For Sam (See Last Post's Comments)

I have a slight cold. Not enough to keep me from functioning, but just enough to be a little phlegmy and achy. Every time I feel like this, I want to start making out with someone. And yes, Jethro would be the obvious choice. But I must be French somewhere in my ancestry because they are the only ones I can see getting turned on by mucus.

But to the point. I was feeling sick, so I went into the break room to make some tea. One of the Hot, Young Assistants was in there making lunch. I dribbled a hello to her, and was going about my business when another agent walks in and they start talking about a lie he told one of his clients. She kept insisting that it was a lie, and he kept insisting it was a matter of perspective just like, and I quote, "World War II." He said World War II was a matter of perspective and that whomever was victorious got to write history. Then he exhorted us to "remember that," as he made a pompous, sweeping exit.

I paused with my tea bag in hand, and said quietly, "Yeah. The concentration camps were just a matter of perspective." The Hot, Young Assistant looked uncomfortable as I started making my tea rather violently. She told me he was a jerk and no one liked him.

She came over slowly and put her hand on mine. "Do you want to talk about it some more?" she asked in a low, sultry voice. Her blonde hair gleamed and her blue eyes looked concernedly into mine, and suddenly I wanted to talk to her more than anything.

We found an empty conference room and sat down with my tea and her Lean Cuisine. I rested my achy head on my hand and began to tell her of my family's history and struggles while she listened sympathetically.

When I was through, she again placed her hand on mine and moved in closer. I could smell her perfume and see the soft curves of her breasts rise from the lowcut turquoise sweater she wore.
I sat perfectly still waiting for the moment. It came. She lightly touched the side of my face and kissed me. Gently at first, slowly parting my lips with her tongue. I felt my arms go round her waist and my hands spasmodically clutch her sweater, reaching underneath to touch her warm skin.

And I'm going to stop now before I become totally gay.