By the time we arrived back at my home I was feeling completely defeated.
Thoughts of this first day with Alexis Barron as the acting President of my company ran through my terrified mind. She was now "officially" my new boss, and this was humiliating enough for me to come to grips with. The subtle ways she had degraded me throughout the day consumed me during the entire 40 minute drive. Even her stern silence in the car caused me to feel on edge when we finally pulled into the driveway.
Like always, the young black woman sat in the car and waited for me to run around and open the passenger's side door. Again, I held it open for her as she stepped out out of my BMW and headed for the front door. Quickly, I scurried ahead to unlock the door and hold it open for her. Before entering, she reached into the mail box and began sifting through the letters, continuing to do so as she walked inside.
I followed in behind the beautiful black teenager and was carrying her purse, portfolio and soft leather brief case with my own purse. Although I was unsure of what to expect next, many thoughts of a repeat of the previous degrading weekend ran through my head. These thoughts were extremely discomforting to me and I was almost pleading in silence for young Alexis to leave me alone.
With uncanny arrogance, the black girl stepped inside and "kicked" her 4 inched black leather pumps. She literally kicked them across the room while her eyes remained focused on the mail she was leafing through.
There were no words to describe how rudely she disgarded her shoes as I watched Alexis stroll towards the largest sofa in the room.
Alexis dropped the mail onto the glass coffee table to her right. Then, she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it before removing her nylon stockings. She simply left them on the floor as she unbuttoned her white blouse, tossing it on to the floor far off to her left side.
The beautiful black girl now stood at the sofa with her back to me. She stood there in merely the flimsy black bikini panties and bra that she wore underneath her outfit this day.
I gazed upon her youthful and perfectly-proportioned body in amazement. I was embarrassed by how much more beautiful she was than me.
"Gretchen. Bring me my computer breifcase." she ordered, casually.
"Yes, M-M-Ma'am." I whispered nervously.
As I carried the leather briefcase over, the black teenager picked up the mail from the glass table and then sat down. She propped her now bare feet up onto the end of the coffee table as I handed her the computer.
Alexis didn't even look at me as she took the laptop from my grip and turned it on. She placed it onto her lap and looked through the envelopes as her computer began to boot up. I stood there in silence watching the young black girl begin to "fling" the lettered mail over her shoulder, one by one.
"Trash, trash, trash." she repeated, tossing 8 or 9 of the envelopes around the room.
When she got to the last envelope in her hands, she opened it and removed the letter inside. She disgarded the trash in the same manner and began reading through the multiple paged letter.
"My cigarettes are in my purse." Alexis casually said, ordering me to fetch them.
Humbly, I fetched then carried the black girl's purse over to the sofa. I removed her black clove cigarettes from it and handed one of them to her, placing the remainder of the pack to her right side. As I lit the cigarette and placed the ashtray on the sofa next to her, Alexis looked up for a split second before looking back down to the letter.
"Get this shit picked up and put away." she commanded, referring to the clothes, shoes and enveloped mail she tossed around the room.
Her mannerisms of "waving" me off with the back of her wiggling fingers couldn't have been more insulting to me.
"Ye-Yes, Ma'am." I replied softly.
As I began to pick up all the scattered items around the room, bending over uncomfortably, I was losing my balance. The 5 inched pumps I was made to wear added to my already clumsy attempts. My struggling appeared to "amuse" the black teenager as I placed the trashed envelopes into the kitchen trash can.
"Bring me a glass of wince while you're in there." Alexis Barron ordered.
"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I replied.
When I handed her the glass of Caymus, she took one sip and handed it back to me so I could place it onto the glass table at her feet.
"Make sure you put my stockings away in the same bag ya' got them from." Alexis ordered.
"Get yourself washed up and changed while I decide what we're gonna do for dinner." the young black girl instructed.
"Yes, M-Ma'am." I answered, retrieving the remaining items from the floor and holding them in my weak arms.
I could smell the strong and insulting aroma of her perfumed, well worn nyloned stockings in my hands. It was the same embarrassing odor that was all over my face, which reminded me that the black teenager's stockinged feet had been in or on my face the entire work day. My humiliation intensified with each passing moment as I defeatedly walked upstairs to the bedroom to change.
Removing this degrading outfit was only a temporary relief for me. The 5 inched strapped heels were restrictive and had caused my tired feet more discomfort than I had was used to. I showered then changed into a pair of long, white yoga pants with a white tank top and my pink house slippers. I pulled my dampened hair back into a ponytail before putting away the black girl's stockings, heels and outfit.
