Work was interesting today because I found myself, at one point, facing a girl with a disposable glove on with one finger covered in lube.
This would be a lot funnier if I didn't explain it, so I won't. Suffice to say, the task for which she was preparing wasn't pleasant. It did remind me of this, though.
I've always been a bit strange about the prospect of something coming up at work which is used for sex, like lube. Hell, we use big marker pens all the time too, and I know for a fact that swallow, among other people, has come across certain ladies on the internet who like to insert those into their rear ends for pleasure - although I shouldn't even know that, big marker pens have that significance attached! Why? Why? Why?
When it's lube (and there is a tube of lube available at my workplace; it's not a sexual one, don't ask), I'm slightly spectical of mentioning it for two reasons: one, I may say something which implies that I know either too much or too little about it; two, I wouldn'teven be sure what to call it. It's not a question that's come up before - I don't, strange at that may seem, indiscriminately ask myself, "what do I call lube should the need arise for someone to have to use it at work, especially for a use which isn't related to the use I would put lube to?". Lubrication? Gel? Lubricant? WD40 substitute?
In the end, I settled on 'lube'. Not that I said that too loudly, there may have been children listening. Perhaps.
So. I had my colleague standing in front of me, with a 'client' between us, pulling on a disposable rubber glove (something else perhaps pervertible, although for what use I can't imagine at the moment - that's not a cue to give me any ideas!) and looking almost gleeful at the fact that she was smearing lube all over one finger. But less like Lord Kitchener than... than...
"My name's [colleague], ILB."
"No... I mean... since I first met you, I knew you reminded me of someone I know. And now I remember, it's my friend, Louise!"
Short, unfairly thin, blonde hair, smile. If it wasn't for the glasses, my colleague would have been a dead ringer for my internationally based, oversexed friend. Hell, maybe she is Louise and couldn't bear to be apart from me. Although that's unlikely - she doesn't sound a thing like her. But here's the thing, right...
If there's anyone I know who could make a disposable glove covered in lube look good, even in the situation we were in, it'd be Louise.
My colleague almost succeeded in the task.
Not that our 'client' thought so, but then again, however much I may or may not know about lube, I'm pretty sure it's more than she did.
The client, not my colleague. What she knows is best left to speculation... no, wait, it isn't!