My name is Kim Vega. I am eighteen years old and recently graduated high school. The year is 2072, and I am part of the first generation of women who has been allowed to return to the workplace. Because of declining fertility rates, a chain of economic recessions, and globalized markets, women were formally banned from most American workplaces in 2036. Only now have we been allowed to return to the male dominated sphere of labor.
After high school, job placement found me a job at a software development company called Morris Softworks. Morris Softworks is a small software studio with sixteen employees. I will be the first female to ever work there. The night before my first day, I was very nervous. My mom and I stayed up past midnight discussing what was expected of me as a female employee. She told me to be pleasant and agreeable, and to just go along with whatever the men asked of me. I was not to make a fuss if they were rude or abrasive. If I felt disrespected or humiliated, I was supposed to grin and bear it. This was the first time women were allowed back in the workforce in over a generation. Men had dominated the labor market for so long, the only way for women to survive financially was to marry or become sex workers: one of the few jobs allotted to us. If I was a difficult employee, it could ruin the possibility of other women being hired in the future.
I picked out my best wool blazer and skirt combination so I looked professional on my first day of work. My hair was up in a smart ponytail, and I bought a nice pair of leather flats that could sustain me on my feet all day. I was to be an assistant at Morris Softworks which entailed delivering memos, serving coffee, answering phones, and relaying messages to the software developers and others in the office. My mom drove me to work my first day as I could not afford a car. Morris Softworks was located in an unassuming, gray rectangle of a building. I confidently strode in with my shoulders back and my chest out. No one noticed me or bothered to help, but I was able to find Mr. Morris's office. His office was in a separate room from the main office area where several desks and computers were arranged. All the men were typing furiously or discussing code or an image brought up on their monitors.
I knocked politely and entered Mr. Morris's office. He was an old, white man who looked to be in his sixties, slightly overweight, balding on top, in an expensive gray suit. His office was much more beautifully appointed than he was.
"Ms. Vega, so lovely of you to join our team," said Mr. Morris as he extended his hand. I shook it politely and took a seat across from his desk. He went on to explain my duties and expectations at his company. I was essentially everyone's assistant and couldn't refuse any request unless they directly contradicted something he asked me to do. I told him I understood.
"And Ms. Vega, consider wearing something a little more comfortable next time? While I'm the owner and director of Morris Softworks, we're really more like a family here. As long as everyone dresses in a presentable fashion, we would be more relaxed if you followed suit. Now, if you would step around the desk so you could help me fill out your tax information."
I walked around his desk where Mr. Morris pulled me into his lap. He clicked through his computer until a form came up. He rested his hand around my waist as he asked me general information you would see on an intake form. Then he asked me about my height, weight, and cup size. I answered truthfully, telling him I was a C-cup.
"Ha. Wonderful size," he said, squeezing my breast through my blouse. I smiled politely as he groped me. He continued asking me about my medical and sexual history. I answered honestly, telling him I had blown some boys in school but had never been penetrated. His rough hand slid down the inside of my thigh, and the tips of his fingers stroked the crotch of my panties. Mr. Morris asked if I was on birth control. I told him I wasn't. My mom told me that guys will think you're a slut if you tell them you're on birth control. He told me I was a good girl as he rubbed my vulva with the tips of his fingers. I could feel his erection pressed against my ass, but I didn't complain. I knew I couldn't say anything, or they might think I'm difficult or even fire me.
After all the forms were filled out, Mr. Morris thanked me for being so accommodating and told me to go to the floor and introduce myself. I left his office and went around the main room, introducing myself to everyone. The day was spent making coffee, delivering mail, answering phone calls and answering questions. A lot of the men wanted to know if I had a boyfriend, and why didn't I. They told me I was cute and fuckable, and I laughed along with them. A few of my coworkers told me to dress lighter and show some skin.