She Got Pimped
She Got Pimped Diary
12/12 I lay awake thinking about it all night. Diary, I have it! He's a computer whiz. I'll have him stay late to fix--you! I'll conveniently lose my password and have him get in with a utility or something and print you out. While he's puzzling you over, I'll try to get his attention. 1/10 It worked. Oh, Diary, he's just the way I imagined him. You want the details? But that's sooooo embarrassing. But you were a great help to me, so I'll tell you all about it. I explained to Chuck that I had lost important stuff in the computer and would stay late to fix it. Chuck hates the computers. He likes football. So, as it was Monday, I suggested he go down to Ringo's and watch Monday Night Football on the big screen, and I would fix my directory and then join him at eight. He fell for it, dear Chuck, and cleared out of here at five. Tom was getting ready to leave, too, so Chuck never gave him a thought, _but_ Tom always catches the five-ten bus and that gave me the time I needed to work up my courage and call him over to my desk. He was very understanding and obliging, as always, and called home to say he'd be late, and stepped right over, eager to be of service. My knight in shining armor! I even said so, and would you believe it, he _blushed_. I suggested we work from the terminal in Chuck's office, where the printer is for our workgroup, and we went in. I left the door open at first; Tom is skittery with ladies and I didn't want to scare him off before I had a chance to set the hook. He cracked the directory in no time, printed you out, read over the first couple of paragraphs to make sure you were OK, and became, oh, terribly quiet. At this moment I closed and locked the office door.
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