I hate St. Patrick's Day. When I was a little girl, I was traumatized by the day. You know, wearing green, but not the right shade of green – and getting pinched by mean boys. Oh, how I hated St. Patrick's Day, until recently.
Let me explain.
I work in a city that takes St. Patrick's Day seriously. Behind Boston, it is a party on that day. And every St. Patrick's Day, our office closes because there is a huge parade that goes through downtown. You can't find parking, it is loud, it is almost not worth having the doors to the company I work for open. So it is an unofficial holiday, and normally, we take volunteers to keep a skeleton crew here. I volunteered for the skeleton crew.
And as I have implied, I don't like any of the festivities, so as I was getting dressed, I looked around for something to wear. Crap. Perhaps I don't like the freekin' holiday because I don't wear green clothes. I go for a flowery dress – spring-y, lots of pastel colors (which I rarely wear) and with some dots that look green, or is that turquoise blue? The only thing I really have on that is green is a pair of Jockey for Her green panties. As a constellation, I know I will be the only one at the office and that the day will fly by. Heck, I did not even shave my legs, so I didn't wear panty hose as well. Sort of a side benefit of not shaving, I suppose. As long as no one sees.
Anyway, I am at work for the day, and there is no one else there. I can hear a dull noise from outside – the parade starting. After about an hour, I hear the elevator tone. Someone is on the floor. Two minutes later, Ted arrives at my desk, needing to finish some paperwork. I look at him, and he has on this tacky tie, "Kiss Me I'm Irish." It doesn't go with his suit – but it is green.
He shuffles off to his office, and I continue to work. Ten minutes later, I leave my desk for the restroom to release my morning coffee.
As I return, Ted is at my desk, leaning over reading what is in my in-box. A clear no-no. I think, "nosy guy", and I sneak up behind him and pinch him on his ass. A hard pinch, on the cheek but closer to the crack than I originally intended.
He turns around, startled but busted.
"Oh," I apologize/lied, "I did not know you were wearing green."
"Look at you, Leesa, you have no green on."
"Yeah, Ted, but you can't pinch me because of sexual harassment! So my ass is safe from your fingers."
I did not know Ted well, but he knew I did not curse. I purposefully used the word "ass" to indicate that I was being less professional than during normal work days.
He turned around completely, and looked me up and down with a bit of lust in his eyes.
"No green on, Leesa.," he finally says, "but you pinched me and I had green on. There must be some sort of punishment."
I am not into punishment, domination and the like. That is not was I was after with my "ass" statement.
"Bite me," was the first phrase out of my mouth. I hate that phrase, but someone else at work uses it and, unfortunately, I picked up the phrase.
Ted smiles, and then nibbles me on my neck while pinching me in the butt. I was shocked and aroused at the same time.
"That," Ted said after the nibbling, "is for pinching me with green on."
What should I do next? Did I really want to carry this further? Right now it was flirty talk and pinching bottoms. Did I want to take things further, lift up my dress to reveal my green panties? A million endings to this story entered my brain. Was someone going to get off the elevator, ending what could have been a passionate encounter? There is a difference between what I want and what I should do. What would I do?
Okay, the above story is fictional. I thought it would work better if you thought I was blogging. Anyway, call me a bitch if you want to; maybe I want to be bitch slapped. Who knows. I was sort of running out of room and did not know how to quickly finish the story. Okay, bitch slap me if you like. Sort of like an unfulfilled tease.
Yesterday, I visited lots of blogs, mostly to satisfy my king. Anyway, I saw this movie, called Loose Change 2nd Edition, and it scared me. It could be completely made up, but some of the things made a lot of sense. I am not saying it is real or false. Maybe it doesn't matter. But I did want to mention it today.
And if this is my last blog entry, the government sent a squad to my work, identified by me streaming this video. They then manipulated Google to erase any trace of this evidence. The video mentioned is more than an hour in length. It may be all crap, but it scared me because it seemed plausible. Not likely but plausible. Sort of like fucking Ted in the office on St. Patrick's Day.
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