Of course, I can only put my feet up when no one is looking. If the office manager decided to hang around, I’d have to go to the park and sit on a bench and battle rats with wings, pigeons. But not today, I'm enjoying life, reading and eating lunch in my little cubical, when I hit the really intense sex scene. Right at that pivotal moment, a sudden snap, crack and huge POP, and the back of my chair broke off. I work in a law firm, do we smell law suit? Probably not. They’re will be a suit, but it will be the firm’s lawyers going after the chair manufacturer, for money, not for me.
Anyhoo, as I was tumbling backwards, like Alice down the rabbit hole, everything went in slow motion. My sandwich flew up, flinging lettuce, pastrami, and my whole wheat role in every direction. I was picking lettuce out of an open file cabinet for days to follow. I mean, suddenly there I am, on my back looking up at the ceiling with those little holes in the panels. Hey, there's a stain up there! A leak over my desk!? Even one of my, oh so cute, vampy trampy wedges, freaking came right off and was sitting neatly on my desk as if it was on display at Macy’s. My kindle had flipped right out of my hand, and went spinning away like a top across the floor, stopped at a polished black loafer, about a size 12.
Hmmm... I looked up to find my eyes traveling up the long jean covered leg of the firm’s investigator, Sean. There I lay in the rubble of my chair, sandwich, with pastrami firmly imbedded in my hair, and my kindle at the toe of a very tall, very blonde, very blue eyed babe. I had yet to say anymore to then, “Hi,” and then would run away to hide in my cubical like a pimpled face fourteen year old giggling girl. I didn't really giggle, but I did hide. He's just too cute for words. There is that Freudian thing again.