For Some People, Work Is Romance

Not for me of course, but from what I understand, many romances have there beginning in the workplace. I’m not a particular fan of the whole “selfie”, however I do see the humor in it all because we all know what is on our cell phones is safe and secure. We also all know that our emails only go to the intended recipient. In the end, we put our faith, no, our trust in the powers that be, that anything we do with devices which replicate and record will not be shared maliciously with the rest of the world. Okay, y’all see thru my veil of sarcasm, you got me. But how often is this kind of shit on the news? After a little research I found that only 1% of 1% of these instances are actually reported, which leaves a whole lot of untold yet equally entertaining stories that are told as rumors and little secrets in dark places. I mean let’s look at this a moment, then I will get the story which was submitted to me to tell here, unfortunately I can’t copy and paste this one, it is really scattered around, so I was asked if I would do it as a first person teller. Many put their lives out there for the world to see. Perhaps one should scan Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Tumblr, people’s blogs, and so forth. Yea, I post shit here and on Facebook, but go back and look at those posts, nothing about my sex life, or drug habit if I had one, or any other intimate details that are nobody’s fucking business. With that, lets explore how an office “crush” turned into office “stalking” and a mess that could not be cleaned up. As a reminder, all the names and places have been changed, which is good because I don’t think any of the people in this story read my blog and if they did they would just blow it off as a coincidence or something.

wpid-20150917_083307.jpg

This all began with Stacy and her new job now that she has graduated from a major university up north. She moved back close to home to be somewhat close to home, close enough to visit regularly but far enough away that people have to call first to make sure she is home. After getting settled into her apartment she begins her job hunting. She immediately gets a few interviews and a few of those led to offers and she takes the one at a large company pretty far down on the food chain. College degree plus no experience equals earning a better position later. Not her dream job, but it will pay the bills and let her live a life without ramen noodles. Stacy left a serious relationship up north, one she had invested 3+ years into. Unfortunately, when they graduated she wasn’t ready to get married, settle down, have kids, and do the whole white picket fence thing, so she broke it off by just leaving like a thief in the middle of the night. Once she got into her new place she called to patch it up and things looked like they just might work out for the two of them after all.

One night she was working late on a project and got an idea of how to get her long time beau to remain interested in only her. After making sure the area was clear she went to the copier and entered his email address. This was right before she stripped of her skirt and sat on the copier, this was going to be a quick reminder to him of what he was missing now. However, apparently as she climbed up on the copier to get a good copy of her ass her hand hit the cancel button without her paying attention, so when she pushed the send button it was on the selection of “send to all recipients”, meaning she just found out she sent a picture of her ass and more to everyone in the entire company. At first she was horrified but the realized that the email was sent from the copier with the copier’s email address so no one could possibly know its her ass in the picture. Plus, she wasn’t at her floors copier because it was not working properly, so she was two floors up doing her dirty little deed. Also, she knew that there were 50 plus other women who were still working, so she was confident she will get away with it. She went home, had a hot bath, a few shots of ol Jack, and spent a few hours talking with the boyfriend, never bringing up what has happened.

On Monday she went back to her office, made way to her cubicle, and when she opened the desk drawer to put her purse away she sees a plain white envelope. When she opened it she finds her picture with a note that read “I know this is your fine little ass, you need to let me get balls deep in you or I share your secret”. At first she is confused as hell, should she be flattered or afraid. At the bottom there were instructions, she was to take a post-it note and put a smilely face on it and put it a plain view area that everyone could see if she wished to be compliant. If not then she was to do nothing. Yes, her first thought was sexual, she wondered ” balls deep” where exactly and it might be ok if he’s now hung like John Holmes. But she didn’t want to complicate her new job by having sex with someone from the office, there had to be another way, there had to be a way to turn this whole thing around. After some deep thought she decided to play the game and put the smilely face up for whoever to see. When it was time to go she was disappointed because nothing happened, all the cloak and dagger bullshit and nothing happened.

