With an hour to kill before she has to report for duty, Sara decides that the most logical place to start would be the porter's lodge. Though porters could sometimes be crusty old buggers, they tend to know what the gossip is in the hospital, who to avoid and where to get the best food. Sara wanders to reception and leans into the porter's window, concious that any porter worth his salt will notice her cleavage first. The porter has his back to her, but noticing his grey hair, Sara believes her experiences of porters thus far are not about to be challenged - old, slightly deaf, visually challenged, but quite sweet underneath their gruff exterior.
"Excuse me," she calls to the porter, "I'm new and a little lost." The porter turns round, and Sara blinks in surprise. Rather than the jug-eared, wonky face she was expecting, she sees a man in his late fifties, but looking remarkably handsome for it - a tanned, firm face with almost Hollywood good looks, a full head of silver hair and large hands. Imperceptibly, Sara leans a little further in so that this porter gets a bigger eyeful of her breasts. She has always had a thing for older men, though so far not those this much older than her.
"Hello," the porter replies, keeping his eyes, as far as Sara can tell, on her face. "How can I help?" |