"Fuck that bitch!"

“Fuck that bitch,” you scoff. “I wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot pole. No amount of tits and ass makes up for a bitchass attitude. You have to talk at it at the end of the day”

Zach slaps his knee, “Holy shit dude, that’s rough. Got a little intense there.”

“I agree,” you hear a melodic voice behind you “that was mean.” You spin around in your chair and find yourself face to face with Maisy, hand on hip, eyes glaring straight into your soul. She has a bemused expression on her face, as if she found the situation amusing.

“Maisy…”

“A bitch huh?” She says, leaning close to your ear.

Your heart skips a beat and you nearly leap from your chair at the sound of her voice. Oh shit, i’m fucked. You think grumpily. There’s no fucking way this is happening, where the fuck is Zach? As if on cue; you hear Zach’s voice and keystrokes and you catch Zach in the corner of your eye pretending to work and speaking to an unseen customer. Typical, i’m so fucked.

Maisy leans forward, giving you a generous look at her breasts; and despite the situation, you can’t help but stare. “You smell like a virgin,” she sneers in your ear, “and I'll be damned if a fucking skinny ass virgin talks shit to me in my own god damn company.”

As abruptly as it starts, Maisy spins around and starts walking away. You breath a sigh of relief, feeling as if you dodged a bullet.

You can't help but leer at her tight miniskirt as she leaves, outlining the shapely contours of her tight ass. You imagine yourself slapping that ass, punishing her like she deserves. She’s wet underneath there in your fantasy, and she’s waiting for you. Your eyes follow her ass down the back of her legs, and you imagine them on your shoulders, her back against a bed as you slam into her with your cock.

It’s not the smartest of moves because when you look up, she’s glaring you straight in the eye.

“Get up off your ass and follow me.” She says.

You frantically stand up as fast as you can, almost tripping over your own feet to catch up as she starts down a hallway at the far end of the room and turns the corner. You start to wonder what type of job you’ll have to apply for after you get fired today.

****

Maisy’s office is on the northwest corner of the building and when you enter, you notice the telltale strawberry scent that’s followed your adversary. The first thing you notice is how barren the office is. There’s a simple desk, a laptop and a a pc monitor. You catch a glimpse of a binder in a near empty bookshelf in the corner of the room labeled ‘Standard Operating Procedures” and her purse is on the floor next to her desk chair. If you had the nerves, you would shiver where you stood.

There was a neatness and spartaness to how she kept her office. Efficient. Straight to the Point. Minimalist. You picture her in the office all day; eyes forward on a computer screen, solely focused on her career and her status in the world.

I wonder if this is how her home is like, you begin to wonder. Superficial. Cold. Like an ice queen from a children’s story.

“Close the door behind you and lock it,” she instructs you, like a goddess commanding her minions.

It strikes you as odd that an office has a lock, but the thought is fleeting as you see her heft herself on top of her deck, looking you dead in the eye, as if expecting you to say something.