Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Sexed-Up Comedian With a Boss Crush: 26, female, Upper West Side, bisexual, in a relationship.
DAY ONE
6 a.m.: Awaken to sensation of boyfriend’s boner pushed against my ass. Not sure if I’m in the mood. Decide to fuck him in an effort to find out.
6:15 a.m.: About to come, and then dog bursts into room and licks my face. Ironic, as we’re doing it doggy style. Incapable of coming with dog staring at me. Boyfriend comes anyway. Perv.
10 a.m.: Lady-boss tells me that I did a great job on the last project. She’s younger and hotter than I am. I contemplate ramifications of making out with her at the Christmas party in two months. If both my boyfriend and the CEO were watching, would it still be cheating/gross professional misconduct?
Noon: Lady-boss tells me I really need to speed things up on the next project. Hate criticism. Hate lady-boss. No office-party make-out for her.
6:45 p.m.: Yoga class. I reflect that yoga makes me more flexible. Also, in yoga class you have to hold a position for a long time without farting. This is good training for sex.
8 p.m.: Stand-up gig. I do five minutes. Drunk male comic tries to grope me even though he pals around with my boyfriend. What a great human being.
10 p.m.: Tell boyfriend about grope incident. He is pissed and sends the dude a vitriolic e-mail. Then the dude calls him to drunkenly apologize. Hilarity ensues.
DAY TWO
6:30 a.m.: Boyfriend has boner again. I’m tired and not into it. He goes to shower to jerk off. Romantic.
8 a.m.: Hot hipster guy on subway. I smile at him, then remember I’m wearing generic sexless office ensemble and unhip glasses. He ignores me.
10 p.m.: Boyfriend goes down on me. He’s really good at this.
10:45 p.m.: We decide to put the P in the V. This is not a good idea. The puss is not cooperating. She’s done for the night. We watch rerun of Murphy Brown instead.
DAY THREE
8:30 a.m.: Get to work early again, decide to be a Girl Scout and just go inside. Hear sniffly noise emanating from inner office. Lady-boss is crying! I swing by for a chat.
8:36 a.m.: I have learned so much! Lady-boss broke up with significant other last night. She says things like, “You know when you want someone to be happy, but they’re depressed, and you just can’t fix them no matter how hard you try?”
8:37 a.m.: I realize that my grammar-obsessed lady-boss would never casually refer to a singular person as “they.”
8:38 a.m.: Decide there’s a 65 percent chance her “they” is a “she”! Rejoice silently. Contemplate threesome with boyfriend.
8:39 a.m.: She says, “I tried to be so supportive! I went to all the softball games and I don’t even like softball!” Yes! Softball!
8:50 a.m.: Lady-boss thanks me for listening. I still have no idea as to the identity of her ex-beau.
9 p.m.: Stand-up gig. I do seven minutes, then walk into bathroom where 35-year-old washed-up male hipster comic is getting blown by 21-year-old alterna-groupie. NYU students are pure class.
DAY FOUR
11 a.m.: Hooray for weekend pre-brunch sex! We try to do it on the kitchen table, but the table is all wobbly. Damn Ikea! We give up and go out for bagels.
1 p.m.: Go back to sleep. Napping in sunshine curled up with beloved is almost as good as sex. Almost, but not quite.
4 p.m.: Titty-fucking is a good way to have porny fun without putting in a lot of effort.
4:20 p.m.: He uses my vibrator on me and says a bunch of nasty stuff. Whee!
DAY FIVE
Noon: Ah, the Lord’s Day (if you’re Christian). Being godless heathens, we play grab-ass in the shower. Then we talk about whether Mediabistro classes are worth the money. Writers are dorks.
2 p.m.: Comic-book shop! He pretends not to look at the busty female superheroine/villain action figures, but I know what’s up. We make Wonder Woman hump Rogue. Manager is horrified.
8 p.m.: Sunday-night comedy shows are so weird. They’re either empty or packed. This one is empty. I do five minutes, then go to bathroom and have traumatic flashback to blow-job-witnessing debacle earlier this week.
DAY SIX
9 a.m.: There is a thank-you note from lady-boss on my desk: “You were so sweet to me last week and I’m so grateful.” Note smells like her lavender perfume. I go to bathroom for some, uh, alone time.
11:45 a.m.: Lady-boss shyly asks me if I’d like to go out for sushi with her. Um, hello, she’s so in love with me.
Noon: It is weird eating spicy tuna across the table from a person you just masturbated about like three hours ago.
12:20 p.m.: We have lesbian confirmation! Lady-boss drops the name — a girlie one — and then looks at me to check my reaction. I just nod sympathetically. Lady-boss looks relieved.
12:50 p.m.: Lady-boss and I are now BFF. And, as we all know, sometimes BFFs have slumber parties at which Truth or Dare is played. I am going to work this angle in future.
9 p.m.: I giddily explain lady-boss situation to boyfriend. He says he thinks threesomes are unhealthy for people in a long-term monogamous relationship. I will spike his eggnog with Everclear at the Christmas party if I must. [Ed. note: We are doing this at all future Christmas parties, especially those with children.]
DAY SEVEN
9:30 a.m.: Staff meeting. Lady-boss is a little cold.
10 a.m.: Lady-boss uses intra-office IM to tell me that she’s sorry she was standoffish, she just wants to stay professional even though she would like to build a friendship with me. Ooh, we’re having a secret office romance!
12:10 p.m.: After a covert IM exchange, we meet for lunch at a Thai place. All this sneaking around is totally turning me on.
12:30 p.m.: I’m bored of hearing about her ex. Really, really bored.
12:50 p.m.: She’s just so gorgeous, though.
6:30 p.m.: Boyfriend points out that maybe it isn’t the best idea to have an office crush on your secretly gay lady-boss, particularly when you’re in a monogamous heterosexual relationship. I grudgingly agree.
9 p.m.: Lady-boss calls me at home to ask if she can treat me to a post-work massage at a fancy-shmancy spa “as a thank-you for listening to me babble on and on.” I say, “Of course!” and contemplate seeing her naked in the changing room. This is going to be so awesome.
11:30 p.m.: Sleepy sex with boyfriend. Mmm.
Total: Three acts of intercourse; two aborted acts of intercourse; two manual sex acts; three heart-to-hearts with boss crush; one act of masturbation; one walk-in on an NYU blow job.
