Eye fucking

It's the end of the night and my co-workers are all having a drink by the bar. When I look around the room, I see X is looking at me. I turn away and look back. X is still looking at me, eye fucking me. In order to be polite, I eye fuck right back.

"K?" I ask my co-worker, standing beside me. "Do me a favour and look over there."

"Where?" replies K.

"Over there. Straight ahead. Twelve o'clock."

"Ok."

"Now, tell me, do you think that... you know?" I bob my head to the side.

"Oh, God. I have no idea. I am so bad at these things."

"Go away." I nudge him with my right arm. "You're no use to me."

The next day at work, I write a series of thank you notes to the VIPs who attended the event. Without them, there wouldn't have been an ounce of media interest. I write to X's manager, because X is on a nationally-broadcast program and thank him for bringing along a few VIPs.

When I get the manager on the phone, we talk shop for a few minutes and then he mentions something I never expected to hear.

"Oh, and I totally forgot about your note about X. If you want, I can set you up. No problem."

And I think I'm going to have to take him up on the offer, if only to have something to write about on a later date.