Bad girl advice: How to keep your man happy.
So, I just received the following messages from my man at 9:39 am in the office.
Boy: Can I ask you for something naughty? (So well-mannered for asking)
Me: What? (Always direct, suspicions and to the point)
Boy: Go to the bathroom and send me some pics of your nice bottom and pussy. Just do it. Now. Just do it, don’t think about it.
All this before my second coffee at 10am. There I am, sitting in my open plan office, sneaking looks at my phone thinking – what? Why? This is the most unsexy place ever to be dealing with these types of messages.
Then I thought, he really does know me, here I am thinking about it – whilst simultaneously considering how many workplace relations laws I could possibly be breaking by taking and sending said pussy pics, not to mention if they ended up viral and in my 85-year-old grandmother’s inbox. What would that do to my stock price?!
Boy: Don’t tell me your not that kind of girl. Do it. Do it for me.
Me in my head: Great manipulation, this man is learning fast – but not fast enough to use to correct spelling of you’re.
Then I stopped thinking and thought, you know what – this is my man. I’m doing it! I stuck my phone down my bra, stood up and walked to the communal bathroom – I was on a mission.
On the way down the longest corridor ever, much longer than all the other times I was not en route to shoot my vagina, I smiled politely and said good morning, wink, to way too many colleagues. I’m sure I looked like an over-excited clown with all that smiling going on.
By the time I got to the bathroom I really had to pee. Was this the coffee or the nerves? I digress, can you tell I don’t want to tell you what I actually did?
Well it turns out that taking “attractive” selfies of one’s vagina is not actually that easy, especially whilst in a very small bathroom cubical, wearing control spandex leggings and needing to get butt into same picture as per initial request. Then I got interrupted.
Boy: Spread your lips a little bit and I want to see your bum. I have been dreaming about you. I can’t wait to have you. I am thinking about loving you all day long.
Me in my head: For the love of …., you have got to be kidding me!
OK, 3 semi focused pics of my front and back later and I was so done. There was not going to be any spreading of any kind. I mean let’s get real, we just trampled all boundaries of decency by going this far – what does he think this is?
There was clearly something wrong with me for agreeing to this in the first place.
Not only that, but the distracting text message of course meant that I fell head first into the cubical door whilst trying to balance in my heels with leggings pulled down and selfie mode phone positioned underneath my lady parts. I broke a sweat awkwardly bending to capture both my front and back bums. Note to self: Do more yoga.
So there you go. Then in the safety of the stall, I attempted to send the pictures. It was just my luck that there was no Wifi connection in the bathroom! Bloody marble. Maybe they do this specifically to stop sexual deviants like me from getting their sick kicks off during work time. Without options and defeated, I left the bathroom, phone in hand – holding it up and waving it around in hope pics would go through… I mean, when you commit then you may as well do it properly.
Sent. Double tick, he read them. Success!
Instant reply. “More”.
Sigh. He is like a spoilt child. No more, keep him keen ladies, keep him keen.
Your turn! Tell me yours.