Getting Ready

The glass wall loves me this morning. It throws back my reflection brighter than the skyline. I look expensive, which is the point. After all the effort I pour into my appearance, I should. I study myself again: perfect platinum hair falling in soft curls over a pristine white blouse, tapering into a pencil skirt just tight enough, just short enough. The look says you can look, but you’ll never touch.

Verra Lux flattened skirt, her hands trailing over shapely ass. No skirt could really hide it. But she never liked people staring. Her hands moved up her stomach and onto her breasts. She lingered for just a minute or two feeling the pleasure radiate from her chest all over. Verra thought that if she continued just a little longer her nipples would be so hard that people at the office would notice them through her sheer top. Would they stare?

The world runs on surfaces, not substance; anyone who says otherwise is broke. My double-chai, foamless latte tastes burnt again. I call maintenance—not because I care, but because I can’t stand lazy people. Someone, has to know I noticed.

My assistant’s message blinks: running late. She always is. I picture her sprinting in heels, spilling caffeine on the commuter rail, and it makes me smile. People should struggle to keep up. That’s how they learn who matters.

The AeroTransport lands on my personal pad beside the pool. It’s a long commute, but the place is worth it for the views alone—worth it because the skyline looks smaller from here. The cabin air smells like cold metal and perfume. By the time I reach the tower, my pulse has matched the low electric hum that runs through Helix Dominion’s walls.

The elevator doors open the way they should—silently, waiting for me. Helix Dominion doesn’t waste space on stairs; the upper levels are for people who’ve already climbed. My clearance flashes green. The doors seals behind me, all glass and chrome, every surface bright and reflective.

It’s the only way in or out of this floor. That’s the point. Access is power. One floor higher sits the Senior Executive Tier—rare air, fewer people, better people. I’ll be there soon enough. Brad says the same thing every time the quarterly reports come in—that access means accountability. He’s wrong, of course. Access means advantage. Accountability is for everyone else.

The screen greets me: Director Lux, Premier Account Executive, Helix Dominion. I like the sound of it.

I check my reflection in the panel. Everything is still perfect. Not even gravity can touch me here.

The Elevator rises without a sound. The city falls away beneath my feet, small and obedient. When the doors slide open, my floor hums alive—the music of people who work for me.