Cary Tennis, Salon’s agony uncle, was responding to a reader (with a four-month-old baby) who wondered whether he should stray with an attractive and flirtatious workmate: “Keep away from her like she’s a vat of dangerous chemicals”. wrote Tennis, which seems helpful enough. I’m not sure about what he goes on to say, though:
“You have to regulate the goings-on of your own mind as well.
Do not under any circumstances imagine her bending forward over your desk, her palms planted on your blotter, her panties around her knees, her skirt up over her waist, her red lips parted and her shining blue eyes looking back at you as you mount her with all the fury of an assistant regional manager of sales for furniture and home appliances (Western region).”
Reminds of (many things, but) the story about Tolstoy and his brother having a secret club called the “White Bear Club”, whose membership was open only to those who could stand in the corner of a room and not think of a white bear.
I prefer Cary Tennis’s version, I have to admit.
I think anyone who’s read Cary Tennis has more or less cracked entry to the White Bear club. It doesn’t work the other way round. I mean, a white bear bent over the desk with a skirt hiked round its middle is still a bear (cue Finnish Manhood Test joke).