Working for a woman who likes to sleep naked

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

The city's rhythm is like the hoofbeats of galloping horses, possessing its own inherent cadence yet constantly shifting and changing.
In this dazzling and chaotic world, my jumbled and earthy thoughts seem out of place.
At night, standing on the pedestrian overpass, watching the traffic rush by, leaving only a wisp of memory, stirs my imagination, making my already restless heart even more agitated. A breeze blows, and I toss away the empty wine bottle. My woman calls, insisting I finish this plan tonight; the client is coming to review it tomorrow. This ridiculous idea has been giving me a headache for days. It
's an advertisement for shapewear, and the client is almost obsessively picky. I've exerted all my effort, but I still can't meet their satisfaction.
Today, my woman gave me a death sentence: if I don't have a sample by tomorrow, I'm out, and she'll shut down.
This woman is thirty-six or thirty-seven years old, quite shrewish. The most polite insult she's given me is, "It's not the scoundrels that are scary, it's the educated scoundrels."
Her company is just starting out.
She was a woman who didn't understand the business but was very creative. She spoke rudely, liked to swear, and had no feminine gentleness whatsoever .
I guessed she might have suffered some kind of trauma.
Whenever I couldn't take the insults and wanted to leave, she would try to appease me, saying things like, "I have a sharp tongue but a soft heart, don't mind me," and so on. " What were you thinking when you were swearing at me!" she'd say, and then she'd laugh. Women can be quite adorable when they're not fierce; her smile was gentle and full of tenderness. It's not easy for a woman to run a business alone, so I decided not to argue with her. She could say what she wanted, and I'd do what I wanted. But she never owed me wages, which was the most important reason I didn't leave decisively. Sometimes when she went out and didn't come back for a day or two, I felt a little uneasy. It's uncomfortable without her nagging in my ear. Am I being a masochist? A plump woman across the street mentioned that some women like to sleep naked, though I'd never seen that before. She warned me, "You better watch out, that woman's got some nerve. She might sleep with you one day!" I blushed to the roots of my ears. But what era are we living in? Anyone can sleep with anyone once in a while, as long as it's not forced. So far, nothing has happened. This business deal is big, and the woman is taking it very seriously. Everything else is ready, except for the main character—the one that's too stiff. The client isn't satisfied. I've already revised it three times, but the client thinks it's tacky. When I ask him to find fault, he can't, just say it's too tacky, utterly tacky. What can I do? The customer is king, but what the hell is this "king" anyway?! I sauntered towards the company; the woman lives there. The door was closed, but I had the key, so I opened it. I had a preliminary idea for the whole scene, but the character I found online that could represent the theme wasn't suitable. The woman was calling from the bedroom. I carefully pushed open the door, turned on the light, and saw the woman naked, her thin blanket having slipped to the floor. Before I could cover my eyes, she woke up, saw me staring at her, and shouted, "What are you looking at? Get out of here!" I quickly lowered my head and said, "I only came in because I heard you shouting." The woman pulled the blanket over herself: "Never seen a woman before!" I suddenly got angry: "You think I want to look at you? Look at yourself in the mirror, what have you become? Drunk every night, and you call yourself a woman? You're practically an alcoholic. I've wanted to quit this lousy company for a long time." "If you don't want to work here, then quit! We can't do without you! Who do you think you are?" "Fine, I'm quitting right now." I was so angry I was almost incoherent. I stormed out of the bedroom. This woman was a madwoman; she could bite me at any moment. I didn't have much to pack, just a few books and my own work. I needed to organize the files on my computer. I'm a principled person; even if I'm not doing something, I still need to make sure others can use it properly so they can find it and cause delays. After everything was organized, I slung my bag over my shoulder and was about to leave when I suddenly heard a woman crying. I stopped. After all, she was a woman; I couldn't be too petty. Thinking this, I turned back, opened the door to say goodbye, and left. The woman was wearing a thin, semi-transparent nightgown. Her face was streaked with tears, and she looked pitiful. I put down my bag and stared at her blankly. She slowly walked over and angrily said, "Go away, go away!" She pushed me away while grabbing me tightly. I said, "Let go!" She held onto my clothes tightly, and I couldn't get away. I couldn't help but laugh. She looked at me angrily and suddenly twisted the muscle in my arm