Megan Divan heaved her usual sigh as she passed through the revolving doors that lead to the site of her daily drudgery. Like she did every day. Sure, maybe today was special, but the occasion was as "special" to her as the memo about not pilfering post-its and paper clips was "urgent."
I mean, Bring Your Master To Work Day? This was just idiotic – a classic testament to the idea that a committee was a life form with six or more legs and no brain. As the chair of the social committee, she'd headed up the meeting to plan the company's annual Bring Your
Daughter
To Work Day. Instead... after lots of discussion, they wound up with this lunacy.
Bring Your Master... I mean, really. This was going to be a complete waste of the paltry budget set aside for it. At least there was going to be a free lunch.
Megan rode the elevator up to their floor, and immediately the fuzzy, atonal muzak piped non-stop through the PA system was assaulting her sense of taste. Here it was, seven o'clock in the morning, and the crap was already running. Still running from yesterday, for all she knew.
Ever since their new HR manager Desiree had been hired on, she'd insisted on the stuff. "Morale booster," she said. Megan had been optimistic at first – every employee could access the system, select their own tunes, the only limitation being what you were willing and able to inflict on your coworkers. That part was good, only the shoddy third-rate hardware for it left everything half-obscured behind a wall of static.
Ah, well. Most of the time she didn't even notice, in one ear and out the other. Harmless white noise.
For the next hour, Megan decorated the office for the occasion, feeling foolish every second of it. Readying the punch bowl and other dishes for the luncheon, setting up funtivities in the break room, reviewing her detailed agenda for the day (as if it would matter), putting up the big gawdy "WELCOME MASTER" banner across the entryway.
(Megan had told Desiree this sign should read "masters" to be more inclusive, but Desiree insisted singular would be fine. Frankly, Megan couldn't begin to imagine they'd have enough to merit even the singular, so she hadn't put up much of a fight.)
By the time everyone else started showing up an hour or so later, things were looking as good as they ever would. Not that anyone noticed or said thank you. Such was the lot of the junior HR representative. If anything went well, it would be to Desiree's credit; if anything went poorly, she'd find a way to pawn it off on Megan.
Everybody took Desiree's word on everything around here, it seemed. That woman could get away with anything.
At least people were taking the event seriously. Not a woman came in wearing anything outside the day's uniquely "casual" dress code. (Desiree had called it casual; Megan, when she heard the details in the day's digital agenda, had called it whorish. But like most things, it wasn't her call to make.)
About a third of the ladies were wearing ultra-brief ultra-tight miniskirts, as was Megan herself. All the other ladies were wearing short, low-cut dresses that looked more appropriate in a night club than a professional office.
Except for Patty, who was rocking a way-too-tight-for-work pant suit, complete with a blouse that was tied off just beneath her breasts to show her impressively flat mid-riff. Megan could hardly blame her for showing off. All the women on staff had braggable bodies of one sort or another, of course.
Desiree had cleaned house of the older folks when she came on board, followed shortly by the men, narrowly dodging a slew of law suits. She'd had her reasons – reducing payroll, increasing innovation, putting a fresh face on the office – but still, it had definitely been a shake-up. When the dust settled, Megan had to concede that the company was in good hands, those of an assortment of talented young women. Lovely ones, at that.
The company had once had a diverse assortment of body types, running from painfully skinny Skyler to Gail the Whale, as she was called. Then Desiree had changed the company's health insurer, and daily hour-long workouts became mandatory to retain benefits. In six months, there wasn't a woman in the company who wore larger than a size 4.
Desiree had actually gone so far as to make special deals with local vendors so the ladies could renew their wardrobes for their healthy new bodies. Megan hadn't even really needed to, but then, the discounts were just too darn good. Practically half her paycheck went to buying skanky clothes she never even wore.
Objectively, she felt humiliated every time she even tried one of the new outfits on, and she'd talked to her work buddies and knew they felt the same. Still, a deal was a deal, and Desiree had more or less insisted. Even as whorish as she felt going to work dressed like this, at least everyone else was too.
Megan watched with satisfaction as the girls gave themselves once-overs, making sure everything looked just right for all these so-called masters that obviously weren't going to show up. A nice thick layer of makeup was applied on every face, a heavy coat of lipstick on every lip. Some women went the extra step and sprinkled glitter across their exposed bosoms, or let a coworker do their hair.
Grace and Gretchen – the so-called twins, for their similarity of appearance – took turns granting the other pig tails. They wore matching tartan skirts and white blouses, matching portraits of slutty schoolgirls.
Megan could hardly believe all this effort for such a stupid occasion. What kind of self-respecting adult woman had a master? Much less brought him in to work! It was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.
Only then, Desiree showed up.
Along with Desiree's master.
The whole office looked on with rapt attention as the two entered. He was an older man – not old, per se, but older than any of the twenty- and thirty-somethings in the office. He wasn't especially good-looking, either. A little paunchy, not a whole lot of toppings on the table. At first Megan assumed he was a client, but then she took stock of two things. First, no one was to schedule any client meetings today.
Second, his hand was resting square on Desiree's plump bottom.
"Hey, everybody!" she greeted the crew, cheeks reddening as the whole company saw her walking in as some stranger's arm candy. "I'd like to introduce everyone to my–"
The man silenced her with a finger to her lips. "Enough yap, sweetie. Wow, this place looks really great – thank you, thank you all so much for making me feel so welcome. Desiree was really nervous you all wouldn't come through, but something told me you'd prove her wrong. Right, babe? Who knows best?"
Desiree took a deep breath, and the usually assertive HR manager responded in a tiny voice. "You do,
mumble
."
"Come again?" He grinned, tapping his ear.
"You do, master," she repeated, only barely louder. Loud enough for the office to hear her, though.
Megan grinned. Her planning hadn't been for nothing after all!
