Blair's breasts have been staring at me all day. 

I swear to God, her tits have eyes. She hasn't looked at me once, but I know she sees my every move. The only explanation I can think of is that her tits have eyes.

And it's like we've been having a staring contest the whole day. Her tits won't blink; neither will my eyes.

In direct line of my office, but down the hall is a machine used for high-speed scanning. I don't know what the fuck she's scanning, but she's been doing it all day.

I wandered over there at some point and asked her why she was doing it on my floor. She explained that the other scanner on the 27th floor was always tied up because of the Category coordinators.

Blair was very pleasant, which is how I knew she was not being friendly. When Blair is being friendly, she's not pleasant. She's actually mean, which is how I know she's being friendly. 

Her friend, Bendy Wendy, was watching me all day yesterday. Then I got that email from Blair accusing me of wanting to hook up with someone on my new floor. When I left for the day, I sent a casual message asking: and who would that be?

She didn't respond.

I think Maricruz was watching Blair's tits watch me all day too. At first, she believed Faudeux the cock-blocker when he said something was going on between Blair and me. But after the rumor mill destroyed his credibility, she no longer believed what was actually true. But with Blair's tits staring at me like a jealous girlfriend, I'm sure Maricruz got suspicious again.

So this was my dilemma: I'm sure Blair was on my floor today just to catch me talking to the woman she thought I wanted to hook up with so that she could say ah-ha! So I couldn't go anywhere near Maricruz. But if I didn't go talk to Maricruz while Blair was on my floor, Maricruz would assume it's because there's something going on between Blair and me.

As I sat in my office trying to work out my dilemma, Brandi walked in. Since she does so much work with Int'l Marketing, they moved her down here to. She welcomed me to the floor, we talked for a minute, then she cut me off and left the room. Like Melanie, I could tell she still thought I was suicidal and didn't want to linger too long for fear I might slit my wrists before she the conversation came to a natural end.

A moment later, Blair stood in my doorway with that ah-ha! look on her face. And then she walked away. Her work on my floor was done.

Wrong person, same outcome: Blair will be pissed at me for at least three days.

Well, at least I was able to go over and talk to Maricruz. I don't think she saw Blair's tits watching me today. And if she did, I don't think she cares anymore. I think she wants what she wants, and that's the end of that.

After a week of flashing me the fuck me look at work every day, Maricruz did not fuck me on Friday night. 

Not because she's a tease; it's because she does not like hot peppers. 

Maricruz is from El Salvador. I was under the impression everyone south of the border enjoyed spicy food, but apparently it's mainly the Mexicans.

I took Maricruz to a hole-in-the-wall authentic Mexican restaurant, not because she's Latina, but because it's really dark with secluded little spots where you can make out and not worry about unsightly public displays of affection.

It also prevents people from knowing exactly what they're eating, including extremely hot peppers.

Maricruz nearly went into cardiac arrest.

And it was just getting good. We had both had a couple of margaritas, while knees, thighs and feet were rubbing together comfortably. A perfectly dark and sketchy atmosphere for adulterous behavior...

Then she ate the hot pepper.

I didn't know eyes could get that wide. Not hers, but mine. She was coughing and wheezing and choking so badly, I thought it was heart failure. I thought I would have to perform some of that CPR shit I'd learned years ago in high school. I was trying to remember:

2 breaths and 15 pumps or was it 4 breaths and 10 pumps? Two fingers below the sternum or two fingers above? Or was that for the Heimlich?

We've got the animated version posted of the process on the board in the kitchen. 1 minute of my time is all it would take just to refresh my memory. Did I take a minute? No. Absolutely not.

She finally squeaked out: "I ate a pepper. It's too hot."

Huh? No cardiac arrest?

Her face was red, she was still coughing and choking, but I relaxed in my chair.

"I thought Latinos loved spicy food."

In all her pain and suffering, she managed to shoot me the familiar look I've seen a lot of people give Tefft for her racist remarks. 

Well, you learn something new every day.

Maricruz was done for the night. I did manage to get a kiss at her car. This was, at the very least, a show of good faith on her part despite the tragic events of the evening. She was not offended by my ignorance, but her body was still shaking from the jolt of the hot pepper. For her, it killed the moment and the evening.

Today Blair sent her spy Bendy Wendy to my floor. I call her that because I know several guys at work who have bent her over.

I later got an email from Blair that said, "I know you're trying to hook up with someone on your new floor."

If I react quickly, it's a sign I'm guilty. If I let it go too long, it's another sign I'm guilty. So I'll send a response at the end of day. Something flippant like: "I can't wait to hear this one..."

I wonder if one of her spies saw me out with Maricruz.

Impossible. Too dark at the restaurant. Dark outside when we left.

Well, I'm sure I'll hear all about it tomorrow.

Maricruz was aloof most of the day. But she stopped by a few minutes ago to say hello and flash me that spectacular fuck me look. Round two this week...

Maricruz is married. That's just one of the things I like about her. 

Never fuck around with anyone who doesn't have just as much to lose as you do.

