Belle de Jour part deux (The Diary of a Call Centre Girl)

Today I had a special treat. The keyboard cleaners were in, dusting the detritus of slowly eroding Call Centre workers from the nooks and crannies in the office.

I love the keyboard girl.

I love the curl that kisses her forehead.

I love her china-white, translucent skin.

I love the way she coyly looks at me as though I am a lecherous fat biffer.

You understand that my appreciation of her beauty is intended in an enlightened and non-threatening manner.

I caught her brown eyes today and politely asked her to visit my desk.

Me: “My ball keeps sticking.”

She: “I’ll sort it out for you.”

She silently popped out the ball of my mouse and digitally explored the rim prior to extracting a tiny clump of fluff.

Is there anything this girl can’t do?