Steer Clear of the Sirens, Odysseus


The female coworker sees you coming.
She stops what she is doing and she observes your gentleman’s swagger with suspect.

"Nice pants", she says with a grin.

You blush like a teasing hooker. She notices, you say to yourself.

"Thanks."

She steps back and she looks at you from top to bottom. She folds her arms across her chest and she snuggles them tight and warm under her breasts as she savors the sight where the bottom meets the top and how your pants compliment the two.

Her eyes are nailed to your nourished mouthful thighs; your eyes on her shapely ample bosom.

"You look really nice."

You notice how she leaves her sentence hanging at the end. You notice how she leaves her mouth slightly open and how her lips are red like sweet petals of a flower, moist and blooming. How full they are and how soft, like two rolling pillows plump with warm, scented blood. You notice how her lips quiver like a pair of nervous butterflies as she draws her breath in small, halted portions.

You notice how she looks at you with an unspoken desire.

Odysseus! Beware! Sirenum scopuli!

You gasp for air.

You remember now that the eager female coworker standing in front of you is a woman spoken for. A woman recently engaged to be married to a friend from the days of old.

You remember now how your friend fished her out of the rough seas. A prized possession so wild, he finds her impossible to cage. A goddess so beautiful, he finds her impossible to domesticate.

No man shall be able to leash the lure of Aphrodite for his own selfish gain.

Details from the grisly fact settle in your bloodstream. You twitch like spasm.

"I…I go now. Work."

She tilts her head to one side, her playful look persists. "Sure."

Without letting down her gaze on you, she carefully steps aside to let you pass.

You smile and you launch yourself forward like a torpedo, never to look back.
As her adulteress’ eyes trail you from behind; those pants, how so nice and inviting.