Addendum 34

            Corporate Whore ran toward the stairwell.  Her Lackeys were writhing on the ground and still nowhere near upright.  Her blood was sour, diminishing the thrill of killing Corporate Man.  She needed to get to the conference room.  To the piles of Bonus stashed there. 

            Corporate Man dropped down from above, red tie fluttering over his shoulder. 

            He kicked her.  Hard.  A few ribs splintered.

            Corporate Whore flew back, rolled across the rooftop, and sprang forward before Corporate Man could register that she’d regained her feet.  Her attack was wild though, undirected, and he sidestepped easily.  As she rushed past him he slammed his hand down between her shoulder blades and she hit the gravely surface in a vicious, skidding belly flop.

            All the air went out of her and something horrible happened in the area of her fractured ribs. 

            Corporate Man grabbed her wrist and picked her up.  It was slick with chemical sweat and he nearly lost his grip.

            “I should kill you,” he said.  “But I wouldn’t want you to miss out on your big withdrawal.”

            This put some fight back into her and she twisted and scratched, trying to free herself from his grip.  Her glance flicked toward the stairwell door.

            “It’s all you can think about, isn’t it?  Your bonus?” Corporate Man said.  He shook his head and wrenched Corporate Whore’s arm behind her back.  “A short term gain at the expense of decent, hardworking employees.  You not only sully your name, but that of your company.  Employees resent you and clients eventually abandon you over inconsistencies and downright service failures.  And for what?  Nothing.  You really are nothing but a junkie whore.”

            Corporate Whore snarled and spit blood.  A gurgling ripped through her midsection and she howled.  The sound was cut off by a horrible retching vomit that stank like a portable toilet and sprayed like a pressure hose.

            “There goes your dignity,” Corporate Man said.  “What are you left with now?”

            Corporate Whore sucked in a few hoarse breaths and wheezed something inaudible.

            “What was that?” asked Corporate Man.

            “Plan E.”

            There was a loud popping sound behind Corporate Man.  He jerked his head around in time to see what looked like four gleaming red serpents twisting across the rooftop.  It took a moment for his mind to grasp what his eyes were actually witnessing.  Explosive devices had detonated inside the Corporate Lackeys ejecting their skulls in four separate squirming directions, blood geysers chasing ping-ponging heads.

            Only one of these heads traveled in a direction that was vaguely towards Corporate Man, but the distraction was enough for Corporate Whore to make her move.  She stomped down on his foot and then threw her head back, catching Corporate Man’s chin as he bent forward.  She spun around and tried to knee him in the groin, but he was stumbling backward and her blow glanced off his inner thigh.

            She raced toward the stairwell door and yelled, “I’ve got plans within plans, Corporate Man!  Deathtraps everywhere!  I take no chances.”

She flung it open and raced inside.  Corporate Man chased after her, fighting through the pain that flared with every footfall of his left leg.  He hesitated at the door, poking his head inside and then yanking it right back out, just in case she was there.  She was not.  She was at the elevator door at the end of the corridor.  And it was opening.

“Stop!” Corporate Man yelled and he charged toward her.

Corporate Whore spun around, eyes wild, vomit trailing down her chin and chest.  She smirked, tossed a mock salute in Corporate Man’s direction, then backed into the elevator.

And disappeared.

The scream, when it came, was delayed, and then truncated by a deep, meaty thud. There was a quiet moment; a heartbeat or more.  Then the elevator doors whispered closed.

Corporate Man stood frozen in the hallway, his face betraying the overwhelming confusion he felt.  He walked up to the elevator doors, pressed the down button, and the doors slid open.  There was no car waiting inside, just an open chute, with some greasy cables trailing down into blackness. 

On the wall across from him, spray painted in that ever familiar shade of green, were the words: Plan C.

Addendum 33

            Corporate Man slowed as he near the top of the stairs.  There was a door up there.  A sign proclaimed that it lead to the roof.  Corporate Man sighed.  The problem with the top was that there was only ever one direction to go once you’d made it there.  He did not foresee a pleasant ending to this business.

            He opened the door. 

            Corporate Lackeys, mindless human drones in cheap suits, grabbed his arms and yanked him through the door.  They flung him across the roof to another pair of Lackeys.  These had their hands locked together and were attempting a clothesline maneuver that was ridiculously avoidable when telegraphed in a two man team.  Corporate Man slid beneath the attack, grabbed hold of his bumbling attacker’s forearms, and used them as a makeshift parallel bar to reverse his direction.

