Oh Jenny - Whatever next?

A few weeks back I was out clubbing with my admin girl. An experience that left me both hot and cold. Having exchanged make up and saliva at the bar, I left the club rather promptly for two very good reasons:

1.It was almost in full view of all her work mates. Now, If you work in an office with hordes of over-imaginative twenty something women then you will know that the rumour on Monday morning will start out like this, "Oh my god, did you see who Jenny was kissing" and by the 10am coffee break, it will have transformed into this, "You’re joking, he actually gave her one in the ladies toilets". So, I had to cut my loses and get out before my promotion prospects were abruptly halted by the rumour treadmill.

2. I’m married of course! I would have taken great pleasure in dragging Jenny off to a female cubicle to show her my one-eyed panty python, but in fifteen years of torturous marriage I have never cheated on my wife. I’ve thought about it more than once and came close a few times but there is also two very good reasons why I haven't:

Firstly, my wife works for one of the largest law firms in the UK, and having been caught in the act, she would have bled me dry until I was left with only 3 buttons, a set of cufflinks and a cardboard box to keep me warm at night.

Secondly, how do you have sex with someone else when you have only ever had sex with the same woman for nearly 18 Years. Frankly, it’s a performance thing. My wife would take it like a true Convent girl. Lay back, think of England, and hope it would be all over quickly-it sometimes was.

Furthermore, even though she has two arms, two legs and facial expressions that during the day seem to work perfectly well, during sex a hormone must be released that incapacitates her, making her body incapable of moving or showing any sign of emotion. A few times I have had to stop and check her pulse just to make sure she hadn’t slipped into a coma.

Now it may well be that I am so catastrophically bad between the sheets that she temporarily flat-lines due to boredom or maybe she was born with the sex drive of a ninety year old bedridden Granny. The trouble is I don’t know. Put bluntly-I am too scared to find out!

To make matters worse, how will I remember what to do, where to put it. Will a potential lover call the police if I try to pot the brown instead of the pink - "It was an honest mistake officer, I haven’t done this since 1978!"

Anyhow, I was in the office kitchen a few days after the office 'do' making a cup of tea and in walked Jenny, looking lovely and wearing that cute smile of hers. I smiled back and asked how she was – it’s been strictly business since the tongue-tangling marathon. She was fine and asked me if I had a nice time the other night. I stumbled to get out some words fitting the event so took the easy option and said that I didn’t remember much-the drink you know. She replied, "Yeah, me too, I was so pissed. I can’t remember anything past ten oclock".

Aha! She knew that the saliva exchange took place after ten oclock and was ducking out. I bet she followed me into the kitchen just to get that line in. "Really", I said with a lump in my throat. A German Ace had just shot me down in textbook style and I hurtled towards the ground at breakneck speed, my face on fire with the onslaught of embarrassment. She was a fool, all she had to do was say 'I loved the hot hardcore kissing session we had, you were fantastic baby', and promotion would have been hers for the taking.

We exchanged glances and she walked out of the kitchen. "Oh. I do remember one thing", she said smiling. "You do?" I replied flippantly. She winked at me, laughed and closed the door. Suddenly my spitfire’s floundering engine re-started just before certain impact and screamed upwards. I think I’m on for another night out!