Back again. I guess I will have time to write today since Frank is off doing whatever Frank does... in his weird way.

Anyway I got to thinking about this almost-office affair I once had. I'm sorry it couldn't be more interesting and I could tell you it was hot and amazing, but actually it will probably just come across as kind of sad...

I worked in a law firm where there were of course, mostly young male associates in their early thirties, and all the secretaries were women ages 22-28. I never thought much about any of the guys, a couple of them were handsome but, they were lawyers, you know what I mean? Not really my cup of tea.

There was one lawyer, he told me he was 34 but I always thought he looked older, like 40. I thought he was really annoying. As a receptionist, it was customary to put all the letters that were to be mailed out that day on the corner of the reception desk. This guy, we'll call him Bill, would walk by on his way to lunch and knock them all off the edge of the desk. Then he and his buddies would just laugh if I got angry. Once he went to put an envelope with his credit card payment into the pile, and I said, "Gee, I hope no one comes and knocks all the letters off the desk, that might get lost." He looked concerned and took the envelope to the mailbox himself.

I don't remember ever really being attracted to this guy in the beginning, but one day he caught me looking at Betty Page websites on the internet. I had also just seen the Marquis De Sade movie with Geoffrey Rush so he probably caught me googling the Marquis as well... and so Bill was like, wow, you're like one of those dominatrix chicks... you're into all that fetish stuff... and he told me more websites to go on, and even clued me in to a special "club" here in my city where fetishists meet to learn more about S&M and meet others like them. From then on I was Bill's special project. He took a new interest in me. He was keen to know if I had gone to the meetings, what I had learned, etc.

I guess I should mention that Bill was married with a kid... he never seemed too happy, and his wife wasn't into his fetish thing at all. Previous to his wife he had had a girlfriend that was into all this stuff, so that's how he knew about it.

This was all completely harmless until the night of the office Christmas party. Everyone did their usual thing, got drunk, etc., except for me, because I don't drink. Bill once again initiated conversation around BDSM and fetishism every chance he could. Finally he asked me if I'd like to go to an S&M club with him that night. He said, "I'll leave first, and meet you outside on the corner."

Don't ask me why I agreed. I guess partially because Bill had started to look more and more attractive the more I got to know him, and found out he was kinky like me. He had these killer blue eyes, and I am a sucker for those things. So I agreed, and left and met up with him, and next thing you know we are in a cab on the way to the S&M club. The universe wasn't cooperating with Bill's little scheme, however, since once we arrived and tried to get in, the guy at the door just looked at us and laughed, said, "You're here on the wrong night-- this is gay night."

Now. We are stuck in this part of the city near a sex club on gay night. It's freezing and I don't remember why but Bill wants to talk. It's like his wife's got him in a cage, and he never gets to talk dirty to someone. He's trying to set something up, make a plan, do I want to get together with him? Maybe I can call in sick, he can come to my apartment and spank me, etc.

I said, "Bill, no offense, but the way it works is, I'm the dom first, until the trust is built, then I'll be the sub."

Bill wasn't too keen on this idea, really, but he didn't want to let me go either. Finally in the middle of a sentence, sitting on a rusty fire escape, he asks, "Can I kiss you?" and I say okay.

Some sort of agreement was sealed with that kiss... that something was going to happen.

I can't lie, it had an amazing effect on me. Suddenly going to work was interesting. I started to DRESS for work. My coworkers were probably astonished as I began to show more cleavage, wear tighter skirts, and make-up on a regular basis. Bill was looking good too. We set up new email accounts (there is no way I would ever email personal anything on an office email account) and Bill started putting the pressure on. When could we meet? What could we do?

I knew exactly what I wanted to do to Bill; I wanted to totally dominate him. I'd make him construct a big, teetering pile of letters on the kitchen countertop. Then I'd knock that pile down and order Bill onto his knees, and make him gather up those letters in his mouth. Then I'd yank his pants down to reveal his tighty-whities and warm up his bottom a little bit, followed by my riding crop on his bare skin. I wanted to penetrate him anally, which I had mentioned to him but that scared the shit out of him (no pun intended), however he seemed willing to make certain sacrifices if he would actually at some point be allowed to be the dom.

