Some women are fascinated by men in uniforms. I’ve never been one of them – well except for a man in a perfectly tailored suit or a pair of jeans that fit in all the right places. But those don’t count. I’m talking about men in real uniforms. Cops. Firefighters. Cowboys. Surgeons. Clowns.
I didn’t understand their appeal.
Until last week.
I was sitting outside – yes, at yet another Starbucks. But this time, I was not working. I was on vacation in New York with my friend and fellow writer, Mary B. Morrison. I had just taken a huge bite of my Banana Crème Crunch Bar and there he was. Dark hair, cinnamon skin, piercing eyes framed by long, dark lashes. And that body. His broad chest was encased in a perfectly pressed light blue shirt. Dark blue shorts were buttoned and zippered over a flab-less abdomen. Innocent white socks circled his sinfully muscular calves.
I smiled, hoping he’d catch a glimpse of my inner beauty, which was hidden behind the whipped cream making my cheeks bulge and the crumbs covering my lips.
He smiled, revealing dazzling white teeth, then nodded and walked on, wheeling a stack of boxes on a dolly.
I turned for a posterior view, enjoying the play of navy cotton over his tight ass.
"Did you see that?" I asked Mary.
She looked and shrugged. "The FedEx driver? They all look like that. It's a prerequisite to working for FedEx."
"Yeah." Mary nodded and leaned forward, raising a brow. "But UPS -- that’s another story."
As I finished my dessert and downed the last of my coffee, I saw other FedEx drivers making their deliveries.
They were all men.
They were all hunks.
I'd never noticed this before. Maybe because I live in suburbia where we get very few deliveries -- which would explain the cliché of suburban housewives lusting after the pool guy.
Well, I get it now. I'll take a guy in a uniform. Well, a FedEx guy in a uniform, anyway. In fact, I'm going to go schedule a pickup right now ...
Posted by Rachelle Chase ::
3:22 PM ::