Mr TV Director, My Saviour

Have you ever had a dream that came true?

THE DREAM

Last night I dreamt that I was taken hostage. In a small cell, attached to a huge room, were my ragged bed and a toilet seat. I woke up, from what seemed a rest after a night in transit. Through a slightly opened door I saw three women crouching, surrounded by a group of men, who were sitting, scattered on the floor. Without hesitation I run towards the women, untied their hands and shouted ‘Run’. I knew I would have to fight to make our escape possible. There was blood; all possible styles of fighting were exhausted. I was doing alright. In the end however, numbers worked against me – dirty men held me down. I was breathing heavily.

The most senior of kidnapers appeared above my face. He kneeled down and whispered slowly:
“We were negotiating your release with your Saviour, Mr TV Director. But you’ve just blew it”.

THE REALITY

It’s lunchtime. At my office. I’m having a Japanese soup at the desk, slurping hot ramen, when text arrives:

Mr TV Director: Where do you work M.?

It’s him! Last night’s dream flushes through my head…

Beautiful but Grumpy: Do you mean location or the company?

Mr TV Director: Both

He’s breaking the rules  we had set up when we met: never to talk about work.
But I’m weak.
I give him what he wants, and follow with:

BbG: Why?

Mr TV Director: Just wondering.
Wandering what if I was to find myself nearby.
Wandering if entertaining you at work somehow might be worthy of your time.

I like his poetic tone.
BbG: I thought it was flowers – was just about to say I didn’t like carnations.

Mr TV Director:  :-)

BbG: Well. Are you in the area?

I’m apprehensively awaiting reply, and feeling out of breath discreetly loosen up my bra.

Mr TV Director: No. But I could be. If not now, another time.

He’s such a tease!

BbG: With my 1000 meetings a day I doubt it being possible. But still, you could try to hang around outside the building. I’m sure I would feel your presence (I guess you’re not working).

Mr TV Director: Start working again next week. Kings Cross.

BbG: Oh, what is it? I saw your hurricane program and liked it. Good music.

Mr TV Director: You have?? Teaching journalists how to film stuff.

BbG: Why don’t you teach me how to make a film?

Mr TV Director: Ok. We could go into the porn business together. A female director would be a good selling point.

Here we go again…
Is he really capable of saving me, as the dream predicted? And what is he to save me from?

I spend the rest of the day imagining his head between my legs.

The phone beeps, disturbing my vision. It’s a text message:

Andy: Want to do lunch on Saturday? Islington.
We’ve got lots to catch up on.