Anyway there were some incidences, like being called into his office and showing him my tits, and having him give me work that wasn't really mine to do, meeting secretly on the subway on the way home, all to keep that connection going. It was weird because it was like I hated the guy, he made me so frustrated but at the same time so hot.

It was decided that we would meet after work one night to discuss what the plans were. The meeting place? TGI Fridays. I shit you not! This was definitely a problem for me. For one thing, it was not fitting my whole "having an affair with a married man" fantasy at all, where the guy is supposed to treat you to the ritziest places. The other problem was that for our "meetings", dear old Bill didn't want to spring for any kind of hotel. Okay, granted, he's an associate, but I'm a frigging receptionist, so don't complain that you don't have the money... I've got to be worth the money for what you're asking me to do! Needless to say, those kinds of hopes were dashed.

But I guess I was used to crumbs, cause there I am in TGI Friday's, with my future paramour, drinking a pink drink and drawing up a contract to whip this guy's ass. The only good part was meeting each other by the restrooms and making out a little... I wish I could give you steamy details, folks, but it's been too long and I'm over it.

The plans were made and the remainder of the week was spent emailing detailed descriptions of what we would do to each other (read: what I planned on doing to him-- I was keeping the envelopes as a surprise).

Then the phone call.

What?

I'm sitting there at work and Bill calls. He tells me his wife knows everything.

What?

"Well, she apparently went through my briefcase, and she found my new email address and password, so she's seen all my emails..."

WHAT?!?

"So I just told her, you know, that it's the receptionist where I work, and that nothing has happened, that you and I have just been playing this game... with no intention of doing anything... and that we went for drinks, but only because you wanted to use me for a reference to apply for another job..."

And on, Bill goes, spewing some kind of bullshit, and I am mortified. What a fucking wimp. First of all, what kind of idiot writes down his new email and password on the same piece of paper and takes it home to his wife, who is obviously a snoop? How did this guy pass the bar if he doesn't know enough to memorize his email and password? Secondly, why does he tell his wife it was me? Couldn't he think of someone else? A woman from another firm, maybe, a cousin of a friend, ANYONE but me, a real actual person, who has to sit here and answer the phone when his wife calls to talk to him, for Christ's sake. And thirdly, what kind of woman would believe this crock of shit? That her husband was just playing "a game" with his younger receptionist? That is was all completely harmless with no intention of "doing anything"?

And then I realize, that Bill must have made all this up. Either he is attached to drama, and purposefully left the stuff for his wife to find (he was calling me from a phone booth, for God's sake-- how much more drama could you ask for? The man's a lawyer and has a cell phone), or, his wife never found anything at all, and Bill is really scared about this fooling around thing and wants to get out of it.

See, I told you it was sad.

And boring too.

And I went back to not caring what I wore to work, and being bored again, and not bothering to put on lipstick. Nothing ever happened, no confrontation with the wife, only brief flirtation with Bill, I eventually left that job and he left too to start his own practice. Last I heard he and his wife had another kid.

I guess my point in telling this story was just noticing what I compromised in myself. First of all, I didn't really listen to my gut, I was just following this weird attraction thing to somebody I didn't even like as a person. Secondly, as affairs go, you don't usually get as much as you do in a real relationship, but here I was willing to get... um, crap... I mean, TGI Fridays, for God's sake! And the whole dressing up thing, the way I changed... well, it's embarrassing to think about...

...but it makes sense, because I believe more than anything else, a feminine person wants a masculine person to see that radiance within her. And sometimes we are so wounded, we just want to be seen so badly, that we will take it any way we can get it... from anyone we can get it from. That's what I was doing, because I wanted to be seen so much.

I still want to be seen. I still need to adjust myself though when I catch myself longing to be seen by someone who is just not capable. I probably could have ended up being hurt... if we'd gone through with something, I don't know, who knows what would have happened. A big mess.

That's the lesson I take away from that little thing. Maybe I have guardian angels.

Guardian angels that make sure I show up at the sex club on gay night, and guide snoopy wives to their husband's briefcases.

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