“Bette earned her bonus the old fashioned way.” The girls in the typing pool giggle, having heard the rumors.
Pouty
pink lips purse at my approach. They turn away, presenting a neat row
of honey-blonde ponytails and tight French twists, pretending to be
scandalized, wanting to peek but afraid of reprimand from the herd. Not
one will look me in the eye, some instinct warning against it.
I
am everything they fear, all curves and mounds encased in black,
balanced comfortably in obscenely expensive shoes, and I did earn my
promotion the old fashioned way. I purchased the right spell.
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