oh yeah.  You're real smart.  How much money have you made this summer
working?  I bet you'd give me half of it if I asked you nicely.  How about it?"  She stretched,
pushing her chest out at me, so I could see through her tank top both the round breasts and the
solid foundation of pecs below them.  My erection pounded against my shorts.  My eyes strayed
to the rounded biceps poised on the sides of her breasts.  She stood there so at ease, but I could
sense the power flowing through her body, like super-charged racing engine.  She stepped closer,
her breasts pressing against my stomach, and she then butted me with them, the soft feeling of
her breasts quickly being replaced by the hard muscles of her chest pushing me backwards as
easily as if she were that car, advancing nonchalantly to the starting line.


"A thousand bucks 'll buy me some bigger weights and plenty of protein shakes.  Come back with
it, and we'll talk some more, Princeton."  She spun around and disappeared into her exercise
room, locking the door so I couldn't follow.  I watched her tight butt leave me, and cursed my
bank for being closed.



The next day I took out the money she asked for.  It was most of what I'd saved from the first part
of the summer.  I ran home and knocked on her door.  It was 10 o'clock in the morning.


"Hey, aren't you supposed to be working?"


"I-I wanted to see you."  I handed her the money and watched her count it.  The muscles in her
forearm danced as she flipped through the bills.


"Yup it's all here.  Thanks Princeton."


"Calvin.  Please call me Calvin."


She looked at me coolly.  "So what does that make me?  Hobbes?"


"Donna.  Stop it.  Please.  Be my friend.  Let me get to know you.  I'm really not a bad guy."


She sighed.  "Ok.  Come on in."  She shut the door after me.  "But you better leave soon.  I don't
want you losing your job."


"Oh, that's all right.  I called in sick."  I thought a minute.  It was the first time she'd shown me
any consideration.  "Thanks for thinking of that."


She smiled.  "Don't get all mushy about it.  You're a soft touch for me.  I don't want you running
out of dough."  I sagged.  "Aww.  Did I bust your balloon?  Here, I'll give you something to think
about today, then I want you to get back to work."  She stuck out her arm and slowly raised her
hand.  As she flexed, her biceps rose upward as if a powerful magnet was drawing it upwards,
higher and higher.  I stared with wonder at the hard mass of flesh on her arm, crosshatched with
thick veins, chiseled with the rough beauty of stony muscle under soft flesh.  She wrinkled her
nose, and then, incredibly, tightened her arm further, and her biceps leapt again, higher and
harder still.


"I suppose if you want, you can take some of the credit, Princeton.  Your money bought the
weights, the protein.  But it's my muscle.  All mine."  And with that she picked me up, kicked
open the door, and threw me out.  "Now, get to work," she said, and slammed the door.


Well, I did work, for all the good it did me.  I worked.  She got the money, and got bigger and
bigger all summer.  I would have paid ten thousand to see her, but by the end of the summer, I
was left with all of $14 in my bank account.  I even raided the food money my parents sent me,
so that I was down to eating pasta and beans each day for lunch and dinner.  It didn't kill me, but
it wasn't exactly high living.


I went back to Princeton for my sophomore year, but frankly my mind wasn't on my studies.  All
I could think of was Donna and wonder how big she was now.  I'd ask my Mom casually what
was up with the neighbors, but she said she never saw them.  My hopes of seeing her during a
school vacation went up in smoke when my parents decided to go to Costa Rica for the winter,
and then told me not to bother coming home for spring break, since my grades were so poor.  I
limped through with barely passing grades, thinking only of returning to see Donna when the
school year ended.  And even that was doomed to disappointment, as on my return, I saw that her
house was empty.  The family had moved away two months before.


Well, it served me right for wasting a year obsessing about someone who didn't care a lick about
me.  I poured my attention into work and school and somehow made up for my sophomore
slump.  By graduation, I was near the top of my class, and was recruited to work for Goldman,
Sachs, a top investment bank.  Now I'd have it made.  Working long hours to be sure, but on a
clear path to making my first million by age 25.


I got myself a large apartment in Brooklyn, saving for my down payment for the upper east side
condo I'd have in a couple of years, and spent 16 hours a day working.  It wasn't fun, but at least I
was a success.  And the first sign of it was when I was important enough to get my own secretary,
an unusual step for a second year banker.


I'd interviewed three candidates and was ready to hire the second, when our office manager
brought in a final resume.  "She's a little unusual looking, Mr. Rand, but I don't think we can
reject her out of hand.  She has excellent skills."  I looked at the resume.  Donna Brandon.   It
couldn't be.  I looked again.  Age 21.  Katherine Gibbs Secretarial School.  Previous experience
limited.  Hobbies: bodybuilding.  My heart raced.  My throat was dry.  "Bring her in," I croaked.


I heard heavy feet on the carpet and a thick leg stepped through the door.  I swallowed.  It was
Donna.


"Well what do you know?  It's Princeton. Isn't this my lucky day!"


"Um, now Donna, now, uh, how have you been?"


