My life briefly resembled an 80's porno.
On Monday evening, Andrew (aka New Boy) and I were working late. I'm not sure if, in Blog on the Land's words, we "engineered" it...we probably did, even if it wasn't conscious.
Anyway, I've been trying to implicate this new filing system in the office which has taken me days to do. Boxes all over my office, regular trips to the store cupboard.
Andrew has been walking around the office moving things and sorting pencils, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't have anything to do. His laptop is running but when he sits in front of it I have the distinct feeling he's on Facebook. So Shelly does something very un-Shelly like...
"Shouldn't you be off home? You've obviously got nothing to do."
"Oh, you noticed", says Andrew, getting up. He comes round to the front of his desk and tries to perch casually (hilarious).
"Well, you can either go home, or give me a hand." I say, picking up some files. "There's a box marked F-H over there. Grab that and follow me"
As soon as the words come out of my mouth I know what I'm doing. I walk towards the door, and down the corridor. My hands are shaking and I've got the strange mixture of excitement and peril in my stomach. Everything else happens like I'm watching a late-night movie about my life. Like I'm sat in an empty theatre in my head.
I reach the store room, and as soon as I get in, turn around and drop the files on the floor. Andrew comes around the corner, looks at the files on the floor, steps tentatively over them and kisses me. He has the hands of a randy 16 year old, which makes a change to the usual 60 year old libido I'm used to. The kisses are coming thick and fast, and somehow I'm topless and pressed up against a filing cabinet. Andrew is more toned than I imagined - I watch his muscles move as he helps me up onto the top of the cabinet. He takes my tights and shoes off and...well, us IE members are all in possession of an active imagination - I don't think I have to go any further.
This is the first time, since a tryst at a dinner party with an ex about 12 years ago, I have fucked someone. As opposed to "made love". It's not a word you would hear Mrs Sutton utter in real life, but for some reason I feel like those reading this probably know exactly what I mean.
It's going to be hard not to go back for more. Today we kept exchanging glances (he was away yesterday)...although we haven't spoken since. The tension is killing me.
And I'm meant to be seeing James tonight. Christ.