            The effects of this tactic were unorthodox, but ultimately successful.  Corporate Man cast himself up and over the clothesliners, heading feet first into the original two Lackeys.  The clothesliners were pulled together with tremendous force and slammed face first into each other.  The result was four unconscious Lackeys.

            Corporate Man kept his footing and strode forward as the four settled to the ground in a chorus of “oof”s. 

“You truly are everything they say you are, Corporate Man.”

Corporate Whore stood against the edge at the far side of the roof, brushing her hands together.

“I figured it out, you know?” she said.  “When you failed to show up for work, and Pink Slip disappeared, I retraced the events that led up to your employment.  It was Tess.”

Corporate Man continued to advance toward her, saying nothing.

“She recruited you in an effort to take me down.” said Corporate Whore.  “She was my Plan B.  Unfortunately, you can’t count on Corporate Lackeys to do a job right.”

Corporate man paused.  “What are you talking about?”

Corporate Whore shrugged and grinned, as though what she were about to tell him was just the darndest thing. “I ordered them to bring Miss Adams up here, tie her up with some rope, and hang her over the side of the building.  I wanted to use her as leverage against you.  A sort of ‘back off or I drop her’ kind of arrangement.”

Corporate Whore shrugged again but did not continue.

“And?” asked Corporate Man.

“They hung her.  She’s dead.  On top of that they fastened her to the building with some sort of slip knot and she dropped to the pavement when I tried to pull her up.  She’s down on the street right now.  Causing a big fuss it seems.”

He wanted to scream but would not give her the satisfaction. Then he screamed anyway and ran at her.  He covered the distance moments, shoved Corporate Whore aside, and peered over the edge.

On the street, thirty stories below, a crowd gathered around something.  He couldn’t see the body, but there was a lot of blood.  He screamed again and turned toward Corporate Whore, intent on killing her.  She was quicker at implementing her plan and slammed into him from behind yelling, “Bypassing Plan C.  This is Plan D.”

Corporate pitched over the side of the building and plummeted toward the pavement.

Addendum 32

            Corporate Whore entered a large auditorium.  She hated plays.  She had to find a way out of this monument to artistry.  She hated music.  She ran down the center aisle toward the stage.  She hated debate teams.  When she reached the stage she jump-rolled up onto it and sped toward a door just behind the curtain on left.  She hated stage-left. 

            Corporate Man dropped down from above, red tie flittering over his shoulder.  She’d like to choke him with that tie.  Unfortunately his outstretched arm was balled into a fist and that fist was introducing itself to her face in a most impolite manner. 

Corporate Whore’s feet betrayed her next by going out from under her at a very inopportune moment.  When she hit the stage all of her air abandoned her lungs.  Her hands slapped the floor and her diamond card deserted her like a skittering little bitch of a thing. These treacheries enflamed her anger to a white hot peak and she sprang to her feet and was lunging at Corporate Man’s throat before she’d even managed a gasp for breath.

Her thumbs squeezed his stupid man-apple and her fingers clawed his neck-flesh.  She opened her mouth to scream a scathing disparagement.  “Gwaaahhh!” is all she managed as she sucked involuntarily for air.  This biological need caught her off guard and her grip around Corporate Man’s throat slackened.  He pivoted, grabbed her wrists, and flung her away. 

It was a prosperous turn.  He’d flung her directly towards the stairs she’d been running toward.  She let the momentum carry her through the door and up the first few steps before she really poured it on, fully committing to the climb.

Addendum 31

            “This is the wrong floor,” Corporate Whore said when the elevator door opened.

            Corporate Man stepped out and said, “No.  I think this is right.”

            “How would you know?  You don’t even know where I’m taking you.”  She reached for his arm and tried to pull him back to the elevator. 

He took another step back and said, “I’m pretty sure I want nothing to do with that conference of yours.”

“How did you…” she trailed off into silence.  Then her jaw flexed and a blast of air rushed from her nose like a bull.  She stepped into the corridor.  The elevator door eventually slid shut behind her.  “I take it we’re not here to discuss the bonus structure.”

“That would be accurate.”

“And I assume that I am being forced to move to Plan B.  To activate my contingencies.”

“I’d find it completely acceptable if you didn’t.”

“I also assume that you are not who you say you are.”

“Correct.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m Corporate Man,” he said, and slid on a pair of thick, black frame glasses.

“Oh,” she said, almost taken aback.

“What?”

