Paige (friend at work) and I are talking about my short story. You see, I am attempting to write a romance short story for a writing competition. (I’ve always wanted to try my hand at romance and figure now’s as good a time as any.) She asked me what my male lead’s name was. I replied that I hadn’t named him yet. So she and I were trying to come up with a strong-sounding guy name. A (fun/nice) security guard walks in and asks what we’re up to. We explain. When he leaves later, he comments along the lines of letting us continue making up guys to ravish us (or something).
Me: “I wouldn’t mind being ravished.”
Security Guard: “We could start at the top of the hotel and hit every room on our way down. I’m here ’til 6 but I could do an hour of overtime until you get off at 7.” (He is joking, of course. I sense someone, somewhere, getting nervous.)
Paige and I laugh as he leaves.
Me: “Did he just offer to sleep with me 800 times?”
Paige: “I think so…”