Following her regular routine in the morning she opened her bottom drawer to put her purse away and there was another envelope. This one was instructions, this one described what was going to happen next. She was to go to the motel listed, using the address provided, check in as Mrs. Smith, go to the room, totally undress, and lay on the bed waiting for him. She thought at first she would just turn this over to the police but really feared the investigation would expose her as well. She went to the motel three hours earlier than instructed to scope the place out. She wasn’t impressed. She went up to the counter to check in and do decided to do a little digging on her mystery date. The girl at the counter was more than happy to help Stacy after she was told this fantastic sex game was about to go down. He registered as James Smith but paid with his personal credit card. After a quick internet search she finds out Mr. Smith is married with two small girls. Stacy asked for the credit card number and information because she didn’t have her card on her and it was given to her. Stacy contacts a male escort service, pays the $1200.00 with his card. Her one request is that he be bisexual because there was going to be a threesome. When he arrives they have a quick meeting and he agreed to the entire plan.

Shortly after getting set up in the room Mr. Smith let’s himself in. In the shadows he could see a naked ass purched in the air as he hears Stacy’s voice telling him he only gets to fuck her ass. Acknowledging that was perfectly fine he strips and begins to go to work. Surprise! The lights come on and a fully dressed Stacy stands as she takes a few pictures of her own. He has the stunned deer look on his face as she explained that she knew who he was, his wife was, his kids, their cell phone numbers, and where they lived. What now he asks? She informs him that her new friend there on the bed that he is poking in the ass is going to repay the favor now. She films the whole thing, being sure to get a close up of the male escort pulling out just in time to make a nice mess on Mr. Smith’s face. She decided to leave, but not before delivering her own message which was if he ever mentions her picture again or ever sees it anywhere she will hand deliver this video and pictures to his wife.

She never actually had seen this guy at work in the past, she still didn’t know who he was, but she has yet to ever see or hear anything ever still to this day.

Life Happens At The Speed Of Ink

wpid-storageemulated0Tumblrhttp%3A%2F%2F25.media_.tumblr.com%2F692b4958165635fac14b271e36a20df2%2Ftumblr_mvg74wOB9S1sq0sdbo1_1280.jpg.jpg

On very rare occasions categories here at The Sting Of The Scorpion get overlapped. For the most part that isn’t a question because it all comes out in the wash. The latest Magic Weekend submission actually starts out as a Bartender Story since the person in the story is a stripper at Club X. So the best thing for me to do is to just let her tell her story because this one is sure to open some eyes this morning. I have found, over the years, that strippers are an interesting breed. They’re no different from the faces y’all see everyday all around you and if you are lucky y’all just might see them naked sooner or later. This story is about Sissy and how her everyday life and her stripper life met somewhere in the middle for a little fun and excitement. As a stripper, Sissy gets to show off her tattoos every time she goes to work at Club X and gets naked. Without further ado, here is Sissy’s story of her Magic Weekend.

It all started this past Thursday when two of my co-workers at the orthodontist office started talking about their new tattoos they had gotten a few weeks ago. They wanted to play show and tell now that they were pretty much healed up. I couldn’t wait to see them because these two girls are the most prissy girly girly types I think I have ever met. Since I’m friends with them, meaning I’m the only one who really talks to them, I was invited around the corner so they could show off. Estacia lifts her scrub shirt and lowers her scrub pants to expose around her hip bone. She got a neon orange tree frog about the size of a fifty cent piece, how cute. Elizabeth was next, all full of giggles, lifts the leg of her scrub to display the sticky note pad sized unicorn she had on her lower calf. Strange, but cute nonetheless I guess. These two are no longer tattoo virgins. When asked if I had any tattoos I was unsure which I would show off at the orthodontist office. I thought I would keep it simple and show my Hawaiian flower on my right hip.

We had to break up show and tell because the orthodontist was coming down the hall so we all kinda went a different direction and headed back to our stations. Later that day Estacia stops in to see me and asks where I get my tattoos. So, I explained to her it is a hole in the wall place in a part of town I didn’t think she was familiar with. I was right, she had no actual idea where it was at. She asked if I wouldn’t mind taking her one day if I was ever going back. I had been planning on going back, tomorrow morning in fact after I got off work at the club. I explained to her that I had a second job and I would be getting off if she wanted to meet up then we could go. I gave her the address of where I would be at 1am and then we could ride together since it was right up the street about 1/2 mile. She agreed and said she could find it she was sure.

