Somehow, I have allowed another Polish girl to drive me to impure thoughts. It isn't the 20-year old who has asked around to see if I was married. She smokes, and is way too young (and trampy) for my tastes. No, it's the other one, more my age, the one who is in her second stint in America, and her second stint working with me. The first time she was here, she was sort of frumpy, and confused, and the typical American lifestyle that she led while here made her pack on some pounds, making her both frumpy and pudgy.
When she returned, though, she had left her frumpiness and pudginess in Poland, and she now looks svelte and healthy. Besides waiting tables with me, she's a lifeguard at an inner harbor hotel, and the yoga she takes for free while there is doing her well. We're friends. While we're working together, we joke and laugh and I think about what the small of her back would feel like if we were dancing.
Of course, she has a boyfriend. A Latino guy, and I think that's her type, as it's her third caballero in a row. Oh well.
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