I tried to work, I really did. I would bury my face in my monitor, try and dig through a set of numbers, through some late reports, through piles of work that should have been done days ago. But every time I glanced up there she was.
Jiggling through some laugh filled conversation with a passer by. Bouncing through a stretch behind her monitor. Or just, looking back at me. That was the worst, when I would look up and see her already smiling that mocking, knowing smile back at me, half bent over her desk showing off her cleavage. And seeing her grim just off in my peripheral vision when my eyes, against my will, would invariably drop to those ridiculous mounds that seemed to have me so damn confused.
Why did I find them so fascinating? How did they have such a strange hold over me, and over everyone else for that matter. It had to be more than just the expected fascination with an over the top display. I had bever felt this way for anyone else, hell I had only felt a detached amusement seeing those gratuitous porn images that my pop up protector failed so miserably to stop. So what was it about those things.. This woman, that had me feeling so different.
It was maddening. Like a puzzle that you were trying not to think of while obsessing over a solution. I didn't want to think about her, didn't want to look at her, but somehow she occupied nearly my every thought. And she was always there, always looking, always sitting, right there. It didn't even matter what she did. She could have been totally innocent, and still just her presence would have driven me up the wall. But it was more than that. She couldn't be content with that. She had to tease me, taunt me with my own feelings. She knew. She had to know, why else would she be flaunting herself like that at me.
It was during one of these internal rants that my desktop alarm went off. You know the one in outlook that pops up when you are supposed to be somewhere. I realized I was due in a meeting to discuss a budget shortfall in 5 minutes. I was supposed to be prepping for it all morning, but as you might surmise, it had somehow slipped my mind.
I grabbed all the data I had, scrambling to put it together. It was too late to prep a powerpoint presentation. But I thought maybe I could fake a system issue, blame tech support. No one would blame me if I had to run the meeting manually would they?
I started to feel almost confident again as I headed for the meeting. This was my field after all. This was what I did. I could fake it, it would all be ok. And at least I would get away from this ridiculous problem for an hour.
That was what I thought as I walked TO the meeting. What I thought as I arrived at the meeting was a lot simpler. It amounted to "What the fuck is she doing in here".
There she was, sitting with her back arched, legs crossed in a way that said, "look at me, I'm trying so hard to be ladylike but my body just can't help looking this way. It's not my fault I look like I'm waiting to be ravished." There was no explanation for her presence forthcoming as I shook hands and tried to not fumble my way through the introductions. But no one else seemed to be objecting, so I just tried my best to ignore her.
Of course, ignoring her was like trying to ignore a fire that was engulfing the room you were inhabiting. And my best was nowhere near good enough.
I stumbled through the first few minutes, explaining my predicament as I went. The typical tech support jokes and obligatory formalities went by and I started rolling in to my first point. I started to pick up some steam, feeling my confidence grow, feeling good about this finally, and then I caught her eye.
She was staring at me. Not the way everyone else was, they were looking at me, looking to me to inform them. She was staring at me. Staring through me, with that same smile. Slowly arching her back trying to draw my eyes downward, trying to break my concentration, trying to make me look down at those ridiculous mounds, jutting up from her tight sweater where she was slowly and sensuously dragging a pen up and down, letting it slide between her glorious cleavage.
I realized I hadn't said anything in almost 20 seconds. And that I was staring. And that I was blushing furiously.
I stumbled. I made excuses. I wasn't feeling well. It was too hot in there. I forgot something. I would be right back. And then I was out, I was in the hall, I was breathing the cool air trying to calm my heartbeat that was racing ahead of me, tried to clear the blush from my cheeks, tried to get that image of the pen out of my head.
As I caught my breath, and the meeting members filed out of the room and back to their offices, cubicles, and desks, I started to heat back up again. I started to get angry. Who the hell did she think she was, that she could follow me around like this. I had a right to a safe work place, just like anyone else. What did it matter that she wasn't male. She was inserting herself into meeting where she had no business just to make crude sexual innuendoes at me? What gave her the right?
The more I thought, the more I paced. The more I paced, the more I fumed. And the more I fumed, the more I thought that I had to do something. I couldn't let her get away with it. I couldn't let her win. So I paced, I fumed, I raged, and I walked right into my bosses office to file a complaint.