“No.  It’s nothing.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s just… Corporate Man, Corporate Whore.  A coincidence is all.  I wasn’t copying you or–”

She slashed out with her diamond card.  Corporate Man flinched back.  A white line gouged across the lens of his glasses and he stumbled against an inconvenient potted plant. 

Corporate Whore sprinted down the hall.  She reached into her purse and pulled out a gray, bulky device with a blackish stick, the width of a pencil, jutting from one end.  She pressed numeric keys along the length of the portable phone as she sped around the corner.

Corporate Man chased after her.  He could hear her screaming something into the phone but couldn’t make out all the words.  He was fairly certain that one of the words was contingency.  When he rounded the corner Corporate Whore was halfway down a long corridor.  He ran faster.  His red tie flapped over his shoulder and billowed like a triumphant banner.

Addendum 29

            A cheer rose up, spreading across the floor of the casino.  Jack had arrived.  Good ole Jack.  Everyone loved Jack.  He was scheduled to make a speech in ten minutes.  It would take him twenty-five just to reach the podium with all the handshaking and pleasantries and easy conversation. 

Jack knew everyone and everyone knew Jack.

As he mounted the steps to the little stage he waved and pointed and smiled.  Lights from slot machines twinkled off his thick silver hair and danced in his warm, caring eyes.

He had to ask for silence several times before the attendees gave it to him.

            “Wow.  That… That was an amazing reception.  Does Great American Business Company have the best people or what?”

            A roar of applause.

            “I see some new faces out there.  New faces in some very nice suits.  Well, welcome to family.  Just remember that this is a family.  We look out for each other.  That’s why we’re successful.  Individuals don’t make a company great.  It’s cooperative effort.  Everyone working toward a common goal.  All of us helping each other succeed.”

            Jack paused again and let the fervent cheers settle.

            “They tell me that this party is in honor of me and my so called legacy.  I’m not really comfortable with that so let’s use this opportunity to honor everyone who has ever contributed to our growth and our accomplishments.”

            Everyone loudly honored themselves.

“I know I’m technically retired, but I’m always glad to lend a hand.  Don’t hesitate to call upon me if there is something I can help with.  And that brings us to another bullet point.  They’ve tasked me with the privilege of introducing one of our newest employees.  A real find I’m told.  A wise investment for our company’s future.  Donald Jackson.  Don, would you please come up here and join me on stage?”

The crowd clapped and whistled.  Slowly this clamor gave off to an uncomfortable silence.  Corporate Whore strode up to the microphone.  Everyone shifted awkwardly, wondering why anyone would fail to come to Jack’s call.

“I apologize,” said Corporate Whore.  “It’s seems as though our–”

            “There he is!” someone shouted.

            A spotlight shifted away from the stage and scanned about until it secured the person in question.  Donald Jackson lifted his hand as if to wave.  He shrugged as he walked toward the stage then he shook Jack’s hand and went to the microphone.

            A glare, so intense and so full of rage, threatened to spontaneous combust Corporate Whore’s eyeballs.  The heat that might have resulted from such an ignition would’ve been on par with an especially malevolent laser, one that could easily reduce Donald Jackson to an embarrassing briquette.  

            “Sorry, I missed the cue, Jack.  I was in the middle of some lucrative negotiations,” Donald Jackson said.  “I know, I know, I shouldn’t be working right now.  I promise I’ll delay any further deals until Monday.  I’m just so excited to be a part of this company, so eager to further its growth.”

            A chorus of cheers filled the room.

            “I won’t keep you from your revelry, but before we dive into the festivities, let’s remember why we’re all here.  Jack.  An individual might not be responsible for a company’s success, but one man, this man, set the course.  One man, this man, was resolute that a business where the entire group works together to ensure the achievements of all, is a healthy, profitable business.  One man, this man, took the time to get to know everyone here, and to care about all of us.  Like a family.”

            It was uncertain whether Donald Jackson, Corporate Man, would be able to quiet the crowd after that.  He never really did.  Instead, the decibels came down to a level where his shout of, “Let the celebration commence!” could be heard over the din.

            The executives, managers, and supervisors broke like a stormy sea onto the blackjack tables and the slot machines.  In the tumult, Corporate Whore gripped Donald Jackson’s arm and hissed, “For now, I don’t care where you’ve been.  We’ll sort that out later.  Right now, you are accompanying me to a conference room for a little meeting with the board of directors and the upper executives.”

