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Porn as Art
Porn as Art Bridget slept all the way to Atlanta. She was emotionally and sexually exhausted. And she loved it. She had a two hour layover in Atlanta, found a Starbucks, ordered a venti coffee. She sat down at her gate, reached into her bag, pulled out her pad. She was determined. At the top of her pad she wrote: "No More Excuses". Underneath, she started : 1) Only excellent relationships. No more Jimmys. 2) All sex, all the time. 3) When in doubt, see 1 and 2 above. She spent the rest of her Sunday thinking deep thoughts about her future. She woke up the next day and was only more determined. Her vacation had been just what she needed. She showered and dressed in a white blouse and black skirt, black patent leather sling-back sandals. She wore her most seductive bra and a white thong. She unbuttoned the blouse so it revealed copious amounts of cleavage. She was happy. And relaxed. She sat down at her cubicle, looked around. She worked in the accounting department of an insurance company. She looked at the people around her. They were like zombies. Could she make them alive? Daniel was across the hall, and next to him, Rhonda. She looked at them differently today. They were good-looking, and pleasant, and today, sexual prospects. About 10:00 she noticed them watching her. She usually wore jeans, or slacks and a sweater. She couldn't remember the last time she dressed like this for work. And her tan, of course, really set her apart. She pretended not to notice their stares, reached under her skirt, shimmied out of her thong. She pretended to let it catch on her heel. She got her point across. Suddenly, she had two new best friends. Her plan was working. No more Jimmys indeed. |
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