Everyone's partaken in gossip.
"Joe fucked his secretary on his desk and charged the condom to his entertainment account? No shit."
There's nothing wrong with a little gossip. It's sort of like glancing out the window of a high-rise building and noticing someone walking around naked in the building next door. If your eyes, how shall I put it, linger on this particular sight, I don't think you should be crucified for it. If the beautiful, yet incredibly stupid, bimbo wants to do her morning aerobics in the nude with her living room blinds wide open, I'm sure as hell not gonna be the one to pay the consequences for it. I see something bouncing in front of me, I'm looking at it, goddammit.
But the gossip is another story. The gossip is an addict. The gossip is someone who invests in a high-powered telescope, mounts it to a video camera, and captures 24 hours of footage seven days a week in the hopes that some moron will bend over the wrong way. Peeping toms get off on seeing what's supposed to be private. Gossips get off on knowing what's supposed to be private. That $5,000 cleavage is what the gossip is after.
A gossip gets her fix in two ways. Finding out the scoop. And dumping it on someone else.
When a gossip hears the private information, the dirtier the better, her eyes light up like a pervert with his eye to a changing room wall. When the gossip hears the gossip, that's when you sense the drug pouring into the veins. When the gossip gossips, you don't sense quite as much pleasure. But each gossip probably has her own preference.
And yes, gossips tend to be women. I guess male perverts are from Mars, and female perverts are from Venus. Perverted men opt for the physical - the naked body. Perverted women opt for the psychological. Men watch the porn, women watch the soaps. Same shit, different gender.
