So, without using any of my sources, my essay for my Intro to Interactive Media class is already long enough. I can just add in information from my sources throughout it, and be done. w00t.
This is gonna go down Sophia Petrillo style. Note: Some boring details glossed over. Some boring details added for dramatic effect.
Picture it. Information Systems Office. Computers everywhere. Slightly warm. A normal day by any definition.
The phone rings, and I, by chance, pick it up. "Information Systems, Victor speaking. How can I help you?" The voice on the other end is sweet, nigh melodious. She was having trouble with the VPN client on her desktop. We tried a few things before we settled on something being wonky with her desktop. Still needing to be able to access the campus network from her home, she mentions that she has a laptop. I say "Why don't you bring it over, and I'll take care of you. I'll personally make sure you can do what you need to do."
It was a couple hours later when I heard that voice again from across the room, "I'm looking for Victor?" "He's right over there." I'm leaned back in my chair, feet up on my desk. She's still beyond my view from behind the grey cubical wall, but I hear the clip clop of high heels against the old and a scuffed linoleum floor getting closer.
There she is. About 5'8", dark brown hair tied in a bun, eyes grey like a winter storm, and skin the color of a sandy beach. Beautiful, but if she was wearing any make up, I couldn't see it.
"Are you Victor?" She asks. I smile. "That I am." "You're here." "I'm here. Shall we get started?"
I walk her over to an empty desk, the desk of my predecessor, and pull out a chair for her. Grabbing another chair, I sit at her side. As she logs into her laptop, I can smell her perfume; peaches and other fruits I can't quite make out. It's present, but not overwhelming; captivating all the same.
As we go through the process of setting up her vpn and drive mappings, I take advantage of her slow computer and strike up conversation. She's a freshman, but she's got a good head on her shoulders and entrepreneurial drive. Noticing her desktop wallpaper is a picture of a recording studio, I delve into that aspect of her interests. She mentions that, while she loves music, she has no knowledge of recording or editing, and would love to learn about that so she can make music.
Time for my move.
"You know, I'm a bit of a musician. I mean, I'm not that good, but I know my way around a good chunk of the software that's out there." "Really?" "Yeah, actually, I'm working on my second album." "Wow! What software do you use?" "Oh Audition, Acid, I'm starting to use ProTools more..." "That's awesome. I wish I could learn those." Here we go. "Well, If you'd like, maybe we could get together sometime. Maybe over some coffee? I could bring my laptop and show you some of the basics." She pauses and smiles, "That would be great. Do you have something to write on?" "I do. One second." I grab a paper cd sleeve off my desk and hand it to her. She hands it back. "Here's my number. Call me and we can figure out when we can hook up." "You got it."
The last progress bar finishes filling.
"Well, that's it." I say. She packs up her laptop and I walk her to the door. "Thank you so much, you've been great." "I told you I'd take care of you." She smiles. "Yeah, you did. See you later." "Later."
I watch her as she walks down the hall and turns a corner. With a slight smirk, I walk back to my desk, queue up the perfect song, and put up my feet.
I also met a cute red head the other day who helped me wrangle up some players for Apples to Apples, but thats a story for another time. ;-)
@Sonic: Let hope your next story starts with "Dear Penthouse..."
huh? I mean, I know what Penthouse is, but...what?
Letters to Penthouse are customer sent letters that Penthouse publishes. Usually outragious/highly erotic stories. I call BS on some of them. It's basically mind porn. :-p
Ooooooooooooh. Someone on the internet told me to shut up. I'm well and truly afraid. Did you stop to consider no one gives a frak what you think? Did that stop YOU from expressing yourself?
Ooooooooooooh. Someone on the internet told me to shut up. I'm well and truly afraid. Did you stop to consider no one gives a frak what you think? Did that stop YOU from expressing yourself?
Yes, But call me a fan of striking the encampment with a nuclear weapon from some sort of platform high above the surface. Only way to be sure, and all that sort of thing.
Mock me all you want. Say whatever you want about me. Until the administrators of this forum remove me, I've got as equal a right to post here as anyone else.
Mock me all you want. Say whatever you want about me. Until the administrators of this forum remove me, I've got as equal a right to post here as anyone else.
