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OP
OP
Jolie
Star
- Joined
- Sep 16, 2014
- Location
- Bi-Coastal
A bunch of us work in a 105 year old former boarding house. It might be a bit older; I've been using the 105 year number for a few years now. And I wouldn't swear that the number was ever completely accurate. I think I read it on a plaque that hung on a wall when I first came here. But I knocked it down that first day and they never hung it back up.
Anyway, it's got a lot of small rooms, one of which is my office. We keep to ourselves. As long as we get our work done, our 70-plus-year-old boss, who wears a cowboy hat and boots and is a sweetheart, doesn't complain. I've got a small refrigerator in my office, a few bottles of alcohol, a window that I crack open if I want to smoke a joint (I'm not confessing here, I'm just saying, it's an option and by the way, my boss smokes cigarettes in his office routinely, opening the window and closing the door, it's illegal and we can all smell it, but no one has complained), and I have (looking over my shoulder and counting) three pillows and a nice thick blanket, 'cause I sleep on the floor at times. And I've got all my lighting and photography gear stored in corners.
It's a good gig. This morning I came in before six to get some work done. I parked in a different spot and didn't turn on the lights. Once I got this quick little project done, I pulled out my pillows and blanket and went to sleep for an hour or so.
So then I decided to futz until noon, since I'd already got what I really needed to get done, done. Futzing means playing about on Blue Moon or what not.
So here I am in my office, door closed, getting ready to do a quick post on my Journal and someone's fist starts pounding on my door.
This never, never happens! I quickly x-out of Chrome, because you just don't know and open the door. It's my sweet old boss. He just wanted to make sure I was alive, because he thought he spotted my car and hadn't seen me.
Shouldn't have x'd out Chrome. Now to redo the post. Oh screw it, I don't even remember exactly what I was going to say.
So I'll start with another idea. This is a role play idea.
I have this vision of a woman with the same fantasies that appear on my F-List going into a priest on a regular basis confessing her steamy, erotic, utterly taboo and kinky fantasies to him. Heck, maybe there is some reality mixed in, I haven't got that far into this concept yet. Maybe they are real or maybe she's just lying.
You know walking up to the booth and crossing herself. Then saying, "Bless me father for I have sinned. My last confession was a week ago. You remember it, I'm sure."
It's safe. He can't betray the confessional. It's free.
These two people interacting through this booth. What does he think and do when he leaves? Is he aroused? Disgusted? Intrigued?
What if he doubts her stories. What if she brings pictures. What if she decides to interact with him on some other level or he with her? I have no idea what would happen exactly.
But the point of two people in enforced proximity, one sharing her darkest fantasies, is a fun one to me. It's not original by any means.
Anyway, it's got a lot of small rooms, one of which is my office. We keep to ourselves. As long as we get our work done, our 70-plus-year-old boss, who wears a cowboy hat and boots and is a sweetheart, doesn't complain. I've got a small refrigerator in my office, a few bottles of alcohol, a window that I crack open if I want to smoke a joint (I'm not confessing here, I'm just saying, it's an option and by the way, my boss smokes cigarettes in his office routinely, opening the window and closing the door, it's illegal and we can all smell it, but no one has complained), and I have (looking over my shoulder and counting) three pillows and a nice thick blanket, 'cause I sleep on the floor at times. And I've got all my lighting and photography gear stored in corners.
It's a good gig. This morning I came in before six to get some work done. I parked in a different spot and didn't turn on the lights. Once I got this quick little project done, I pulled out my pillows and blanket and went to sleep for an hour or so.
So then I decided to futz until noon, since I'd already got what I really needed to get done, done. Futzing means playing about on Blue Moon or what not.
So here I am in my office, door closed, getting ready to do a quick post on my Journal and someone's fist starts pounding on my door.
This never, never happens! I quickly x-out of Chrome, because you just don't know and open the door. It's my sweet old boss. He just wanted to make sure I was alive, because he thought he spotted my car and hadn't seen me.
Shouldn't have x'd out Chrome. Now to redo the post. Oh screw it, I don't even remember exactly what I was going to say.
*****
So I'll start with another idea. This is a role play idea.
I have this vision of a woman with the same fantasies that appear on my F-List going into a priest on a regular basis confessing her steamy, erotic, utterly taboo and kinky fantasies to him. Heck, maybe there is some reality mixed in, I haven't got that far into this concept yet. Maybe they are real or maybe she's just lying.
You know walking up to the booth and crossing herself. Then saying, "Bless me father for I have sinned. My last confession was a week ago. You remember it, I'm sure."
It's safe. He can't betray the confessional. It's free.
These two people interacting through this booth. What does he think and do when he leaves? Is he aroused? Disgusted? Intrigued?
What if he doubts her stories. What if she brings pictures. What if she decides to interact with him on some other level or he with her? I have no idea what would happen exactly.
But the point of two people in enforced proximity, one sharing her darkest fantasies, is a fun one to me. It's not original by any means.
