I think it was my second day as a seasonal Christmas worker, when that big woman came out and stood next to me and started accompanying me as I delivered the letters. By big, I mean she had a big ass and big tits, and she was fat in all the right places. She looked a little crazy but I kept looking at her body without caring. She talked and talked and talked. Then she blurted it out. Her husband was an officer on an island far away, and she felt alone, you know, and lived in a little house back there with no one. "What little house?" I asked. She wrote her address on a piece of paper. "I'm alone too," I told her, "so I'll come over tonight so we can talk." I was already hanged, but my noose was gone most of the time, grazing somewhere, so at night I really felt alone. I felt alone for that big ass standing next to me. "Alright," she said, "see you tonight." She was actually a good case, good in bed, but like with all good beds, after the third or fourth time I started to lose interest and never went back.
But I couldn't help thinking, my God, that all these postmen do is deliver letters and screw. That's a job for me, oh yes, yes, yes.