"Ouch."

It hurt like hell when she rammed me from behind with that supermarket shopping cart. I was bending over, trying to get a can of soup from the bottom shelf of the display. I almost took a header into a mountain of cans when she ran into me.

At first she was embarrassed and then there was a slight lilt of amusement in her voice when she said, "Oh, please excuse me."

"That's quite all right." Now it was a little funny to me too. I assessed my attacker. Perhaps my age, mid to late '40s s, but very attractive. Clear, smooth skin, expressive, hazel eyes, light brown, almost blond hair, if she had any extra pounds, they were in just exactly the right places. At 11 a.m. in the morning she looked like she had just come from the gym, wearing stretchy, form fitting leotards, a baggy sweatshirt and athletic shoes.

There was a twinkle in her eye and a laugh in her voice as she walked away and said, "I hope that the next time I bump into you it will be under better circumstances."

I stood there like a clod, mouth open, a can of soup in each hand and blocked from following her by my shopping cart turned the wrong way. In a wink she was gone. "Oh, well," I thought, "The story of my life, another missed opportunity."

I continued shopping and was trying to find a ripe cantaloupe when a voice, lilting with amusement said, "I'm glad that it's not me that you are squeezing like that." It was her. "Do you think you could find a ripe one for me?"

"If it were you, I wouldn't squeeze at all, I would just caress." She smiled but didn't reply so I offered her the choice melon, the one I picked for myself. "Try this one."

"Thank you very much," and whisk, she was gone again, this time leaving me with a melon in each hand, a growing lump in my pants and the ever present shopping cart in front of me, blocking my way.

I finally tracked her down in front of the dairy case. "Hey, I noticed that you are shopping for one, so how about compensating me for my damage by having lunch with me?"

"Oh, thank you very much, I love to but I must get home for a phone call."

I think my disappointment was showing when I said, "Sure, maybe next time."

I was in the checkout line when she rammed me again, only this time a little easier and most certainly on purpose. "Say, I have an idea. Pick up something at the deli, come by my house and I will fix us lunch."

"Sounds good! What about wine?"

"I love red wine with everything! It makes me lose my inhibitions," she giggled. She gave me her address and said, "Put your food away and come by. See you soon."

I went back to the deli counter and bought some nice looking smoked salmon and two servings of everything they had pre-prepared. As an afterthought I added two bottles of a nice California Merlot. I dashed back to my apartment, put my groceries away, had a quick shower and a shave, and set out to find her place.

It was an older, two story, Florida style house with a huge verandah, in a part of town where the buildings were slowly being converted into professional offices. Hers was no different. In the neat, manicured, front yard, the size of a football field, there was a sign proclaiming "HARRIET MAE, PHOTOGRAPHER." A smaller sign indicated there was parking in the rear and directed me down the driveway.

I parked in one of the assigned spots, gathered up my deli treasurers and was standing at the rear of the house wondering where to go, when the back door opened and there she stood.

It was obvious that she had used the few minutes delay in my arrival to freshen up too. Gone were the tight pants, baggy blouse and athletic shoes. Her short brown hair had been brushed and was held in place by pink ribbon. White tennis shoes, white shorts and a sleeveless white blouse with pink floral designs completed the picture.

The back door led directly into a huge kitchen. She invited me in, took the two big bags of food and remarked, "My, you went all out. I guess that you saw my name on the sign in the front yard. What do I call you, 'The Provider'?"

"Well, that's not bad, I kind of like that but you can call me Ed Ward, since that's my real name."

She unpacked the stuff while I fished out the wine, opened one bottle with the corkscrew she dug out of a drawer and poured some into the glasses from the cupboard. I was hovering around, generally making a pest of my self when she said "Take your wine and sit down at the table while I get this ready."

That wasn't at all what I had in mind. I was very close behind her, inhaling the fragrance of her delicate French perfume when she turned around quickly and said, "What in the world are you doing?"

"You smell a lot better than that smoked salmon."

"Well, I am not going to let this food go to waste." She gave me a peck on the cheek and tried to mollify me by saying, "We'll eat first and then see what happens."

I tried to put my arms around her but she just ducked under my elbow and started putting the food on the table. "Sit down, enjoy your lunch, and pour me a glass of wine. If you're good I'll take your picture later."

I sat down and ate but there was something else I would much have rather been doing. I wondered if she knew what I was thinking and if she did, what she thought about it. Once I got into it though, the food was pretty good, but nowhere near as good as what I had in mind.

I was still sitting at the table when she began to clear the dishes away. I was about to take a sip of wine when her nose touched my ear. It sent chills up and down my spine. "Mmm, you smell pretty good too, a lot better than the smoked salmon.

I got up, turned around and took her in my arms. She was soft and yielding, the curves of her body melting into mine. Her full lips were as sweet as the wine we were drinking but much more intoxicating. I knew by the way she was pushing against me that she could tell I was aroused.

She pushed me away and looked me straight in the eye and between short breaths gasped, "I think it's time I took your picture."