Estacia decided to come by the club about 30 minutes early and decided to come in. I think she just wanted to see what I do there because I never said that I was a stripper. I was on stage finishing up the last song of my set when I spotted her not too far from the stage. She walked up to talk to me with a $20 in her hand and asked me now what. So, I decided to screw with her a little bit. I sat down on the stage letting my legs reach out and pull her in closer. I laid back working my legs up over her shoulders and told her to fold the bill in half and then hold it in her mouth so I could get it. She did as I asked never taking her eyes off of mine. I arched my back as high as possible while leaning her forward with my legs until her lips were less than an inch away from my lips. I could feel her hot breath on the inside of my thighs as I girated one time letting her lips touch mine leaving the $20 pinched between my lips now. I released my grip and she slowly stood back up. She got the last laugh in a way because she looked right at me and licked her lips, then walked away.

I found Estacia sitting alone at the crowded bar a little later. I knew she was waiting for me to find her. I approached quietly from behind and tucked my head between hers and some tard trying to talk to her. She grabbed my face, gave this look, and then shoved her tongue down my throat. It was nice, she had a sweet taste. When it was over I was able to squeeze in next to her so we could talk. She asked my why I never told her I was a stripper. I explained it wasn’t something I advertised at the orthodontics office because I didn’t want to risk losing my job over a moonlighting job. We agreed that it was all good now. We sat there and talked for a bit longer and then I told her I was heading to the tattoo parlor so let’s get the hell out of here. I was definitely seeing Estacia in a totally different way now because she definitely shocked the shit out of me. Such a dirty girl, I like that.

We entered the tattoo parlor like two giddy ass school girls, giggling and carrying on like there was no one around us. Rick, the owner, came over to say hi so I introduced him to Estacia. He asked what we were getting done and Estacia chimed in to tell him she wanted her clit hood pierced just like mine. Shock to me. He said to give him a few minutes to finish up another client. Estacia looked straight at me and told me if I had never put it in her face she would have never thought of getting pierced there. What can I say, stranger shit happens, right. We sat there chit chatting about my other tats and piercings for a bit when she asked the ultimate question. She asked if I thought she would make a good stripper and could make some extra money on the side of working at the orthodontics office. I just told her that maybe we needed to meet up soon and she could show me her moves.

Rick showed back up and said it was time to go. Estacia put her hand out for me to come along and tells me she wants me there. So, all three of us headed back to the piecing station. He stepped out so she could remove her jeans and get situated on the table. She slid her jeans down slowly, seductively, making sure I could see how she was making an effort to impress me. Little did she know, I was already impressed, she already had my attention. I don’t meet too many girls interested in me but this is a very nice change of pace. Now, let me tell you what impressed me about her mini striptease, she had went commando and she was shaved so smooth I could see the goose bumps glistening in the bright lights. I was handed her jeans, I noticed they were very warm, I also noticed while I was folding them up the large wet spot she had developed. This morning is definitely turning out to be brighter than I could have imagined.

Soon after, Rick pops back in announcing that we are good to go, sign here, and we can rock and roll. After putting on his surgical gloves he rolls out a tray of instruments and opens everything up to begin. After placing two black dots for the in and out he began the procedure. In a matter of moments he was done. Rick handed Estacia a mirror so she could check it out. She grabbed ahold of the stainless steel ring giving it a little tug then nodded her head saying that this would definitely work for her. Rick wiped her down and told her to meet him up front when she got dressed. She hopped off the table and headed towards me to get her jeans. She reaches down pulling on her new ring and asked if I liked it. I put my fingers out grasping the ring, giving it a little tug telling her now the fun can begin. After a small moan she slid back into her jeans, buttoned them up, and we walked up front, she commented that she can really feel it now.

She paid Rick, signed one more piece of paper, and then we left hand in hand. After asking where she wanted to go she said it didn’t matter. So, thinking I know what this is all leading up to I tell her we are going back to my apartment right now and we can get her car later. She just gave me a nod and away we went. I don’t live too terribly far from the parlor so it was a very fast trip home. We barely made it up the first flight of stairs before we started tearing at each others cloths. By the time we hit the third flight of stairs we were both completely naked. As soon as I closed the door behind us our clothes and shoes dropped to the floor in a blurring thud. The next thing I know I am pinned up to the door, my hands being held above my head by one of hers as she begins with a kiss that ends with her sucking on my tit. Before I could catch my breath I felt the warmth of her fingers being driven up into my very wet pussy. She kissed me harder as she fucked me with her fingers even harder. This had to stop, this was going to far here at the door. I wiggled out of her grasp and led her to the couch.

