Kaitlin and Marie, Chapter 1

"I just can't take it anymore."
	Kaitlin was rubbing her temples with both hands – hands that she hadn't washed giving Marie her most recent foot massage. They smelled of expensive oils such as lavender, clary sage, and francincense but it didn't wholly cover the natural odor of Marie's feet especially in her leather flats. It was a scent Kaitlin had gotten far too familiar with over the past several months of working as the blonde woman's assistant.
	Margeaux nodded sympathetically. She had noticed a change in her friend since the girl had started working for that awful Marie.
	Kaitlin had turned down almost every one of her friends' social invitation for the past few months. Although she made different excuses, Margeaux knew it was generally because Marie insisted that Kaitlin be 'on call.' This meant that she had to spend her entire evening seated by an old-fashioned corded phone in case her boss needed something. Kaitlin had not mentioned that she was required to answer it on the first ring or she would be punished. Where had the woman even found such a thing!?
	Oftentimes, Kaitlin would be assigned ridiculous tasks during these times such as reading Seventeen magazine from cover to cover, then summarizing its bubbly articles for her boss the next day. Or else she would be told to watch videos on yuutube about how to give better foot massages – making her way through playlists that Marie curated for her new assistant. The woman would even have tests prepared for Kaitlin as though the girl were back in high school!
	Kaitlin could hardly stand the humiliation of sitting at her desk answering 100-question tests, filling in bubbles to answer multiple-choice questions about Marie's favorite wines and her preferred choice in footwear.
	"Marie wants to control every aspect of my life! Just today, she talked about me moving in with her so that I can rent my place out and work in her home, to make more money. What am I going to do?"
	 "Why don't you quit?" Margeaux asked.
	"I've tried! But there's a severe punishment for early withdrawal from our contract. Remember, I have to complete my court-ordered classes. This is all because of that stupid sensitivity training!"
	Margeaux had a notion of Kaitlin's 'sensitivity training': repeated exposure to Marie's feet with the aim of curing Kaitlin of some imagined phobia.
	"Seriously. I'm around her feet so much it affects other parts of my life. Here I am, talking about feet with you, on my time off! Anyway, it's good to see you. How are things with you?"
	Margeaux caught up with her dear friend Kaitlin. She talked about her own anxieties about the job market, and the increasing demands of her own employer. They finished lunch and left, feeling better for having spent time together as friends.
	Kaitlin's good feeling ended the moment she came back into the office – it used to be like paradise for her, working here.
	Today, the unfortunate girl would have to attend one of her ridiculous 'therapy' sessions. Kaitlin's job forced her to attend these weekly sessions because she one day had the nerve to complain about the odor emanating from Marie's bare feet that the woman had propped up on her desk. Marie, with sadistic brilliance, filed a complaint with some business or government board, saying that Kaitlin had offended her with such a remark. Kaitlin's comment was deemed as intolerant body-shaming, or maybe transgressive to some medical issue, creating a hostile work environment etc.. It was a nightmare for the young woman: so many people in positions of authority looking down at her, acting like the girl was a monster or worse, a liability.
	Kaitlin had literally just signed a mortgage on a new condo that still needed some work. It was the pride of her life: a $525,000 investment that would finally allow her to build equity and own something.
	She couldn't afford to lose this job, so she jumped on the plea bargain of attending therapy sessions to make amends to her employer, Marie. While they talked about all of this, Marie had slipped her feet out of her ballet flats, and put them on top of the shoes with her toes hanging over the front a little. She wriggled her toes and spread them apart absentmindedly, which was especially eye-catching because of her bold red nail polish.
	To that disciplinary meeting, Marie wore the same leather ballet flats she had worn on the day Kaitlin made the complaint about her. She smiled when Kaitlin agreed to do tolerance training, scrunching her toes as if in anticipation.
	"I am here to help you, Kaitlin," Marie said, "and this doctor is one of the best hypnotherapists in the world."
