It was picture that I emailed an old girlfriend. My heart sank, expecting "little miss goodie two shoes" to turn me in, she quickly closed out of the picture. She stood there looking flush, nibbling her bottom lip, and twisting a lock of her dirty drown hair (as she always did). In the following days the sexual tension built, it was like a volcano on the brink of eruption. Unexpectedly, she called my desk. "Could you help me get a server into the IT closet. I need someone strong, it is heavy." Kim said. Enthusiastically, I agreed to help. Kim was very busty for being petite. I could see clear down her shirt as her DD breasts hung down. I was captured, taken prisoner by what was escaping from her bra. She looked up, I couldn't look away. She stood up, her cheeks were the color of a rose from the embarrassment. I put the server down, moved closer, grabbed her hand and assured her that there was nothing to feel embarrassed about. I asked her if she had been thinking about the picture. Yet, when he entered within those absent walls, the alluring scent of roses, tea and a variegated sort of flowers stung his nose. Prior shopping ideas abandoned, he raced to the backyard to find just about everything planted in it’s place …but who would have spent such lengthy periods of time for such practical drudgery in his favor? Certainly not Drakalen …definitely not Drakalen. Well …maybe Drakalen could have, but he didn’t want to impose any assumptions. That whore, the puppeteer, Ami, had invaded for a short while, and she was well versed in the art of botany. Therefore, it could only safely be assumed she had taken the time to shove that politely in his face. With haste he forsook the garden, all idle thoughts of it draped in black, inky loathing with the thought of not only sharing this precious space in time with a deluded woman, but with an indecisive man. Oh Drak, how I loathe thee! Vacant my mind and refuse my name from your tongue, and never again shalt I insist on a man.
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