I laid her down on her back, spreading her legs wide open like I was ripping a wishbone in two. The first thing I did was grab ahold of her new piercing, the skin still shiny and pink around it, as I rolled it between my fingertips. I began a lick at her ankle and didn’t stop until I was at her other ankle. After that it was a tangled mess of legs and arms going everywhere, I can only imagine what the neighbors were hearing because it actually got real loud. As fast as it started it ended with both of us collapsed on the floor, out of breath, wanting more, but out of energy. We fell asleep that way. I remember waking up next to her on the floor with our bodies intertwined. In an instant I saw the clock and we needed to get going so we are not late for work. We jumped in the shower for a quick, but heated rinse off and then we had to get dressed. She and I were basically the same size so we grabbed my scrubs and got dressed, threw our hair up, did some quick make up, and then we were out of the door.

I hauled ass to work and was real lucky I didn’t have a wreck or get a ticket. Arriving to work just in time we hurried to clock in so we could get to work. Soon enough we were approached by Elizabeth who asked why we were riding together. Estacia just said she had some car trouble and called me because I’m on her way. She said okay and then asked Estacia if she had got new scrubs because those were different from what she normally wears. She said nope and walked off down the hallway. Elizabeth whispers in my ear that she knew what had happened, ending it with a wink, and then saying that it was obvious that Estacia had gotten laid because she just smelled like fresh sex. She said she would get a confession out her and then let me know all the dirty details. To my knowledge Estacia didn’t give us up which means she is serious about what was happening, me to, I would like to see this continue as well. We will have to see where this all goes, but as far as I can tell I got me a new fuck buddy.

u11943727

When We See The Light Under The Door

p10008151

When we see the light under the door it peeks our curiosity to the point where we have to accept the consequences and just open it. What if we have our hand on the knob but can’t bring ourselves to turn it, for fear of what’s on the other side? The fear of the unknown can be far worse than the thought of seeing everything is as we left it. Sometimes though, even though we may be really afraid, all we need to do is open the door just a bit and let the light come flooding out. It’s certainly not as frightening as throwing the door wide open and finding out there could be anything behind that door! But just a crack isn’t so daunting and the light it lets out enables us to see so much more than when the door was closed. In fact, we may be amazed at how much light is coming through that very small gap. Once we’ve opened the door very slightly, our eyes adjust to the new light level and then we may be able to open the door even more. We forget how daunting it was just to walk up to it and how much energy it took to put our hand on the knob. But now it is open and this is where we begin the story of husband coming home after being deployed to a far away land only to find that all of his fears are coming true and are in front of him.

The husband frequently wondered what went on behind the closed bedroom door when he was away for long periods of time. After he had some years in the Air Force under his belt he had heard of many disappointing returns that were less than the anticipated celebration. He always comforted himself with the knowledge that his wife loves him enough not to be caught off guard by loneliness. That only happens in other marriages; in those marriages where there are already underlying problems and the love has began to fade. The husband always made it a point to remain committed in his marriage and walked away from situations which might be considered compromising. The husband did this faithfully without question every day he walked out the door of their house. He was always comfortable knowing that his wife would be there to greet him with love each time he returned. As time rushes by and he began to be separated from his wife more, he finds himself consumed with fear that maybe his time has finally come to be the one who is disappointed when opening the door.

The husband had seen many things in his life, from the gruesome to the absolutely beautiful, but nothing prepared him for what he was about to witness. This time when he saw the light under the door he could hear noises, he could hear voices, and he was hearing sounds of a struggle. The husband did what came naturally, he whipped the door open with such power that it was hard to keep it from embedding itself into the wall behind it. He saw two people on the bed in the master bedroom, both frozen in a test of time to see who would move first. The husband wishes what he was seeing was not so, but when he blinked and re-opened his eyes what was happening became even clearer. He stood at the door waiting for something, anything, to help him make sense of the scene in front of him. But there was nothing, the moment was frozen in time, the faces were almost expressionless in their disbelief. The husband reached for the door handle and then pulled the door closed. He needed a few moments to clear his mind because he was in the process of making some decisions that will change his life forever.

