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I couldn’t say anything, nor could I believe what I was seeing. Under any other circumstance I would, especially if not at work, I would masturbate to such a sight, despite knowing the female in the photo was my boss. When my mind came back to me, Damn! I hope she’s not waiting for a response and answering picture!

Once muscle control was regained, I swiped the phone off and promptly made my way to the bathroom to splash cold water across my face, wet a paper towel and got my hard-on to shrink faster. When I felt confident that I could go back to my desk, I left the bathroom only to see Ms. Hurley at my cubicle.

“Oh Mr. Hutson, there was no need to go to the bathroom when I hope you understand that I’m more than willing to help a neighbour take care of things!” Then she winked at me.

I knew that I wasn’t very experienced with women, but I never knew that when I was uncomfortable that I begin to shake and hyperventilate. Ms. Hurley noticed and slyly smiled at me as she asked if I was alright. She suggested that I take the rest of the day off, especially as she thought that I had plenty to do at home.

I thanked her and as politely as possible, I gathered my things and went home. On the drive I listened to one of those call in shows about lifestyles that were so popular on the west coast. What should have been a fifteen minute trip took me over a half hour thanks to the congestion on the route I took. The only advantage for me when I turned onto Fremont Street, I spotted one of those moving container delivery truck in front of my place.

The bed was empty and in the driveway was the container. Men were walking between the front door and the container, either with boxes in their hands or empty hands on the way to get boxes. Now I don’t remember giving the moving company a copy of the key, so how in the name of hell did they get in?

I pulled into the driveway, parking just behind and to the right of the container and got out. Two of the moving men stopped and was about to say something when I called out.

“Hi! I’m David Hutson and I’m wondering how you got my front door opened?”

The one closest to me turned so I could see the logo of the uniform he was wearing, “Cross Country Cargo”. A hell of a nice fellow and was straightforward.

“The young lady who said she would be in your stable in back, unlocked the door for us!”

I pretended that I knew who he was talking about and thanked him for getting on with emptying the container. Me, I took a little walk to the old wooden building in the back of my house. At the aged door, I stopped and listened to someone singing. For some reason whoever they were was leaning against a wall, wearing a flesh coloured shirt. There came a lull in the song, so I called out.

“Who are you and how do you have a key to my front door?”