Max, the butcher

Next to the building I live, there is a butchery. The butcher is a man in his 50s, very well-mannered. He has never ever said any bad word to me. That’s because he never talks to me. His son, on the other hand, is the one always serving from 4pm to 8pm. To be truly honest, sometimes I cannot find him if I go there between 4 and 8, but I noticed that in this sort of cases, he is there earlier. And if he is not, then for sure he is walking out the back door at 8.30pm exactly, closing down the shop with his father. During work hours, he always smiles. At closing time, I have no clue, because I make sure he doesn’t see me.

His name is Max. That’s what the nametag on his chest says. I suspect he is a creative spirit, since he has this sort of dreamy look every time I catch his eye. There’s no wedding band. And i’m sure there’s no girlfriend either, since all the time he looks at my hands 2 seconds more than necessary. So what’s the harm in a little civilized exchange of smiles?

For 3 weeks, since I saw him running in the neighbourhood, I’ve been buying meat every single day. And so far, the smiles have been going back and forth and growing from showing one tooth up to showing almost the complete rows of teeth. And that’s all. I’m pretty sure some “i don’t sneeze because baby flies die from the draft” doll has deceived him. Otherwise I cannot understand how come in 3 weeks he hasn’t said a word. Obviously, there is something going on.

Yesterday I went shopping again. This time i needed some pork. I got in the butchery, queued for a while. It fit perfectly, because I had an excuse to throw glances at him from time to time. Max has been eyeing me all the time. He’s quite cute actually, although having to spot him behind the carcasses is not really a top fantasy of mine.

- Hello. What would you like today?
Huge grin appearing on my face.
- 200gr of pork meat.
- Coming up, fresh, he replies with a smile.
- Thank you!

Did you notice how he said “fresh”? There was a longer “e” than normally. And he didn’t blink at all. Just smiled, and looked at me.

When I got home, I unpacked the meat. It was packed very nicely, very considerate, in 2 layers of paper, so its juices wouldn’t ruin my other shopping. I bet he doesn’t make this effort for every customer he has. When I unfolded the second layer, I noticed there was something written on the paper. So he finally decided to give me his number, or make a move or something. It was about the time, since I kind of ran out of ideas of meat recipes or friends whom to offer the meat to.

The paper had a few words scratched:
- Stop stalking me. Thank you :)

MrT and I

MrT is tall and he has the most gorgeous dark eyes I have ever seen. He has the biggest eyebrows (although I can see their upper line has been trimmed a bit, professionally) and the most cunning, mocking and seductive smile, all in one. From the moment I saw him the first time, I thought: dangerous to look at, dangerous to talk to and definitely worth dreaming of.


MrT is my reason for eating salad at noon, drinking tea in the evening and falling asleep naked. Because you see, in my mind, MrT’s touch surely feels like the satin sheets. And I feel like 17 again: trying to hide my pimples, trying to walk straight and unable to utter a word when anywhere in his proximity - that means about 3 meters or more away from him.


It’s not that I am shy. I am not shy. What the hell, I am a director and every day grown up men tremble when I ask them for their reports. It’s just the way he is. You know, him being the sort of man I’ve always dreamed of and stopped dreaming of, because my career is much more important than having a man to cook for. At the beginning, 3 years ago, I thought it was just a crush. A tiny little crush, which of course I exploited. When you are a woman, working in this sort of business, sometimes you need to wear a dress to get the things your way. It’s not manipulation. I’d say it’s more about smart usage of one’s assets. And it looks like it worked in his case also. In the office, in the meetings, whenever our companies have a joint project, I am the ice-queen-perfection of the negotiations, power points and numbers. Whenever we happen to come upon each other in the cafeteria, my brain goes numb, my knees turn to jelly and all my authoritarian magnitude turns to snot. Yep. And the pun was not intended.


- Lovely weather today, he would say. +20, no chance of rain.
- In 20 minutes we have the meeting with the board, i would reply, and i would see myself covering up in haze. I just love to go back to safe ground.
- 20 minutes is a long time. Care for a coffee?
I literally feel the ground surge under my stilettos.
- Sure, no sugar.
Thanks God I have practiced this question enough times with my secretary as to have an automated reply to it.
- So, is your report ready?
I’m not sure if he’s mocking me with this question. Normally that would be a good question, but in this case, when he’s looking straight into my eyes, I kind of feel he means something else.
- Sure.
Sure I’m an idiot I mean, but I don’t say out loud the second part. When you’re asking me about weather, I want to talk about work. When you’re asking about work, I think you’re kidding me. Oh my, you truly are gorgeous and I feel I should come closer to you and just bury my face in your freshly-washed-so-manly-smelling-perfumed collar.
- How long have you been working for this company?
- 10 years.
I love numbers. 10 years, 10 fingers, perfect to count 10 reasons why I am totally lost next to you. I feel my face heating up, and I catch myself pushing out my breasts, while slowing lifting a bit each finger in turns, to keep up with my counting.
- You?  
It’s always polite to ask about the other person, and it buys me time. I can look at him a bit more, continue my counting, and continue biting my lips. I’ve got a question on my lips that has to never come out.
- 15 years.
Oh good. So we would be in bed, all sweaty, I would receive a message from work, and he would start patronizing me, since he has 5 years more than me in the business. No sir, one reason from the 10 is down.
- What are you doing for holidays?
- Going skiing. You?  
I don’t really ski, just fool around for a couple of hours, on a hill near my brother’s house. Didn’t want to sound stupid.
- Going to my parents’. Eating some good old fashioned holidays food.

So you’re your mommy’s boy. My cooking will never be good enough for you. You won’t even know how to make fries. You spoiled brat! One more reason down.

- Then I would be going partying with some cousins. Family is important in my tradition.

So if I am about to give birth, and the cat of the family is feeling sick, you would leave me alone to drive 200km to check on the cat. What on earth did I see at you?

- Listen, would you like to go for a drink after the meeting?

Can’t believe he asked. After hinting he’s a spoiled patronizing mommy’s brat, he asks me out.
How does he dare? I check my pulse, I check my composure and at this short checkup, my crush seems to be reported missing. And my MrT appears just about 5cm taller than me. And I’m 1.60m.