I work in a transportation company. I am married. I have children. I got married early because of pregnancy, I had only one partner except my husband, and that was right after school, because of stupidity. I always considered myself a cold woman. During intimacy with my husband I receive, of course, some kind of discharge, but no particularly vivid sensations. I also used to get everything I needed after intimacy, secretly from him.
At work, directly in the accounting department, the staff is mostly women, and the bosses are also completely businesslike. I have one habit which I am ashamed of and hide – I smoke sometimes. At home not to let my husband and children know, at work there is a special smoking room where not only the department employees but also the drivers and forwarding agents go. Most of them are coarse and rude. When they meet at work, or come with bills of lading, or with tickets, they are always polite and use their first names, but it’s different in the smoking room. They gather there in large groups, laughing loudly, joking with each other. In general, they behave like a bunch of drunken teenagers at the doorway.
At my office window faces that way. I used to always choose a time when no one was there to go out for a quick smoke. But sometimes it happened, someone would come up when I was already there. Somehow the communication started to swirl. At first they were reserved, it was obvious that I was embarrassing them, but gradually through jokes and anecdotes they became freer. Somehow, at first they just told ambiguous jokes in front of me, with hints, and then they started joking about me that way too. At first it was nothing special, in the style of “oh, our Sandra looks sleepless again, probably all night pleasuring her husband? Or maybe not her husband?” And all this sort of thing, but gradually it all went straight to the direct jokes.
I, for one, purposely started going there when it was crowded, and when I saw people there who had been cheeky from the beginning. I don’t know, I can’t explain why I do that. At first I just laughed out of politeness, now I listen to such jokes in my address that I blush sometimes, but I still continue. I noticed that both at home and in the rest of my social circle, no one cares what I look like or what I am wearing. But when I, for example, started wearing skirts above my knees or unbuttoning the top buttons on my blouse – it was immediately noticed in the smoking room and would certainly discuss it right in front of me, making me blush, and at the same time somehow disturbing.
I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I just need this kind of doping. I purposely experiment with brighter lipstick, high-heeled shoes, fishnet tights, etc., knowing that it will not go unnoticed and will be discussed with hints and jokes. I also like to receive unambiguous offers to continue communication outside of work and attempts to start a relationship. Then at night, I often replay dialogues and situations in my head, and it turns me on and excites me.
That’s the kind of mystery and shame I have.
