Surprise Video Chat

Imagine I’m being a typical worker bee at the office, typing away at some droll report or reading an email from a client when an instant message from my wife pops up. “Do you have a minute?” she asks. “Or are you in a meeting?”

“Yes,” I answer, followed by an immediate “No.” Ah, the contradictions of non-realtime communication over a text medium. “I mean, yes I have a minute. And no, I’m working in my cubicle at the moment,” I explain.

Another window pops up: an invitation to video chat. I wonder what she wants that’s so pressing, I silently grumble as I scramble madly for my headphones so that I don’t disturb my neighbors.

All plugged in, I accept the invitation. And I get it.

The last sounds I hear before the window closes itself are an intoxicating buzzing terminated by the harsh click of a mouse.


I hastily double-check behind me and greedily return my eyes to the visual feast. My wife is wearing next to nothing: a pretty little negligee that shows more than it hides. She’s waving. “Hey, honey,” she says, “I just had to see your face real quick before I take care of some business,” She reaches offscreen and grabs a vibrator. “I love you,” she adds with another wave and pulls down her panties.

The last sounds I hear before the window closes itself are an intoxicating buzzing terminated by the harsh click of a mouse.

No, I didn’t see much. I had enough time for the image to embed itself, but I didn’t have time to inspect it in detail. But you can bet the imagery will be repeating itself all day long.

Now, imagine it’s only 10am. A couple hours later, the situation repeats itself. This time, she’s wearing a pink thong and is facing away while she holds a little blue pair against her bare cheeks. “What do you think? The pink one or the blue one?” she asks.

I wipe off the drool from my mouth and stutter a, “B-b-bl-blue.”

“Okay, thanks!” She says with a happy-go-lucky wave. “Bye.”

It’s almost time to go home, and she invites me a third time. She’s wearing a silk robe, and her hair is up in a towel. “Sweetheart,” she says, “can you pick up some whipped cream on the way home? I think I’m going to be hungry after the kids go down.”

You get the idea. And that’s how you get a guy slow cooker going with only a few minor touches through the day.

Photo credit: rmx / Foter / CC BY-NC-SA
About Phil (251 Articles)
Philip Osgood is a Christian husband, father, and writer who considers himself a passable video game player, fiction reader, camping and hiking enthusiast, welder, computer guy, and fitness aficionado, though real experts in each field might just die of laughter to hear him claim it. He has been called snarky, cynical, intelligent, eccentric, creative, logical, and Steve for some reason. Phil and his beautiful wife Clara live in Texas with their children in a house with a dog but no white picket fence. He does own a titanium spork from ThinkGeek, though, so he must be alright.