            She flashed a liquid smile at Jack and said, “We’ll be back momentarily, Jack.  Just a couple of last minutes to sort out before we can indulge.”

Addendum 28

            Las Vegas. 

Thursday evening.

            Corporate Whore paced her hotel suite.  Her hand was powdered white and her pupils danced around in a manner which they were not biologically intended to.  Her heart rate, if she could be bothered to check such a thing, was dangerously high.  If not for the euphoria dazzling every circuit in her brain she might be uncontrollably homicidal. 

            Pink Slip had not only failed to bring her Donald Jackson, but she hadn’t reported back at all.  She’d disappeared.  Unprecedented!  Unfathomable!  And lots of other exclamatory un-words her brain might be able to produce were it not so amped up on Bonus.

            The weekend’s festivities were scheduled to begin in a few hours.  Executive weekends often began on Thursdays and ended late on Monday night.  The board would expect Donald Jackson.  The Shareholders too. 

            There was a soft knock at the door.

            Good.  That would be room service with her breakables.  She’d ordered several bottles of champagne and dozens of glasses.  If that did not sate her urges she would ask for plates.

Addendum 25

            He was not at his desk.  This was an outrage.  An outrage!

            Corporate Whore slammed her office door.  She wanted to break something.  Where was he?  Could he have used the weekend to kick the Bonus?  Impossible.  She glared at the bare walls.  She needed some artwork in here.  Something that would shatter into thousands of satisfying pieces.

            She dialed Donald Jackson’s home number again.  It rang and rang and rang.  She slammed the phone back in the cradle.  That felt good.  Perhaps she’d call him again in a minute or so to give her an excuse to repeat the exercise.  She picked up the phone and hammered it against the desk a few times, to hell with the pretense, and then returned it to the cradle in the same cathartic method as before.

            She took a deep breath, checked her hair in a pocket mirror, and then pressed the special button on her phone.  The one that blinked with powerful pink light.

            The door at the back of the office whispered open casting a rosy glow into the room.  Corporate Whore did not bother to look back.  She said, “Can you track him down?”

            “Of course,” Pink Slip said.

            “Do it.”

            “Am I bringing him back?”

            Corporate Whore hesitated for a moment.  She bit her lip and then said, “Yes.”

            “All of him?”

            This brought a hint of a smile to Corporate Whore’s lips, and diamonds twinkled in her eyes.  Then the smile slipped from her face and the light ceased its iris dance.  Corporate Whore said nothing for a long while.  Then, ever so slightly, she nodded.

            Seconds later she turned to make sure her affirmation was understood.

            Pink Slip was already gone.

Addendum 23

            There was something about the Executive Lounge that Corporate Whore found distasteful.  Even after the expensive remodel with the elaborate columns and waterfall walls, an air of judgment still clung to place.  It was like Jack’s ghost hovered around in here, repulsed by the shady business tactics on display and the voracious corporate greed that gripped the entirety of Great American Business Company’s executive team.

            The Waterfall Walls were her idea, parenthetically.  Dual paned, tempered glass, with rivulets of a slightly azure water endlessly cascading down from the ceiling to the floor.  She’d argued for drainage leading to the sewer, but lost that fight to the recycler-pump pussies.  True, the amount they saved on water had a slight effect on her bonus, but she still felt that the added expense was worthwhile.  Perhaps that Jack-specter wouldn’t have lingered in a space so blatantly wasteful. 

            “Is that you, Whore?” one of the man-zecutives asked from the other side of the water-blurred glass.  They knew she despised the truncation of her name.  She thought she’d trained them better than that.  Perhaps this one was new.  Or maybe someone felt the need to be made an example of.

            “So, what do you think?” she asked the room as she stepped into the lounge area.  There was Mr. Truncator, in the love seat.  Young and smug, obviously overcompensating.  “Has the subtle blue lost its appeal?”

            Conversations in the room halted.  The young one looked around, trying to mask that jittery electric feeling that just lit up his nerves.  When no one spoke up, she continued, “I think we need a change.  Something to invigorate us.  Something a bit more vivid.”

            She slid between couches and excessively comfortable chairs, oozing indirectly toward the love seat, toward the young one. 

            “Perhaps a shade of sapphire?” one of the older executives suggested.

            “That would be pretty,” she said, settling into the love seat.  “Though I was hoping something more symbolic.  Something to better illustrate the cutthroat nature of the business world.”

            Somewhere between the words cut and throat, a literal example of their combination occurred as Corporate Whore flicked her diamond card beneath the young one’s chin.  A spray of arterial red fanned across a waterfall wall and ran in red rivulets down the smooth glass.

