The Blonde Who Got Away
I am infuriated. My office is a sex-charged, blonde-dominated, no work zone.
“Who is the blonde I hired before the accident?” I have seen enough of my jungle of office and come straight to the point for which I am here.
“Oh, that hot cake is . . .” Todd is taking his time, building up the anticipation, pointing everyone in the office from one corner to another with his index finger until he finally stops on a cubicle where a blonde is applying nail polish. “. . . right there.”
That’s no woman. She is a girl—probably 20 or 21. She has her feet up on the table, her heels are scratching the expensive monitor, and her legs . . . let’s just say she is leaving nothing to the imagination in her short skirt. I can even see her red panty because the elevation of her legs has caused her already short skirt to rise up.
“Is that her?” Todd asks.
“No . . . ,” I say, feeling disgusted that how could he even think that she is ‘the blonde who got away.’ “She is barely of drinking age. rubbingDoes she even have a college degree?”
“She has a diploma—”
“Good. At least she has a diploma. The rest of them looks like high school dropouts with an experience of a failed modeling career under their belt.”
“You didn’t let me finish. She has a diploma in cosmetology.”
“The girl with a diploma in cosmetology is working for an insurance brokerage company? That’s interesting!” Jeremy says, caressing his chin with his index finger and thumb. “How did she even get a job here?”
“After careful scrutiny of her pussy and appropriate verification of her boobs, the 70% owner of this company cheery-picked this gorgeous young lady. Do you want to know who holds 70% controlling interest in this company?”
“No need to explain further. We get the idea.” I stop Todd from embarrassing me further.
“Mr. B . . .” ‘The girl with the diploma’ sees me. “Oh, my God, you are here,” she says with a shrilled voice and starts jumping in excitement. She surely spins every blonde head towards me. Now, they all have their eyes on me.
‘The girl with the diploma’ runs and jumps at me. She is petite, but her boobs are too big for her body and are currently pressed against my chest while she hangs down my neck.
“I missed you so much.” She kisses me on my face multiple times before I could take my next breath.
“Me too.” I bend a little so she can land on her feet—literally.
“When I heard you were in a car crash, I cried so much that my mascara ran everywhere. So, I went to the store to buy a waterproof one. But they were out of stock. I had to stop applying it for a week until it became available again.”
All right, I am going to say this. She is a dumb one. I was dying, and she was concerned about her mascara.
The rest of them have now started to flock around me. They are all talking at the same time, and I can’t make anything out of it. I feel like a cult leader right now, surrounded by his followers.
All right, their obsession with me can be for one of the two things. Either I am really running a cult and have hooked them on drugs, or I pay them much more than they deserve and they are glad that I am not dead. I’ll go with the latter.
“Shut up!” Someone yells, and the chatter stops.