Part One Andrea is a world class head turner; she is a tall, slender, big-breasted dewey-eyed blonde whose face alone could have the Pope mumbling to himself.Part One Andrea is a world class head turner; she is a tall, slender, big-breasted dewey-eyed blonde whose face alone could have the Pope mumbling to himself. She is feminine to a fault: a fact demonstrated daily by the way she dresses, moves, talks, even tosses her hair when she laughs. Andrea is the stuff of dreams. Particularly mine. And I was determined to have her. When she came to work for our small agency a year ago, every man and boy in the shop hit on her. Including myself. And as owner and C.E.O. of the thriving agency, I thought I had a pretty good shot of scoring. I'm young, single, reasonably attractive in a Woody Allen sort of way, I'm in pretty good shape, prematurely mature perpetually horny and very financially secure. Yet try as I did (and believe me, I tried) I got nowhere with Andrea. Not that she was cold or aloof, far from it. She was warm and gracious and funny and an extremely talented artist. But I just couldn't get anywhere with her. Our relationship grew slowly and wonderfully from the day I hired Andrea. We kept business, business, and semi-socialized only at an occasional lunch which, over the weeks and months that followed, developed into almost everyday affair. Our first few lunches quickly revealed that she wasn't married, never had been, didn't date, rarely went out at night and that she spent most of her off hours engaged in her "serious" painting. |