Cream With That?

Travelling with my boss on business is always an adventure. She's older, in her fifties, but stunningly attractive with a damn straight hot body to match. I've often fantasized about the two of us hunkering down in a hotel bar after an important meeting, the boss tipped out on too many appletinis, and an errant hand--preferably hers--making its way for my johnson.

Alas, it hasn't happened and I'm not so sure I really want such a thing to happen as it would no doubt change everything and seriously compromise my ability to collect a regular paycheck. Also, there's the fact that the boss considers me a creepy but highly productive perv.

Yet we seem to have our share of impossibly awkward moments. Like yesterday, which found us having a drink before heading back home after a quick business trip. We were discussing a meeting from earlier in the day and, attempting to convey a manager's enthusiasm for statistical data, she noted that, "He creams himself for that kinda stuff."

So, all of a sudden, the thought of one of our greasy, sixty-year-old managers "creaming himself" is in my mind. Urgh.

But she doesn't drop it. "Do you think he creams for that?" She asks me. And it's bad enough the boss is tossing the word "cream" around with no coffee in sight, but she's continuing to push issue on a subject that I honestly want no part of.

"I'm certain he creams himself for that," she says out loud again, and I find myself fumbling with my Blackberry, hoping--for perhaps the first time in my life--that my boss will please stop talking about ejaculation.