Writing

In the last few months/weeks I’ve become so “well read”. On the interwebs of course- doing the whole web 2.0 thing. It’s easy enough when you’re interested. For instance, I’ve discovered there’s no actual definition out there for digital marketing. I know because I’ve searched (maybe not hard enough but if Google can fail me, who/what else can I turn to?!)

I’ve read up on search engine optimization and have a fairly moderate understanding of the same.

I’ve also been reading up on doing a cleanse as I apparently need one. What the hell is a cleanse anyway? Well, I discovered the perfect site to help-  now all I need to do is start… *begins procrastination 101 again).

I have read a lot of blog posts by Biko Zulu and laughed outrageously, had the hint of a tear at some… and felt genuine love and affection for people I’ve never met in others. I have itched to write again and this is what I’m going to do… a short story based on a true story. Or base this on Viva Riva? HAHAHAHAHA! Still can’t buh-live @thesapientone hasn’t watched it yet. That movie alone deserves it's own post...

I digress

Well here goes:

I believe the h.r woman has been ravishing the boss in her office past working hours. Every day I sit and watch them laugh on an hourly rotation and her giggle passionately, pushing up her not so ample bosom as he tries to stare it down like a matador waiting for the bull’s attack, or like a dog watching the bone being waved at it from side to side wondering how to get at it before it’s thrown and diminish the LONGING nay yearning it has for that bone.

Sometimes it looks like the tango when they’re together, dancing suggestively around each other on their way from the kitchen when at other times it looks like a rap game in the boardroom with them trading bitter barbs… all to hide the inner lust they have for one another. Like Kenyan politicians pretending to have beef yet behind closed doors they break bread or ugali and laugh at our folly.

I imagine being the fly on the wall watching them accomplish the feat. He, the “main guy” who yells in the “iwillflareyourskinoffyourbodyfornotmeetingyourtargets” tone while she usually pretends to simper in a coy manner. I’m on to them though. I’m sure he’s the submissive, tie me to your coat rail, gag me and punish me for my misdemeanors kinda guy while she flicks her whip (I’m sure it’s right there with all our employee files) and makes him lick her boots.

Because there’s no other reason for me to think anything else or less. Because this office bores me. Because they probably go home every day and have what I’d term platonic sex with their significant others in the same position every day.

Or maybe it’s because I day dream of doing the same thing to him every day. Every time he walks past I stare at his ass in those super tight pants and imagine the things I would do to him given the chance because he’s the boss. 

Look at that, they just did it again! 

He just turned and tried to show off his rippling abs through his YSL shirt! I know because I’ve sniffed his shirt, his tie and sat on his chair wondering how it would feel to have his head between my legs as I conduct short meetings…

But he doesn’t even know I’m there because I’m just the hired help who cleans his office every time he goes home to his wife at night and I’m left to fantasize…