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Chapter 2 — To Prove That I Could
AN INVITATION
As she erased the email passing her over for promotion again, Anne wondered why the world just wasn’t fair; the game seemed to be rigged against her. It was the fourth time that a person who was less senior, and, in Anne’s opinion, less competent, had been chosen for promotion over her.
At age 27, Anne Bishop was one of many account representatives in the Benefits section of TRG, a boring, entry level job. Although Anne had struggled to distinguish herself by covering for sick and vacationing co-workers, being fastidious with her work, being at her desk at least 15 minutes early every day, being professional in her manners and conservative in her dress, and by volunteering for difficult assignments that no one else wanted, she still wasn’t sure that anyone in management even knew her name. The email denying her the promotion was referred to her as “Ann” instead of “Anne”. Five years in benefits and her supervisor didn’t even know the correct spelling of her name. She was just another nameless face in a sea of little cubicles on the 11th floor.
She wanted to be special; to be noticed; to be appreciated but nothing ever quite turned out that way. No matter how hard she tried to distinguish herself, she seemed invisible to the rest of the world, both in her career and her personal life.
It was’t as if she hadn’t worked hard at every part of her life. She was an amateur triathlete and worked out daily. The training was lonely and arduous but Anne preferred the solitude. As an athlete, Anne had been determined but not particularly gifted. No matter how hard Anne trained, she always finished the race somewhere in the upper middle of the pack.
Between boyfriends for the last eight months, Anne’s love life had fared no better. No matter how hard she tried in the relationship, the men in her life tended to be insensitive and emotionally unavailable, often moody, sometimes abusive, and occasionally philandering. It’s not that she didn’t know any kind, attentive, generous, and sensitive young men but she never seemed to be able to attract them. No matter what she did, Anne never seemed to be able to get the job, the trophy, or the guy she wanted.
Anne looked at her face in a photo from a recent photograph; her face was ordinary. She looked down at her clothes, they were ordinary. Her job was ordinary; her car was ordinary, her small apartment was ordinary, and, when she was fully dressed, even her looks seemed to be ordinary.
Average height with straight blond hair Anne was slender with little in the way of curves, the best part of Anne’s appearance was her extremely well-toned body she had earned as a triathlete. People were often shocked when they saw her in a swimsuit and expressed that she looked a lot better without her clothes. However, Anne worked in an office building where people never saw her in a swimsuit. In fact, they rarely noticed her at all. It’s not that she aspired to be a movie-star or a CEO but it would be nice if someone, somewhere cared about her, thought she was pretty, thought she was intelligent, valued her company, and considered her special.
A new message pop up on Anne’s Computer screen marked from the Mailgirl Department; the subject line stated “Interview Request.”
Dear Ms. Bishop: Congratulations, the Mailgirl Recruitment Committee has carefully considered your application for employment with TRG as a Mailgirl and I am pleased to inform you that you are invited to interview for the position at 1:30 p.m. today in room 584C in the Human Resources Department. The Mailgirl team is excited about your interest in the program and are very interested in meeting with you to determine if we will be able to offer you a position with our team.
Jamie Richmond, Recruitment Coordinator, TRG Mailgirl Program.
Anne’s astonishment of being accepted for an interview to the program was only secondary to the fact that she never submitted her application. Although she read the email about the program and had even filled out the application, Anne never got up the nerve to send it in.
The idea of running around the building delivering mail in the nude had been a secret fantasy of Anne’s ever since she heard of mailgirl programs in other companies. Nevertheless Anne regarded naked female couriers as an insane and sexually demeaning fad which would probably be outlawed within the year. However, when she heard the news that TRG was considering using mailgirls, Anne indulged herself the guilty pleasure of reading about the program and even filling out the application. Anne found that just reading about the proposed mailgirl program and filling out the application to be sexually exhilarating. Reviewing the email and thinking about going to the interview was turning her on and Anne could feel a flush of embarrassment.
Maybe the application got sent by a computer glitch; or maybe she accidently hit a wrong key. More probably it was her co-workers playing a cruel joke on her. Quickly glancing over her shoulder, Anne altyazılı porno didn’t see anyone spying on her and she couldn’t hear any whispering or giggling. Everyone looked busy doing their job. She looked up the Mailgirl Program in the TRG directory. Its room number was 584C and the Recruitment Coordinator was Jamie Richmond. Further, the email had come from the Human Resources Department and not Benefits. The Invitation looked legit.
