The guys in my shop can be the biggest brats.

One of them was playing with a ruler. It's the last half hour of work and we've all ceased to drink beer. And one of them is playing with a ruler.

He's slapping it against the table, poking my coworkers with it. Finally he stops to take a drink, and I reach out and take it, with full eye contact and a smile that says: "Try me. I dare ya."

Which got into a conversation of what a good dominatrix I'd be.

(I don't agree, myself, but I see what they mean.)

One of the guys starts to make lewd comments, so I glance at him.

"Did I say you could talk?" I ask him, nice and quiet.

He looks at me, hamming up his fear, but I can tell he's a little bit aroused.

"Sorry, ma'am," he says, and lays his head upon my knee.

"Good boy," I purr, and stroke the nape of his neck.

The haircut he gets shaves the nape of his neck. The hairs were prickly, but soft, grown out just enough. His hair has a little bit of a curl in it and it grabs on to my fingers.

Then he lifts his head and we all laugh, but still, I am a little bit aroused.

If only he didn't have a girlfriend. If only, if only...

It's tough being a single woman of almost 30.

(I try not to say 29 anymore. No one believes you when you say you're 29.)

I can still feel the shaved hairs under my fingers, the metal ruler in my hand.

Maybe it's time for Rosie to cross the fence.

.

Rosie.

Before&After