Ms ColdIron

You see her every work day.

Ms Ronica Coldiron

She stands tall, talks fast, and has no problem emasculating men who step up to the plate. A real ball buster. An office barracuda. Her hair is deep black, always in a severe up-do. Her glasses simple, amber rimmed, and in her hand, used as a point of vocal emphasis. She barely wears them to read; It shows weakness. Her makeup is simple and muted, except for her lips. She can't hide their red wine hue. Her eyes are chilled steel in color, only flecking a hint of blue when she is in good humor, or so you have heard. Most days she is in modest, yet expensively tailored office attire. Pant suits, trousers & tops, pencil skirts... they cling to her frame sensually, promising feminine softness.

You've been an employee at this particular office for near on 7 months. You were hired as Ms. Coldiron's 3rd assistant. You thought the position was a joke, until your first day of following her around and seeing the workload you'd be picking up. You never felt so green. Her first words to you were "I don't have time for mistakes or laziness, if you are prone to either, I suggest you walk right back out the door." Her eyes held yours, challenging, seeking. When you didn't move a muscle, you were quite sure the corner of her mouth twitched up a degree of a degree. It'd be the first and only you'd witnessed since. Every day since then had been bordering on hell. You were almost sure that after the first week she would fire you. You made plenty of mistakes. The other assistants attempted to cover or defend you when they could, but some scenes were unavoidable. However, you made it through.

Her manner is much like her name-- sharp, solid, cut off from any warmth. You've become somewhat of her right-hand man now, surpassing her other assistants. She calls you at all hours, you've never seen her sleep in fact. She is ever demanding of your time and energy. She expects you to work just as hard as she does, if not harder to prove she should keep you around.

Lately, something has changed though. Where she usually dismissed your presence, now you find her watching your every move. You caught her doing so the other day, staring blankly, teething the end of her glasses. She has started asking your opinion on business matters, where before she would simply tell you what is to be done. She even thanked you yesterday for ordering lunch-- a chore you've done countless times for her. This strikes you as odd, the woman literally doesn't know one iota of your life, nor has ever cared too... what has changed?

It's well into the end of the work day, the rest of the office staff filtered out hours ago, the other two assistants shortly after. You have been getting a jump on some assignments and tend to stick around to be on hand for the boss, should she need you. Your stomach grumbles and you give it a pat. It's time to get out of here for the night, you'll have to be here all the earlier tomorrow. You gather up your papers, arranging them just so on your desk. You put the take home essentials in your bag and lock screen your computer. You hadn't heard anything from Ms. Coldiron's office for sometime, usually she is "discussing" neglected matters on the phone well into the night. You open the door.

You see her like you've never seen her before. Her legs are reclined on the desk, black silk stockings, her expensive heels discarded. Her skirt has ridden up enough to reveal black garter grips hugging her thighs. Her shirt is lazily opened 3 or 4 buttons down, a matching black satin brassiere exposed. Her manicured hands are slowly moving, stimulating. The right is playing with the bottom edge of her skirt. The left is massaging her right collar bone, running along her chest, back up to her shoulder. Her head is lulled back against her chair, lips parted, eyes closed. Her breathing is soft, she inhales deeply as you watch her. Her tongue darts out of her mouth to lick her luscious lips, wetting them, darkening them with moisture. She cranes her neck to the left and right, working out the days tension. She sighs again and her eyes slowly flutter open. And then they go wide.

"Uh, Boss?" You stammer on, "I mean, Miss Coldiron?"