It took less than 20 minutes for them to agree on my salary and offer me a job. I started the following day.The first couple of weeks were entertainin... to say the least. The work was simple, mostly clerical, and not really challenging at all. But every day brought the parade of pussy hounds howling around my desk. I enjoyed all the attention of course, and dressed to fan the flames as much as I could. Slit skirts, tight minis, low cut blouses, and rarely wearing a bra got the attention of every. Maybe I should cut back some more on my drinking?In the morning I recalled a dream again. The second one in recent, or even long term memory. This time I was standing at a door in a small room. I was pounding at the door. I could see my wife through the small window. "Let me out." I screamed. But she simply turned her back.Now why was I dreaming about that? I have no idea what it meant. I wasn't even sure that I believed it meant anything at all. Except that the feeling of being trapped. It wasn’t anything they felt was too extreme to tell me. I guess they missed the kissing and tit play. I was pissed about that and told them that if they ever saw anything again to call me right away.”“I’m so sorry! I had no idea.”“But when I asked them what they would do they all agreed that I shouldn’t throw your ass out in the street. Dave suggested I get one of those ankle bracelets like they give the prisoners on home release. We all laughed but it does give me an idea. Here is my. A few blubbery, nearly tearless cries only, her head nestled against my neck – but it was the cry of exhaustion, of relief - of a journey completed.The screen showed only the empty room, overexposed in full sunlight. I put my arms around Gloria, consoling her – congratulating her – I don’t know which; both. And as for myself, I felt only a shadow of my rage; something akin to an irritation. An annoyance one feels at an unexpected complication, tempered by the excitement felt at a prospect of.
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