hard. She used a lot of force, but I didn't feel any pain. "If you do this again next time," she said, "I won't stay here." I knew her performance was over, and I couldn't leave anymore. I felt like I owed her for life. A glint appeared in the woman's eyes, but I pretended not to notice and went straight to the computer, sitting there fuming, fiddling with the mouse. Her outburst had completely shattered my train of thought, and I aimlessly browsed the web. The woman was inside, the door ajar. I shook my head. I went over and closed the door securely. Thinking of searching for inspiration outside, I heard a loud "smack." The woman slammed the door shut. The boundless night sky twinkled with stars, the countless points like the woman's mischievous eyes. What was happening? I realized the woman's image was everywhere. The eerie neon lights reflected the mystery and intense passion in her gaze. My mind was completely blank, filled only with the woman's alluring, multifaceted image. Could it be...? I chuckled to myself. Oh, I'd discovered the unconscious secret within myself. I slapped myself twice. How pathetic! Why was I thinking about her? The streets, bustling with cars, were gradually thinning out. I sat on the pedestrian overpass, a place where I usually pondered things, watching the passing vehicles. When I was engrossed in watching, ideas would come to me, but today I just couldn't get into a focused state. All I could see was that woman's alluring figure. It didn't make sense; I didn't care about her, I hadn't felt anything for her. What was wrong with me today? A gentle breeze accompanied the city night. A couple walked across the overpass hand in hand; a husband and wife approached, the woman fuming ahead, the man smiling obsequiously, repeatedly apologizing, begging her to go back. I chuckled to myself. Humans are so complex, their emotions and mindsets so fickle. Perhaps it's this unpredictability that makes life so interesting. I thought of the woman; perhaps she too was venting her frustration because of loneliness, and she chose me as her outlet, and I, being so understanding, could understand her feelings. Perhaps this was the budding stage of fate. As I threw away the last cigarette butt, my thoughts were still a jumbled mess. Disappointed, I walked back. Suddenly, I felt a little embarrassed; a somewhat risqué idea flashed into my mind, but it froze like a mold. Surprised by the audacity of my thought, I hurried back. Reaching the shop, I tried to unlock the door, but it was locked from the inside. I pounded on the door, waking up the fat woman on the south side of the street. "Making such a racket! Can't a person get any sleep?"

Seeing it was me, she said with ill intent, "What's up? What kind of creative ideas are you coming up with with your boss in the middle of the night?"
I couldn't be bothered with her. The woman had been woken up; she probably hadn't been asleep at all, so why was she back?
I told her to open the door. She opened it, glanced at me, and then saw the fat woman across the street :
"What are you looking at? Keep an eye on your husband and mind your own business." The fat woman sullenly closed the window. "Come on in," the woman said, still angry. I didn't argue with her. I told her I had a great idea, and the woman became slightly interested. "Tell me," I said, blushing. "Use you as the main subject, blur your breasts and that area, take two photos of you just waking up, and then take a shot of you wearing shapewear. " The woman said angrily, "How the hell did you come up with this? Making me naked for people to see? What the hell are you up to!" I said, "Don't rush me. I meant it should be blurry, so people can't see the real thing." "Stop talking nonsense, show me what you're wearing!" I said, "How can I? I'm a man, if I wear something that makes my chest bulge, how can people buy it?" She laughed, "No, no, I can't go naked." I said, "Why are you so conservative? There are so many nude photos online now, showing off the allure of the human body, and they're all young women in their twenties! You're an old woman, experienced, what are you afraid of? Anyway, this company is yours. If you hire models, it'll cost you a lot of money. Think about it carefully, I'm doing this for your own good. It's too embarrassing if people see it." I said, "Everyone has a first time, just sacrifice for yourself this once. If you're embarrassed, I have another idea, which is to blur your face, and then just leave it like that. Like a masked person, even if you walk naked on the street, no one will know who you are." You little rascal, what kind of twisted ideas do you have! I said, "What you're saying is too harsh, this is called creativity. You creative bunch are all cultured scoundrels! Not a single one of you is good." I said, "Are you in or not? This is all I'm capable of. If you don't, I have no other options. You should hire a better person; maybe they can come up with a creative way to get you into bed with a man!" The woman twisted my muscle again. This time, I felt pain, and I knew she had