Rachel Basilowicz wore electric blue four inch patent leather pumps with seamed stockings, a tight and tapered skirt that made her lower half resemble her favorite female shape, the ice cream cone, a simple but painted on top that she would have to try and touch the ceiling in before her cleavage could not be described as immodest, and had pink eye. She saw no reason to dress down on account of conjunctivitis, and would not dig out the puritanical pants suits her mother bought her every year for Christmas, most likely at her father's behest, just because one eye was somewhat doughy. Being the office hot girl had its own responsibilities. She must stay one step ahead of the potential usurpers in other insidiouos departments like human resources, or compliance. She must strike the balance between enthralling her underlings with sexual dominance, and enticing her overlings with sexual submission. At all times Rachel must conduct herself like she is being watched, walking down empty hallways with an extra bounce off of her pointed heels that echoed all the way up through her blond ponytail.
Rachel eyed the interns suspiciously, there was always a brief shift in attention when they came to work in the tall office building, springing up one day like flowers after a scarce desert rain. But the college girls always formed a clatch, not mixing the way that Rachel did with all the regular people, and soon she lured them back giggling at their jokes, and dressing with daily effort. On casual Friday the interns would throw on comfortable jeans and cardigans. Rachel descended on one writing a to-do list in her cubicle. Laundry. Gym? "You look really cute today," Rachel always like to validate them.
"Thanks, you too." She replied only just glancing up. "What happened to your eye?"
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