A woman called Carol

I went to one of those internet cafés with a hotspot zone where you can wirelessly connect to the internet using your laptop. There are nice cubicles and the power sockets are under the desk. I went under the desk and plugged in my laptop charger and worked for about an hour. When I was done there was a young woman seated across from me. She had not been there when I came in.

                After working I went under the desk again to unplug my laptop charger. I came face to face with the young woman’s vagina: She was wearing one of those panties that don’t really cover much. I quickly came up from under the desk and sheepishly looked at the young woman seated across me and said:

                “May you unplug my charger for me?”

“You cannot unplug your own charger?” She enquired with a look that was a mixture of amusement and confusion.

“You are naked under the table my dear”. For a moment or two she did not understand what I was talking about. After a momentary pause she looked at me with a quick sideways tilt of her head and looked down at her lap. By simply looking down at her lap she obviously did not see her nakedness. She thought I was joking.

“What does my nakedness have to do with you unplugging your charger?”

“If I go down to unplug my charger, I will see – everything”, I said with an expressive gesture of my hands.

At that moment it dawned on her what I was talking about and that I wasn’t kidding; I had actually seen everything. But she was a brave girl and she wasn’t willing to just let it go.

“But you are a man. Don’t men enjoy seeing the nakedness of women?”

“I cannot talk on behalf of other men, but personally I can only enjoy the experience if you are putting up a show for me. You have to know that I am looking and I have to know that I have your permission to look. Since your nakedness is under the desk I cannot just assume that you know that you are naked and that you want me to watch”.

“Go ahead and unplug your charger”, she said with a disconcerting look of seriousness on her face.

I went under the table and unplugged my charger. As I was under the table, she rubbed her thighs together and then spread her legs wide.

I came up from under the desk and looked at her.

“So you were putting up a show for me?”

“I am comfortable with my sexuality”.

“You were putting up a show for me? You wanted me to see your nakedness?”

“The attention is appreciated, makes me feel special”, she was smiling an intoxicating kind of smile. There was innocence about her. But then, a woman who lets a stranger look at her vagina cannot be described as innocent by any stretch of the imagination.

“But there are other ways of attracting attention”.

“We can always say that, but let me ask you this. Why does a woman who is a professor paint her eyelids and extend her eyelashes? Hasn't she achieved enough to attract all the attention she needs? Relationships between men and women can only be sexual, no matter how much we might want to disguise it”.

“Interesting viewpoint. But saying all women use their sexuality to attract attention is to label all women sluts and many women will disagree with you.”

“Of course they will deny it. They will say they are doing it for themselves. But how can a woman be sexually attractive for herself. Is she perhaps two lesbians trapped in one body?”She enquired with an emphatic clenching of her jaws.

“Well articulated”.

I gathered my things, shook her hand and said,

“It was nice meeting you.”

“You didn't ask what my name was and you didn't ask for my number.”

“Deliberately so, you took the relationship to the very end and the only thing I could do now is to take you a lodge and ravage you. I don’t do that, sex with a stranger that is. And as for a relationship...”

“I am too much of a slut for you?”

“You could say that”.

“I don’t understand, guys are supposed to be turned on by a display of sexuality”, she looked a bit hurt.

“If what the guy wants is casual sex, yes and a lot of guys want that. But I am wired a bit differently. I prefer a slow build-up. So what’s your name?”

“I am Carol”.

“Lovely name, let’s start over. Let’s pretend I have just walked in and your legs are not apart.”

“Fair enough. So what’s your name?” The smile was back on her face.