Now that the husband had opened the door he saw firsthand that things were not at all normal. Now he can’t imagine seeing anything different and now he is having a hard time trying remember how he was feeling before he opened it. Is he mad. Is he sad. Is he sorry. Is he crushed. Is he calm. Is he in pain. He is mad, the emotion he feels is pure anger. The husband waited patiently sitting in his chair in the living room for the door to open again. In his own mind he had waited an eternity and was willing to risk opening the door again. As he arose from his chair the door swiftly opened up. Following the door opening came two bodies, one he was familiar with and one that he wanted to kill. In reality, he had it in his mind that they were both moments away from taken their last breathes on planet Earth. But wait, his wife is choosing to speak, she tells the husband she can explain. He thinks to himself a question with a grin on his face, how can this cunt explain why she was just caught with another sitting on her chest with her legs spread wide with his dick in her mouth? This should be good. Now he wonders why he opened the door in the first place.

While the husband stared through the couple he apologized for what was going to happen next as a consequence of the mistakes they have made. The husband produced his pistol, up until this point only destroying paper targets, his Desert Eagle was his favorite, he imagined the holes it would make in his new targets. He imagined the mess he would have to clean up after words. He imagined a quiet place in the desert where every creature there would devour every last bit of the evidence. The husband commanded that the couple kneel before him and beg him for his forgiveness. They both kneeled in silence of words but the crying was deafening even though it was but a whimper. At this point the husband announced his unfaithful wife that from this day forward she will only be referred to as a cunt. With that being said he put the pistol to the head of his wife. He sat there, remembering their wedding vows, thinking how it will be til death do us part. He pulled the trigger, click. He watched as she pissed herself knowing that the gun was not loaded. In one backhanded swing he struck the head of her lover. Her lover now is on his side, unconscious, bleeding, not moving or crying any longer.

Soon enough the base Security Police arrived. unsure what happened, the Security Police separated the husband from the situation and removed him from the house. The husband watched as the ambulance came to take care of the wounded lover. The husband knew his marriage was over the moment he saw the cunt fawning all over her lover, assuring him that her asshole husband was going to pay for what happened here tonight. Fuck it, the chips have fallen. The husband spent the next ninety days in the county jail under the charges of domestic abuse. He was also charged, by the Air Force, with assault and battery of an Officer. All charges were later dropped and removed from record by request of the Officer. How nice. Within a few months the husband and wife were no more, the only evidence the husband had of his failed marriage was the devout love from his young daughter. The husband was awarded full custody of his daughter as the courts believed the mother to be a bit unstable.

Moral of the story? Be careful how bad you “need” to open closed doors. Be prepared for whatever is behind the closed door. Finally, never kill anything in rage, not even a cheating cunt of a wife. Why ruin your own life because of someone else’s stupidity? If you haven’t guessed yet, this story is my own. At first the gun was loaded, I had every intent of putting them out of my misery, then I gently removed the clip and placed it in my pocket, these few moments assured me that I might go to jail that night but I will not go to prison for the rest of my life. The reason for me telling this story was because I have touched the subject off and on of my ex, I thought it was time everyone knew why she gets referred to as the cunt.

Note To Self: Just Breathe

blood_and_needle

The absolute worst time to have an anxiety panic attack is while you are sitting in a chair with a needle mere millimeters from the vein it is about to puncture. How do I know this? I know this from first hand experience this morning. But, before I get into that and what happened next, y’all might need to catch up a bit by reading “An Attack Of Aichmophobia” which was written by me on 19 December 2013 and can explain a little more why I was having blood drawn in the first place. The blood was to serve a two fold purpose, one to do my Hemoglobin A1C panel for diabetic medication prescription renewals and also to see if I had anything weird going on which might explain me really freaking out around needles. I know, made no sense to me either. Why stick someone with a needle that has been freaking out about being stuck with needles here lately. Needless to say, the blood could not be drawn as requested because I threatened to stick the needle where the sun don’t shine to the technician. I ended up back in my doctor’s office where I was introduced to Klonopin or at least the doctor thought he was introducing us for the first time. I’m real aware of this drug as it is one of the drugs my son takes to try to “control” episodes he has because of being bipolar. I have tried to use some humor in the last post because it has been my way of dealing with the fact that I’m pretty fucking scared at this point in my life. I mean, ask yourself, how can a diabetic get away from sharp objects?

Meanwhile, while sitting in the doctor’s chair, figiting and sweating like a whore in a Catholic confessional, the doctor went over my “symptoms” and any known allergies. By this point I’m agitated, I want to go home, I want to get the hell away from all of this to sort it out. The doctor offered me a small pill and a small sip of water in a very small paper cup. He said to take it so we could continue our conversation. So, I complied, I took the pill. Within a few minutes my mind was clearing up, my focus was coming back, and it seemed like I just might be coming back to my senses. A quick check of my pulse, my blood pressure, and a tiny flashlight in my eye revealed to the doctor that my anxiety attack has come to it’s conclusion. Wow, now that was impressive, it worked almost as well as the calming effects my wife’s cold hands have when she places them on my neck when comforting me. He went on to explain that what I had just taken was 2mg of Klonopin. Within a few minutes I was back in the lab chair with a needle in my arm drawing blood and I could really care less. The only thing I could think of is where is my pain, where is my fear, am I dead. I’m a very firm believer that fear and pain are two very basic elements that ensure our safety and remind us that we are indeed still alive. I felt neither but I did feel scared. I imagine how my son must feel, what must be going on inside his brain as he watches what happens around him. Does it have the same effect on him.

That is that. A short walk down the hallway to meet my wife in her office. After seeing she was in there alone I walked thru the door, closing it behind me, where I sat down in one of the chairs at the front of her desk, all I wanted to do is just breathe. She made no comments about what had happened. If I know her the way I think I know her then nothing will ever be said. She did mention that she would pick up my new prescription on her way home with all the instructions. I leaned in to give her a kiss, not saying a word, and I left. I got into my car and found myself going to work. I have spoken to her since because she called to check up on me. She tried to explain that from now on I will need to take this medication prior to testing and prior injecting until I feel it is all under control like it once was. Will it ever get back under control? Will it ever be the same again? Have I lost what I thought I had control of just days before? I have come to the point that I really have grown to dislike this whole diabetes thing. Seems everyone has a way to kick it’s ass. I wish I could find my way to kick diabetes square in the ass and right out the door. Is this the part when someone tells me that we reap what we sew? Unfortunately I can’t go back in time, nor do I want to either, tomorrow is another day, to be dealt with like any other day I suppose. I just need to remember to breathe.

il_570xN_427304581_qibo

Mysteries, Enigmas, Cubicles, And Puzzles

The latest submission to The Magic Weekend is about a young professional man who spends his days in an office cubicle and his nights doing whatever comes to mind for his mood. His actual story does not have even one of the five criteria for being here on The Magic Weekend, there is no Sex, no Jail, no Blood, no Money, and no Fame. So why am I adding this e-mail to the collection of my stories? That will be a question that you must answer for yourselves after you read and digest the information provided. Personally, I think that Robert believes that if he gets his story out there that he may finally see and end or a beginning to something in his future. You see, his story is one of covert lust that, to date, has not been resolved and he hopes that by walking us through his story that it will help him look for clues he has yet to discover. As always, I try to provide as many pictures as I can. This is one of those cases that I can only provide the two pictures you see as the other 30 some odd pictures are just a wee bit racy. I’m not in the habit of censoring what people read or see but I would like to keep my blog somewhere in the PG rating. With no more from me, let’s get on with Robert’s torrid little story.

cubicles

“Hello, my name is Robert and I have a truly bizarre story for you today. My story actually takes much longer than a mere weekend, it has gone on for right at 4 weeks now. I’m sending you a mess of pictures in the order that I received them to better illustrate what has been happening. Where do I begin. How about a little background of what I do for a living as well as how I spent my time away from work. If you look through the pictures you will see one or two showing a gaggle of cubicles. That is my work environment. This is where I sit for basically 10 hours a day, cut off from the world below me and from any outside contact with other human beings. The job is real monotonous but it pays my bills leaving me with enough money to still enjoy my life here in Houston. I’m not from Houston, I’m actually a transplant who was chasing the all American dream of having a good career and making a good salary. I grew up and went to college at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas (UNLV), graduating with my degree in Kinesiology. When it came time for job placement I was put on to information about a company in Houston that specializes in the design, concept, and implementation of biomechanics and orthopedics. When I accepted the job offer it was at the bottom tier of the career path. I figured I had to start somewhere, why not doing research, analysis, and comparison. Translation, I read and I read and I read. Then I get to provide my information for statistical analysis which is used for approach and further investigation. Sounds complicated, but it’s really not too bad. How does this play into everything? It has everything to do with it. My social life and work life does not overlap, meaning that I have work friends and I have friends outside work, the two never cross that line. In over a year of being with this company I can think of only one other text I received while I was at work and that was from my mother wishing me a great first day of work. Which, would have been a real push of enthusiasm for me it had actually been on my first day and not eleven days into it. I know she meant well. Anyway, right at four weeks ago I get a text from a number I don’t recognize. It’s a local number so I figure I will look at it and see what is up. When I opened it up I had to look around to see if anyone saw me looking at the picture of the girl which was being displayed. The text read “I’ve been watching you and have noticed that you have not noticed me yet”. Slowly I peek out over the top of my cubicle to look around, to see if I could see anyone looking at me that looked like this girl. I got nothing. It actually ruined my whole day because I couldn’t stop trying to figure out who she was. Not real good for productivity. It is what it is though. I ended up taking work home with me because of the entire day being a bust.

