In her early 30s, with shoulder-length auburn hair and
full figure, she brightened my working week. Indeed, she kindled all my five senses.
My 50-year-old eyes feasted on her taut buttocks and fulsome breasts – but only
when she was occupied and wouldn’t notice my attention; I’m a gentleman and
wouldn’t wish to make her feel uncomfortable nor for her, God forbid, to conclude
that I was indulging in unwholesome thoughts. Her gentle voice caressed my
eardrums with intelligent commentary on work-related issues. And as for smell,
her entry into the office was always followed by a delightful waft of Opium
perfume mingled with herbal-essence shampoo. Alas, the touching and tasting
only happened within the confines of my imagination.
But there is one major drawback of sharing an office
with a woman: you can’t fart. Amongst males, one can let an audible one fly,
apologise, and carry on as normal. But with females around, gassy emissions are
prohibited.
Contrary to what you read in biology textbooks and on
social media, pretty women never fart. Nor do they defecate. It is a
little-known fact that females’ waste products, and associated gases, evaporate
from the tops of their heads and smell like hairspray.
One morning in the office, Suzanne at the adjacent
desk, I felt the ominous stomach rumble, like the extended growl of thunder
prior to an electric storm. A swirling vortex of noxious gas was demanding
release and accelerating towards my arse. And I knew it would produce a stench
of eye-watering intensity - six pints of finest cask ale the night before would
see to that - so slipping it out silently was not an option.
‘I’ll pop out and photocopy this document’ I said,
while rising from my chair and grabbing the nearest piece of paper from the
desk.
‘Do you want me to do it later?’ asked Suzanne. ‘I’ve
got a lot of photocopying to do and …’
‘No it’s OK’, I interrupted, already exiting the
office.
Clenching my buttocks, I scampered along the corridor
to the deserted photocopying room and closed the door behind me. In the privacy
of this oasis, I leaned forward, hands on my thighs, and prepared to let rip. But
nothing happened. As with other bodily functions – urinating in the doctor’s
bottle, achieving an erection during one’s first sexual encounter – the process
of breaking wind can, paradoxically, fail to deliver when you most need it to.
On this occasion, my intestinal cyclone of noxious vapour had performed a
U-turn and burrowed into the depths of my gut. I loitered a couple of minutes
beside the photocopier, expecting the stomach rumble to return, but the gas
showed no sign of a seeking a reappearance.
Deflated in mood, if not in body, I returned to my
office. As I entered I noticed Suzanne’s cheeks had turned crimson. Unusually,
she did not look up to acknowledge my presence, instead maintaining an
unwavering focus on her computer screen.
And then it hit me. A rancid mix of rotting egg and semi-digested
cabbage clung to the inside of my nostrils. My embarrassment was palpable with
the horrific realisation that, unknown to me, my fart must have slipped out
during my hasty exit. After all, what other possible explanation could there
be?
Photos courtesy of: Stockimages at FreeDigitalPhotos .net
Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Photos courtesy of: Stockimages at FreeDigitalPhotos .net
Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
I'm sorry. I would love to write something witty right now but I'm laughing so hard, I can't see my screen because of the tears in my eyes. Alpha Hubby spent our first year leaving the room. I didn't know this so thought he must not scent the air, well, until that one time he didn't get out in time. I wanted to laugh, to point it out, to make a big hurrah out of it - but we were still in our first year of marriage so I was kind. Him toward me? Not so much. He still hates it and I still (mostly) keep my snarky comments to myself. I loved this post - so brilliantly written!!
ReplyDeleteYes, the covert passing of wind by partners in the early stages of their relationship seems commonplace. I still don't do it in front of my lady, after 35 years together.
DeleteThanks for reading and the (typically) honest feedback.
So SHE was the one who farted?
ReplyDeleteI couldn't bear to countenance such a possibility!
DeleteBeautifully, hilariously written, darling!
ReplyDeleteYou always make manage to make me smile.
Love from Duluth. x
So pleased it made you smile - and that you can respond positively to silliness despite all the serious issues you so eloquently write about. Take care.
DeleteI remember the first time I heard a girl fart. When I was a senior in high school (yeah, it took that long), the neighbor girl was trying to impress me (she had low standards) with her ability to do some sort of gymnastic maneuver (I'd usually jump all over a statement like that-please feel free). As she flexed (once again, feel free), a little SQUEAK slipped out. She turned crimson and ran away. I didn't see her again for months.
ReplyDeleteIncidentally, I have a sister. I can assure you that girls use the crapper. I never heard her fart, though.
Neat story, Al. Certain things can slip out when engaged in gymnastic manoeuvres!
DeleteIt was truly amazing. I kinda felt sorry for her.
DeleteDeep down, you're just a big softie!
DeleteOMG too funny! My daughters say I'm not allowed to fart or poop because mothers just don't do those sort of things.....
ReplyDeleteThere you go! I stand united with your daughters.
DeleteHa, a brilliant twist/cliffhanger worthy of M. Night Shyamalan himself in his heydey!
ReplyDeleteI hate the situations where you have to make a hasty retreat for some desperate "fart privacy." Doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's never fun.
Yes, hasty, wind-related escapes can be awkward.
ReplyDeleteAnd now I'm off to find out who this Shyamalan chap is!
My laughing began when I read the title! I knew I was in for a good laugh.
ReplyDeleteI'm reminded of my dear 82 year old mother, who says that it just slips out nowadays. And because she's lost most of her sense of smell, she doesn't know who she has offended.
'It just slips out nowadays' - love it!
DeleteThanks for reading.
Osa Lovely is as sexy as she has ever been when she decides to share her bout with gas in fantastic slow-motion! This special effect makes her toots more tenacious than ever before.
ReplyDeleteClick Here