Befriending the Banker
- 2 years ago
- 20
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Viele Monate hatte ich das Glück, ganz oben im Haus in meiner gemütlichen Dachgeschosswohnung komplett meine Ruhe zu haben, da die Wohnung neben mir leer stand seit ich eingezogen bin. Dass das nicht von Dauer sein würde, hatte ich mir gedacht. Und so kam eines Tages ein Brief, in dem mir die Renovierungsarbeiten mitgeteilt und sich im Voraus für damit einhergehende Unannehmlichkeiten entschuldigt wurde.
Der Tag kam und die Bauarbeiter klingelten, um sich der Höflichkeit halber kurz anzukündigen und dass sie sich Mühe geben wollten, mich nicht allzu sehr oder zu lange zu belästigen.
Und dann kam ein Tag, dessen Folgen ich in meinen kühnsten Träumen hätte erahnen aber keineswegs vorhersehen können. Das Wasser hatten sie abstellen müssen, doch brauchten sie dann und wann welches im Eimer. Also klingelte einer der Bauarbeiter bei mir, schilderte die Situation und bat, bei mir auffüllen zu können.
Für mich stand es außer Frage nicht zu helfen, also bat ich ihn mit einer Handbewegung herein und zeigte zur Tür neben mir, zum Bad. Er verschwand, füllte den Eimer, kam wieder, bedankte sich mit einem breiten Lächeln und ging wieder. Später am Tag, als ich selbst ins Bad musste, blieb mir kurz das Herz stehen. Da stand mein knapp 20cm großer Gummidildo noch auf dem Badewannenrand. Wenn ich ihn spät abends noch benutze, räume ich ihn danach im gemütlich-müden Zustand nicht noch weg, sondern stell ihn hin um ihn am nächsten Morgen zu säubern. Und so stand er. Ganz unschuldig. Nicht ganz. Er ist wie ein echter Schwanz geformt, sprich mit Sack und zurückgezogener Vorhaut. Und an diesen Rand konnte man, wenn man so genau hinsah, noch eingetrocknete Spuren meines Geilsaftes erkennen. Wie gesagt. Ich hatte ihn da stehen lassen, wie ich ihn benutzt hatte.
ohne Frage - der Bauarbeiter wird ihn bemerkt haben. Den Gummischwanz, und sicher auch die Spuren. Meine Spuren. Für den ersten Moment wollte ich im Boden versinken. Im nächsten zuckte ich mit der Schulter. Jeder macht es sich selbst. Jeder, dem es Freude bereitet. Sicher, Spuren davon sieht man selten so, wie er sie hatte von mir sehen können. Doch was machte das schon? Und im Moment danach, okay, den Minuten und fast Stunden danach, fragte ich mich, was er sich wohl dazu gedacht oder ausgemalt hat. Ob es ihn erregt hat? Wie stark? Hat er es deinen Kollegen erzählt? Bauarbeiter erleben sicher jede Menge, doch so etwas?
Und ich fragte mich, ob ich hoffe, dass er noch einmal klingeln und nach Wasser fragen wird. Vor allem aber, ob ich mich in Zukunft auf Spurenbeseitigung konzentrieren würde - oder alles andere als das.
Denn der Gedanke, dies und jenes indirekt direkt zu zeigen, erregte mich, das war mir klar. Warum also nicht ein wenig spielen?
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