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Otto had again met in the elevator that moody, weird kid with piercing eyes, which always made him a bit uneasy, but he forgot the strange young man as soon as he entered the street. Ahead of him was another day of stamping papers, arranging files and staring at computer screen till his myopic eyes hurt. In the evening maybe watching TV, or having a couple of pints in a corner pub before going to sleep. A colourless little life of a colourless little man, notable only for its uneventfulness and drabness; like tens of thousands of similar fates in his hometown of old factories and their harbouring smokestacks. What did rise him above all that was his ability to fantasize.
Women in Otto's office didn't do too much to catch his fancy, being mostly middle-aged wives in their cosy marriages or divorced, or even dry spinster type with their sagging breasts. Otto didn't dedicate many thoughts to them, bar some lukewarm chatter during coffee breaks which he barely ever participated. His mind was occupied with other matters altogether.
It was springtime, and the streets were again filled with miniskirts and high heels. This was the season of the year Otto always loved, though not exactly for blossoming flowers and trees.
It felt like all around Otto he could see voluptuous bodies and luscious lips, heaving bosoms and shaking hips; feisty little vixens and ethereal mirages strolling down the streets waving their designer handbags. Otto thought woman's body was nature's masterwork in design. If asked, if Otto was a breast man, a butt man or a legs man, he would definitely choose buttocks. Those wonderful curvatures and contours of women's juicy bottoms kept Otto endlessly in their thrall. Often on the street, a stealthy erection would rear its ugly head as Otto observed the lower ends of female pedestrians.
Young girls favoured these days stretch jeans which Otto thought just made favourable impressions of their succulent bottoms, shaped like peaches or ripe pears you just wanted to hit your teeth on. Otto didn't mind the girls who were a bit plump in their rear ends; on the contrary, a slight tubbiness in the bottom area would form a delicious sight for his sore eyes. Otto had spent many afternoons admiring and comparing these wonders of Mother Nature. Not only bottoms; also shapeful and fleshy thighs were another obsession of Otto; those divine pillars between which were located those lovely tight slits, the very object of any heterosexual man's secret desire.
Despite his vivid, lustful imagination Otto did not consider himself a type who would harass or intimidate women. Vice versa, he saw himself a sort of polite gentleman, albeit a connoisseur of sort. Nature was meant to be admired, after all, in all its beauty: as they said, nothing in this world was as futile as the pope's balls and nun's nipples.