Allow me to paint a picture if you will... I work in a predominantly male office where, fortunately, the testosterone heavy atmosphere is broken up by the tight, pretty young things the CEO regularly hires to come and intern a few times a week. Last night after many long months of gentle flirting and persuasion I finally managed to take the seemingly demure and prim South American PA out for a some friendly drinks. After many hours, very little food, and enough wine to drown an elephant (my usual strategy with the ladies), I had her back at my place. The quiet girl I knew from the office was no more. She was scratching me, moaning, screaming: I was getting thrown around by a girl a head shorter than me and half my size! Jus t as things were reaching a point I felt a jolt of pain, pulled out and went to the bathroom to find blood all over the condom. Such was my state of inebriation I thought it couldn't possibly be mine, the dirty b*tch! I washed myself off and stumbled back in to bed a happy man. It was only this morning as I had to physically rip my old boy off the sheets (such was the quantity of dried blood), that I knew I was in the sh*t. I tried to take a look only for the tear to start bleeding profusely again, so through the fug of my hangover cleaned up and made my way into the office. Now here's the rub: my regular throw down lives out of town, believes us to be in an exclusive relationship, and is due to come and stay with me for a few days over the weekend. She can't find out that I've slept with another woman, and yet I can feel the evidence of my indiscretion bleeding damply into my boxers as I sit here typing. How can I avoid the misses finding out, and also explain away the badly torn banjo string?!