The water cooler gargles from around the corner of my cubical. Paula—the Marxist who somehow remained in corporate for forty years—abruptly stops typing.
“Now?” she mouths.
I adjust my necktie and smack my lips. I nod.
Matt, my happy hour go-to, pops his head above the cubical barrier.
Paula’s eyes widen as I stand up and shuffle across the rough blue carpet that seems to floor every office building. Matt lifts his fist in solidarity. I jut to the left, then right, and into the break room.
I skip to the refrigerator, open the door, and fumble the zipper of a bright turquoise lunch bag—ladybugs printed on it.
I reach inside and my fingers curl around the device.
I pull out Stacy’s bullet vibrator from the bag where a sandwich should have been. I stuff it into my pocket.
Sucking in the side of my cheek, I pace toward Stacy’s empty desk and place her toy on her keyboard. I dart back toward my cubical.
Sleeping with the boss in exchange for receiving your coworkers’ raises deserves a token of recognition.
About the Creator
Ashley
Hello,
I'm a writer based in Portland, Oregon. Feminist-focused.
Instagram: @ashleyleap
Thank you for reading!
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