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And it promised to hang about unless I worked it all out.The next day was Monday, so I called Henning Moritz in HR and invited him to lunch on my expense account. Henning was German by birth and was unfortunately true to the largely false caricature of the lack of humour of his nation. But he was very intelligent, and more importantly, had studied psychology at university before going on to major in personnel management.“Ah, I understand. You call on the German about such an emotional wound, because you know we are such an emotional people,” he said, his voice overly accented, after I explained what I had heard.I stared at him blankly.“Ja, that was a joke,” he said after a moment of silence in his normal voice.“Sorry,” I said.“I’m used to it. So what do you want me to advise you about?”“I want to ask why women would do that. Why would my wife do that and lie about me.”He chewed his lip and perused the lunch menu.“You know I subscribe to the philosophy of sexual economics.”I did. He. She was not a slut, I could tell from the tightness of her vagina. I was startled as the lips began to move and beckoned me to come closer. I was still tripping pretty fucking hard.“I’m sorry Caitlin. I don’t know what came over me. I thought he was….”My apology trailed off and my eyes drifted to the unconscious heap with the comically erect penis that lay next to us. Blood dripped down from the side of his head and snaked its way to the bottom of chin. I looked at her and she gave me a faint smile. And in that moment, I felt as though I had done no wrong.“Thanks, I guess. I mean, I have no idea what came over him. I don’t usually do this sort of thing.”Our eyes locked and I knew she was telling the truth. She was not this sort of girl. She was somewhat respectable in that sense. Not some backdoor slut that would get fucked at every opportunity that presented itself. And I had defended that honour. I felt the proudest I had ever felt. My heavy breathing had started to cease, my.
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