Wilhelmina Slater's rule of mind-fucking # 1

When destroying someone's self esteem steer clear of prints like paisley's and plaids. They only distract your target from the flat, dead glare of your eyes and his or her urge to piss their pants from fear.

Side note: Colorful footwear is an exception---but heels only. No one listens to a bitch in flats.

Today was a Prada day.

Wilhelmina Slater eyed her large closet, meticulously arraigned by season, color and designer with a discerning eye. It was spring and as such she'd reverted back to the silver palate she'd adopted two seasons ago. It was a bold move on her part---recycling such a recent look---but that was the beauty of the choice. They never saw it coming----just the way she liked it.

She pulled out a sleek jacket and matching pencil skirt with a flourish. The neckline plunged low---obviously meant to be paired with some ruffled, sheer impractical bullshit no self respecting business woman would be caught dead in---unless she worked at Mode of course. The halls of the flagship publication of the Meade Publishing Empire were filled with willowy Amazons swathed in such bullshit and Wilhelmina wouldn't have it any other way. However, today was not the day for flounce and ruffles. She glanced at the blouse and moved past it to a smaller---nearly see-through camisole the same burnished almond color as her skin. Coupled with her La Perla push up bra (which did such magical things for her breasts she'd canceled her annual lift for the year) the effect would scandalous---vulgar---even a little whorish.

Exactly what she was going for.

As she pulled the slim skirt over her hips, Wilhelmina reflected on the previous day's events. She had to admit, up until her seeing Daniel late that afternoon---her day had gone from mildly depressing to a grade-A clusterfuck. As creative director at Mode, her job was to make sure every page of the magazine was impeccably laid out---every photo shoot styled to perfection---which was why the sight of plaid kilts on her models for the fall fashion spread had very nearly sent her into cardiac arrest. She'd railed at her assistant Marc (who'd babbled nonsense in that whiny high-pitched tone he adopted whenever scolded) and waved the offending garments overhead like a flag. She had just asked the terrified crew whether they thought they were pushing JC Penny for Seventeen magazine, when Daniel Meade---smug little fucker he was---appeared out of nowhere and informed her he'd authorized the change.

Her beautiful cashmere and leather trench coats gone in favor of some five year old---faux-bagpipe polyester horror show, courtesy of Daniel "I Flunked City College" Meade. It was enough to make her Botox crack-which of course pissed her off even more. She wanted to smack that look off his face---bend him over her knee even, like his boozy whore of a so called mother never had the guts to do (no whisky shots involved so she probably didn't see the point) and toss him out the nearest exit. But thanks to his father, he was the editor-in-chief and as such----her boss. So instead she slinked towards him, raised one eyebrow and fed him the usual line of respecting his wishes.

But then something interesting happened. She'd been in such a hurry to escape the scene of her defeat that the heel of her spiked Choo got caught inside a crack in the cement floor. She stumbled, whirled around and landed in Daniel's arms. They were wrapped tight around her waist---she doubted it was a conscious reaction---but it resulted in a decidedly intimate position---her behind nestled near the front of his pants---his chest pressed into her back. She'd thought little of it, other than the fact that she'd scuffed a brand new set of heels. But then she'd felt something surprising----long and hard, pressed against the small of her back.

Daniel Meade---rich little snot nosed shit that he was---had a very large, slightly impressive hard on.

And Wilhelmina smiled with glee.

She turned around to find his face red with embarrassment (actually more orange than red thanks to that ridiculous fake tan he used) and his body coiled in a sort of humiliated hump. It was positively breathtaking---watching him dissolve in front of her eyes. If she still had tear ducts she might have cried with joy. As it was she lowered her eyes, glanced down at his pants and made a smooth exit.

The dancing came later in her office with Marc---who'd fortunately had a playlist filled with gangster rap songs like "Sippin' on Some Syzzurp," and "Whoop that Trick." Afterward she felt exhilarated---maybe even five pounds lighter (according to Marc) and filled with possibilities. And today---as she smoothed the too tight skirt over her hips, pursing her lips at the bulbous appearance of her ass, then shimmied her arms into the formfitting jacket that cupped her breasts into obscene submission---the feeling returned.

She'd be back on top again----getting everything she deserved and more---all thanks to Daniel Meade's spontaneous little stiffy. Wilhelmina stepped back and grabbed her purse-stopping to admire her reflection in a full length mirror.

Yes---definitely a Prada day.

****

He got a hard on right there in front of her. Daniel stood in front of his bathroom mirror and swallowed the sudden rush of bile that rose into his throat. She had to have felt it---he could see it in the way her eyes had suddenly lit up---like the devil found it's knew chew toy and discovered it taste like chicken. She would eat him for breakfast---chomp on his ego like a Slim Jim----and then laugh with that tinkling cold voice she used whenever she---

Daniel's eyes widened and he looked down at his black Calvin Klein boxer-briefs and discovered that he had a full on erection---just as big and throbbing as when he'd rubbed it against Wilhelmina's ass. It was happening a lot lately---every time he thought about her brow beating him at work---scolding him with a wave of those long talon-like fingers---lifting one of those eyebrows in response to some dumb shit he suggested in a meeting. He'd started having fantasies about taking her down a peg---forcing her to apologize and then watching as she groveled in front of him---unzipped his pants and showed her remorse in as many depraved and dirty ways as possible.

Daniel swallowed hard, staring down at his insistent dick. He was torn between giving into the fantasy and stroking himself to completion, or suffering through blue balls as penance for the frightening and perverted thoughts that had brought him to this point. He swallowed hard and fought the urge to cry---then decided he loathed himself more for even having the thought.