The next day about the same time in the morning I get another text from this mysterious creature. By now I think she is really trying to get my attention because that picture was a bit more exposing. Thinking to myself I don’t want to get any further behind or get fired I put my phone away and got back into getting my work done. Lunch rolled around, we get a whole 30 minutes which usually leads to most people just bringing their lunch and eating in the lunch room. On that day I decided to go to the atrium area of our building to get away from my other distractions and have a few minutes to try to figure out who this girl was and what she wanted. I keep thinking she is sending these pictures to the wrong person and that I am not the intended target of her affections. Don’t get me wrong, the attention is nice, even if it isn’t for me. It can’t be for me or can it. This continued every following day. Everyday I paid attention to who was around me no matter where I was at. Thursday nights is when my friends and I get together and usually go see a new movie and then go to a local bar to shoot darts and have a few beers. I found myself getting real paranoid because I could not figure out who she was. After about 4 weeks the pictures started becoming quite explicit, to say that I was getting to see a new side of her each day would be a complete understatement to say the least. The last picture I got of her was impressive, she is quite limber and acrobatic, it was sent with this message which haunts me still to this day. It read “I’m sorry you haven’t figured out who I am in your life. Be at the Red Lion Pub tonight at 10pm. look for me and you will see me”. Really? I couldn’t believe what I was reading.

I went home after work in quite a hurry. I needed a shower and to get dressed. I felt like a girl getting asked out on a first date. I don’t have allot of leisurewear as most of my wardrobe is casual business attire. I mixed and matched and finally thought I had it figured out. Then, I was done, walking out the door. I wanted to get there early and do a little situational observation. In reality I wanted to check the place out and see which one of my jackass friends was going to jump out and say “Gotcha!”. What I got was a fistful of mass disappointment and despair. I sat there until the placed closed down. Well, I actually didn’t just sit in one spot, I would walk around, sit at a new spot, walk around, and so forth, all night long. She never showed up. For some reason I didn’t include this in the options of what could happen that evening. She didn’t show, it was plain and simple. Did she get cold feet. Right about closing I decided to text her and ask her where she was and if she forgot about our meeting. There was no reply. I called her, my call went straight to voicemail. I left her the voicemail message of “sorry I missed you tonight, maybe another time”. I collected my belongings and hailed a taxi to take me back home. I waited for a call or a text, any sign that I wasn’t crazy and that she had a great reason or no reason for standing me up. Nothing. That nothing is what continued from that point forward. I waited like a love struck puppy for an entire week for something, anything from her. At the end of the week I called her one last time and was answered with a recorded message telling me that the number I was trying to reach is not available. Did she change her number? Was the other one disconnected? I will never know since I never even knew her name. So, back to my life, back to the cubicle, I will always have more questions than answers, it will always be a mystery to me who she would be to me, I feel a bit heartbroken but know it wasn’t all real. I mean, it happened, but it didn’t actually mean anything. Now, I have some very enigmatic memories of a nameless girl who was very talented. I won’t ever solve this puzzle, but if I do I will be sure to update you.

201310

Can y’all see now why I included this as a Magic Weekend submission. There was the promise of something from someone. The story intrigued me enough that I found myself feeling bad for this guy. I found myself wanting to reach out to help him. Therefore, I included his story here. Makes me wonder though, was she just screwing with him? Was he the intended recipient of all those texts? Is this that has been lost to ever be found ever again? Answers I will probably never know. I hope y’all enjoyed Robert’s story. I look forward to all the submissions I get to the Magic Weekend. Just e-mail them to me. What did your weekend involve? Sex? Jail? Blood? Monet? Or Fame? Send me your story now and see it here in the very near future. Thanks for stopping by and I look forward to your many returns.