I wondered what it felt like to be a panther. To crawl up the bed, from the feet to the head, over him. To pin his hands down, and take control of everything happening in bed. I wanted to be in charge, to feel that power. I dressed for the occasion: platforms, and a see-through black dress that showed the scarce underwear, that barely covered my bush or my tush. My breasts were supported by a lycra bra surrounding them, but no cover, so that my nipples were clearly visible through the dress. My hair was tied high, and tight in a braided ponytail. I walked dressed up like this for the whole afternoon, to build up the character and the bravery I needed to pull my act off for the first time.
The doctor had told me I was worryingly down on B12. I didn't even know what that implied, but she sounded very worried and she had told me I had to get five shots to restore me to normal levels. I stayed in the waiting room for a while, until the nurse came to get me. He was the only male nurse in the small clinic, so I'd already checked him out. He told me to come through another room that only had a couple of cupboards and one of those examination seats.
I was having quite some trouble saving my images at the microscope. I had tried several times, but my files kept being saved in such a way that they were "unopenable" anywhere else. I had followed the steps I had been told and set it all up so that they would be automatically saved after the microscope finished taking all of them, but somewhere something was obviously going wrong, and I didn't know what. So, finally, I decided to ask for help. Since he was a senior PhD that had used that particular microscope for the whole three years he had been working on his project, he was the obvious person to ask. If I have to be honest, if it had been anyone else I probably would have asked the first time I didn't manage to save the files properly, but it was him. I was so into him that it made me nervous to even approach him, let alone talk to him. I'd had my eye on him since the start, but he didn't seem interested in anyone in that way, so I just left him alone.
We were lying on my bed, warming each other with the heat from our naked bodies. The sweat hadn’t yet dried from our skin, our smiles were not yet faded. We lay there, his arm under me and my head resting on his chest. I cuddled him, breathing in his scent, which I knew I would miss when he went back home.
I was so drunk I could barely walk in a straight line. We had arranged for a girls night out; let’s get drunk, and forget about our stupid bosses, our annoying flatmates, our parents, or whatever was bringing each of us down every day. But I had gone way too far, and now I didn’t even know where my friends were.
It had been a terrible week. My moves on the new guy had gone unanswered, which was completely understandable seeing as he had a girlfriend. She came to pick him up after work and when I saw her I just went back home with my hopes crushed to a mush. If I wanted to get some action soon I would definitely have to start a Tinder account.