Von

Of all the people I could’ve run into in the long office hallway that particular day—why’d it have to be her?

 

 

This would be awkward.

In any other circumstance, she’d smile and say hello.

After noticing me, she promptly folded her arms and looked off to the side. I tried to make eye contact—but ol’ girl was having NONE of it. She briefly looked at me in passing—before quickly looking away.

Yeah, it was uncomfortable.

Then again, did I really think it wouldn’t be awkward between us—after insinuating that I’d ejaculate in her face a few days earlier?

Well, maybe not directly…but…

Allow me to explain:

 

While working 11:30 to 7:30 means that I get to sleep in every morning—it also means that I miss the after-work happy hours that my 9 to 5 co-workers frequent.

So while I was hard at work one Friday night, those fukkers were at the local downtown watering hole gettin’ demolished.

 

I honestly have no idea how it got there. I’m guessing I spilled something on it one day. Something nasty. Whatever the case, there’s been a dreadful mark there for some time—and now my drunken friend was wondering why.

 

However, I decided to have some fun with his punk ass.

 

When asked to clarify, I replied: When no one else is around, I do naughty things in my cube. I relieve myself on the chair.

 
Completely untrue, but more interesting than the truth.

Damn.

I could’ve stopped right then and there, but since my cover was blown, I decided to go all in.

“Tell [co-worker’s name] that if she has a stain on her chair Monday, she knows who to thank.”

I thought that would be the final word, but I was mistaken.

My inebriated co-worker responded: she says she wants a stain on her shirt tonight!

 

 

I doubted that she was capable of saying something so raunchy; dude must’ve made it up. Sadly, that didn’t stop me from sending one last response:

 

“I can aim for the shirt, but it usually ends up in the facial area.”

 

And with that, I finished my work and got on the elevator, leaving for the night.

Funny thing about weekends though—they’re always over before you know it.

Next thing I knew, I was taking the elevator back to my office Monday morning. I remembered that, just a few days ago, I joked about blowing my load in a co-worker’s face! It’d definitely make for an awkward moment when I saw her again.

But, then again, I rarely ran into her. And the next time I did, she’d most likely have forgotten all about it. If, in her drunken state, she even remembered at all! I concluded that the next time I saw her, it wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

 

Sadly, that turned out not to be the case.