The majority of humans would surely agree that the casting couch, as a concept, is a bad idea. Sleeping ones way to the top, again, a foolish idea. It doesn’t do either party any favours, everyone comes out of it looking like a right tool. Either because you are the person who fiddled about with the fly of the bald, overweight 70 year old in order to reach the heady heights of ‘chief dinner lady’ or, you are the idiot who considered it appropriate to proposition a person whom, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t look at you even in the event of a nuclear holocaust. So most sensible beans avoid said situations, myself included….

Usually…

I fear that on a recent occasion, I may have inadvertently fingered around the edges of this moral quicksand and perhaps even delicately inserted a digit or two…

A couple of days ago I met with a gentleman who was on the hunt for someone to do a bit of freelance work for him. Always keen to earn a few more nuts for the pile I headed over to chat to him with the purpose of making the very best impression I could. So, with my best manners all prepared and my ‘intellectual look’ firmly secured in place I arrived at the meeting. But, what I had not prepared for, was to be confronted by a man with a face as deliciously cute as a chocolate covered monkey!

Instinctively my natural ‘flirt gene’ kicked in. As I pushed my boobs furiously towards his face I pondered how lucky I was to find this added bonus of visual pleasure to the potential extra cash I would make from this job. Until I was pierced with a thought…

“What if he thinks that I’m flirting in order to get the job? What if he thinks he can take advantage?”

Then I thought, “does that matter?” and more importantly “do I care!?” On this occasion my answer was a firm “Hell No”!

I desired two things from Johnny SexyPants, work and/or tongue action. I didn’t see how a bit of flirting could damage either of those wants.

I was wrong.

Unfortunately, due to his very hotness, he had clearly experienced this reaction before, more than once. And after a few minutes I noticed a distinct cooling, his body language became negative and his face took on an expression of sheer disgust. Within moments he had made a lame-ass excuse and legged it. Doh!

On reflection I reckon he was completely bored of numbskulls like me acting unprofessionally and so instead of being excited by my nipple beckoning, he was rather put off. The man, it seems, had morals!

Why oh why didn’t I listen to my lifelong belief in keeping work and play separate! Honestly, what a fool. I lost cold hard cash and quite a significant proportion of my self-respect.

Ladies, I beg you to take heed, a girl and her professionalism should never be parted….well, that is unless you are absolutely sure he is the type of man lacking the moral fibre to reject you!

http://www.flirtomatic.com/DirtyToy91

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