"You missed a spot."

“Is this really the best use of my time, boss?”

“Do you know, Janet, I believe it is.”

The two of you stand in the lobby of the Beelzebub Tower, looking towards the wide glass windows that face the busy street. There’s a bucket of soapy water at Janet’s feet. Her bra has been removed, and her floral dress unbuttoned to expose her magnificent tits. None of the businessdevils passing through the well-trafficked lobby can resist a peek and a whistle. Her proud face blazes red with fury, but she doesn’t dare to cover up.

“It just doesn’t seem like a very efficient way to clean windows,” she says, in a studiously even tone of voice.

“You’ll just have to work twice as hard, then, won’t you, Janet? Get a move on, girl. I’ve already promised your services to every ground-floor business on the street.”

Janet’s fists clench and, with enormous effort, unclench. Coldly and deliberately, she kneels down, dips first her left breast and then her right breast in the bucket of warm soapy water, and stands back up again. She walks over to the large street-facing window, presses both her breasts to it, and begins to rub them against the glass.

In the street outside a squad of tourists (yes, there are tourists in Hell) stops in their tracks, looks at what she’s doing, and runs over excitedly to take pictures of her glass-squished tits. You don’t blame them. It’s a fascinating sight.

“You missed a spot there, Janet.”

“Sorry, boss.”