Dominating the Office Bitch

Maisy wore a navy-blue blazer with a slim notch lapel, tailored to fit her body and cutoff at her small waist. A hint of a maroon v-check blouse peaked underneath and you are gifted with the view of a plunging neckline; revealing full, perky breasts held tightly by a bra that appeared to be a size too small. Her thighs were barely covered by a miniskirt cutoff right above the knees, which elongated her gait as she cockily sauntered through the cubicles with a sense of entitlement that was palpable. You nostrils flared at the telltale scent of strawberries, her chosen perfume.

The office you're in is one of four three-story buildings on the upper east side of the city limits. You are surrounded by wall to wall low-wall cubicles in neat rows. Maisy, the seductive office manager you were gawking at, was making her rounds up and down the row of cubicles - leering at all the mid-20ish office workers working the phones.

You’ve only been in this call center for a couple of weeks, your first job out of college, but there is no doubt you are unimpressed. This was not the ‘sales’ job that was advertised on the craigslist ad, nor was it experience that one could build a career upon. By the dead-eyed look at the young men and women around you, there was no doubt this was the prevailing impression everyone had of this job.

I should quit. You tell yourself. This was something you said last week, but then you remember your bank account is next to zero. While the job is atrocious, it does pay you just enough to justify sticking around.

You find yourself staring at Maisy again, staring above the cubes and catching glimpses of her long, luscious legs as she graces up and down the space between the cubicles. This view, in and of itself, would be enough to get through the day if it wasn’t for the fact that she was a raving bitch and notorious micromanager. Rumor had it she was the daughter of the owner, who was just smart enough to run the office but not smart enough to get a better job.

Zach, a 31 year old who sat next to you, cranes his neck to get a better look at Maisy. “Tell me you don’t want to bend that over a chair; take a big lick and stick your dick so far up her snatch that she won’t be able to walk for a week?” Zach snarkily remarks. The blonde-haired office veteran had that look in his eye, as sleezy as the second-hand BMW in the office parking lot and as eye-rolling as the fake Rolex he wore on his wrist.

“You’ve been working here how long?” You ask.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You give him a blank stare, “You’re telling me this is the first time you’ve seen a hot chick?”

“A hot chick?” Zach puts a hand on his chest in fake-shock “How dare you sir,” he says mockingly, “i’ll have you know that our dear Maisy is the pinnacle of beauty, a statuesque goddess among the riff raff of peons before her, a…”

“You must be bored.” You cut him off before he really gets started.

“Bored?” Zach askes with a raised eyebrow. Then he shrugs, “Guilty as charged I guess.” Zach cranes his neck again to get a better angle of Maisy, then darts his head around left and right. “Drat! Where’d she go? See what you’ve done; now my office muse is lost to me.”

“Beautiful women doesn’t make this job any more exciting Zach.” You retort.

Zach looks you in the eye from across the cubicle opening. “Be honest with me buddy, what would you do if you had a night alone with her and she had to do anything you asked?”