The Story of the Miniskirt
So Nicole and I had plans to see each other last night/today. Over the weekend, she sent me an email making a request (!) for me to wear a particular mini-skirt that she likes. She said she was willing to earn it. I wrote back that she was going to earn it by giving me something to read before bed Sunday night, and specified that it had to be a fantasy that was just a little bit too dark/dirty/possibly just silly to be entirely comfortable sharing. After checking Sunday around noon and not seeing anything yet, I changed my status message on gmail to read "Nicole, I'm waiting on an email," which I will admit was kind of one of those Bitchy Jones "I r a genius!" moments for me. Later that night, I checked my inbox and found, well, exactly what I was looking for. There's a reason I only date English majors.
Anyway, I do usually keep my promises, so after work yesterday I changed in the lobby bathroom and headed to the metro. After walking a few yards I realized that, spectacularly dirty emails notwithstanding, I still felt like I'd been taken for a bit of a sucker. While I approached the metro station I fired off a text message:
"I'm counting. You're getting one smack for every person who stares at my legs in this skirt."
I felt better after that. ^_^
