Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? Read Online Free PDF

years' worth of freshly picked vegetables.
        Lloyd Newton, a worker out at the glass-making plant, was the first to ever give me his daughter.
        Jamie is seventeen, sexy, freckled, cute, and totally incompetent. She fashioned herself after all the bad girls you see on those jailbait paperback covers. You know, the white socks, the penny loafers, the tight dungarees rolled up to display the elegant calf, the tight white blouse with collar turned up and bullet bra pointing the fetching breasts toward ecstasy, the erotically lipsticked mouth, and the jarringly innocent pony-tail.
        I walked in and went over to the radio and turned down the sound. I like Jerry Lee Lewis well enough but not during working hours.
        She was too busy typing to notice me. I'm a two-finger typist myself. Jamie is even more energy-efficient. She only types with one finger, which she can do with no trouble at all while making a huge pink plastic dome of the bubble gum she constantly chews. It's like watching a frog's throat sac expand and diminish all day.
        She hit a final key and said, "There!"
        Then, like a teen princess awakening, she looked up and said, "Gee, Mr. C! I didn't even hear you come in! I was really working on this business letter!"
        Savvy, no; enthusiasm, yes.
        And then she handed me the letter. I'd scribbled it out for her in longhand. She'd typed it for me. Mr. Ardur Shermin Presidunt Sherman Farm Implents Sepotember 24, 1959
        
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        Dear Mr Shermun,
        My accountent informs me that your account with my law office is in serus arrears. While I don't generally turn things ovr to a collection agency, I'm afraid I must consder doing so now unless you make arranggements with me within thre working days. You will find my phone numer and address on this leterhead. Please avail yourself of my offer or I will be farced to take other action.
        Sincerely, Samm McCainn
        
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        "And it only took me an hour and a half!"
        "Gosh," I said, "that beats your old record, doesn't it?"
        "Yeah!" she said proudly. Then yawned. "Boy, that just about wore me out!" She was talking, as she always did, in sentences that ended in exclamation points. Or, as she'd type it out for me, in exxclametion pointes!
        "Well, I can certainly see why you'd be tired after work like this."
        "Really?" she said. "Because you know, sometimes I get this feeling you don't like think I'm doing, you know, a real good job!"
        "Are you kidding? This office hasn't been the same since you started coming here."
        "Well, Dad thought you might be mad about my accidentally flicking my cigarette ashes on some of your papers that time. You remember? When they caught fire?"
        "Oh, dimly. Way in the back of my mind."
        She yawned again. "You think I could take a break? Maybe get a cherry Coke or somethin'? That typing really took it out of me."
        "A break? After work like this? You should get a whole week off!" She had me talking in exxclamation pointes now too. Or, if you prefer, two.
        Then I was taking her elbow and escorting her to the door and stuffing a dollar and a half in her hand. "I don't need to see you till next week. This is just a little bonus."
        "Next week! But Dad said I was supposed to come in every day!"
        "But you've done such a great job, you've finished all your work for the week!"
        "Oh, great! Wait till I tell Dad! He'll be surprised! He thinks I'm kinda stupid!"
        "Well, the next time I see him, I'm gonna set him straight on that one!"
        "See ya, Mr. C!"
        "See ya, Jamie!"
        After she was gone, I went back to my desk, sat down, opened the middle left drawer, and took out the sheet of typing paper that read jammie. hours. She'd even managed to mistype her own name. While she had a decent heart, a secretary she wasn't. I couldn't tell