	Kaitlin stopped reminiscing on that that as she entered Marie's office building, taking the stairs up to her floor. It was one of those co-work spaces so there were many young women and a few men sitting at shared desks, working on sofas and in rented conference rooms. The place had a smart, modern decor. Marie owned the entire building – everyone Kaitlin saw was paying rent to the woman. Marie's office suite was on the very top level. She shared it with her most preferred tenants, mostly the ones that would fawn over her and make her feel beautiful in different ways.
	Kaitlin walked into Marie's office to retrieve the woman's ballet flats – which she was required to bring to her therapy sessions. Marie was on the phone, grinning, and didn't even acknowledge Kaitlin at first.
	She wrapped up her conversation and hung up as Kaitlin stood there awkwardly, knowing that Marie didn't like it when she used her smartphone around her. Marie was a lioness – a mane of sandy blonde hair that was feminine and sexy, but with such a strong demeanor that no one would ever condescend to her.
	"Kaitlin! Who were you having lunch with?" Marie asked, fixing her gaze onto the elfin girl.
	Kaitlin's heart started to race.
	"My friend Margeaux Amin, Marie."
	Marie paused to think about this, but not for long.
	"You are here for my flats? Good. I am impressed with how far you have come, Kaitlin. I daresay that you might enjoy being around my feet by the end of your therapy!"
	Katilin smiled, but it was just another of Marie's barbs to tolerate. The poor girl had to walk up to Marie and take the ballet flats from off her feet, kneeling down to accomplish this degrading task. It was part of her therapy; a way to desensitize her to an object or experience by making her do it again and again until it became normal. She never liked it, but Marie seemed to derive a lot of happiness from this sort of thing. No matter what Marie was doing, she would pause it and watch Kaitlin kneel down at her feet and help remove her shoes.
	Marie's nails were painted white today – it was a bold look that went very well with her pale complexion. She dismissed Kaitlin rather abruptly.
	"Oh, and I spoke with Meredith. Since you are attending this program, we need to have you as a provisional employee until you complete it. Do you understand what this means?"
	Marie said this as Kaitlin was walking away – an annoying habit that made Kaitlin return to the woman when she was trying to leave.
	"Provisional employee? No, I don't."
	"Think of it like re-training. You will have new responsibilities while you take this program, and your current projects will be given to another person."
	"W-what?" Kaitlin asked. "I am almost finished with the El Dorado account. At least let me finish--"
	"No." Marie said firmly, "El Dorado is going to Jennifer."
	Kaitlin was speechless. That was months of her life, gone, with all credit going to the loathsome Jennifer! If that weren't bad enough:
	"And while you are doing this program, we can only pay you as an executive assistant. Go to your therapy now. We can discuss this later."
	Kaitlin was nearly having a panic attack. There was no way she could pay the mortgage on her $525,000 condo with the $13.75/hr. she would be making as an executive assistant. Carrying Marie's flats around, Kaitlin couldn't help but notice their characteristic aroma. And this was nothing compared to the absurd exercises she was about to do! She was frowning as she anticipated the therapy, but hurried none the less.
	**
	Kaitlin was on all fours, hunched forward with her face very low to the ground. Her delicate nose was hovering just above the instep of one of Marie's worn ballet flats and her arms were stretched out in front of her to support her in this position for a long time.
	"Ten minutes left," Dr. Francine said, keeping a watchful eye on Kaitlin's 'therapy.'
	It was patently absurd, and Kaitlin knew it. There was no reason for her to have her nose buried in one of Marie's smelly flats, for fifteen minutes at a time! The doctor always had some vague explanation about needing many repeat exposures, but it was all hogwash and Kaitlin didn't even like humoring it. She still had to play along, though. Dr. Francine was only content when Kaitlin acted like she enjoyed these treatments. "Do it for the mortgage," she would tell herself to force a smile as she became more and more outraged by having to smell Marie's shoes yet again.
	Kaitlin had to constantly endure the considerable aroma of Marie's feet now – up close and personal. It hadn't started this way. They had started small, with each session moving Marie's flats closer and closer to Kaitlin's face. In one session, she was asked to hold flats in her hands and examine them all over, pretending to do a scientific study or forensic report. It horrified the girl to think about how far this would all go; what could be worse than burying her nose in another woman's worn leather flats?
