We're gonna call her "Linda". She was in her early 50's, tall, curvy, and very attractive. I was 23. I had been hitting the gym more consistently so my arms and legs carried some mass that hadn't been there in my lanky college years. This was fortunate because when you're 6'6" you need muscle to avoid looking like a human telephone pole.

I had settled into my first big boy job around this time. I had my foot in the door of the publishing industry in a more serious way. I had a title and an office. It meant people actually referred to me by name rather than whatever their coffee order was. I'd become very accustomed to answering to: "Iced Americano, splash of oat milk", and now I was being introduced with: