November 29 Nothing. Weeks of nothing. Calls into Annie's office were just that. Calls into Annie's office. Deliveries to Ellen Joy's studio were just that. Deliveries to Ellen Joy's studio. Even when Tasha leaned over my shipping desk in her flouncy disco dress late on a Friday requesting a rush shipment was only that and not a prelude to prepping Annie and Tasha for their night out on the town. Just a peek at Tasha's pert little breast to entice me to stay late and ship her special order out. Then there was Rene. So busy doing her course work that I did nothing but speak with her over the phone. Even Ms. Spain no longer teased and flirted with me nor called me her "Pumpkin" of late. Perhaps it was my difficulty in meeting her eyes after my "Halloween Hallucination" as I now thought of it. So it has been. Work. Catching glimpses of Tami's tiny tush swishing indifferently through the warehouse and me dolefully beating off to ...
Embrace The Smut