Beefy Buns

"Yes, sir," I replied, adding, in my mind, bastard!

The ladder was still in place, right where we'd left it.

"Go on up," I told Mona. "I'll hold the ladder."

She kicked off her shoes again. "Make sure you do," she said. "I don't want to fall."

"You're not going to fall," I assured her. In my mind, though, I saw her do just that, and, gallantly, I caught her in my arms and set her safely on the ground. My reward was a kiss of her soft, smooth lips.

She ascended the ladder again, displaying more and more of her shapely legs as she climbed higher and higher, her mini-skirt threatening to betray her with every step she took.

My cell phone chimed.

I'd ignore it, I thought.

The phone was insistent.

What if were Mr. Moore again? I asked myself. He'd be pissed if I didn't answer. Hell, he might even return to the restaurant.

I removed the phone from my pocket and glanced at the number on its illuminated display. It was Mr. Moore, all right. "Hello?"

"What are you doing with that damned ladder?" he thundered in my ear. Obviously, upon leaving the parking lot, he'd parked somewhere nearby and was spying on me, the bastard! "I thought I told you to get that parking lot cleaned up! And why isn't the girl on the sidewalk with the sign?"

"I thought we'd better finish the windows before--"

"I can see why your location's in trouble, Brad," Mr. Moore cut in. "You don't know how to set priorities--and you don't follow instructions. Besides, those windows are already clean. It looks as if someone washed them only a day or two ago."

The son-of-a-bitch was detail-oriented and observant; I had to give him that. "Yes, sir," I told him. I'd better do as he said, I thought. After all, he was my boss and, obviously, he was watching me.

"Come down," I called up the ladder, reluctantly, as I saw how perilously close the bottom hem of Mona's mini-skirt had come, a second time, to revealing her splendid ass.