That's one of the guiding principals of The User Pool. Certainly, I have broken that rule. Remember Megan the Suicide Hotline volunteer? Blendi the Virgin (and Unvirgin)? Athena the Lesbian? None of them are married or in a committed relationship like I am (or am supposed to be...). What's stopping them from getting a little crazy and calling my wife? Not what stops Blair. Or Lucia. Or any of the other married women I see.

So whether Maricruz is married or not and giving me the fuck me look is irrelevant to the fact that I'm going to fuck her through and through. I break my own rule more than I should because the fuck me look is the fuck me look and my dick apparently doesn't like the rules my head comes up with that interfere with what that fuck me look leads to.

So the fact that Maricruz is married is a good thing because my dick and my head can be aligned on this particular project. No inner conflict, no argument. Dick and head are one in purpose.

I actually spoke to Maricruz today. She's a Marketing Coordinator for the International Marketing department. She gave me the fuck me giggle throughout the whole conversation. That's the giggle you get every time you say something just mildly humorous. Doesn't deserve a giggle, but it gets one because it's the giggle that says, fuck me.

There's no reason to giggle this much, but I want you to know that I want you to fuck me.

I know some of you might be thinking, shit this guy is really self-absorbed. Well, that may be true. But one thing I know is when someone is giving me the actual fuck me look. Or the fuck me giggle. Or the fuck me anything. I know there are guys who think any look is a fuck me look. They're delusional. That's not what's happening here. I don't get it from all women. Not even close. I'm not so self-absorbed to think that I do or should. I'm just saying that when I see it, I know it, and I'm telling you that this girl wants it and I'm going to give it to her.

When?

Good question. But when a person gets the fuck me giggle from a woman, I can tell you this: it's right around the corner...

Since the 30th floor has more offices with 15X15 ceiling tiles (and above) than any other floor, it was decided that more executives should be occupying those offices and the middle managers like myself should be moved out. 

Executives at this company count ceiling tiles to determine who's got the bigger and better office.  I had a 16X17 ceiling tile office.  It was always interesting to watch someone with a higher title than me count the tiles as they spoke to me in my office.

Most of them ended the conversation pissed off once they'd gotten the final tally.

On Friday my team and I moved from the 30th floor to the 25th floor. 

The good news is that Mulhausen and Fernandez will both remain on the newly crowned executive floor. And since offices on that floor will only be occupied by Directors and above, Smithee will stay there with them. Dinton has also now been moved to the floor and will occupy my old office.

So two of the largest offices in the building will be occupied by an executive who doesn't exist and another executive who hasn't been seen for months.
 

Since the floor we're moving to does not have a large enough space for my entire team of 23, half my team will be located all the way on the other side of the building.

At lunchtime, I went over to Target and bought a scooter. Going from one end of the floor to the other takes a long time. But not with a scooter.

We share the floor with Marketing. I don't think they like my scooter.

The good thing about sharing the floor with a non-I.T. department is that the female talent ratio shoots way up. And Marketing tends to be the best department for hot women because it doesn't take much to get a marketing degree.

I'm not saying hot women aren't smart; I'm saying hot women are lazy. 

A tight ass and a bodacious set of ta-tas gets you everything in life. Why work for anything if you can get the same thing by just smiling and showing some cleavage? 

As I was whizzing by International Marketing, I noticed a dark haired Latina woman wearing dark red lipstick over plump, pouty lips, a white blouse and a blue skirt with slit up the back nearly all the way to her crack.

I found out her name is Maricruz.

I haven't spoken to her yet, but she will become a member of my user pool. I know this because she looked at me. Not just any look. It's the look I'm very familiar with; it's the look I love to get.

I was riding by on my scooter and skidded to a stop when I saw her. I smiled and there it was:

Fuck me.

Working remotely for me is like taking vacation. 

I will only go on vacation if I don't have to go anywhere. So whether I'm working remotely or on vacation, I am sitting at home doing nothing.

My wife decided to take a week off and visit her parents in Florida, which is why I decided to take a week off and stay at home. She asked me to come along, but I said I could not take a week off. Since working remotely and taking a week off are the same thing for me, I was somehow actually telling the truth for once. A twisted, fucked up truth--but the truth nevertheless.

Blair decided to give her husband a plane ticket for his birthday to go home and visit his parents for that same week. Blair had already worked it out with his boss beforehand, controlling bitch that she is.

So Blair worked remotely for a week also. From my place.

I know you'll all be very surprised by this, but Blair and I got along really well for an entire week, just the two of us. 

How is this possible you ask?

Naturally, there is an extremely dysfunctional reason for this.

Blair is obsessed with making me want to leave my wife for her. She does not want me to actually leave my wife for her because she would not leave her husband for me. She just wants me to want to leave my wife for her. 

Blair's father left her mother for another woman when she was a kid and she does not understand how I cannot want to leave my wife for her. How can she not be worth it?

So during this week Blair was the kindest, sweetest, sexiest woman alive. She intended to show me that this was a taste of what I would get if we were together. However, I knew that this was only a performance and what I would really get is the real Blair, a raving lunatic. Sexy, but a raving lunatic.

On the last day of our flawless week she asked me if I would leave my wife for her. I said no.

We haven't spoken since.

I'll give her until Monday.