Ah, Monday In The Office

I like early morning, it is cool and peaceful. I leave early for the office for the reason of being able to leave early in the afternoon.

6.30am. I get in the number 11 at Brunswick Street, I’m feeling lazy. Usually, I walk. I sit on the next seat to a handsome long curly-haired boy in a black Bonds t-shirt and tight jeans, the kind that make him bulge. There is a guy in the seats behind fully man spreading.

I figure the inspectors aren’t working this early, so I sit back and relax as we zip towards the free tram zone, myki card at the ready in case they do. Okay, so I got on 4 stops before the free zone this morning where I usually get on 2 stops before the free zone, if I get on the tram at all, which I guess is harder to justify not paying, but I manage it. (Imagine if everyone did that, the system would collapse) Oh, I’m not paying $5 to go 2 stops, its rediculous. Please. (I always pay on the tram at other times. Always)

I take my jumper off. It is still hot, even at this time in the morning.

I sneak looks at the guy with the tight jeans on and try to picture him with a hard dick in his hand, you know, just to make the tram ride go faster it is sometimes good to get lost in your thoughts. It’s big and pink and bends like a banana. I don’t usually like guys with long hair, and a stubbly beard, but he has a particularly handsome face.

A couple of people have masks on, not even half of the people on the tram. Covid infections are spiking people. I must get myself a new mask as my current mask smells decidedly of lunch.

The cute guy gets off at Elizabeth Street. The man spreader is still at full spread.

6.45am. I am in the office. The Big Boss is already in, which is good for once for someone to see me in here early. There seems to be an execs meeting in the meeting room.

7.30am. Big Ange comes in. She kind of shuffles, like her body is failing her and it is getting harder and harder to move in a straight line. Maybe, its arthritis, maybe it’s the old hip problem. She's nice. She says hello.

8am. Jason Jones is in. Handsome Jason. His wife has just had a baby, which he continually refers to as the baby. We chatted in the kitchen. He’s adorable.

8.30am. Miss Tate is in. She is going through cancer treatment, well, I think that is what she is going through. I kind of missed the main announcement when it happened and since I have only gleaned that she is having treatment for something serious. I didn’t like to ask, oh hell, I don’t really care. Her voice continues to get croakier and croakier as though whatever treatment she is having isn't really working. She now sounds like a drag queen, "Hello, I am Wanda StarBright," which always kind of makes me smirk, which, isn’t that great when a seriously ill person says hello to you, I can only assume.

The Midget came in. She said hello, which I didn’t hear initially, but then she said hello again and then waited for my reply, you know, like stupid people do, I can only assume to justify their very existence.

The new Greek-looking services guy has on really tight pants and smells heavily of aftershave. I’m sure even his arse crack would smell of his strong cologne, he has splashed so much on. I followed him up the hallway to the kitchen, and even thought gazing at his arse was pretty nice in those skin tight blue pants, I had to drop back fearing I was going to be overcome by the fumes of his cologne at any moment. I find out later he is middle eastern.

I worked until 3pm, then I left for home.

I found a diamond ring on the tram, how about that?  Momentarily I think about giving it to the tram driver. Oh, really for micro seconds. For a split second I thought about how someone might feel about losing their ring.

I sat down on it. And when I was ready I kind of scratched my arse sweeping it up in my hand and sliding it into my pocket 

There was a black guy with really big eyes with the whites contrasted against the dark colour of his skin to a huge degree, making his eyes look enormous, gazing at me, seemingly without blinking. He seemed alert, on to me. (Is that a physical manifestation of a conscience?) I wondered if he was waiting to pounce on the ring too. He seemed nervous. He was watching me, sort of unnervingly. I changed seats, then I changed seats again. I watched if he was getting off at my stop, but he didn’t.

I don't believe the diamond ring is real. I think it is just paste and plastic. I must find someone nice to give it to. 😀