Anne tried to cool down. The sexual energy she was experiencing was distracting and Anne had a busy day ahead. She knew that there was no reason to get all worked up over an interview for a job that she had no intention of accepting. Anne started writing an email cancelling the interview but her fingers didn’t cooperate. She looked at her watch, it was only 8:57. Anne would indulge herself another four and a half hours of sexual fantasy by pretending that there was actually a chance that she would go to the interview and daydreamed as to what it would be like to spend her day running around the building completely nude.
There were at least 20 young men that she wouldn’t mind advertising her goods to as well as a few women just to see the expression on their face. Anne looked around the Benefits Department. Most of the employees were women and would think of her as the Whore of Babylon if she ran around the building showing off her all of her private parts. She would certainly be the subject of derision and barnyard humor from most of the women on the floor.
If Benefits Supervisor Rebecca Paget found out that Anne went to a mailgirl interview, Ms. Paget would think of Anne as a harlot and a disruption. If Ms. Paget were informed that Anne had so much as filed an application to be a mailgirl, Anne was sure that her supervisor would look for reasons to fire her or run her off.
It’s not that the Benefits department was merely against the mailgirl concept, they thought of it as nasty, stupid, vulgar, and depraved and anyone who wanted to be associated with the program was nasty, stupid, vulgar, and depraved as well. Most of the Benefits Department employees, thought of the program as nothing more than a bunch of depraved strippers and shameless porn actors who had no place in corporate America. Ms. Paget would probably file a sexual harassment complaint the first time a mailgirl walked in the room.
Although Anne’s job was going nowhere and boring, the TRG paycheck paid the bills and Anne didn’t have the money to finance a long unemployment. Going to the mailgirls interview was out of the question. While she loved the fantasy, the mailgirls concept was insane and could never be a reality in Anne’s life.
The morning went slowly and unproductively as Anne struggled to keep he mind on her job. Instead, she found herself reading the mailgirl invitation again every 15 minutes or so. Just reading the email gave her a bit of a sexual thrill and rekindled her fantasy of becoming a mailgirl.
By 10:30 Anne had decided just to drop by the Human Resources Department on her lunch break and find room 584C. It was not as if she would ever actually go to the interview, but just seeing the room and perhaps getting a glimpse of a mailgirl interview would be exciting. She wanted to see what a real mailgirl looked like and whether she could possible measure up. By 10:55, Anne contemplated taking a late lunch just keeping the option of attending the interview alive kept the fantasy alive a little longer. By 11:13 she had worked up the courage to make the request with her supervisor, Rebecca Paget.
Although many in the department referred to Ms. Paget as moody, Anne disagreed. Moody implied that Ms. Paget had more than one mood and Anne had never known Ms. Paget’s mood to be anything other than ill-tempered. Catching Ms. Paget at her desk, Anne knocked on her office door.
“It’s open,” Ms. Paget grumbled.
“I’m sorry to disturb you ma’am but I’d like to ask a favor if I may.”
“What do you want?”
“I’d like to take my lunch at 1:15.”
“No. If you leave for lunch on time you get back on time.”
“I’d like to run an errand.” Anne used the word errand as she didn’t dare say the word appointment. The word appointment would invite questions which she couldn’t answer while the word errand seemed more boring and mundane.
“Run your errand at noon.”
“I can’t. It’s not open for lunch.” A moment of panic shot through Anne’s mind as she realized that she hadn’t a clue what she would tell Ms. Paget if Anne were asked to identify the mystery errand.
Ms. Paget looked irritated. “If you’re planning on leaving the TRG grounds you know that goes on your annual leave and must be approved in advance.”
“I’ll just be an hour.”
“Personal business should be handled on personal time. Do it after work.”
“I can’t.”
“We have rules for a reason Bishop,” Ms. Paget scolded. “If I make exceptions to the rules just because someone doesn’t like the rules, then there are no rules.”
“Yes, ma’am. It will only take an hour. I’ll be amatör porno back by 2:15.”
Paget groaned. “Very well, you may take your lunch at 1:15 but if you’re not back at your desk at 2:15, I’m marking you down for two hours of annual leave.”
“Thankyou.”
