Start the 9-to-5

I get to work with a less dread than usual. I start the coffee, then get my station set up. I print today’s schedule unmolested, not wanting to lean on the same tactics too frequently, at least not until I’m ready for her to catch on.

The elevator opens and Victoria makes her grand entrance. Like usual, I await the reveal of her Monday outfit. I follow her head as she navigates the cubicles. Nothing about her movements are tipping me off to her mood this morning. When she emerges from behind the last cluster, I see her outfit is a new combination.

She has selected a grey-on-black-on-black color scheme. From the bottom up, she is wearing glossy black heels. The open tops of the shoes plunge so far down her feet as to show off the crevasses between her toes.

Her tight black jeans make impossibly long, vantablack silhouettes. They bunch gently above her ankle, then flatten to skin tight all the way up her sculpted calves and thighs, to high on her waist. She has a tight black shirt and a narrow, shiny, black belt.

The centerpiece of the outfit is her grey jacket. It is hangs open, layered with large lapels and oversized pocket flaps that are probably bigger than the pockets themselves. The lower trim of the jacket is cut in steep, symmetric angles, sitting above the hips at the sides and extending a good four inches lower than her belt in the front and back. The shoulders are stitched in a way that contours them into small epaulettes. A column of domed silver buttons run down each of the vest's breasts, with another pair on each cuff, giving it a distinctly civil war uniform flair. Taken all together, it is sexy without trying to be sexual. It is badass. I wonder if she makes a civil war association as well, and if so, is this a signal of how serious she is feeling today. Her gait feels a little more...commanding than usual, I’d say.

I briskly hand her the the printout like a field report being handed to a general. She enters her office with wordless dignity.

Lets see if I can change that.