the chatty bingo runner

My old boss had said that this guy had a tendency to sound like a total chauvinist pig. "He'd spent years in the army," she'd whispered.
He comes into the office to pick up the game's payout money. "I guess I don't have to wait out there anymore" -- he usually waits at the counter for us to give him the money -- "I'm not scared. I know you're harmless."
"Ever since I had my teeth filed down...?"

"Hah. I guess that's it. Well you've got such a cute little pootie I'd thought I'd get a little closer." My colleague looks at me and wrinkles her nose. She had just been telling me how she found his comments off-putting, right before he walked in. I had told her that I was used to it. Of course, this was the first time he'd mentioned anything about my anatomy.
So he picks my book up from the table. The title, Big Breasts and Wide Hips. He raises an eyebrow at me. This is a man who likes to call me "Dear" and whose favourite topics of discussion always center around ways of "making the ladies feel good, eh?" So when he sees this book, I know what's coming next.
"Hohoho, I love this book!"
"Do you mean the story, or the title?"
"Why the title, dear! And you know what? I can make it happen for any woman."
"What do you mean? Give them bigger breasts and wider hips?"
"You betcha."
"Tell me."
"If you spend two weeks alone with me, you'll soon find out!"
"That's nice. You have some kind of miracle pill?"
"I'll tell you what it is. It's the massages I give. I've got strong hands. Two weeks."
"I wouldn't know about such things. I'm only 18." I don't know why I tell him I'm 18. Maybe to make him feel gross? I doubt it had any effect on him.


At 7:48 PM, Blogger Mariza said...

It probably turned him on.


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