She was at the torture chamber, or, The Office, acting as the boss, of course. She looked down at the foot traffic twenty floors high. She was on top of it all, and just because of a perfectly symmetrical face. What a bitch! She stood up from her leather chair. She arched her back. It was perfection, her symmetry, with just an exaggeration painted on her cheeks. Of course this, and only this, is what I’m speaking of. I always try for a little finesse and would never say, “Her tits too!” So …
She gracefully walked to her office door, and stopped. She found the perfect angle to hold her face, right there. Her employees saw her movements, they always did. Every single step was written in some leger, somewhere. So they tried, they had to focus. They had to be at their best, or perhaps death embarrassment would befall them all.
These so-called strolls always excited her. Every hour on the hour, she did this. As she moved, it was complete horror. Soon, that office had people believing they were in a well-oiled …hell!
The people, her employees, couldn’t take a moment to wipe their brow. They were terrified. She was doing her thing. Then it went faster …it sounded like earthquake p-waves, or the noise before the shaking …because …
As she leaned against her office door she lit a smoke right below the No Smoking Sign! Just this ---set the fear at an absolute maximum level. She’s reckless, everybody thought. I hate to repeat, but, all because of cute cheeks?
Then of course, it got really hot in her hell-box. Her employees were all men. They all had either ‘had’ her or had dreams of saying they had ‘had’ her: Crude! Horrible atrocities were fantasized. That alone should have brought A Death Sentence! She laughed at that thought and ran her hands down her curves. After all, she interviewed everybody personally.
But, to her satisfaction, barely, they were climbing the ‘ladder’ like rats chasing their tails on treadmills. The others fell off and died. But she just punctuated her cheeks and laughed as they fell.
But just like her business, always with a smile, so kind; she was into embezzlement banking ---for the most part. The vulnerable of course, she liked most of all. She even wrote a best-selling book, “How to fuk people so easily when you’re a witch!” It was a big hit, huge. She was somehow able to blur the genders and men loved her book too. It was perfect, she was perfect.
She drifted off, just slightly, as she heard the blur of computers clicking away. She pulled herself off her office door. She quickly turned back to her desk ---her mirror was probably over there. She kicked her feet up on her desk, took her earring out and finally the phone call came in loud and strong,
“Yes, of course, I want him to suffer ---horribly. I’d like you to gently thrust it all the way through. You are capable of a little finesse, no?”
“Your husband will feel everything.”
“Perfect.”
The End
