The Dirty South
I was in quite the sexually objectifying mood today. Every attractive male specimen who walked past me, whether a co-worker, boss, client, or messenger, was an unknowing victim of my dirty dirty mind.
See, there’s this little secret about women from the South. Sure, we like our men to hold open the door and say gentlemanly things, we act all lady-like and shit, but hidden just below the surface we say some things that are so improper and downright foul that we can make sailors blush.* And then beg for more.
We look at men as sex objects. In fact, we’re probably worse than men. We’re a bunch of fucking pigs. It’s just that we don’t get caught. At least not until we want to be caught, preferably with our panties down around our ankles.
A few examples from my very busy day of sexually objectifying men while I was at work:
