But! But! But!

At 5:59 my entire department made moves. When I say the entire department, I mean the three of us that were left. Our boss has been in India for the past week or two, one of us had developed a mysterious illness, and two others were at a “meeting” in Chelsea.

So The Artist and I were walking down 35th to catch the C and somehow talking about butts–namely how vehemently opposed I am to them.

“I read this article where a girl had to be initiated into a gang and was offered a gang bang or a baseball bat beat-down. She chose the beat-down,” he says.

“I would have chosen the gang bang. Wait, baseball bats. Wait–gang bang. But I’d want advance notice to lube myself up. Oh, man, can you imagine if I lubed myself up for a gang bang and instead got a baseball bat beat-down? You know that bat would end up sodomizing the fuck out of me.”

The Artist begins to laugh and can’t seem to catch himself.

“So, do you remember when you said to me when you started working here?” he asks me, through laughs. “I think it was the first thing you ever told me.”

“I have no idea! It was my first day!”

The Artist stops walking to catch his breath. He is laughing, and making me laugh, and suddenly I am confused and bewildered.

“Well what did I say to you?” I demand.

“You asked me if I like a finger in the butt.”


“You asked me if it felt good if a woman put a finger in my butt.”

“I-I… I must have been reading the sex column in the magazine!” I say defensively, vaguely recalling something about prostate pleasure being read aloud my first day.

“Either way, I told my friends. Now when I bring you up to them, you’re known as the Butt Girl.” He’s in another fit of laughter, clutching his cigarette in his curled up knuckles and giggling.

“The Butt Girl? What the hell! I don’t even like butts! Why couldn’t I be the random awkward girl? The terribly unfortunate conversation with the cringe-inducing new girl?”

“Nope. Butt Girl.”

“But I’m not a Butt Girl!”

“Nope. You’re the Butt Girl.” The artist was still laughing, flicking his cigarette into the street, and I watched his shoulder shake as he stepped downward to catch his train.

I felt more like the But! But! But! Girl.


One response to “But! But! But!

  1. I’m not sure that gang bang=butt sex. It’s more like dressing on the side, you know? It’s there, but it’s optional.

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