            “Hmm.  That does look nice, don’t you think?” Corporate Whore asked, her gaze fixed ponderously on the dribbling fluid.  The young one spasmed on the love seat, waves of scarlet draining over his expensive suit, mimicking the waterfall walls quite nicely.

            “I think you may be on to something,” the older executive said, sipping a something dark and long legged from a brand snifter.  “Though, honestly, I come here for the tranquility.  In the board room, perhaps?”

            “I think you’re right,” Corporate Whore said, turning away from the spattered glass wall.  A low gurgle rattled around in the young one’s throat.  All those present associated the sound with the bonus increase that Corporate Whore had just netted them. The young one’s portion would be divided amongst them. 

Not equally, of course, but it would be divvied.

“So…” said another executive.  “Las Vegas.”

“That’s what they tell me,” the older executive said.

Corporate Whore had no idea what they were talking about.  Perhaps she’d missed a memorandum.  She hated be uninformed.  Still, she was not shy about asking the ignorant question.  Better than cowering under the pretense of foreknowledge.

“I’ve been away from my desk,” she said. “Bring me up to speed on this Las Vegas situation.”  How about that?  Not even a question.  More like a requisition.

“A retreat,” the older executive said.

Corporate Whore said nothing.  He was obviously fishing for a question about the nature of the retreat.  After her power play requisition, she was not going to lower herself to subordinate inquiries.

“Go on,” she said and thought she detected a slight grimace on the older executive’s face.  Nothing overt, just hint about the eyes and the corners of his sagging mouth.

Another executive chimed in, “It’s basically a full blown party weekend, plenty of Bonus to keep us lit for a week, but it’s being organized as a memorial to Jack.  Honoring his legacy and such.”

Who organized it, she wondered.  One of these twerpy suits?  Shareholders?  She shivered at the thought. 

“We’ll also be singling out your new recruit,” the older executive said.  “Donald Jackson was a real find.  I take it he’s one of us now.”

Corporate Whore nodded, “Hooked and fully on board.”

“The numbers do attest for his endorsement of the bonus structure.”

“And the two sick days should illustrate his chemical initiation.”

“True.”

“We heard he was quite upset.”

“That Pink Slip intervened.”

“What would you expect from a strong minded business man?” she said. 

“Well, if he’s not one hundred percent convinced yet, he will be after Las Vegas.”

Addendum 22

            Payday. 

            He still had two doses left when Corporate Whore handed him his pay packet.

            “I’ve already appropriated the twenty you owe me,” she said.  “You can run the numbers and double check me.  No doubt it will be the second thing you do.”

            She turned, not waiting for a reply, and walked out.

            Corporate Man shut his door and ripped open the package.  Several vials and small bottles spilled across his desk, glittering like emeralds.  His heart sang at the sight.  Then he gathered them greedily, tucking them away in secure locations.  Once this was done he sat in his chair, got out his syringe, and stabbed the needle into the rubbery cap of the green bottle measuring out one of the remaining two doses.

            He stuck his arm, injecting the Bonus, and quivered as it raced through him.  He lost track of his body feeling instead like a jellyfish electrified by its own stinging tendrils.  Spasms tossed him about like eddies in a tide pool.  When it was over he collapsed in his ergonomic office chair, arms spread wide, neck practically pouring over the back of the seat.

            The office door clicked open and he sat up with a start.

            “Oh. So sorry, Mr. Jackson.  Just here for the trash,” said a vague blur of a man standing in the doorway.  “I can come back later.”

            “No.  No, Uh…”

            “Hector.”

            “Hector.  Yes.  That’s probably right,” said Corporate Man slowly regaining focus.  “Been a long week.  Just catching a little cat nap.”

            “I understand, Mr. Jackson,” Hector said, approaching the desk.  “You work so hard and it’s Friday.  Time to relax a little.”

            “Boy you said it.”

            Hector’s face came into focus.  In the instant before the chemical-damp cloth clamped over Corporate Man’s nose and mouth, he thought he recognized that face.    

Addendum 21

         

            He had his pants around his ankles, to throw off anyone who came into the bathroom and peeked under the stall door.  He had a needle in his arm, the plunger pushed all the way down.  This was the last of his supply.  Hot wet bliss washed over him and he writhed on the toilet seat, hands clawing at the stall walls.  He would regain his senses momentarily, but for now there was no time, there was no place, there was no Corporate Man. 

