Waiting to pickup Oliver at the airport. He’s flying in after a two week training, the first of three for the next year.
Also waiting at the arrival gate is a woman with two dogs. She’s tiny with long honey blonde hair that tumbles in big lazy curls down her back. Her jacket is belted neatly at the waist, showing off how petite she is. Looking at her face you see the cute, wholesome face of the early 30’s girl next door.
Looking down at her teensey skirt and platform fuck me pumps, the message gets confusing.
Knowing Oliver will come out any second, possibly with new colleagues in tow. I don’t know if I’m worried they’ll think I’m her, or wondering if I should have dressed up more.