For starters I must tell you - IG2 has had a haircut. I have been deluding myself; I thought that perhaps my lust for the boy was due to his hair. (I have a thing about dark curly hair) But no, he looks way better with the trim. He looks like a grownup(!). So there I am coping with this development and trying to act like a normal human being and making sure that the words coming out of my mouth ("[IG2], how are you today?" are not the words inside my brain "Would you mind awfully if I just buried my nose in your armpit and enjoyed your odor?". And I am doing a rip-snorter of a job. I was impressing myself with ..er, me.
And then, it was high noon.
It's getting to summer here in Australia, and it is already quite warm. I had to go outside to pulverise and cap a sample, and out in the prep shed was IG2. And he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Sweet baby jane.
I have this huge insaitable unquenchable lust for arm veins. Those veins in a mans forearm, standing out against sun-darkened skin. Dancing a partnership by themselves, showing strength and virility and sweat and war and love and sunday mornings and friday nights in their trail to and from the heart. A life source. It doesn't matter what a man looks like - if his forearms are out in public, there is a strong chance you will find me on the floor, all completely loopy and staring at that small perfection. If I could spend an hour licking arm veins on an attractive man I would never need anything more.
So IG2's veins were showing. His veins were showing, he had a splendiforous haircut, and half-turned from me, so the back of the overalls were slightly taut of his young buttocks and his arm veins were showing. I stumbled, recovered my sense of gravity before he could see me and then proceeded to walk into a pulveriser. For those who don't know, a pulveriser is the size of a large stove. And is the colour yellow. Bright yellow. A blind person could not miss such a thing.
But I walked into it. I am a tool.
And not only am I a tool, I am a great big silly Minda of a tool. The rest of the day I was utterly useless. I kept dropping things. And not just insignificant things: the first thing I dropped was a standard onto a folder. Liquid all over paperwork. And then I dropped a sample on myself. Acid and water and sample all over my pants. In that awkward spot where it looks like you've 'had an accident'. I cleaned up that spill fairly well, but it left this amazing green stain.
Imagine if I had really injured myself; can you even begin to think how I would explain a broken leg? "Oh, I got distracted by IG2's veins. They are pretty."
I had a conversation with him as well, where I didn't trip over my tongue. We were talking about something inconsequential and I said he was a rather unique individual (read: You're wonderful. Would you like to go to bed with me?? Well, maybe not.), and he thanked me and said it was the nicest thing I could say. (And then I thought about licking his left arm from the top of his index finger, down a vein and kiss his elbow)
I need to do something about this crush I have on him. Especially if he's going to go around with his sleeves rolled up like that. That should be illegal.