There was only Bonus. 

Sweet luxurious Bonus.

            His head lolled back and his feet twitched.  And then it was over.  He pulled up his pants and went back to his desk.  He called Betty into his office and informed her that, with Tess leaving, he was going to have to increase her work load, almost double it in fact.  She didn’t cry.  Not yet.  He admired her for that.  She would save those tears for her cubicle.  She didn’t protest either and for that he detested her.  No spine.  Perhaps she deserved this.  And maybe it would help her in the long run.  Make her stronger.  Yes.  Despite everything, he was still doing good work.

            The itch came upon him near the end of the day, followed by slight tremors.  His mouth went tangy and his spit went thick.  Payday was three days away.  There was no way he could make it that long. 

            He paced his office for twenty horrible minutes.  He chewed his nails and scratched at his neck.  Several times he took his shoes off.  His socks were damp.  Things were wiggling between his toes.  He was sure of it.  But when he took his socks off there were no worms, no beetles, no fleas.

            He blinked at the light and at the sweat trying to run into his eyes. 

            He blinked and his office was gone.  He was in cubicle land, marching toward the bosslady’s office.  Toward Corporate Whore.  He didn’t bother knocking when he arrived.  Part of him hoped that she would jump a little when he burst in on her.  She did not.  She was behind her desk, arms crossed, staring at the door.  As if she expected him.

            “I was expecting you,” she said.  “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would, actually.  Where are you shoes?”

            “In my office.  With the sock worms.”

            “The what?”

            “Fleas, spiders, whatever.  Don’t try to confuse the issue.”

            “And what issue would that be?”

            “Bonus.”

            “Yes, I meant to commend you on your work.  This paycheck should see our largest bonus yet.  Thanks largely to you.”

            “I’m out.”

            “Pity.”

            “Look, I’ve done my job.  I need you to front me a little to get me by.”

            “So let’s negotiate terms.  What’s a reasonable rate of payback?  Two to one?”

            “That robbery.”

            “That’s capitalism.  The law of supply and demand.”

            “Right.  What I wouldn’t give for their help right now,” Corporate Man muttered.

            “I’m sorry, what?”

            “Nothing.  Two for one.  It’s a deal.”

            Corporate Whore smiled and slid open the top drawer of her desk.  She produced a small green bottle between her thumb and index finger.  “There are ten doses in here.  You owe me twenty on payday.  Which shouldn’t be a problem.  I’ve seen the figures.  Even after you pay me back you’ll have more than enough for the next two weeks.”

            Corporate Man grabbed the bottle and stormed back to his office.  

Addendum 16

             “Don’t run,” the bosslady said.  “You wouldn’t even get the door open before she cut you down.”

            Corporate Man had no intention of running.  He knew what Pink Slip was capable of.  He also knew that he wasn’t prepared for a physical confrontation either.  He’d only faced her on his own once before and he was still surprised that he’d survived the confrontation.

            “Who are you?  What is all this?” Corporate Man said.

            “This… is Pink Slip,” the bosslady said.  “She’s insurance.”

            “And you?”

            “Me?”

            “Yeah.  Who are you?  You’re not just some small time executive for Great American Business Company.  You’re something more.”

            “Ah… How refreshing.  A man recognizes my worth,” the bosslady said.  She sifted some more powder onto her hand and sniffed.  “I’m something new.  There will be more like me, you can be sure about that.  Male and female.  In vast multitudes as the conglomerates continue to grow.  But I am the first.  I’m Corporate Whore.”

            “Not the most flattering of names.”

            “No?  The oldest profession?  That’s not notable?  Not respectable?”

            “I wouldn’t–”

            “Of course you wouldn’t, man-ling.  How dare a mere female enter the boy’s club of corporate finance.  Women belong in the home.  Let’s forget that the first business, that oldest of all professions, was started by woman.”

            “You’ve no proof that–”

            “And that business is still thriving today!” she shouted over him.  Then she paused for a moment, allowing the silence to stand as evidence of her victory.  “Now.  You will go back to your office and spend the rest of the morning working on strategies to maximize our bonuses.  You may have the afternoon off to struggle with your new addiction.”

            Corporate Whore raised her chin.  Her head cocked to the side almost imperceptibly.  Pink Slip’s whip cracked out, the tip popping inches in front of Corporate Man’s face.  He stood up, obediently, and walked out of the office.

            The bonus envelope and its shady contents gripped tightly in his hands.