	Dr. Francine also required Kaitlin to keep a journal detailing her interactions with her blonde boss. Without fail, Kaitlin's peaches-and-cream complexion would go bright red as she described the hand and foot massages she administered for the other woman such intimate detail.
	Marie was taking over her life. These were Kaitlin's thoughts as she sat there prostrate, utterly humiliated but pretending to enjoy every moment. It took a long time for ten minutes to pass, and it softened Kaitlin up for the following psychology session.
	"What are your thoughts on the demotion?" Dr. Francine asked.
	She was a severe-looking woman with pulled-back blonde hair and almond-shaped eyes. Kaitlin was expected to be honest – the woman was her psychologist, after all.
	"I don't like it," Kaitlin admitted, furrowing her eyebrows in anger.
	"Jennifer was always so mean to me. I know this is going to go to her head. Marie is even talking about making me her assistant too! She's six years younger than me, for heaven's sake!"
	Dr. Francine smiled.
	"Yes, Marie has told me about Jennifer Royal. She has quite a lot of faith in the girl; apparently she is on the fast-track to a promotion. She may be your boss very soon."
	Kaitlin frowned.
	"She doesn't deserve it," Kaitlin whined, "she doesn't lift a finger for herself! She just showed up and started bossing everybody around, and I was like the only person who actually stood up to her. She is SO high-maintenance! One day, I heard her mention that she has an assistant who washes her hair. What sort of woman doesn't wash her own hair??"
	"She is probably too busy working to bother with things like that," the doctor replied.
	"In fact, it makes a lot of sense for her to outsource menial tasks like that to other people. Why should she bother washing her own car, when she could spend that time making money instead?"
	Kaitlin had no answer, she was too busy fuming. Jennifer, always rolling into work fifteen minutes late with a double-shot macchiatto in one hand. She would take clients to the nail bar to get pedicures, then take the rest of the day off afterwards! Jennifer had long legs, a British accent, and a perpetually spoiled and snobbish demeanor like she was entitled to anything she wanted. It was outrageous to Kaitlin in the extreme that the company would promote such a girl, she treated everyone like...
	An executive assistant.
	Kaitlin continued talking to her overbearing therapist, detailing all of her grievances against Jennifer Royal and knowing it would certainly come back to bite her. Then they talked about her mortgage – couldn't she refinance? Or perhaps just take one of the bedrooms to herself, and rent out the others to roommates? Kaitlin huffed at the suggestion – she hated the idea of living with roommates. That was the whole reason she bought a condo!
	Kaitlin felt about as badly as she always did after one of these hypnotherapy sessions; which was to say she felt defeated, anxious, and full of guilt. She returned to the office, where her first task was informing Jennifer that she would be finishing out the El Dorado account.
	"Thank you, Kaitlin," the posh British girl said, "I told Marie already that I want you as my assistant on this one, since you know it so well. By the way, could you freshen up my tea, please? One sugar. Thank you."
	Jennifer pointed one long finger towards her cup of tea, which Kaitlin was compelled to pick up and re-fill for her.
	"Yes, Jennifer," Kaitlin said with a sweet smile, wanting to punch the girl for the smug grin she had on her face.
	 She couldn't believe that her job now consisted of preparing tea for Jennifer Royal. When Kaitlin returned with the new cup, Jennifer thanked her.
	"Oh, and can you have a report ready for me tomorrow? Just to detail where you are." 	Kaitlin bit her cheek. She loathed the idea of giving a report to Jennifer, it felt like supplicating. But Jennifer must have known that Kaitlin didn't have a choice anymore, and looked expectantly at the distraught girl.
	"Yes, Jennifer."
	"Thanks!"
	Kaitlin went to Marie's office then, silently calculating how long it would take her to create a report on the El Dorado account. Even in her most generous estimates, she would have to spend six hours of her own time that evening putting together a nice presentation for Jennifer to sit through. And the raven-haired woman would pick it apart, critiquing everything Kaitlin had done, and take credit for the final product when it came about. She would basically just be doing this for Jennifer's amusement, and to demonstrate that she knew that the other woman was in control from now on. Kaitlin was pouting as she imagined it; already Jennifer was acting like they had a score to settle.