A sweaty towel or a water bottle. Ifwe're really lucky, maybe a workout suit or some... unmentionables." Sheshoved him into the room. "We'll split the findings fifty-fifty."As Jamie searched the room, he was briefly struck by the weirdness of it all.Here he was in a dress with his sister, searching a weight room for sweatyleftovers of weight lifting super-women. Problem was, whoever cleaned up lastdid a good job. There was nary a towel to be found, much less any"unmentionables".While he was searching, he whistled in amazement. Suzie came over and asked,"What is it? You find something?" Not exactly. Just looking at these free weights. You said this was justlight workout stuff? Well, there's almost 300 pounds on this one bar."Suzie whistled. "I wish I could see the person who could actually USE thatsucker!" When she turned to Jamie, he froze up. With real concern in hervoice, she asked, "What's wrong?"Jamie couldn't speak. His clothes felt very tight on him, but that wasn't whyhe was. After a couple of months I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew that I had to get out of there: to another company, another city, whatever, just away from the woman my heart was breaking over on a daily basis. So I started putting out a few feelers, and calling in one or two favours. Things really came to a head one Friday evening when Jenny and I once again found ourselves together in a pub. Well, us and about 40 other folk, celebrating my manager’s long overdue retirement. I was lined up for his job, so I should have been in cheerful, but after an entire afternoon closeted with Jenny and a couple of other colleagues, inches from her as we went over some figures, I really wasn’t up for a joyful celebration. She had seemed unusually moody in the meeting too, which hadn’t helped. So she was propped up on the bar with some fellow managers, I was hunched at a table well away from her with a couple of other miserable sods. As the evening wore on I couldn’t help noticing Jenny’s voice getting.
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