I have always been a flirt and have always loved talking about sex. The combination has often brought me a bit of trouble with those who do not appreciate my open, winning personality. :) In one of my previous jobs, I was working as a Facility Manager at a large travel plaza. Since we were open 24 hrs a day, over 100 people worked to keep the place up and running. One of them was a young man named Austin.
Austin was gorgeous. In his early to mid 20's, 6'5", with dark brown hair, soft brown eyes and VERY fit, Austin had girls (and guys) hanging all over him. Soon after he was hired, I noticed that Austin was flirty as well and as often as not, was trying to flirt with me. Very flattering considering I was about 9 yrs older than him. The temptation to flirt back was horrible but the company had a strict policy of harassment and fraternization and I needed the work.
Being a mature and forthright young man, Austin sat down with me and asked why I would not flirt with or date him. I explained the company policy for upper management and how the biggest corporate fear was that someone would use their position to intimidate and coerce sexual favors from those who couldn't fight them.
Austin looked at me for a moment (all 5'1") and immediately burst into laughter. After he calmed down he asked if we could harass each other discreetly as we had the same sort of sexual humour. He also said he still liked me and at the very least I could let him hang around me to help keep the gadflies away.
For the next couple months we had a riot of a time, the comments flying fast and furious when out of earshot of others. One of the older female managers accidentally clued in and since she shared our attitude, work become a much more interesting place to be.
Due to employee call-offs Judy, the other manager, and I were were coming off looong shifts. We had both been at the site for over 24 hrs and were barely functioning. We were so tired that every time we counted the safe we got a different number, both from each other and from the last count. We were a mess. Our hair was down, shirts untucked, shoes kicked into a corner. If we could just get the damn count right, 12 hrs of sacktime figured prominently in our future.
At 5am we heard a key hit the lock to the saferoom. It was Austin, bright and chipper, ready to start his shift. We begged him to count for us. Laughing, Austin began the lengthy process while we dozed. 40 minutes later Austin had the count and he was grumbling. There was dirt on his knees from kneeling on the safe floor and his shirt was partly untucked.
Dusting himself off, Austin undid his belt to tuck in his shirt. He was not quite finished when a pushy cashier no one liked came bursting quickly into the room. I can imagine how we looked. I was dishevelled, on the floor sprawled again the safe. Judy was no better, on the table leaning again the wall and Austin still had his pants and belt undone.
Austin finished belting his pants and glanced at the cashier who was staring google-eyed. "Manager's Meeting", he stated calmly and walked out the door.
Judy and I laughed until tears were streaming down our faces....priceless.