Going to Hell, Part 2

I have this co-worker, J. She's petite and extremely cute. Not drop-dead gorgeous, or Penthouse-pet hot, but cute as all hell. When we first started working together, I thought she was flirting with me. Then I found out that she's married (and I should point out that she's a very traditionally-minded Chinese immigrant, so I honestly don't believe that she was flirting after all). But we work side-by-side, and some days are more torturous than others.

Today, she's wearing a miniskirt. When she was scooting her chair closer to my desk to ask for my help on a problem, I got a clear view of white cotton panties. A fairly prolonged view, no less.

I haven't been this turned-on by panties (let alone plain white cotton) in close to 20 years.

Think about it: the overwhelming presence of porn these days make ordinary undies almost a non-issue. We look at supposedly-racy pictures from the 40's and 50's and don't see the attraction. A woman in her bra? I can see that on "Desperate Housewives", and that bra will be from Victoria's Secret.

But for some reason, no doubt related to the total inaccessibility of this woman, that flash of white cotton just won't leave my mind's eye.

I'm so going to hell.

D