She said some other stuff but I was distracted by her kankles.
Craig
I sat at my desk, absorbed in my work when the female scientist sashayed to the front of the room, her chestnut brown hair falling slightly out of its clip. I huffed, annoyed to be pulled from the important philosophical state of flow I had found myself in. This was a disturbance I had not asked for.
“Craig, we’re starting the meeting. Are you with us?” she said, her plump lips parting when she talked. “We’re talking about the findings of the grad student survey.” Her voice sounded as if she might have had a cold over the weekend; there was a slight rasp to her voice, and I found myself leaning in to better hear her breathy tones.
“Alright, the original hypothesis was that women in employment on campus were more scrutinized for their appearance than men,” she continued, her breasts sitting snugly on top of her chest. She was taller than most women, with a distinctive nose that could have been branded her a witch back in Salem. But then, wasn’t the crime in the Crucible simply an affair?
She turned to the whiteboard, her two breasts also turning with her. She extended a long arm to point , with soft skin peeking out from the end of her shirt sleeve.
“Um.. Craig? Did you hear the question about the methodology section?” my colleague Janice asked, her dark curls bouncing on top of her shoulders. She swiveled in her chair, her work trousers hugging the curve of her legs. And after the meeting, when she took me aside to tell me I would be receiving a disciplinary review, I could smell the vanilla perfume lingering like a forgotten memory on her cashmere sweater, which was not quite tight enough to do her figure any justice.
