Glorious Bush Brought To Us By Sara Pavan & Emanuele Ferrari

Ah, the joys of social media… it allows you to stay in touch with people who are probably better forgotten. Also, it comes in real handy when you’re feeling shitty and you spend a day making yourself feel worse by cyber-stalking old “friends.” It’s not all bad, though, because it also allows you to communicate with pervs the world over.

Back in the day, when I was still a young ingenue attending college I used to work as an office assistant for a professor in the French department. I won’t mince words: He was hot! I was fairly smitten and would blush every time I had to go to his office.

Oh the fantasies I had involving being bent over his desk – – – they would make you blush! Maybe, maybe not. They still get me all hot and bothered just thinking about it.

Anyhow, the other day, out of the blue, he send me a DM on Twitter telling me he had recently dreamed about me. Obviously, I had to ask what the dream was about. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t exactly prepared to receive the equivalent of an erotica novella in Twitter DMs. Thank God, Twitter removed their 140 character limit on direct messages or that would have been unbearable to read.

I didn’t respond right away, but for the next couple days, as his words sunk in, I had a harder and harder time to concentrate. I could barely get through brushing my teeth without having to fidget a little and cross my legs, you know, in lieu of a cold shower.

What does any of this have to do with Sara Pavan and her glorious bush?! Nothing really, but he misspelled “pubic hair” and wrote “public hair” in his erotic missive, which was clearly a typo or an inopportune auto-correct, but it stuck out to me, because I’m a fan of a nice groomed thatch of pubic hair and, dammit, I always knew that hiding inside his polished professor persona was a perv waiting to be unleashed.

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