So I'm perched on the edge of the bed. Hunched over. Trousers open, bunched on the floor. T-shirt off. The window is open, but the curtains are drawn. I take in a long, breathy sigh. I've been off work due to sickness. I feel fine at the moment, though.
"Are you wanking?"
I barely heard her come into the room. I should be shocked by her brazen attitude, but I'm not. I know her too well.
The thing is, I'm not wanking. It's far too hot for clothes, and anyway, I was considering taking a shower. It's pretty evident that I need one. But she's come in to find me half-naked and hunched over something in my hand. I know what it looks like... and she knows me too well.
"No! No, I'm not!" I say, a little too defensively, as if she had caught me in the act. "I'm talking to my boss!" I explain further, holding up my 'phone as a half-composed text message glows softly on the screen.
"You're talking to your boss without any trousers on?"
Yeah... there's no getting out of that one. Still, it's not like she needed to know how dressed I was in order to text me. I've worked from home before and sometimes done worky things while naked. It's easier to be naked when you're in a flat of your own, I have recently discovered. Once we get curtains, it might even be achievable.
"If I was wanking, would you have minded?"
"Over your boss?"
"...No, not at all."
Good. Although I can be fairly confident that I won't be wanking over my boss any time soon, it's nice to know that I have the privacy that has been sorely lacking up until recently.
Although, with the job for the aforementioned boss, I may have privacy... but I most sincerely lack time.