My colleague Shi took some time out from her hectic schedule of chilling out on maternity leave (honestly they are the most chilled mother and baby ever) to come in and visit us on Friday. Soho isn't exactly baby friendly, so MSlash, Bony Arse Boss, mother, baby and I had to park ourselves outside the pub. We had a great giggle catching up and I took delight in seeing the otherwise placid baby scrunch his face up at Bony Arse Boss - "It's okay darling. Don't be afraid of him. He's only a little bit older than you...."

In her bourgeois existence she was called Cordula, Freiin von Ganting, Gan heiress at Ganting Castle, and was the sister of Mrs. Reudnitz, who died about two years ago; Since then she has taken the place of the missing housewife at the Kommerzienrat and was also the maid of honor for his daughter. Her niece, an eighteen-year-old, bleached and shy-looking, skinny girl, with a small, narrow face that was not absolutely charming, but heartily insignificant, sat like a wet, young sparrow between father and aunt, she left a pair that were too pale blue Eyes anxiously wander back and forth between the two, uncertain whether she was allowed or should stand up for one or the other party, whether one of the two expected that of her or whether to be overlooked, the role she undoubtedly played, not the one better part.

On the way back to the office, the conversation somehow turned to the boyf and I, and MSlash remarked that I have been in a great mood and very happy since going out with the boyf (people are very dramatic). Shi the cheeky cow said "That's cause she's getting some. It's amazing what a few orgasms can do for you!"

In the Commercien, a medium-sized and somewhat skinny older man with gray hair and a short, almost white full beard, a superficial observer would hardly have seen the purposeful character through which he had worked his way up from a simple locksmith to a large industrialist dominating the world market. With beautiful perseverance, he pretended not to notice the prevailing uncomfortability, but he didn’t get her out of the house, especially since the author of this situation, for her part, pretended that the wind was rustling in the leaves when he spoke addressed to them. Of course, only a woman can do that; for a man, even if he were the greatest disgust, would never be able to play the "broken lily" with perseverance. Do you see what I have to put up with?

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