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Phones rang, keyboards clicked, people chatted: the sounds that echoed throughout the gray milieu of cubicles, desks, and copy machines… the usual. Jamie Carpenter worked in cubicle B47 on main floor at the Sinclair Inc. offices, the 5th story of the Andersen Building on Johnson Blvd, right in the middle of Capital City. Wearing one of his two short-sleeve button-down shirts and the slacks he wore to his college graduation, whether it was filling out spreadsheets or copying papers, there wasn’t too much special about Jamie’s job at the mighty Sinclair Inc. … the usual. It was pretty hard to really talk to anybody. You’d usually be stuck in your cubicle, at least a guy like Jamie, anyway, or, on the rare occasion when you had a chance to get up, it was almost like trudging through a blur of white collars, vanilla folders, and business jargon… the usual.

Fate wasn’t too good to Jamie, but luckily, some good lucked leaked from a crack in life. Young, pretty, well-dressed, organized – typing away on her computer and always ready to answer the phone: Krystal, the 23 year old brunette beauty that served as one of the many secretaries on the floor, who happened to be placed right by B47. Jamie always loved the way she dressed. She always knows what to wear, he thought to himself. Today, she was wearing a pink blouse with a sand-colored skirt and oak brown heels, accenting her lovely legs. Jamie admired and admired the young woman, as she telephone clients, took papers to and fro, tapped her gorgeous heel up and down as she diligently worked……

Jamie had a thing for feet.

He never really knew why, and even at his age, a few shy of 30, he couldn’t control his urges. All I remember from being a kid was my mom and aunts yelling at me for who knows what, Jamie always thought, How could I have gotten a thing for girls’ feet if I was as good with ladies as paper is waterproof?

*tap* *tap* *tap* The head behind B47 bobbed up and down with every dainty movement of the tip-top high heel of Krystal. If he could just get a chance with the Sinclair secretary….

Suddenly, heads began to turn collectively, as gasps and shushing filled the air. A confident figure strode through the floor in a luxurious black business suit, gazing at every other employee carefully. Jamie shook off his daydreaming over Krystal as he looked up to see what the fuss was about. The distinct clicking of heels began to come into ear, as they moved closer and closer. He peered over the dingy wall of his cubicle as the person took stage mere feet away from him.

There she was, in all of her power-filled glory, the boss herself, Ms. Athena Sinclair. Standing at 6’ 2” with the “firmest handshake in the business world today”, the billion-dollar brunette took her governing stance, hands on her hips, looking around at all of the “little people” that worked for her (she inherited her family’s company at just over 40 years old).

“Attention, everybody!” Ms. Sinclair announced, “It’s been a strong quarter so far, but I want to see better. Understand?” Some people nodded, while others tried to make it look like they were too busy working; nobody knew which pleased her the most every time she waltzed in for her weekly speech. Her disingenuous tone always psyched out everybody. Krystal just kept to her work and ignored her. “Young lady,” Sinclair whispered at the secretary, who looked up taken aback, “When I talk… you LISTEN.” Krystal quickly dropped her hands in her lap, “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” Ms. Sinclair looked down for just a bit longer before returning here gaze to the audience.

“People, I don’t pay you to make my family lose money. Anyone with the last name Sinclair is one of strength, smarts, and supreme leadership… and they should be treated with the utmost respect. Poor performance is the exact opposite of the utmost respect,” she said, while turning towards the other employees with a snarl, “Do. Not. Disrespect. My. Family.” Her governing words echoed in the heads of everyone on the floor, as heartbeats sped up and sweat dripped further.

As Ms. Sinclair surveyed her surroundings one last time, Jamie kept his stare on the boss. She turned on her heel towards B47, making Jamie flinch. The snarl, however, turned into a smile. “Keep up the good work, everybody.” Sinclair grinned, as she looked straight into the nervous employee in the cubicle right in front of her. The emasculating executive then turned back to the rest of her work force. “Now,” she chopped, “Get back to work!” The boss made her stride back to her office, still maintaining her confident expression. Was she smiling at me?, he thought, Did I please her or something?..... oh, God…. please her….

While she may have been ego-centric and disingenuous to virtually everyone at Sinclair Inc., treating them like worker ants to her queen, Jamie’s… “interests”… also branched out to none other than his boss. Ms. Sinclair may have been, excuse the term, a bona fide bitch, but something about her domineering nature and his fetish for feet seemed to form an embarrassing chemical reaction for Jamie towards his boss. Even her body was naturally built to fit her personality: tall, with big hands and feet (not that Jamie had the guts to take more than a glance), and piercing blue eyes. His heart sank at the dirty thought of her having the utmost control over him… God, not now! I’m still at work!... his palms sweat; he couldn’t help himself. Just think of something else., Jamie reassured to himself, Think of work, think of home, think of-

*phone ring*

Jaime snapped out of his thoughts, as he was alarmed by the phone ring.

*phone ring*

He looked down at the dusty corner of his desk and swore he was imagining things when his old phone was ringing.

*phone ring*

He hesitated for a moment, too scared to know what to do. Jamie doubled back to make sure it was his phone.

…

The ringing stopped. A red light began to flash. That’s when they leave a message, right?... or is it just for missed calls?, Jamie wondered. The guy from HR explained it to him on his first day... years ago; he barely remembered. Jamie reluctantly inched towards the phone and pressed the button under the red light.

“You have one new message:”, the phone beeped, “Hi, Jamie? This is Athena Sinclair,” Jamie’s eyes bulged out in shock, “I was wondering if you’d mind stopping by my office at 5? Great, see you then!”

Jamie looked up at the digital clock just above the printer and read the time:

4:45.

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