She was short, plump, had big tits (40DD she said) and had long, thick black hair that hung down to her ass. But she also had something that most short chubby girls don't have - she had sex appeal! She had that certain something, an aura if you will, that just radiated from her. When she walked into a room and you saw her you got an immediate hard on, your palms got wet and your eyes never left her. The funny thing was that she never realized it.

I am the service manager of a trailer sales and repair company and I first saw Nadine when she and her husband came in looking to buy a new horse trailer. I was behind the service counter when she came in and instantly everything that I mentioned above happened. My eyes followed her everywhere as she walked through the show room. She was wearing tight jeans, tennis shoes, a tank top and her hair was done up in a thick black braid and everything about her just screamed out, "Fuck me. Please, somebody fuck me." She browsed the parts racks, looked into the two-horse bumper-pull on display on the show room floor and then left. I hated to see her leave, but I'm not sure that I could have stood her being there much longer. Right then what I wanted to do more than anything was get to the men's room and beat my meat, but the phone started ringing and I got back to work.

The next time I saw Nadine was two weeks later when she and her husband brought in their old trailer to get an estimate on its possible trade in value. Her black hair was loose and it swirled around as she again browsed the parts counters and the displays of after market truck accessories. Hidden behind the counter she couldn't see me squeezing the hard on she had given me as my eyes followed her around the room. Finally her husband came and got her and they left. Once again I wanted nothing more than a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve myself, but once again I got busy and it had to wait. It was a good thing I was single because I would have had a hard time explaining to a wife why I spent so much time in the bathroom. Nadine came in two days later to drop off her old trailer and hook up her new one and while she didn't come in the store I watched from the window as she hooked up to her new unit. As she drove off I hoped that it wasn't the last time that I'd ever see her.

Three weeks later I was working on the computer when I heard someone come in the front door. I turned around and it was Nadine. She walked up to the service counter and I said, "Good morning. Can I help you?"

She gave me a smile that made my knees go weak and said "I've got a problem with my new trailer. I can't get my interior lights to go on."

I asked her to give me a minute to get out of the program I was in and then I followed her out to her trailer. The problem was an easy one to fix and I had it ready to go in about five minutes. She asked me how much she owed for the service and I told her nothing, that we would consider it warranty work.

"How sweet of you" she said in a voice that curled my toes and she reached in her handbag and brought out a five dollar bill, "Here, at least let me give you this for your trouble."

I politely refused it, but at the last minute I said, "I'll let you buy me a cup of coffee some day."

She grinned at me and said, "It's a date."

As she drove off the lot my eyes followed her until she was lost to sight.

It was almost six weeks before I saw her again. She had run over something on the road and had blown a tire. She had put the spare on and now she needed a new spare. I sold her the tire and had it mounted and balanced and as she was writing me the check to pay the bill she looked at her watch and said, "It's lunch time and I owe you a cup of coffee. Is there a decent place close by?"

What I really wanted to say was "Yes. My apartment is just five minutes from here" but what I actually said was "There is a Denny's just down the street." She climbed into my pick up truck and I knew that I would be sniffing the seat where she was sitting for the next year. I know, it sounds depraved, but that is the effect that Nadine had on me. On the way we made the usual small talk, nothing of any consequence, just questions about how long I'd worked at the trailer place, did I like my job, how long had she had horses, how was the new trailer working out for her, stuff like that. It wasn't until we were seated at Denny's that she asked me the question that turned my face red:

"Why do you look at me the way you do? From the first time I came into the showroom you have never taken your eyes off me."

I stammered, hemmed and hawed, and I don't think anything coherent came out of my mouth and she gave me her toe-curling grin again and said, "Don't be embarrassed, I like the way you look at me." Then her mood changed and she said, "I just wish I could get my husband to look at me that way."

Then she started telling me about how she thought he had lost interest in her, that they hardly ever made love any more and that she thought he probably had a girl on the side. "He goes out at night, is gone for hours and when he comes back he smells like he has just had a shower and he won't tell me where he has been. The only thing I can think of is that he is getting it on with some floozy and he has to wash her stink off of him before he gets home. It's just not fair! I have so much to give and he doesn't even want it."

She saw the look on my face and she said softly, "But you do, don't you? That's the look that I see on your face every time you look at me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like this, but you seemed so nice and I needed some one nice to talk to."

I 'aw shucked' it and lunch was pretty silent after that. When the check came she reached for it, but I grabbed it, "You were going to buy me coffee," I said, "not lunch. This way you still owe me a coffee and maybe I'll get a chance to see you again."

The ride back to work was as silent as lunch had been and when we got there she got out of my truck and headed for hers. Half way to it she turned and came back. She handed me a piece of paper and said, "Call me. Tonight. Any time after six" and then she turned and left.

The rest of the day I couldn't do anything right because my mind was not on my job, it was on that little piece of paper in my pocket. I kept taking it out and looking at it - even her handwriting was sexy. Damn Lord, why me?

I got off work at five and was home by five-ten. I sat and stared at the phone for the next fifty minutes while my mind kept churning away. Did I really need this? Why should I drive myself crazy over a woman who could never be mine? All calling her would do would be to prolong the agony. Better to just put her out of my mind and get on with my life. At six oh one I was punching in the numbers on the phone and after two rings her throaty, sexy voice said, "Hello?"

I was tongue-tied; I couldn't say anything and I was about to hang up when she said, "I wondered if you would call. I'm making a pot of coffee. Would you like to come over and get the cup I promised you?"

I stood there with the phone to my ear, struck dumb by the invitation and she said, "It's all right really. Tonight is one of my husband's nights out and I could really use some company. A friendly face that I could talk to."

Against my better judgement I asked for directions. It took me a half an hour to get there and when I pulled in to her drive I could understand how she could feel alone. Her place was six hundred acres just off County 21 and I hadn't seen another house for five miles. She met me at door and led me into the kitchen and poured me a cup of coffee and we sat at the kitchen table and talked. Mostly she talked and I listened. She pretty much told me her life story, how she and her husband had been childhood sweethearts, had married just out of high school and what their hopes and dreams had been. And suddenly it was ten o'clock and she looked at me and said, "Listen to me babble on. You just sat there and listened and I didn't even give you a chance to say a word. Next time you do the talking and I'll listen. There will be a next time, won't there? Please don't say no. I need some one I can talk to."

How was I going to say no? She walked me to the door and just before I left she stood on tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you for being a friend. He goes out again day after tomorrow. Come have coffee with me again?"

Again, how could I refuse? On the drive home I wondered why I had let myself get into the position I was in; all of a sudden I was the shoulder to cry on, the friend to listen to all of her woes and I had no one to blame but myself.