Neighbor’s girl has been coming to our house every day for the past week.

Pardon my lack of posting. I have been disoriented.

Husband knows of my overly-suppressed bisexuality. So he makes the initiative to invite neighbor's girl over, you know, to use the computer and stuff. He actually enjoys seeing my disgruntled look over her presence; either I get her on the floor, or I throw her out of the nearest window.

Today, Neighbor’s girl took off her abaya and headdress as soon as she got into the house. At least today she’s not wearing a tank top to make it harder for me not to stare at those milky shoulders and arms and…cleeeeeavage.

Neighbor’s girl pulls a chair to sit beside me. She’s freaking just 20 cm away from me.

My stomach turns into a block of ice. Eyes glued on laptop’s screen, stylus furiously clicking from one embarrassing webpage to the next, and here’s this horny teenager subtly offering herself to me.

She leans from behind me and the alarms go off. I cussed quietly, “Damn bitch, this table is 180cm wide, and she couldn’t find a way to put the phone away without pressing those 34-C boobs on my head?”

She reaches to hug me. Quick! Brainstorm solutions to get me out of this!

a) I could hug her back, which definitely would lead into feeling her breasts, her ass and what’s between her legs. Then after an hour of that and some more, maybe we could feed Lay’s Potato Chips off each other’s nipples and stuff.

or

b) I could just gently move away from her hand, and keep all limbs and gazes limited to the handles of my computer chair. Definitely a more reasonable option.

Except that when I did option b), I almost slapped her arm raw, flipped her off the chair, and made me wish for an option c).

She notices my discomfort, but then totally blunders in figuring out why I’m so frigid in my chair. She squeals in that spoiled, seductive tone, “Hey, I’m so sorry that I’m bothering you like this,”

“Hey, don’t mention it. You’re sole purpose in my life is to take advantage of my kindness anyways. So, whatever.” Yeah, baby, throw the rotten eggs at me now!

Neighbor’s girl is taken aback from cold bluntness. She coos and whimpers, she packs her things, and is very glad that her brothers or boyfriend demand her to come back downstairs where all the genetically-no-brain-gifted people dwell.

I keep my limbs closely glued to my chair until I’m sure I can hear my fantasies walk away for another 24-hours break.

I take a deep sigh and get off my chair and walk away from the livingroom. I lucidly curse the husband for putting me through temptation, despite knowing how susceptible I am for sin. I thank Heavens for still make 'em like the neighbor's girl. If I make it like this without breaking my leash through Summer, I should get discounted mental therapy sessions for it.