Hot Secretaries, Vol. 2

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.

Tipping point

Dangerous, this is. I didn't really expect this.


Yesterday I went for drinks after work with a few colleagues. New Boy was there (that's a given - there was beer, and a terrified intern). We've been steadily flirting for the last month, but since really thinking about it (and taking on the advice of my internet 'homies') I decided it would go no further.

We got talking. We got slowly drunker and drunker until everyone else just left. I'm trying to remember the topics of conversation, but the easier the words come, the easier they go. Turns out that he's at a dead end. I didn't know, but Andrew (his real name) has been together with his long term partner for about 6 years. They live together. I had absolutely no idea.

But he's not happy. Everything in his life has leveled out - he hates his job, regardless of how well it's going. He pissed his life away to normalcy. His girlfriend has been suggesting babies and marriage, which make him want to run in the opposite direction. It sounded like him only knew what he didn't want.

Something happened last night. We all know the feeling. Verging on painful, where you realise you both want each other and it's never going to happen. Your chest tightens and your stomach flips over. No one has made me feel this much like a little girl since my mother. Knowing you can't makes you want it more, but your conscience stops you short and you nip to the loo and then leave with a quick goodbye.

It reminds me of a boy at school I was in love with for about 3 years. He didn't know my name - I knew everything about him. He was a year younger than me, long hair, poor family. But absolutely beautiful. Alex, his name was. He was a thug and tearaway, arrogant and rude, with this soft side to him that I saw floating under the ice every now and then. One day I remember waking up in my bed, already crying, thinking about the fact that whatever I did, he was never going to love me back.



I think he knows that I want him. But I've already got too much to juggle, without getting a new ball...

...wink wink, nudge nudge.

In response to MC...

James. Oh Jamesy James James.

Things are great with James. Our relationship has slotted nicely alongside my marriage. We see each other at set times and dates, and although it sound terribly dull, it's actually fantastic. The two relationships seems to have become one. I'm happy, James is happy, and Hubby is happy.

I don't know if anyone can identify with this, but it feels as if what James and Hubby give to me has created the perfect functional relationship. I'm sure most people would see this as greed, but now I don't know if I could return to the way things were before. This unorthodox method seems to have created a strangely normal situation.

Would love to here everyone's stories of how their 'illicit' relationships have helped bolster their marriages...

Love, Shell x

OMG.

I could be getting almost 7k more for my job if I worked somewhere else. God bless Gumtree! You have opened my eyes!

Think it's time to ask for a raise.

SPAM

Get off sodding page you nasty little scammers! No, I don't want any of your cheap viagra, for three reasons...

1) I try to avoid buying pharmaceuticals over the internet from companies which advertise by paying migrant workers 4 pence an hour to spam personal blogsites.
2) I try to avoid buying pharmaceuticals over the internet, full stop.
3) Despite the numerous letters to Father Christmas, I am still yet to own a penis.

Huff.

In other news, I took the fantastic advice of the lovely Karen and tried to picture New Boy after a night out, dribbling kebab juice down himself with a semi. Needless to say, the image was certainly enough to deter me for at least a few days. I think soon I will need to start using more aggressive tactics to rid myself of my crush. Perhaps leaving my job...

...well I wanted to go anyway.

Hmmm. That might not actually be a bad idea. Maybe a change of pace will sort me out. Am going to have a flick through Gumtree to see what's available. Watch this space.

Help a girl out!

Ladies and gentlemen of my little blogosphere...

Help! My crush on New Boy is swiftly getting out of hand. We had a very tense moment just now in reprographics (basically a very small room with a photocopier), and I am failing dismally to keep my thoughts pure. I need tips on how to control myself (both physically and mentally). I genuinely don't want anything to happen, but as I'm sure some of you know, it isn't always that simple.

Why does this always feel like confession!??

Slippage.

Something very bizarre happened today.

New Boy, who, from my previous posts my regular readers will know is more than a bit of a yuppie, has, of recent weeks, been showing a little more interest in me than usual. His attentions have miraculously been deflected from Janine, our terrified typist, on to me, Michelle. Or, as I like to call my self now, Michelle, Extra-Marital Sexpot and World-Renowned Sexy Laydee. I think it's catchy.

Anyway. To be honest, I never really looked at New Boy before. He has always represented that sector of the business world I love to hate - the 30-something, financially-stable smug prick who thinks his BMW is a pussy-wagon and his degree from Manchester City actually worth something. Urgh. Today I decided to have a better look - out of curiosity really. He is not an entirely unattractive individual. He has a mole above his lip and a dimple in his right cheek which gives him this confused, lop-sided smile. The hair is pretty awful. The suits are equally as bad. He has a Spongebob Squarepants mug.

But he's sexy too. I mean, he has command of a room. Everyone listens to him when he speaks - even if they're overhearing some international phone call. Even me - I listen. Now I do anyway. And that's how I knew I had developed a little bit of a crush on our friend.

This worries me. Normally I have crushes on men with no balls. But New Boy has balls. If he found out about this little indiscretion I have a feeling I might try and take me roughly in the copy room.

I might like that.

But I have James.

And Hubby.

Could I take a third?

Not at the same time you understand...

My head hurts.