So this guy — a young man whom I’d just met about 20 minutes before — hops on top of the table next to me. I was already sitting on one of the tables.

“Do what I do,” he says.

“OK…sure,” I reply. “Show me.”

The short, ever-so-slightly plump, dark-haired, khakis-wearing, 20s-something professional swings his legs behind him, twists around, and in a smooth motion gets on all fours. I look around the room and no one seems to be paying us any attention at all. Perhaps this is a normal thing in this establishment.

He’s looking at me expectantly. Chuckling, I take a deep breath, and in a second I, too, am on all fours on top of my own table. I turn my head to look at him, and he’s beaming at me. Yes, I said beaming. It’s odd to be beaming in this particular situation, I think to myself. And odd, too, that he’s not saying anything. Just beaming.

“What’s next?” I ask, trying to ignore the beaming.

“Have you ever been in this position before?” he asks.

I just stare at him blankly for a lonnnnnnnggg few seconds while I process this question. Does he think I never played “doggie” as a child? Never cleaned that hard-to-reach corner behind my toilet? Never gardened? Never played with a pet in the summer grass? Never knocked the kitty toys from underneath my coffee table? Good lord, there are a countless number of things requiring an all-fours position.

And, of course, you — dear reader — know me well enough by now to realize that all those innocent things flash through my head at lightspeed. The scenarios conjured by my inner pervert are the things which linger. A lecherous giggle-fit is dangerously close to the surface, but I don’t allow it. I’m pretty good at suppressing lecherous giggle-fits.

“Have I ever been in this position before?” I ask him back, hoping to kill a little time while my brain comes up with an appropriate answer.

“Yes,” he says.

That was no help.

“You mean….have I ever been on all fours before?”

“Yes,” he says again.

“Umm……” My brain was coming up with nothing. “Yyyyyeeeeess……”

“Good. Has anyone ever made you do this?” I watch as he demonstrates.

“Oh, that thing! It’s useless. It doesn’t DO anything.” I quickly mimic his demonstration, then follow with my own, more creative move. When I’m done, I sit up on my knees and look over at him. He’s sitting on the edge of the table again, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Hrmmp,” he says.

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