She adjusts her "outfit" for the interview...

Heather shuffled in place within her ornately marbled bathroom at the large wall-sized mirror, and adjusting her outfit. Despite her flub, she was willing to give Mr. Connell that promotion, but only to save face. Heck, she can bullshit her way through it by claiming that "Janitors; in my opinion, is a step up from cubicle ****, don't you?" then she would give a sinister giggle and a leering grin as he would either slump in disappointment, or even bellow obscenities, causing him to become fired still. The little boss was jumping from one foot to the other in excitement on her idea on how she could turn her mistake into a miracle...For her, that is; There's no saving Patrick now that she got this idea.

She brushed down her self to remove any creases and adjusted her cups on her shocking pink playboy bunny outfit's corset to push up her small chest as much as possible. Heather widened her eyes as she realised what exactly she was wearing. She loudly groaned as she remembered her putting it on this morning, and realised she isn't going to intimidate anyone the way she looks right now! She oft wondered why she had such costumes, but remembered that she was influenced that the more sexy you are, the more adult you seemed, and she felt very adult in these erotic outfits to counter her bratty childlike demeanor and attitude, despite how degraded she felt.

Unfortunately it also meant that she was **** to hide herself away constantly to revel in her secret shame for sexy costumes so that she still kept her frightening persona and dignity, but it made it kinda fun when she fired someone. Looking them dead in the eye after theirs pop out of their sockets at the sight of her showing off 'the goods' (which was very little of them, she groans to herself regularly) to their eyes as they were told they were sacked. She would then darkly whisper to them as they threatened to **** her, "Nobody will believe you~" in what people jokingly call the Murray Defense.

Still, she looked over herself, continuously mending her suit to highlight as much of her body as possible. Despite her not having much to work with on her petite frame, she was real happy that she at least she had flawless skin, save for the tattooed bunny whiskers which made her declare that **** was forbidden from her bloodstream forever. Her pert behind was nicely shown off from the seat of her outfit that was tailored to be formed into a thong, and covered by the tight fishnets that adorn her nice legs, which for some reason were fifty five percent of her height, like some kind of barbie doll. To add to such embarrassment of her proportions, but to improve her height issues, she wore five-inch pink heels.

She fluffed the large cottontail on the tailbone of her outfit making it nicely fluffy, before giving a quick shimmy and smack to her heinie to make sure it stayed in place, and shifted her cuffs and large sparkly bowtie. As well as adjusted the large pink bunny ears on her head, which sat tightly on her large, bright pink, spiralling locks of mid-back length hair, which was very bouncy. Her hair was another victim of embarrassment from another experiment on adult stuff that she vowed not to partake in anymore, at least not when it came to the hallucinogenic variety. It was almost like partaking in illicit substances made people make terrible decisions...hmm...

At any rate, she finished preening, and bunny-hopped back to her desk, right on time as the door opened to let Mr. Connell in for his interview. She giggled, watching him gape at her furnishings for a moment, looking at the giant collection of stuffed toy animals in one corner leaning against one of the bright pink walls. Before, the owner of the place liked having exotic taxidermy animals, like an albino tiger, and had their walls in boring earthy tones, but for some reason, her new decorator accidentally mixed up the plans for Heather's new office with those of plans for a rich man's spoiled little girl's playroom. Needless to say, the decorator never worked anywhere ever again. Unfortunately, it was kept that way out of regret for spending so much money wasted on it that she may as well use it. Not because she thought it was super cute. Nope. Not one bit...

Heather greeted him in that humiliating high-pitched speech impediment she has as he walked to her desk, "Ah, wewcome to my owffice Mistah Connew," and wiggled her tushie before taking a seat on her tiny plastic chair in front of her knee-height plastic kids table she used as a desk. Heather smiled up at him sadistically as she could, but as Patrick sat in the nice plush seat opposite her, she noticed he was holding back some furious laughter as he set the booklet he was writing in on his lap. She opened her legs wide on the little seat, in hopes to look sexier; thus more adult, and thus equal an intimidating appearance, but it didn't work, only seeming to make him scrunch inwards as he was about to laugh harder. Heather pouted, frustrated.

"Wat you got dere, Mistah Connew?" She tried to say suspiciously, but ended sounding like a curious child spotting a new thing in their parent's hand. Damn this lisp, she thought, The speech therapy treatment isn't working. I'm going to sue that health centre at some point... She remembered after her accident with some faulty wiring in a new camera system installed in her home, and the resulting zap triggered this horrible speech pattern that she could never remove. She supposes she should be grateful it didn't fry anything else, but it was still very irritating.

It seemed Patrick has swallowed his vicious case of the giggles enough to say with difficulty, "D-don't worry about it, ma'am; T-this is just my journal, my doctor said to keep one at all times and dictate everything that happens in my life in it...*snrk*" Heather scowled at him as he wrote in it, but decided to believe him anyway and shrugged it off. "At any wate, Mistah Connew, we need tah tawk about yah pwomoshun," she said, turning to her computer that was decorated with its casing looking like a child's playset toy, as Patrick continued writing. "Now," Heather continued after bringing up Connell's file again, leaning forward and sticking her chest out in an attempt to make her look more adult by trying to get him to stare at her (what little there is) boobs, "Since you don't seem vewy stand-out fwom youw wepowt, cood you tew me why you tink you desewve a pwomoshun as my pewsonah aide?"

She shimmied her chest at him while he was openly laughing now, But Heather didn't care, she was going to tolerate it for now, and let Patrick finish his guffawing and hopefully her jiggling will bring him back to attention. After he calmed down, he tapped the booklet in his lap with his pen, and looked her dead in the boobs, which made Heather immensely proud of herself and kept shimmying; hair, ears, and small cleavage bouncing, as Patrick finally spoke up to say, "Well, you see Heather, I have a lot more potential than you think..." then continued with telling her...