The erotic potential of office supplies

Suggested by events Elsewhere.

Fine, I don't suppose the subject is revolutionary either. So there. But giving it some thought, certain ideas emerge. Consider: two people attracted to one another, accompanied by a box of Post-It notes and a Mont Blanc.*

The Post-It belongs to that bleary milieu of the office: disturbance, disatisfaction, the smell and noise of the photocopier, the smell and noise of the boss. Whatever, the key thing here is to remember where the Post-It comes from. Now consider where it might go. Are you with me?

What's always interested me about fetish is the way in which we voluntarily delegate to an object an unmatched power to arouse us. There's nothing in the article itself, save its ability to compel us to obssess over it. We hand ourselves over to its power and achieve delight as we celebrate our weakness. I'm not criticising the idea; regular readers will have already noticed how often shoes appear in the blog. I don’t think anyone’s worth taking to bed who doesn’t have at least one fetish; what’s the human imagination for, otherwise?

In erotica, of course, there are the standard fetish items: BDSM, leather, rubber, stockings, shoes (yes, please), food, pee etc, etc.† I'm sure you already know pretty much what they are. What's fascinating is how one might expand the arena of fetish, so to speak, to find new articles with which one and one's intended may achieve new pleasures: what could be more amusing than to take such a sexless article as a Post-It note and invest it with new life?

So here goes: following shortly on the blog will be a series of observations about how our lovers might amuse themselves, both privately and in the company of friends. With the creative assistance of office supplies. Yet it may sound unlikely, but consider it possible to get an orgy off to a cracking start with a box of Post-It notes and a fountain pen.

* Sorry Lamy, your brand of Heidelberg enema clinic modernism just won't do here.

† Be sure to let me know if I've left out your favourite, I don't want anyone to feel neglected. But no, I don't write about scat.