Please massage me!

My husband loves practical jokes. When he is the initiator. In fact the first time I met him he immediately set to work showing his party tricks. The aim of the dinner was to discuss an important business proposal, but discussions soon went astray. Reinout, as always, took the lead in the matter. As the alcohol was flowing, so did the range of topics. Nothing was off limit and soon we were all on a rather intimate basis. So intimate that Reinout decided to steel my shoes (and smell them!), in addition to my mobile phone, lipstick and other personal paraphernalia. I wasn’t late to show off my own tricks, and challenged my partner at table, an investor at Endeit, for a dance of bachata. It went down very well with the men, and I’ve since come to understand it made an unforgettable impression. I suppose the evening could have ended there, but Reinout felt obliged to outdo us all. So he initiated a chair fighting contest which his new employee, a gentleman from Sweden, who shall remain anonymous, gladly took up. My two managers, sitting opposite each other rolled their eyes in horror, secretly wishing I had never tagged along. Although this story ends here, it starts off another...

Coming back to his love for practical jokes, today he almost outdid himself in that department, on the expense of his wife. It started off quite innocently with a nice tummy and back rub. I could never say no to a massage and as he was manhandling my back, I asked him to go down, harder. Now I can assure you it was all very innocent, as I was referring to a good massage at the lower end of my back. What I didn’t know was that he had just slipped on skype and webcam with his CEO, Simon Usiskin. There I was moaning away, as I casually asked “Honey, please massage me where the fat is!”

I guess in the moment I couldn’t find a better word for love-handles so it came out rather improvised and blunt. Reinout broke out in a giggle looking at Simon’s face who I must say looked pretty dumbfounded.

I don’t know who was most horrified, Simon or me, but as I quickly rewound the mental images of standing leaning over the computer, moaning away and uttering that very bad porn-line, I wish I’ve had the decency for once to have kept my mouth shut.

I’m already plotting my revenge...



Name and shame