Stu

Ana’s Admirer
This story was written in the third person by Steve, based on interviews with the principal participants.

George was the senior loan officer at the Metro bank branch. When he was younger, he enjoyed the challenges of setting up loans that helped his clients buy homes and cars, and start businesses. But George was now 60 years old, and he viewed his job as something that he had to do for a few more years until he could retire. In other words, George was coasting.

There was only one reason why George looked forward to going to work. He got to spend much of his work day in close proximity to Ana, the bank’s most attractive and outgoing teller. Curiously, she had been shy and somewhat lacking in self-confidence when she had been hired at the bank four years earlier. Even then, George felt she was pretty in an earthy sort of way, a quiet, plain-dressing Latina who always seemed to be holding something back. After she had been at the bank for about a year, it became clear that she had, indeed, been holding something back. Neither George nor anyone else had taken much notice when blocky business heels replaced the flat shoes that Ana had been wearing. But the business heels were soon replaced by eye-catching stilettos, as well as form-fitting pants and dresses that challenged the bank’s dress code. As the heels got higher and the clothing got tighter, Ana’s personality became looser: the quiet teller became vivacious and outgoing, and her self-confidence increased rapidly. It was understood that several female employees had complained to the bank’s management about Ana’s provocative attire. But management never did anything. According to rumor, management thought that Ana was at least partly responsible for the increase in the bank branch’s customer traffic that began about the time she unveiled her new image. If Ana could take credit for some of that increase, then in George’s opinion it was due to her friendly, upbeat personality, which really could make even the most ordinary customer feel special. Most bank patrons could not even notice Ana’s heels and tight clothing from the other side of the counter. What was important to George was that he could.

George spent much of his day in an office located behind the teller area. He normally kept his door half open, which gave him a good view of the tellers. On most days, he could see Ana’s backside as she dealt with the customers. She was, indeed, a sight that could get any man’s blood circulating: her brown-red hair grazing her shoulders, her trim figure, her perfectly shaped rear end wrapped so lovingly and unashamedly in an ever-changing assortment of pants, skirts and dresses, and those impossibly high stiletto pumps, sandals and mules. How could she possibly wear such heels while standing on her feet for nearly eight hours a day, day in and day out? It seemed superhuman at times.

As a happily married man and the father of grown children, George was not in love with Ana and had no desire to have anything beyond a normal professional relationship with her. However, in an aesthetic sense, he loved everything about her. Her charm, her flirtacious nature, the sexy clothing and shoes – she obviously enjoyed defying the norms of the business world by doing things her way. To George, the most radical, subversive and enjoyable of Ana’s attributes was the way she walked. Her posterior moved with a musically precise rhythm that was a delight to behold. In all his years, George had never seen a woman move quite like that. It was not risque or crude, but it was not exactly subtle either, just warm and sensuous. The movements were just exaggerated enough that George was convinced that Ana must have taught herself – or been taught by someone – to walk like that at an earlier stage of her life. But she had been wiggling like that for so long that it was apparently now an ingrained habit, and done without conscious thought.

George told no one about his feelings. They were too personal, and, of course, he had no desire to put his hard-earned professional reputation at risk by discussing Ana’s feminine attributes and bodily movements with his co-workers. At the same time, he felt he owed no apology to himself or anyone else over the private delight he derived from observing this very unusual bank teller. At his age, you took pleasure any time you could, and who could be crazy enough to ignore the charms of a woman like Ana? And, anyway, Ana’s charm defied words, so nothing could be gained by talking about her.

While Ana appealed to George’s imagination, there was little question that Patricia, his wife of 35 years, was his partner for life. She greeted him when he got home, made him dinner, talked with him, laughed with him when he was happy, and supported him when he felt down. He did the same for her, and made sure she had everything he could give her. They both felt pride over the two productive, well-adjusted grown children that they had brought into the world and raised. Patricia was everything to George…or, at least, almost everything.

Unfortunately, the years had not been kind to Patricia. The feminine figure that had appealed to George when he was young had been gone for decades. A chronic health condition now forced her to walk with some difficulty, and the medication she took tended to make her gain weight. When George went to bed at night, it was with Patricia, but he took the liberty of borrowing some of the sexy mental images of Ana that he had taken home with him from the bank. He imagined what life would be like if Patricia could somehow have Ana’s piercing Latin eyes, her legs, her ass, her ability to walk in those mind-blowing heels. He would snuggle up next to Patricia, and he could picture her as a slim young woman in those snug pants and those heels. He imagined Ana teaching Patricia how to wiggle her butt until she had it down like an expert. Oftentimes, this would make him quite amorous, which pleased Patricia to no end.

“I thought men were supposed to slow down at your age, but you have been speeding up the last several years. Am I feeding you something I am not aware of?” Patricia would ask.

And they would make love. Patricia’s condition limited the positions that they could take, but that mattered little to George. He was making love to Patricia’s soul, housed temporarily in a fantasy body borrowed from Ana. Sometimes, George could sense Ana herself in the room, her spirit over the bed, complimenting Patricia on her sexuality and exhorting him to keep going. And George could hear himself saying, “Oh, thank you, Ana, thank you, Ana.”

One night, unfortunately, George actually said it. He was so engrossed in his own pleasure that he did not hear it. But Patricia did.

“George,” Patricia said as he rested his head on her chest after they had finished. “Who is Ana?”

“Ana? I don’t know. Who is Ana?” George asked.

“That’s what I am asking you. When we were reaching our peak, you said, ‘Thank you, Ana.’ You said it several times. Who is Ana, and why were you thanking her?”

“You must have heard wrong, dear. I believe I said, ‘Thank you, damn.’ Those are the kinds of things men say when they are about to climax.”

“George, I have been married to you for 35 years, and never once have I heard say ‘Thank you, damn,’ when we make love.”

“Oh, Pat, I say it occasionally. Maybe you haven’t been listening all these years. Good night.” He rolled away from her and went to sleep.

Patricia could not go to sleep. She was not mad or jealous. She was not even upset. She knew her husband would not do anything improper as far as their marriage was concerned. But she was curious. She deduced – correctly – that Ana must be a woman who made some kind of a powerful impression on her husband. Perhaps Ana had something to do with George’s heightened interest in sex in the last several years. The only contact that George could have with women unknown to her would be through his job at the bank. While George slept, Patricia decided that she needed to make a trip to the bank to see if she could find Ana.

To be continued.