Eavesdropping

I have a few weird quirks. One is that, at school, I like to write on my laptop in my bed, because I have a corner and if I put a couple of pillows there I can sit up and it's very comfortable. Another one is that I like to have the door open during the day. My roommates from last year and I were very close and all had an open-door policy for our hall. We could walk in and out as we pleased. Well, my roommates this year and I aren't that close, but I don't want them to feel like I'm being aloof or something stupid, so I leave it open. This allowed me to realize something fantastic: I have the perfect spot for eavesdropping.

Eavesdropping is a guilty pleasure of mine. I wish I could stop myself, but I can't. It doesn't help that I do it for a job. I work at a treatment center for troubled girls, and staff have to hear what they're saying at all times. (I like to joke that I have the best job in the world: I get to eavesdrop and tell people what to do.)

My eavesdropping experience from 9/02/08, I'm sitting in my room working on a short story when suddenly I zone out and hear what's going on downstairs. My roommate...um...(sorry, coming up with pseudonyms on the spot is hard)...Spunky Spice has a boy she likes over...(pseudonym time)...Spunky's boyfriend #1 (she has quite a few). And they're discussing...nipples.

Spunky says, "Why do guys have nipples? You don't even need them."

Boyfriend #1 doesn't even have to think about it. "Pleasure," he says. "Sexual pleasure."

"What?"

"I'm not kidding," Boyfriend #1 says. He's pulling his shirt off. "Lick my nipple."

"I'm not licking your nipple."

"Come on, lick my nipple," he says again. His voice is coxing; he wants it.

Spunky pushes him away and says, "I'm not licking your nipple! I'm just saying, you don't even need them."

If I don't include that exchange in completed piece at some time or other, I will die with a life uncompleted.