Forbidden Fruit

At my last job, I had a boyfriend called Coke Machine Jesse, who was, shockingly, the guy who filled our Coke machine. He had the cutest little tushy and every time he came by, he would come in to my office and visit me.

Once, when we had a temp, she asked him who he was here to see and he said "my girlfriend" and I was suddenly sorry that I had gone to work with out combing my hair.

Coke Machine Jesse and I flirted for at least a year and after every fill up I would sigh to my office mate that if he were only a wee bit older, say 25 or so, or at least not jail bait, that I would make him my work husband instead of my work boyfriend. Then we would ogle out the window as his tight heinie. We may even have accidentally-on-purpose left change on the ground in front of the machine every time he came over, because even though he was a tad too young, he was still YUMMY.

Imagine my deep, deep sadness to discover today that he is 30! All this time, lusting from afar at a youngin' feeling like a dirty-old-lady when I had vivid imaginings of him doing my filing and he was of age! And a reasonable age at that!

So I had to break up with him.