X-Rated

I'm hardly ever X-Rated... I'm so PG-13 I just want to throw up Britney Spears for gods sake.

Anyway.

(Author mentally shakes head... internal voice over, "shake it off, shake it off")

There's this cutie at my work. Every time I see him I can't help but stare... and I'm positive that he's starting to notice. But I can't stop it. Everytime I see him I start imagining doing that slow crawl up the bed underneath the covers, you know the one with crucial skin contact, and then trapping his wrists near the headboard while I figure out exactly what he doesn't know that I can now teach him... hmm.

He makes me feel like a fox near a soft furry rabbit. Vicious.

So today I am in the parking lot and it starts pouring and out of the corner of my eye I see him running for cover. Wet. I stood in the rain for a while after that. Distracted. Wet.

Now my hair is fuzzy. Stupid fuckin hormones. Oh well, it was a nice interlude in an otherwise shitty day that I hope to end by blacking out.

(author now having fantasies about alcohol... hmmm, vodka bottle slowly walks towards me, "Hey... how about a threesome? You me and Redbull." Sexy)

................

"C'mon baby. You know you want me."