Jethro decided he needed my help this afternoon. The front desk girl leaves early on Fridays and he had a whole slew of people scheduled for the evening. I got here with the girls and the door was locked and the whole clinic was dark. I knocked frantically because if things don't go according to how I've envisioned them in my head, I start to panic and imagine all manner of grisly horrors. Then I hyperventilate a little and it's all I can do not to wet my pants in hysteria. I have a small bladder.
Jethro came to the door momentarily with a confused look on his face. I thought he was going to ask why I was late (I was a leeetle teeny tiny bit late), but somehow he'd forgotten that he'd asked me to come in.
So everything's good and I want to smush my bosoms in his face later.
And speaking of bosoms, I had become somewhat easy with drink a few Fridays ago. Not drunk exactly, but with somewhat lessened inhibitions.
I was in the loveliest of compromising positions, trying to wriggle coquettishly away from Jethro while he had my nipples captured in his fingers when Gwennie appeared right beside the bed asking for something insane like a magic potion that would make her fall asleep instantly and give her dreams of bejewelled elfin unicorns frolicking down sturdy opaque rainbows. It was around 2am, mind you. I was so mortified I hid under the covers (actually it was just my head because as long as that's covered no one can see you. What?! WHAT?!!) and laughed like a crazy person.
The next morning, I told her that she better knock if she wanted to come into our room especially at night.
"I didn't see anything," she responded instantly.
"Yes, you did." I wasn't fooled for a second. "And that's your punishment. When you don't knock, you end up seeing things you really don't want to see."
She grinned. "I'll give you that," she said.