“Don’t make a habit of this Bishop.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Anne’s libido soared as her mailgirl fantasy continued.
I DON’T WANT PERFECT
As the two men strolled down the walking path in the park, Mr. Fuentes, offered a few inch thick booklets to Jim Dillard but Dillard waived them off.
“I wish you’d reconsider and look at the scripts again.” Mr. Fuentes said.
“I’ve looked at your scripts and they’re crap,” Dillard said. “They read like any other obviously scripted reality show. Stilted dialogue, clichéd concepts, a predictable plot, and clearly contrived situations.”
“Almost all reality shows are scripted. Real life is boring; real people just aren’t that interesting.”
“That’s where I think you’re wrong. I want the type of raw emotion and volatile drama that only an unscripted show can provide. I want rage, I want terror, I want despair, and I want victory. People are fascinating once you get to know them. We’ve just got to push them way out of their comfort zone; push them further than they’ve ever been pushed and we’ll get some quality drama, I guarantee you.”
Mr. Fuentes shook his head no. “I’m still not sure. I don’t even know how an American audience, never mind the rest of the world, is going to react. I’m not even sure that we can recruit your employees or any woman with a normal life to do that. I think we’ll need actors.”
Jim Dillard pondered Mr. Fuentes reservations for a moment. When the men passed neared a group of three college-age women sunbathing, Dillard stopped and seemed to have an epiphany. Turning off the path, Dillard walked up to the first woman, squatted down, reached into his wallet, and took out of a stack of hundred dollar bills.
Appearing to resent the intrusion, the bikini clad sunbather rolled down her sunglasses. “Can I help you?”
Dillard paused for a moment as he searched for the right words. “What would you say if I offered you $2,000.00 to strip completely naked and streak from one end of this park to the other?”
Fuentes looked shocked. “Jim, what are you doing?”
When Dillard offered the bikini clad sunbather the money she responded by slapping him across his face.
“Not the response that I had hoped for,” Dillard said.
“Pervert.”
“I’ll do it.” Clearly excited, another of the three sunbathers, a college age girl in cut-offs and a cropped T-shirt, jumped to her feet and rushed over to Dillard. “I’ll do it. If you pay me $2000.00, I’ll streak.”
“OK.” Dillard handed her the money and the would-be-streaker eagerly began counting it.
Shocked, the bikini clad sunbather exclaimed, “Tara no.”
Tara’s friends got to their feet and everyone started nervously looking around. There were no police to be seen but 60 to 70 people were within close eyesight. A cyclist, a couple of dog watchers, a few joggers, a dozen more sunbathers, two young men throwing a football, a couple holding hands on a park bench, etc.
The third sunbather looked around the park. “Tara you can’t, they’re people everywhere.”
Tara finished counting the money and handed it to the third sunbather. “Hold this for me.” Giggling, Tara paused for a moment to gather her courage and then stripped off her shirt and stepped out of her cutoffs.
The bikini clad sunbather looked shocked. “Oh my God, Tara!”
Standing in the park wearing only her bra and panties, Tara, a comely short haired brunette, blushed, quickly looked around to see who was watching, hurried out undergarments and, with a squeal of nervous delight, took off running down the park as quickly as possible as naked as the day she was born.
The bikini clad sunbather covered her eyes and let out a giggle, “oh my God! Oh my God!”
Red with embarrassment, the third sunbather was laughing so hard that she could barely speak, “I can’t believe it.”
Shrieking and giggling as she ran, Tara suddenly had everyone’s attention. The football sailed past the head of one of the young men who had been throwing it around a moment age. Now the young man was oblivious to everything in the world but Tara as he gazed upon her naked body in shocked delight. Sunbathers looked up, the cyclist nearly wrecked, and joggers stopped to watch.
Dillard took out his cell phone. “Bring the car around.”
“Yes sir,” Dillard’s chauffeur responded.
Tara reached the end of the park, turned around, performed a couple of cartwheels, and started back, still giggling and shrieking. Her friends were turning red with embarrassment but and still giggling uncontrollably.
The bikini clad sunbather looked away. “I can’t look; I can’t look.”
The onlookers began cheering and hooting. A few men began photographing her with their cellphones.
“You go girl,” An onlooker anal porno cried out.
Dillard began picked up Tara’s clothes, the women’s beach towels, and the rest of the girl’s belongings.
