I freely admit I had no clue. While I do indeed lust over women just as much as I lust over men (it’s a crapshoot, really, which I want more sometimes), I do not know how to flirt with a woman. I do not know how to read signals from a woman. I have perhaps missed out on more opportunities than I realize (better off not knowing, at this point).
There was a woman I used to work with at my old job. While I had the “dress-up” office job, she worked out in the warehouse, in inventory. We worked together on inventory-related things daily. Back then I was still fighting with my D/s status, and felt something for her that I had never felt for another woman – Dominance. I saw her in the other secretary’s office, kneeling, waiting patiently while a supply order was being checked on. Seeing her in that position made me feel awfully dominant, and quite a few fantasies went through my head in following weeks. She was cute – not as femme as I was previously attracted to, but cute. If I had to make my assumptions and judgments I would have guessed she was gay. Another coworker who was better friends with her outside of work insisted she was not. But, given that she worked with all men, perhaps it’s not the thing she would have risked letting out.
One day I found a whole bunch of cool artsy photos the boss’s (supremely hot, I mean smoking hot, curvy sexy lust-inspired-fantasies abound) photographer daughter had taken of various items pertinent to the business. I decided – hey, these need to be displayed. I bought the frames, and went about hanging them on the blank wall in the waiting area. I suck at hammering nails without incident; I don’t eye things up well I guess (hit my thumb, the wall, everything but the fuckin nail). I recruited her help, she offered willingly. While we were out there in close quarters, giggling away at our combined near-ineptness, we stepped back to view our work. Whoops, a few were not straight, hanging a bit wonky. She grins at me, mischievously, says “Hey, I never claimed to be straight”. This got no reaction out of me; I was too absorbed in making things look right.
Are you virtually slapping my past-self? Cuz I am. Yeah, I realized about oh, 20 minutes later what she said. And what she likely meant. And what I missed out on.
Fast forward by a little less than 1 week. Friday night, at her bar, out with some co-workers. Drinking, having a good time. I disappeared to the ladies’ room which was this large place with 2 rooms and chairs and the whole 9 yards. Really didn’t expect that for it being a working-class membership-only bar type place. Anyways. As I was finishing up washing my hands, she comes in. She’d had more to drink than I had, neither of us sober. We talk, the words are irrelevant; it’s about the bit of electricity in the air between us and the space that’s growing smaller. Our eyes were really saying a whole hell of a lot. We heard someone enter through the first door, and she cocked an eyebrow, glanced at the largest stall and started slowly backing towards it to see if I caught on. If I would follow. I had every intention of doing so, let me tell you, except that the woman who came through the restroom door was our co-worker. I had to leave. So much almost-happened, nothing really-happened.
Two weeks later, my asshole boss fired her with no warning. He lost the best warehouse manager we’d had all because of his precious ego. I was due to leave two weeks later, to move to where I currently am. She had had my email at work, and sent me something…..I replied but I never heard from her again.
I hope I did not imagine things or overstep a boundary. It’s a shame that Lara came in when she did, because I was just about to get interesting. I think your lips would have tasted as sweet as they looked.