from 2006 I think….

I went across the floor this morning to grab a cup of coffee and stopped by J’s desk to say hi, how are things. She got a big smile on her face and clapped her hands together with excitement. Last night, she said, I had my last acting class! I said congrats. She said and for my final I had to portray a woman in a glass elevator having a screaming orgasm. A what? A woman in a glass elevator having a screaming orgasm! Really? Yes! And I had to do it in front of the entire class! You had to had to do that in front In front of everybody? Yes! You see, I was this really repressed, sexually frustrated woman who gets into a glass elevator in a short skirt with no panties and I spread my legs and begin to show myself off to all the men below like this—and she writhed about and made with her hands—and then work myself into a huge screaming orgasm. She began loudly reenacting her performance, moaning and panting and oh babying. I frantically shushed her. So she silently shook and panted and quivered and rolled her eyes. Oh baby, she said, and began with the moaning and panting again. I pleaded with her to stop. Oh yeah, she said, I really got into it. I was wild. The class loved it. Uhhh…did you pass? (it was the only thing I could think of to say.) Oh yeah baby, she shouted. I went out with a BANG!

She then grabbed her purse and strutted off to lunch.

All around me the cubicles were ominously silent. How would I ever explain this to HR. I slunk over to Danielle’s desk. Danielle sat nearby. I told her the story. That was nothing, she said. I’ve had to listen to her rehearse it all week. Rehearse? Yeah, rehearse her orgasms. Here? At her desk? No one said anything? Danielle laughed. Nah, she said, no one complained. Besides, J’s boss was on vacation. It was a slow work week. So she practiced orgasms all week.

But wasn’t practicing orgasms weird?

Not really, she said, just noisy. Then her phone rang and she waved me off. I walked back to my desk.

A buddy passed by about then, saw my bewildered expression. Asked what was up. You know, I said, women are different than you and I. He looked at me and said you just figured that out? So I was about to tell him the story, to explain, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. He’d never believe it.

I mean do they even have elevators with glass floors?

.

.