/endtrollbait
Fuck's sake, Have a tablespoon of cement and harden up. It was a joke, Sparky. Nobody is interested in this melodramatic attention seeking bollocks.
And if that was "trollbait", then consider this some
huh? I mean, I know what Penthouse is, but...what?
You wrote that was like it was porn or a romance novel, but most like porn. I was expecting you to be banging the chick by the end.
The situations you described could have easily been turned into a porn. Your story is better written then anything produced by Naughty America or Bang Bros. Did all the porn writers get carpel tunnel? Their is nothing wrong with a good bit of erotic literature.
ANYWAYS,,, Hopefully things work out for you in the end. You should try to get to some boob even if they don't work out.
Did all the porn writers get carpel tunnel? Their is nothing wrong with a good bit of erotic literature.
I think it's mostly that it's out of fashion (for the most part) right now. That being said, My Friend Pete did pick up a wonderful erotic-western at GoodWill last week.
Comments
Picture it. Information Systems Office. Computers everywhere. Slightly warm. A normal day by any definition.
The phone rings, and I, by chance, pick it up.
"Information Systems, Victor speaking. How can I help you?"
The voice on the other end is sweet, nigh melodious. She was having trouble with the VPN client on her desktop. We tried a few things before we settled on something being wonky with her desktop. Still needing to be able to access the campus network from her home, she mentions that she has a laptop. I say "Why don't you bring it over, and I'll take care of you. I'll personally make sure you can do what you need to do."
It was a couple hours later when I heard that voice again from across the room, "I'm looking for Victor?"
"He's right over there."
I'm leaned back in my chair, feet up on my desk. She's still beyond my view from behind the grey cubical wall, but I hear the clip clop of high heels against the old and a scuffed linoleum floor getting closer.
There she is. About 5'8", dark brown hair tied in a bun, eyes grey like a winter storm, and skin the color of a sandy beach. Beautiful, but if she was wearing any make up, I couldn't see it.
"Are you Victor?" She asks.
I smile. "That I am."
"You're here."
"I'm here. Shall we get started?"
I walk her over to an empty desk, the desk of my predecessor, and pull out a chair for her. Grabbing another chair, I sit at her side. As she logs into her laptop, I can smell her perfume; peaches and other fruits I can't quite make out. It's present, but not overwhelming; captivating all the same.
As we go through the process of setting up her vpn and drive mappings, I take advantage of her slow computer and strike up conversation. She's a freshman, but she's got a good head on her shoulders and entrepreneurial drive. Noticing her desktop wallpaper is a picture of a recording studio, I delve into that aspect of her interests. She mentions that, while she loves music, she has no knowledge of recording or editing, and would love to learn about that so she can make music.
Time for my move.
"You know, I'm a bit of a musician. I mean, I'm not that good, but I know my way around a good chunk of the software that's out there."
"Really?"
"Yeah, actually, I'm working on my second album."
"Wow! What software do you use?"
"Oh Audition, Acid, I'm starting to use ProTools more..."
"That's awesome. I wish I could learn those."
Here we go.
"Well, If you'd like, maybe we could get together sometime. Maybe over some coffee? I could bring my laptop and show you some of the basics."
She pauses and smiles, "That would be great. Do you have something to write on?"
"I do. One second."
I grab a paper cd sleeve off my desk and hand it to her.
She hands it back.
"Here's my number. Call me and we can figure out when we can hook up."
"You got it."
The last progress bar finishes filling.
"Well, that's it." I say.
She packs up her laptop and I walk her to the door.
"Thank you so much, you've been great."
"I told you I'd take care of you."
She smiles.
"Yeah, you did. See you later."
"Later."
I watch her as she walks down the hall and turns a corner. With a slight smirk, I walk back to my desk, queue up the perfect song, and put up my feet.
I also met a cute red head the other day who helped me wrangle up some players for Apples to Apples, but thats a story for another time. ;-)
However, From where I stand, All I have to say is "Good job! Hook in, son!"
Kids these days.
/endtrollbait
And if that was "trollbait", then consider this some
ANYWAYS,,, Hopefully things work out for you in the end. You should try to get to some boob even if they don't work out.