When I walked down the stairs and saw Alexis from a distance, she was already tapping away on her computer and handling a cell call. She was still all business and seemed determined in her work. Meekly, I approached her and stood before her to make her aware that I was here. The young black woman simply pointed to her feet on the glass table, gesturing her order for me to massage her feet.
Humiliatingly, I obeyed.
I bent down and began massaging the teenager's now bare feet with my hands. Her feet still contained the same degrading scent of her well worn nyloned feet, which continued to pervade my nostrils from the days' actions.
I massaged Alexis Barron's feet for about 10 minutes when she finished her call and looked at me.
"You're gonna have to run out for the dinner I ordered." she said.
"I ordered barbeque and they don't deliver." she added.
"The address is 123 Court Street. Write it down and go get it." Alexis ordered.
"Go now." she added.
Embarrassingly, I got up and ran to the kitchen to "jot" down the address. I knew that it wasn't very close to my home and I knew that it would be about a twenty minute drive.
I grabbed my keys and rushed out the door in my house slippers and yoga pants, placing the address into the GPS unit in my car. Nervously, I got onto the expressway as I followed the voice directions.
"Hurry up so it's still hot." Alexis texted me.
I didn't text back because I was driving as I exited the off ramp to a neighborhood I was not familiar with, named Olympic Fields.
As I drove through this area I realized that it was almost entirely an african american community. I began getting a little nervous since it was summer and the sun was still out at around this time. It was past 7 in the evening and I finally made it to a place named "Buff's Barbeque" on Court street.
Timidly, I parked and walked inside. A young black girl in her teens was at the register when I announced that I was here to pick up an order for Alexis Barron. She, too, was exceptionally attractive and she looked dead into my eyes with a knowing smile.
"One moment. I'll check on the order." she said.
"Th-thank you." I replied, uncomfortably as I crossed my arms as if I were cold.
There was no chill in the small restaurant, but the stares from a few others sitting at small wood table to the side made me nervous. I was sure that I was the only white person in the entire restaurant and, perhaps, the entire area.
As I waited at the takeout window, I began to look around at the photographs on the wall. It was now clear that Buff was the owner, a mid 40's black man who had been in business for about 10 years. The pretty black girl at the register was his daughter, Trinity, who seemingly helped her father run the business when not in school.
I waited five long minutes before the young black woman approached the resgister holding a large brown paper bag with the order in it.
"Okay, here ya' go. A BBQ dinner and a veggie salad. That's $147.89, and how will you pay?" she asked.
The stated dollar amount for what seemed like a small order threw me off guard. I was shocked for a moment as I stood there and looked into her serious pretty eyes.
"I said how will you pay?" she repeated, firmly.
"Uh, well I-I-I guess by cr-credit c-card, Miss." I answered, feeling taken advantage of and handing her my card.
The young black girl rang it up and handed me the receipt to sign. That is when I noticed the line items on the small faded blue ink receipt, and they were itemized by line.
"Barbeque dinner and salad: $22.89. Service Fee: $125.00. Total: $147.89." the receipt read.
My hands trembled as I leaned down with the pen in my hand looking down at the absurd dollar amount for this dinner. I looked back up to see the young black girl's stern beautiful face and piercing eyes straight back at me. He arms were now folded, impatiently.
Defeatedly, I just signed the receipt and headed back out to my car to drive home. On the way back, just as I entered the expressway, there was another text message from Alexis.
"If it's cold you're taking it back." she messaged.
Desperately, I made my way back to the house in what would be considered record time. I was so worried that her meal wouldn't meet her expectations, and I bypassed a few stop signs to get home as fast as possible. As I grabbed the large brown paper bag from my car I noticed the order tag stapled onto the top of the bag designating who the order was for and the dollar amount.
"Customer: Alexis' Bitch. Amount: $22.89." the tag read.
The humiliation I felt was surreal. I couldn't help but wonder if that teenaged black girl at the restaurant was friends with Alexis Barron, and that she had flagrantly made the amount higher than it should have been. I tried not to think about it as I made my way back inside, yet the thought wouldn't leave my mind.
Alexis was still sitting on the sofa with her size 5 bare feet propped up onto the coffee table when I entered. Immediately, I ran to the kitchen to get silverware and opened the bag. I pulled out 2 large tin foil trays with a white cardboard lids. Both meals were appropriately marked and I served the young black woman her dinner before I knelt on the floor at her feet and opened mine.
"I ordered ya' that salad instead. It's healthier for someone your age. You don't need barbeque." she said, insultingly.
"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I responded in a submissive tone.
As I began to "pick" through the salad that was set onto the glass table I felt demeaned. Yet, I was hungry and I put one leaf of lettuce to my mouth and began eating it. Alexis stopped me.
