The Proposition

Music: Signs - Justin Timberlake & Snoop Dogg

I don’t think I have ever looked forward to going in to work on a Monday morning as much as I did  after my work’s Christmas do.  After all, it was the Monday morning following the Saturday night when I kissed my colleague Foxy Scott.  Accidentally, of course...

I arrived at just after half past eight, logged on to my computer and sorted myself out with a cup of tea. My desk overlooks the front of the building and the car park so I can see all the comings and goings, the deliveries, when the sandwich man arrives and most importantly who is blocking my car in. It all sounds remarkably trivial, but staring out of the window was quite a pastime of mine at work, and I found it much easier to dream about sexy rugby player Dan Carter whilst gazing out of the window instead of staring at my computer screen.

I’d already checked out Foxy Scott’s desk and seen that he hadn’t arrived yet. Was he in today? Oh God I hadn’t even considered that? No, don’t be stupid. In the text he sent to me yesterday he said that he’d see me today. Maybe he was ill?

I needn’t have worried. Five minutes later as I was waiting for all my emails to filter through, I caught sight of him walking from the bus stop and across the car park. I couldn’t believe it, but my heart flipped a beat. I felt the nervous excitement of butterflies in my stomach and all because I’d just seen him. You might think how ridiculous, but I had been counting down the hours until I saw him again from about 2am on Sunday morning.

I gave Foxy Scott a good twenty minutes to arrive, log on, and read his emails before I made sure he was at his desk and sashayed over.

Deep breaths. Come on girl, be calm. Look sexy.

I stood up and smoothed my dress across my thighs whilst breathing in slowly and steadily. I’ve been told that when I wear heels my bum wiggles, so I made my best effort to gently emphasize this as I walked towards him without looking like a bimbo-esque cartoon character. It seemed that the rest of the sales team were enjoying a well earned lie in, meaning that Foxy Scott was on his own.

“Ah, good morning,” he said, flashing me a perfect smile. “My ten pounds I presume?”

“Yes, here you go,” I replied, feigning disappointment but smiling all the while. “Don’t go spending it all at once!”

Fernando Torres:  You have a lot to answer for.

He laughed. “I’m really going to enjoy spending it. It’s a pleasure doing business with you!”

After the cash handover we didn’t make any more small talk. In fact, he seemed quite shy.

Maybe that’s the way that Sober Scott is, or maybe he just didn’t want to talk to me?

I have to admit that I felt a bit deflated on the walk back to my desk. I’d pictured us picking up where we left off at the Christmas party, all hidden looks and flirty banter. Maybe I wasn’t such a fanciable proposition in the cold light of day? Either way, I felt like a bit of a tit for working myself up into such a state, and I could have spent an extra half hour in bed instead of agonizing over what to wear.

After about fifteen minutes of feeling like an idiot and not really concentrating on work, I thought f*ck it and sent him an email. Nothing racy or suggestive, just something about me killing him if I found out that he bought anything related to his rubbish football team with my money. I decided that football was a safe area, and it’s how we had started talking in the first place and it might just get the conversation flowing again.

It was as if the floodgates had opened.

He emailed me back within a couple of minutes, and then we sent emails back and forth for the rest of the week. And the week after that. After two weeks we had become friends on Facebook and were sending each other messages outside of office hours.

In the couple of weeks before Christmas it all started off very innocently. We talked about sport a lot, and he told me more about the football team that he played for and sent me jokes about Liverpool FC. All this time, my heart beat faster when I saw him. We smiled at each other if we walked past each other’s desks, but we never spoke to each other face to face, which for some reason didn’t seem strange. I had no reason to go over to see the salesmen and he had no reason to come and speak to me. It would have looked odd if we had started chatting to each other and the rumour mill was something I was desperate to avoid.

All this time, I didn’t think really about my boyfriend Matt at all. Well, with the exception of the dreaded Christmas present and everything it meant.  Somehow I pushed all that to the back of my mind.

Foxy Scott and I were emailing all day every working day, and from my experience with boys if they’re not interested in you they won’t make an effort.  The fact that he was writing (often very flirty emails) meant that he was interested. He was such a distraction and it made me feel great. I loved how it felt when my stomach flipped when I saw him, or the uncontrollable smile I got when another email pinged into my inbox. The way I felt over these weeks was something that had been sorely missing from my relationship with Matt for well over a year. To say Matt and I had only been together nearly two and a half years: well, that wasn’t a good sign.

Then, just before work closed down for Christmas, the emails between Foxy Scott and I changed. It was the day after his football training and he started off by emailing me in his usual way, with some form of gentle piss taking and some flirty chit-chat. After my initial reply, he sent me a message that totally shocked me.

From Foxy Scott


If you see me walking a bit funny today it’s because I picked up a bit of a groin strain at football practice last night. If you’re available for a spot of massage and would like to rub it better then that would be most appreciated! :-) x

Wow.  He wanted me to tickle his trouser-snake. 

The line had now well and truly been crossed.

This wasn’t flirty banter anymore. It was a proposition.