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.
