He wrote dirty stories in the office when he is free, it excited him. He imagined sending them to his lady boss, watching her face glow from excitement and anger at the outrageousness of the whole idea of it. He thought of how rich he would be when they are published one day and perhaps made into R-rated movies. He drew inspiration from the horribly drab and grey office, where all imagination (sexual or not) must die.

He sometimes get so excited writing his stories he almost got himself fired form the job. He was muttering the imagined sequence in the bedroom, dreaming up the designs on the curtains, the bed sheets, the temperatures, the scents and the seduction processes; he did not notice his colleague approaching him nor discover him standing behind him, until at the climax of his naughty story, he heard a sharp inhalation of breath. He turned around to see a very aroused colleague. He was about to lecture him on his rudeness when his colleague told him gruffly to continue typing or suffer the consequence of being nick-named the office pervert. With the defiant thought of “wait a minute, who’s the office pervert” he kept typing. It was not until lunch time did his satisfied colleague asked him “is there going to be a sequel to that?”

“well…I..” He hesitated “I might have to start charging a subscription fee…If you are interested…”
“Oh how much?” went the irritated colleague.
“For a modest sum of $30 a month, you can enjoy intense stories to occupy the boring-est of all days.”
“I’ll take it!” went the happy colleague But you got to make her a belly dancer. Oh and I like third parties.”
“Custom-made for your enjoyment only.”

That was the beginning of what became a notorious underground group of bored office workers. What began as a result of blackmail, spread like wild fire throughout the office building, and soon he had a large following of bored men, with no release for their sexual fantasies stuck in a grey reality but hungered for some kind of bizarre escapades. He was the producer of their fantasies. He started getting hellos, and friendly pats from lawyers, managers, even the doorman showed him extra friendliness to the intrigue of his female colleagues.

“Have you been going for charisma classes or something?” one of them finally asked.
“It’s a secret.” He answered smugly and strutted off.

Things were going all so well, until one of his stories involving a man who grew up in the jungle, a power suit high-heeled executive virgin, a car park attendant and a chicken landed up in his own boss’s office. When she called him into her office, he knew he as in deep shit. She never called anyone into her office unless they were getting a scolding, or they were getting fired. He was expecting the latter.

He went in to see a very angry looking boss. The room was freezing and the air was so still he heard buzzing in his ears. When she finally spoke, he felt a small sense of relief.
“This is outrageous! How dare you! That is sexist behavior right under my own nose!”
“I..” He wanted to defend himself but she silenced him.
“I don’t want to hear a single word from you. You are getting out of my office this minute! And you are going to write more stories. No more weak female sex objects. I want active female subjects in pursuit of sexual liberation.”
He was dumbstruck.
“And..” she continued, “I want you to make your services available to women! For God’s sakes, do you think women don’t read porn now-a-days? Now get to work!”
He left the room amazed; hardly believing this piece of luck.