Christy was livid. She paced back and forth in her office, replaying the events of the meeting in her mind. Fucking James. He'd always been an insufferable prick, but now he was putting her team at risk.
Pausing by the window, she tried to allow the familiar view of downtown to calm her. Dark clouds rolled overhead. Neon signs and streetlights reflected in the wet streets. Cars slowly crossed the bridge. She could be heading home, too, if it weren't for him.
Last week, Frank, the CEO, asked the department heads to prepare a twenty percent budget cut across the board. At first, she'd been concerned, but her plan was solid. A reduction to the Marketing team's ad spend, some cost-cutting, and a few layoffs. Going into the meeting today, she'd felt confident.
One by one, they'd gone around the table and somberly delivered proposals. Sales. Human Resources. Operations. No one wanted to let people go, but they all recognized the necessity. When Frank called on Marketing, she'd proudly done her duty.
Then he turned to James and asked for the Engineering team's plan.
"Can't do it, Frank," he said shamelessly. "I'm already short-staffed and underfunded. Engineering's a finely tuned engine. I can't just start cutting, it'll fall apart."
The room fell silent. The other department heads looked shocked.
"James, come on," Frank sighed. "No one's happy about it, but this is serious."
"Hey, I get it." He raised his hands helplessly. "But this is a
product
company. No devs, no product."
"Be realistic, man. What's your proposal?"
"Take it from Marketing."
All eyes turned to Christy.
Carl, the VP of Sales--a thick-necked man in an ill-fitting suit--stifled a laugh. James grinned at him.
"Is this a joke to you?" She frowned. Carl had the decency to look chastened, but James just crossed his arms.
"No joke," he said. "Your department's always been overfunded. Find some more fat to trim."
"We already cut twenty percent, which puts our metrics at risk. Your team has the largest budget of the company by far!"
"Engineering has the largest budget for a reason. I need staff to build all the new features you put in ads without consulting me!"
"Our campaigns are drawn up months in advance! You decline every meeting invite, then have the nerve to say you weren't consulted?"
"Oh,
here
we go. The 'Queen of Marketing' assumes everyone should be at her beck and call!"
"My title," Christy growled, "is vice president. It shouldn't be hard to remember, it's the same as yours."
"It's not the same!" James scoffed. "I'm the VP of
Engineering
. Without my team, the company folds. Without
your
team..."
"This is a budget crisis, you can't just refuse to..."
"If
your highness
would ever care to descend from the seventeenth floor, you'd see my devs struggling with outdated equipment, facing ridiculous demands..."
"That's
enough
!" Frank threw up his hands in frustration. "I can't listen to this anymore." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's been a long day, and I'm exhausted. You two, stay. Everybody else, go home."
James and Christy glared at each other as the other department heads filed out.
"You will work together," Frank said, raising a hand to cut off their objections, "and bring me a budget for
both
your teams that meets the overall reduction goal. I don't care if it takes all night. Have it on my desk in the morning."
"Fine," James snarled. "I'll be in my office. It's on the third floor, in case your highness has forgotten where the
real
work gets done." He stormed out.
"Frank, you can't be serious," she protested.
"I know James can be difficult. But we need him." He clapped her on the shoulder. "I also know you have a real knack for problem-solving. I trust you'll find a way to resolve this."
An hour later, she was glaring out the window in her office. Typical. Succeeding as a woman meant having to do your job twice as well as the men, and for a reward, you got to do their jobs, too.
How the hell was she going to get James to do his part? There was no reasoning with someone so convinced of his superiority. He'd never admit he was wrong because he couldn't handle the humiliation. He'd dig in until someone forced him to change.
Her eyes flicked to the garment bag hanging on the coat rack.
Someone with more confidence and power.
She unzipped the bag, and ran a fingernail over the black leather.
Someone who could show him how pathetic he really was.
"Come in," James called when she knocked.
She stepped in, closing the door behind her.
"What's with the long coat?" He sneered. "You ready to head home? Gonna give up and admit I was right?"
"Hardly," she responded, looking around his office disapprovingly. It was decorated like a dorm room. Shelves of tech gear of all sorts. Posters and printouts of comics plastered on the walls, peppered with nerdy stickers. Everything about the space was designed to make non-geeks feel out of place.
"In that case, welcome to where the magic happens." His office chair was one of those ridiculous gamer chairs, red leather with cupholders and a headrest. "Have a seat," he added, gesturing to an ugly couch that looked like he'd dragged it in off the street.
"You humiliated me today, you know." She said it calmly, hands in her coat pockets.
"Well, if the Queen can't hack it in the boardroom, that's just another reason to cut your team."
"Hmm," she nodded slowly. "I thought you'd say something like that."
She turned to his windows, facing the warren of cubicles that filled the rest of the floor. Despite the hour, there were still several devs out there. As she walked through, they were all playing video games or browsing social media. No one looked up as she closed the blinds.
James looked confused when she locked the door, but before he could say something snarky, she opened her coat.
His jaw dropped as he took in what she was wearing. Glossy black heels. Thigh-highs and garters paired with a mesh thong. Long black gloves that ended above the elbow. Her black leather corset left her breasts exposed, including a metal bar pierced through each nipple.
"You see, James, I know your type." Ignoring his dumbfounded expression, she calmly draped her coat over a trolley filled with monitors. "A
small
man who gets off on lording his knowledge over others."
She sauntered around his desk, allowing her hips to sway, punctuating her words. He swiveled to face her, eyes wide as she stood over him. "You play your petty games and throw your childish tantrums because you believe you are better than your peers." It was hard to say if he was more shocked by her outfit, or the way she carried herself while wearing it. "You assume the rules don't apply to you."
"No, I--I, uh, that is..." He abruptly stood up and backed away from her, desperate to regain control of the situation, but unable to think straight. She followed him around the desk until he collapsed onto the couch.
"You think you are special," she sneered, putting her foot against his crotch. "But when push comes to shove," she pressed down hard, as if grinding out a cigarette butt, "you'll collapse at my feet."
"Ah, fuck!" He whimpered pathetically, too overwhelmed to resist. "Your heel... That hurts!"
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Yes! Shit!"
"What do you say?"
"Please!"
She relaxed the pressure just a bit.
"When you speak, you'll address me properly. Use my title."
"Vice president!"
"Hmm," she considered. "No, not here. In this context, I think you know what you should call me."