Jiggling through some laugh filled conversation with a passer by. Bouncing through a stretch behind her monitor. Or just, looking back at me. That was the worst, when I would look up and see her already smiling that mocking, knowing smile back at me, half bent over her desk showing off her cleavage. And seeing her grim just off in my peripheral vision when my eyes, against my will, would invariably drop to those ridiculous mounds that seemed to have me so damn confused.
Why did I find them so fascinating? How did they have such a strange hold over me, and over everyone else for that matter. It had to be more than just the expected fascination with an over the top display. I had bever felt this way for anyone else, hell I had only felt a detached amusement seeing those gratuitous porn images that my pop up protector failed so miserably to stop. So what was it about those things.. This woman, that had me feeling so different.
It was maddening. Like a puzzle that you were trying not to think of while obsessing over a solution. I didn't want to think about her, didn't want to look at her, but somehow she occupied nearly my every thought. And she was always there, always looking, always sitting, right there. It didn't even matter what she did. She could have been totally innocent, and still just her presence would have driven me up the wall. But it was more than that. She couldn't be content with that. She had to tease me, taunt me with my own feelings. She knew. She had to know, why else would she be flaunting herself like that at me.
It was during one of these internal rants that my desktop alarm went off. You know the one in outlook that pops up when you are supposed to be somewhere. I realized I was due in a meeting to discuss a budget shortfall in 5 minutes. I was supposed to be prepping for it all morning, but as you might surmise, it had somehow slipped my mind.
I grabbed all the data I had, scrambling to put it together. It was too late to prep a powerpoint presentation. But I thought maybe I could fake a system issue, blame tech support. No one would blame me if I had to run the meeting manually would they?
I started to feel almost confident again as I headed for the meeting. This was my field after all. This was what I did. I could fake it, it would all be ok. And at least I would get away from this ridiculous problem for an hour.
That was what I thought as I walked TO the meeting. What I thought as I arrived at the meeting was a lot simpler. It amounted to "What the fuck is she doing in here".
There she was, sitting with her back arched, legs crossed in a way that said, "look at me, I'm trying so hard to be ladylike but my body just can't help looking this way. It's not my fault I look like I'm waiting to be ravished." There was no explanation for her presence forthcoming as I shook hands and tried to not fumble my way through the introductions. But no one else seemed to be objecting, so I just tried my best to ignore her.
Of course, ignoring her was like trying to ignore a fire that was engulfing the room you were inhabiting. And my best was nowhere near good enough.
I stumbled through the first few minutes, explaining my predicament as I went. The typical tech support jokes and obligatory formalities went by and I started rolling in to my first point. I started to pick up some steam, feeling my confidence grow, feeling good about this finally, and then I caught her eye.
She was staring at me. Not the way everyone else was, they were looking at me, looking to me to inform them. She was staring at me. Staring through me, with that same smile. Slowly arching her back trying to draw my eyes downward, trying to break my concentration, trying to make me look down at those ridiculous mounds, jutting up from her tight sweater where she was slowly and sensuously dragging a pen up and down, letting it slide between her glorious cleavage.
I realized I hadn't said anything in almost 20 seconds. And that I was staring. And that I was blushing furiously.
I stumbled. I made excuses. I wasn't feeling well. It was too hot in there. I forgot something. I would be right back. And then I was out, I was in the hall, I was breathing the cool air trying to calm my heartbeat that was racing ahead of me, tried to clear the blush from my cheeks, tried to get that image of the pen out of my head.
As I caught my breath, and the meeting members filed out of the room and back to their offices, cubicles, and desks, I started to heat back up again. I started to get angry. Who the hell did she think she was, that she could follow me around like this. I had a right to a safe work place, just like anyone else. What did it matter that she wasn't male. She was inserting herself into meeting where she had no business just to make crude sexual innuendoes at me? What gave her the right?
The more I thought, the more I paced. The more I paced, the more I fumed. And the more I fumed, the more I thought that I had to do something. I couldn't let her get away with it. I couldn't let her win. So I paced, I fumed, I raged, and I walked right into my bosses office to file a complaint.
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