.“Rasp I swear to God I will snap that pen!”I was snapped out of my little daze by the annoyed Brit on the other side of the room. Apparently I’... started clicking my pen again.I rolled my eyes and put on an attitude, like I totally hadn’t just been thinking of her topless. “Oh I’m so scared, as if you could take me.”She shot me a glare. “Oh I could take you, rainbow.”‘Rainbow’ was one of her many nicknames for me, not because I was gay, oh no, that’d be too subtle. My hair is what earned the. I replied almost instantly, “Of course, everyday.”She said, “Just as I thought… all guys like wackingoff and watching porn!”I assured her that I wasn’t the porn-type and that Ienjoyed making up elaborated fantasies in my head whileI jerked off.She asked, “What do you usually fantasize about cuz?”That’s when I took my chance and said, “A lot of things,like when I happen to get a glimpse of a girl’s panties,I will build something. Anyway, my friend made the introduction though someone I could tell the atmosphere wasn't conducive enough, on account of his wife hanging beside him. He did tell me to go ahead and email my resume to him, and to drop by his office to discuss things; I promised I would.On the scheduled date, I headed off to his office. His secretary's desk was unoccupied -- I figured she was in his office with him. I sat down at a lounge chair and decided to wait. When five minutes had gone by and still the. I hardly ever cried before my mom died, and if I did, it took a lot to make me cry. But, after she died, sometimes I felt like the smallest things could make me cry. I guess being uprooted and having everything you know taken away from you wasn't a small matter, but I still felt foolish as I collapsed on my bed and the tears began to fall.I was a controlled crier. I didn't sob and I didn't cry openly. My tears always seemed silent, running down my face. I didn't bother wiping them away because.
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