As I walked down Evans street in my new revealing and demoralizing new outfit, I became increasingly aware of the stares I was getting from others passing by. I was there simply fetching lunch for the young black woman and I kept my face hidden as much I could. I didn't want anyone from the area of my business to notice me.
My nervousness increased with every step I took away from the office, and this caused me to duck into one of the first restaurants I saw.
Just as I ordered the Chef's salad for Alexis Barron, her text message came through.
"What's taking so long? Hurry your ass up!" her message read.
"Yes, Ma'am." I replied in a return text message.
My face turned a golden red as I stood there impatiently waiting for the restuarant to prepare the salad. I had to pee so badly but I was afraid of taking too long and missing the opportunity to get the salad when it was ready. This place was very busy and every seat was taken by the usual lunch crowd. It was now just past one o'clock in the afternoon. I'm sure my appearance and my embarrassment were obvious to anyone who looked my way. I had hoped that nobody noticed how badly I had to use the ladies room.
This first day with Alexis Barron running my business had already been a degrading one, and I certainly didn't want to make things worse by upsetting her. Part of me knew that this day was not even half over and my fears of taking so long consumed me.
Finally, the large chef's salad was prepared and I quickly paid for it before running out of the restaurant. I was in a frantic state of mind by now since young Alexis had just sent another text message to me, which was simply a question mark with an exclamation point following it.
Her impatience concerned me. I scurried back to the office in my ridiculous 5 inched white high heels clumsily, and the thick leather strap around my ankles felt as binding as ever. I felt as clumsy and uncoordinated as some sort of old mule trying to manage my longer than normal strides.
By the time I finally reached the office building my long legs felt sore and my ankles were tightening, but I was relieved to be back at the office and out of the public eye.
When I walked in the other 7 older white women were not at their desks. I had been gone less than 20 minutes and it was curious that none of them were manning the phones. It was unusual to see. The incoming calls each rang twice before the auto answering machine picked up, and I looked at the clock on the wall to see that it was twenty minutes past one.
Hurriedly, I walked through the office to deliver the salad to the young black woman. As I turned the corner I noticed 6 of the seven older white woman standing in line outside one of the bathrooms, which was the single occupancy ladies room.
It was apparent that one of them was inside as the others all waited their turn to use the ladies room now marked as "subordinate." It was even more embarrassing to notice that the double occupancy ladies room which Alexis labeled and designated as "executive" could not be considered.
Humbly, I walked in and noticed young Alexis standing by the large window with vertical blinds looking outward. Her view was nearly one full block where I had just come from, and I realized she must have been watching my return from a distance. She had been observing me as I fetched her lunch salad.
The young black woman was back in her heels now and smoking a cigarette as she kept her back to me for a long, drawn out moment. She continued to peer out the window as I stood there holding her chef's salad. I was afraid to say anything but I knew that she was aware of my presence. Finally, she spoke.
"Next time call ahead so it won't take so long, understand?" Alexis directed.
"Ye-Yes, Ma'am. It w-was b-busy and I-I-I was just ..." I stuttered nervously, trying to explain that it was the busiest time of the day for this restaurant.
Alexis stopped me in mid stream. With her back still to me, her left hand went up in the air with a "halt" type of gesture. This caused me to stop speaking.
"I don't want to hear it." she said, annoyed.
I did not respond. Timidly, I stood there for a moment and then placed the salad on the beautiful black girl's desk. I removed the takeout tray from the bag and set the plastic fork wrapped in celophane on top as she turned and dashed out her black clove cigarette.
"I don't eat with plastic." she suddenly announced.
"Get me regular silverware." she ordered.
Nervously, I stood there for a moment and just stared at her beautiful face. It was merely a few second delay and her eyebrows bent downward with a disturbed mannerism.
"Uh, silverware?!" she repeated with much firmer tone of voice.
"Yes, M-Ma'am. Oh-Okay." I replied, trembling.
Immediately, I turned and scurried towards the break room where the office kitchenette was located. As I passed the rest rooms I noticed the line was down to 3 women with another inside. I really needed to use the ladies room badly, but I was too flustered to try to cut in ahead of the others.
In the break room, three of the older white women were quickly eating their lunches. They were quiet and somber. No one was speaking to each other as I frantically washed and dried a silver fork for the young black woman to use for her salad.
With the knowledge of Alexis Barron's impatience in the front of my mind, I desperately scurried back to her office and presented the clean fork to her. She was now seated with her left heeled foot on the floor and her chair cocked to the side of the desk. Her stockinged legs were crossed as one of her leather pumps "dangled" precariously from the tips of her reinforced nyloned toes.
"Gretchen, get over here!" she ordered.
"When I eat, I like my feet massaged. Always." she announced.
"And, I do mean always. You understand this, don't you?" she asked, her piercing eyes catching mine.
"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am. I understand." I answered meekly.
Humiliatingly, I bent down and knelt to the side of Alexis Barron. I sat on the backs of my legs on the floor and nervously removed the dangling heel from her stockinged toes. Obediently, I began massaging her right foot as she ate her meal. Within five minutes I heard the soft sound of a bell, which rang only once. Curiously, I looked up and wondered where the sound came from.
"Don't worry about that." Alexis announced.
"That chime means the afternoon break time is over and it's time to gt back to work." she informed.
I looked at the 18-year-black woman with a puzzled and embarrassed look. This was an office setting and not some type of factory, yet she had installed an automatic chime sound to ring through the speakers of the office to announce the beginning and the end of office personnel break times.
As Alexis explained the new office rules, she placed her left heeled foot onto my shoulder while I continued massaging her right nyloned foot. Like at my home the past weekend, she used my shoulder as a foot rest during her massages. It was embarrassing to hear her new office rules of a 15 minute morning break time, a 15 minute lunch time from 1:15 to 1:30 p.m., and an afternoon break between 3:15 and 3:30 p.m. She had all seven of the other older white women on this schedule, but this excluded me. She informed me that she announced the new rules and schedule to the others while I ran out for her salad.
For the next 45 minutes, I knelt there and massaged both of the young black girl's nylon covered feet. She directed which foot was to be massaged and switched them every 10 minutes as she delicately and arrogantly picked through her salad. She made personal calls during this time as I knelt there in humiliation. I was beginning to feel more subdued. I still needed to use the ladies room and I began squirming in my own skin as young Alexis noticed.
"Where's your lunch?" she asked, sarcastically.
"I-I really don't eat l-lunch too much. I just h-have to use the b-bathroom, Ma'am." I quivered.