By now even Tara’s friends where hooting and yelling their support at Tara. Tara threw her arms in the air and screamed in delight as she approached. And with the young woman’s breasts jiggling, and hair bouncing, she finished the run covered herself with her hands and screamed in exhilaration. The sound of people clapping and cheering could be heard in the distance.
The bikini clad sunbather started to give her friend a hug but looked down at Tara’s nudity and thought better of it. Suddenly withdrawing, Tara’s bikini clad friend teased: “Oh my God, put some clothes on bitch!”
The three women were red faced and laughing as the Dillard’s limousine cut across the grass and drove up too them. Dillard threw Tara’s clothes and the rest of the women’s belongings in the back.
Taking Tara gently by the shoulders, Dillard nudged her toward the car. “Ladies, I think it’s best you go now. Someone may have called the police.”
The women stopped their giggling, start looking around but then started giggling again.
Dillard said, “don’t worry, we’re not coming with you. Just tell the driver where you want to go and he’ll take you there.”
Within half a minute, Dillard had successfully herded all of the women and all of their belongings into his limousine. Reaching inside the limo, Dillon handed the still completely naked Tara his card. “If you are in need of a job, call me. I might have something you might like. Something exciting, very exciting.” Jim Dillard shut the door and the Limousine drove off.
Fuentes stared at him in utter disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
Dillard shrugged. “Being a billionaire gives you an astonishing sense of entitlement. After you first become a billionaire you’re so rich, you start to believe you can do anything. It’s not until after you’ve been a billionaire for a while that reality sets in.” Dillard smiled. “But it’s not a normal person’s reality, it’s a billionaire’s reality. That’s when you realize that the reality is, with the right approach, the right people, and the right amount of money, you actually can do anything.”
Still astounded, Fuentes asked: “Well than why did you do it?”
“To prove that I could. I know that you don’t think that we can pull off the mailgirl program but trust me. If we do this my way, I can make the mailgirl project a phenomenal success.”
Fuentes grinned. “I’ll admit, I enjoyed that. I really enjoyed that.”
“Not only did you enjoy it, did you see the crowd’s reaction. Most of the people enjoyed it, they really enjoyed it. Even the girl’s friends really enjoyed it. This will be a moment that all three of those girls will remember if they live to be 105. That girl, Tara, had the time of her life.”
“Not everybody seemed to enjoy it.”
“I agree, there were a few that were not supportive but everyone watched it. They couldn’t take their eyes off it. You want an audience, I’ll give you an audience.”
“Even If I agree that the mailgirls program can and should be done, your timelines are completely unrealistic. We’ll never be ready to launch the mailgirls program in 30 days. There’s way too much to do.”
“Don’t worry. We’re further along than you think. I’ve already started recruitment.”
“I have as well.” Fuentes said. “My department has chosen 20 of the finest looking women in the country. They’re not employees, they’re models and aspiring actresses but wait until you see them.”
Dillard shook his head. “I don’t want them.”
“Why? These women are gorgeous, I mean drop-dead gorgeous.”
“I don’t want girls who are merely beautiful, I want them interesting. People are merely somewhat sexy when they are naked but they are really sexy when they are interesting and really, really sexy when they are naked and interesting. You just can’t have a bunch of bimbos standing there showing off their cunts, it’ll never work.”
“But the women I’ve picked out are perfect,” Mr. Fuentes argued.
“I don’t want perfect.”
“You don’t want perfect?”
“Perfect is boring. I want real people with real apprehension, real courage, and real flaws. I want flaws that we can expose, flaws that we can use to show them who they really are, and flaws that we can use to bare their sole.”
“Bare their sole?”
“I don’t want just their skin to be naked in front of a worldwide TV audience, I want their sole to be naked in front of a worldwide TV audience”
A couple of police cars begins cruising the park with the officers looking around.
Fuentes noticed the police. “Nice touch getting the girls out of here before the cops arrived.”
Dillard shrugged, “it wouldn’t have been good for either the girls or us if they stayed around.”
“True.”
Dillard became serious for a moment. “I don’t want to just strip off their clothes, I want to strip off all of the layers of inhibitions and repressed desires to find out who they really are, the person that even the mailgirl herself didn’t know that she was. I want to push these women to the point that they not only find out who they are but who they could be. It is not looks that will give us the ratings but humanity.”
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