I stood there on the sidewalk, the humidity of the night clinging to my skin like a second layer of clothing. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and nodded toward the elegant woman standing under the amber glow of the streetlamp.
"You must be the one I was supposed to meet," I said, pitching my voice low to sound more professional than I felt. "I've got your delivery right here."
As I spoke, I couldn't help but let my gaze linger on her legs—long, toned, and perfectly showcased by her outfit. They seemed to go on forever. I walked to the back of my delivery tricycle, unhooked the bungee cords, and lifted the fruit crate. It was heavier than it looked, the cardboard slightly damp from the night air. I held it out toward her, expecting her to take the weight.
Surprisingly,