agreed. I observed her, trying to figure out the best angle to take the picture. The woman took off her pajamas and put on tight-fitting underwear. Her slightly flushed face exuded a certain charm. The characteristic of a mature woman is her profound aura; just standing there, she's like a book with an unfolding plot, making your heart surge and swell. I stared blankly for a while. "You big pervert, what are you looking at?" I said, "You sound like a shrew when you talk. Shut up." I smiled. "Are you playing a monkey?" The woman glared at me. She was truly beautiful no matter how I looked at her. I hadn't felt anything before, but today, I don't know why, people are like that, you can't always be attracted to someone. The only flaw was her unnatural expression; she seemed forced. I secretly devised a plan, without telling her. I set up the camera tripod, attached the shutter button, and... The woman's room was quite stylish, filled with bamboo objects—elegant and simple, understated yet refined. The colors were light and natural. I asked if she had any better blankets, something more transparent. She found a light pink silk scarf—not bad, it could spark a man's imagination. The woman lay on her side on the bed, gently turning her head. I chuckled, "What are you doing, like a robot? Be natural, okay? Even photographers more famous than you don't have so many demands. You, a meddlesome amateur, have so many complaints." I didn't want to waste any more words with her; I just wanted to get this idea done quickly. I'm skilled in this kind of technology; I have plenty of scary little gadgets. So I went out and grabbed a realistic centipede. While posing her, I tossed the camera onto the bed, then returned to the camera, pinched the shutter button, and said, "Move to the right a bit ." Just then, her hand touched the simulated centipede, and she turned around in fright. I seized the opportunity and snapped several photos. Looking back at the digital camera, it was brilliant—a startled beauty! I walked up to her. "It's okay, it's fake." The woman lunged at me, and I felt her trembling, fine beads of sweat on her skin. I laughed, "Silly girl! You're scared like this by a tiny bug!" There were three sets of photos: one of the woman in fright, one showing her profile, her body half-naked under a thin veil, her face only visible behind her cheekbones, unrecognizable, and the third a frontal view. I chose one photo from the first set and one from the second set for comparison. It perfectly captured the theme. I spent over an hour working on it. It looks great from every angle. The woman's expression is natural and poised. The art director was very impressed with the idea and immediately consulted the vice president, who said he was taking a woman out to dinner that night. The woman invited me too, but I said it wasn't convenient for me to go since he was inviting me. She said, "What if this guy has ulterior motives?" I said, "He's so rich, what woman can't he get? Don't be so arrogant. Even I don't have any feelings for you. Go ahead." She glared at me, clearly annoyed. That evening, I went to a street food stall. The street food stalls in the city were bustling; stretching for kilometers, the barbecue, draft beer, and the noise of people made the whole street vibrant. I ordered two draft beers, sat down at a small table, and grilled some squid tentacles. The cool draft beer was refreshing. It was a moment to relax; the scene was chaotic but grand. Looking at the people all around me, I felt a strange, chaotic pleasure. I gulped down the beer, it was so satisfying, and soon the glass was empty. I picked up my second glass and continued drinking when the phone rang. "Where the hell are you?" the woman yelled. I felt a surge of anger and angrily hung up, but the phone kept ringing. I answered, "Watch your mouth, I'm not your servant." I heard a woman sobbing. "Come back and talk!" She must have really been bullied. I rushed back. The woman's hair was disheveled, and she sat inside. "I really was bullied!" she shook her head. I said, "Pshaw, are you kidding me?" "I'm so bored by myself." Then just cry it out yourself. Why are you always dragging me into this? I'm just a laborer. The woman looked at me with red eyes. "Are you really confused or just pretending? I like you." I laughed in exasperation. "Say it again, you're making fun of me." Sister, I'm just a country bumpkin, you can't treat me like this! If I get upset, I'll go crazy too. The woman started laughing. I shook my head. "Tch, I thought you'd been bullied!" "What the hell are you thinking? That person's character is way below yours. I'm wary around you, but I feel completely at ease with them. You're up to no good, trying to make them naked?" "How can you talk like that, you woman? Don't you have any conscience?" "Just kidding, you call yourself a man? So stingy." "I'm hungry. I was so happy at the banquet I didn't eat much. It's my treat. What do you want to eat?" "Let's go to a street food stall." " You're just a country bumpkin who can't be served properly." "I like it."

