“Today she wore that green skirt I love. I’ve seen her bend over a dozen times. Her round tight ass doesn’t budge in them. She clearly does it to arouse me. I fantasize about forcing her over my desk and…”
I have to put my phone down for a minute. I can feel my heart racing reading it. It had taken me hours to read all the stories he had written about me. My boss, Ahmed, was a guest writer for Purple and Posh.
It was by pure accident I found out. I love the Purple and Posh blog and read it all the time but I don’t write on it. One day, reading through #GuestWriters, I came across a story of his. I read it because I thought it was funny the author’s pen name was similar to Ahmed’s personal email.
It was a detailed account of a personal moment for me. I had been embarrassed to read it. My grandmother had passed. He had hugged me when I started to come close to tears. The writing was caring and sweet even if it did end in sex.
He called me “Cynthia” and he called himself “Ibukun” in the stories. It’s our middle names. I read all of them and only two made me certain they were about me. For a while I thought I was making up connections. I mean, what were the odds I would stumble across them?
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