She chuckled softly.  "You mean, how big am I now?  Poor Princeton.  Can't really see much
with my suit jacket on, can you?  And it's against the law for you to ask me to take it off, right?"


"Well I don't know.  I, uh."


"Oh it is.  I make it a point to know these things.  Very important in my line of work.  Those
lawsuits can be quite lucrative."


"Uh yes.  Um Donna.  You worked at an accounting firm at your last job, but you left after six
months.  Why was that?"


"Well, I can't really discuss it.  I had to sign a confidentiality agreement.  Part of the settlement,
you know."


"The settlement?"


"My poor boss.  He reminded me of you, actually.  Like my suit?  I had it specially made, wide in
the shoulders, the chest, even the sleeves.  That's the nice thing about having a little money.  But
it runs out so quickly.  That's why I need a new job.  I think this one would be perfect for me. 
You're doing very well here.  That's good.  You know how it is for a secretary, or executive
assistants as we're called now.  Our careers feed off our boss's.  One way or the other, it'll be just
like old times.  So, how about it, Princeton, do I have the job?"


"Uh, your typing is


"140 words per minute.  I take shorthand.  I know all the computer programs, and how to run
searches on HotBot, Altavista -- all that stuff."  She smiled.  "You'll find I can do the heavy
lifting, so to speak.  Do you want a demonstration?  I've already shown the office manager my
clerical skills, but maybe there's something else on my resume you'd like to talk about?"


I stared at her, wishing my eyes could see through that tan jacket that was covering so completely
the large shoulders and biceps I knew she had.


"The hours are irregular, you know, Donna.  Can you handle that?"


"I don't see why not.  I'm not married. And Goldman has its own gym for employees, right?"


"You'd, uh, work out right here?"


"I don't see why not."


I swallowed.  All of my adolescent insecurities flooded back, just as they had that summer.  How
could I ever work while I thought about her lifting weights, her biceps growing, pulsing with
power?  I'd be dying to see her work out.  But I could never hang out down there.  I wouldn't
know the first thing about using the machines, and I'd embarrass myself with how little I could
lift anyway, especially with all those macho traders around.  Even the girls at the firm are into
weight training.  No, I could never do it.  And then, even if I didn't, everyone else would see her
body.  There'd be a lot of talk about muscle fetishes, a lot of sniggering about why I'd hired her.  
The last thing I wanted anybody to talk about, just when things were going so well.  My brain
was whirling.


"Yes, well, I'm a little concerned about your experience.  Most of the other candidates have
worked at least five years.  I'm not sure you could handle the demands of the job."


She raised her eyebrows.  "Oh, I see.  That's the way you want to play it, then.  All right,
Princeton.  You had your chance."  She stood up. "See you around, then."


She walked out and I watched her tight butt receded before me.  I felt torn, but it was one bullet
dodged.


The next day, Roger Hastings, one of the managing partners, tapped me to work on the
International Biscuit takeover, and for months I was stuck in Minneapolis, holding the hand of
our client while we desperately worked to fend off first a friendly offer, then a bear hug, and
finally a vicious proxy fight that we won only when our detectives dug up some dirt on the
bidder's past that he could not allow to reach the public domain.  I had to sign my own
confidentiality agreement as part of the settlement, but the firm was happy with my work, and I
was glad to return.  Sheila, whom I had hired instead of Donna, performed well in my absence,
and I came in over the weekend to dump my work files on her desk and catch up on some other
projects I had let slip while I defended the biscuit empire.


"Nothing better to do on a Saturday?"


I spun around.  "Donna!  What are you doing here?"


She stood relaxed in her white t-shirt, standard fare for secretaries working weekends, and
checked her nails, the motion causing her oversized biceps to compress the round breasts that
pushed out her shirt.


"I work here now.  For Chet Narayan."


"Chet?"  Shit!  He was my most dangerous rival.  He joined the firm the same year I did, reported
to the same department head as I did, and although he couldn't match my talent for numbers, he
had the polish from his Oxford education, the grace of a varsity tennis player, the exotic air of an
Asian at a still mostly white firm, a wife from the French nobility and close connections to two
important Indian industrial families.


"He's a nice guy.  A real rising star, I hear.  Did you know he speaks five languages, and Anne --
his wife, you know -- speaks eleven?  He seems very interested in you.  He was just fascinated
that I used to live next door to your parents.  He knows a lot about you too, though not as much
as I do."


"Uh, well of course, Chet and I have had lunch a few times."


She nodded.  "I'm sure.  He and I will make a great team.  He appreciates my skills.  And I know
how to make him appreciate me even more."


"What do you mean?"


She ignored my question and looked down at herself, appraising her bust and her arms, flexing
them a few times. "Nice, aren't they?  I do have a way of getting what I want, and I know what
Chet'll find useful.  That is, unless you know a way to make it worthwhile to me for him not to
know."  She smiled.  "Anyway, nice running into you, Princeton.  Looks like we're neighbors
again, just like before." She ran a finger down my tie-less shirt and batted her eyes.  "Wouldn't
YOU like to try this!  Mustn't touch, though" she teased in a rising voice.  "Tah tah, Princeton."



The End