"Okay, let's go to the food stall."
The woman smoothed her hair.
It was late, but still very hot. The woman wore a light green gauze shirt and faded jeans. Her long legs looked even more graceful. As she walked, she swore, attracting many stares, wondering why such a beautiful woman could be so vulgar. But I was used to it; nobody's perfect. "
Never seen your man before?" I blurted out, surprised even myself. "Dead," the woman said calmly. I saw a glint of anger in her eyes. I'd heard the fat woman mention that her man had eloped with a woman, taking all their savings.
The woman drank a lot of alcohol, while I ate some squid tentacles and drank two large glasses of draft beer.
On the way back, we sat down on the pedestrian overpass. Watching the passing cars, the woman said, "Sometimes I really want to jump. It's all over. I'm so tired." "Fine, I'll jump with you." "Who do you think you are, jumping with me?"
"Who are you? You pervert! How can you talk so hurtfully?" I trembled with anger. "I really want to punch you."
"Go ahead!" The woman smiled foolishly, "I'm actually hoping someone will beat me up right now, I'm so annoyed, go ahead and hit me." The woman pinched my muscle with her hand. It hurt. I broke free, left her there, and walked away without looking back.
I didn't know where to go, but I just wanted to get some distance away from her.
The woman followed behind with slightly unsteady steps, and suddenly she cried out "Ouch!" and fell to the ground. I turned around, but didn't go over immediately. The woman sat there and wouldn't get up, and I stood still. We stood there facing each other for more than two minutes, and then some people gathered around. I had no choice but to go over and help her up.
The woman shook off my hand and got up by herself. She limped forward, and when I went to help her, she angrily shook me off. I grabbed her arm tightly, and her nails dug into my arm. I had more than one injury on my arm, and I'd never been hit so hard in a fight. A pang of sorrow gripped my heart, and tears welled up in my eyes. I turned my head away and silently walked forward.
The woman stopped making a fuss and obediently followed behind. I took him back to his company and then tried to leave. Her hand gripped mine tightly, like a noose around my neck. "Stay," she said, her eyes filled with a tender affection. I shook my head and turned to leave. The woman called after me, saying, "I'll show you something."
She led me into the bedroom, took a box from under the bed, opened it, and my face flushed crimson. "I'm not a bad woman!" Inside the box was a vibrator. I grabbed the box and threw it to the floor. The woman hugged me tightly.
I silenced her with my lips. Her body was hot. Burning hot. My skin against the cool bamboo mat felt incredibly hot. She looked light and agile, but her body was heavy; her firm muscles made it hard for me to breathe. She didn't move, only sucking me in, drawing me into a deep vortex from which I couldn't escape. And so we remained, silently locked in this embrace, neither of us exerting any force. Like two swordsmen sparring. The woman bit me with her teeth, blowing hot air onto me. I felt hot. "Are you dead? Don't you move?" I stared at her silently.
I felt wetness flowing down below. I knew it was a woman's discharge. The woman began to writhe like a snake.
Gradually, her movements became more and more intense…
The woman changed, from a shrew to a gentle woman. Her rough words lessened, her shy expressions increased, yet I felt something was missing from her. Men are just despicable, I slapped myself twice.

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