Long time, no see. I return with yet another story about infidelity. I know, I know—at this point, it’s to be expected of me. What can I say? At 26 years old, I was a fiend and a reprobate. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, and all that jazz. Onto the story.
For the curious among you, the visuals for the two players in this scene. Myself: 5’2, dark hair, green eyes, olive skin, mixed race (Anglo-Arab, for those wondering) and what’s known as a Phat Ass White Girl (think big enough for people to ask me if it’s real). Rachael: 4’10, Anglo-Indian, slim but with an arse so peachy you could bounce a coin off it. Skin a shade or two darker than my own; hair so long she could sit on it; beautiful, big, brown eyes.
Before we get to the fucking, we have to go back in time. It’s a Thursday afternoon in big glass-fronted office in the City; inside, I’m on my lunchbreak, curled up in an armchair and reading, as always. I’m a new starter—I’ve only been at the job two weeks—but, even if I did know any of my colleagues more intimately, I probably wouldn’t spend my lunch with them. I tend to keep to myself at work regardless, but I could tell that these weren’t the type of people I could be pally with. Fine by me.