I think that's what it's called, when a bloke, too poor to buy a Ferrari but too horny to ignore the urge, embarks on an affair with someone close to 20 years his junior. I'm the, uh, junior, by the way....I work with him, well, for him, just to add a further dash of power and cliche to the mix. About a year ago, I decided that my job was boring enough to warrant doing something interesting whilst plodding the corridors of (minimal) power. So, at a work do two weeks later, I wore my tightest jeans, my highest heels and with a slash of mascara and red wine, asked him, as we let other bar-goers crush us closer and closer together whilst, ostensibly, standing at the bar, if he masturbated about me. Those were my exact words. And he, tentative, astonished in fact, I think, nodded dumbly.
I have a wide smile and smiled widely. He has a nervous smile but massive blue eyes that speak in lieu of his mouth which was still agape with shock. And that second, those eyes - what IS it with me and blue eyes? - sealed the messy fate of filing-cabinet fucking and Texts That Are Only Received When The Wife Is Out....
Again, more later....I have washing up and cooking to do, those moments of prosaic living between the jaunts to Leicestershire (wry grin)
1 comment:
Hey careful! You'll have us all at it :-)
I thought your efforts definitely deserved a comment, and probably more . . .
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