"Come on Daniel," he said to his reflection. "She's a cold, manipulative bitch filled with more plastic and poison than a box of rat traps. You hate her guts remember? She tricked your Dad into dumping your mother and tried to steal your job more times than you can count. Wilhelmina Slater is the Devil."

Daniel glanced down as his dick jumped with glee. He sighed, grabbed a bottle of lotion and sat down on the edge of his bathtub, grabbing hold of the weak hope that maybe---somehow---Wilhelmina hadn't noticed.

Wilhelmina Slater's rule of mind-fucking # 2

If at all possible---avoid food before confronting your target. An empty stomach forces the body to burn fat and calories stored around the liver and pancreas---creating a light headed sensation that releases adrenaline---an affect similar to a snort of cocaine.

Side Note: Nostrils laced with white powder tend to undermine one's credibility. Save it for the victory lap.

Wilhelmina walked through the doors of Mode, still wearing the large dark shades she'd favored every since she was filmed manhandling Betty White over cab in the rain. Every now and then she ran across some random street urchin who'd seen that awful remix of the incident on Youtube and proceeded to hurl insults in her direction like "Grannybeater" and "Golden-bitch." After throwing a rock or two she'd grown weary of the confrontations and decided to take the back entrance to work instead, hide behind her shades and avoid the media parked across the street until it all died down.

Besides---she had other things on her mind at the moment. Wilhelmina pushed past the glass doors leading to the Mode offices and heard a satisfying hush of voices at her entrance. A tall, sickly pale brunette in a black Chanel sheath had the misfortune of walking down the hall beside her, and gasped in surprise at her proximity to the woman they referred to as "The Dragon". Wilhelmina glanced down at the brunette's feet and paused. The girl was wearing blood red Prada pumps identical to those currently on her feet. There was an awkward pause---a brief lift of Wilhelmina's eyebrow---and the shoes went flying---leaving the girl in bare feet, her legs trembling with fear. "G-Good morning Ms. Slater," the girl choked.

Wilhelmina glanced down. "Get a pedicure for God's sake---you're scaring the interns." She gestured towards a small group of wide eyed teenage girls who stared at the bare, unpainted toenails in horror. The brunette looked over at the group and swallowed hard, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly. Tears---she could see the hint of tears in the girl's eyes. Wilhelmina leaned forward---seeking to soak up the fear. It made her toes curl in her shoes that feeling---power---the most coveted thing on this earth besides free liposuction. Wilhelmina felt it slither over her skin as the girl coughed, then sputtered and burst into tears. She ran down the hall (faster than Wilhelmina would have guessed based on the emaciated state of her bony legs) and towards the women's restrooms where she' probably empty her stomach of its contents and chew Vicodin for the next few hours. Wilhelmina whirled around, putting the girl out of her mind when she was blindsided by a whir of strawberry blond hair and the smell of Burberry Brit. She stared down at her attacker in horror.

Oh---it was Marc's little friend----Amanda something. "Oops," Amanda said, looking up at her with large apologetic eyes. She held up a digital camera and waved it around. "Sorry Wilhelmina---I was in a hurry and didn't notice you were still standing there."

Didn't notice her? Wilhelmina made a mental note to have the girl's chair removed from the receptionist desk. Let's see how two weeks of standing on her feet for eight hours and a few new varicose veins would improve her memory. "What on earth is so urgent Amanda?"

"Well," Amanda said with relish. "I'm not sure if you're keeping count but that was the sixth girl you've made cry this week alone." Amanda lifted the camera again and grinned. "I'm starting a scrap book of all the ugly cry faces. I'm thinking of calling it "Carnage". "She placed her hand on her hip and puckered her lips, lacquered with glossy red lip gloss. "What do you think?"

Wilhelmina looked at her for a moment and then frowned. "Did you always have that mustache?"

Amanda swallowed hard and covered her lip. "What mustache," she mumbled, her words muffled by her hand.

"Just get it waxed before Paula Grey shows up. She's a lipstick lesbian and has a deep distrust for anything remotely transgender. Wouldn't want her thinking we've got a bunch of chicks with dicks running rampant around Mode." Wilhelmina turned away as Amanda's bottom lip began to tremble. She paused and cocked her head, listening to the satisfying whine of the girl's initial sob. A short blond with a large overbite, dropped a stack of files she'd been carrying, pulled out her camera phone and snapped a picture of Amanda just as her mouth opened for a full on ugly cry. Amanda opened her eyes wide with shock and then narrowed them into icy blue slits.

"Oh no you don't file room bitch," she snapped, taking off after the fleeing blond. "Give me that phone now----"Amanda wobbled in her four inch heels and grunted as the girl sprinted easily down the hall. "She's wearing ballet flats." Amanda gasped in shock and shook her head. "With wide leg trousers---who the hell does that?"

Wilhelmina sighed with pleasure, and then made her way towards her office with a new pep to her already light step. She pushed open the door with her usual flourish, only to hear a distinct rip in the seam of her too tight skirt. Her smile slipped from her face as Marc rose to greet her with open arms.

"Willie," he cried.

"Get me Christina---now," she snapped, striding past him.

Marc frowned. "But I thought this was D-day," he said following her into her office. "You said on the phone-"

"Please Marc," Wilhelmina said, waving her hand. "I have too much on my mind to deal with your whining. Plus your tie is giving me a migraine." She pulled out a post it, scribbled a note and handed it to him. "After you call Christina, I need you to get these for me---"

Marc glanced down at the note, and his mouth twisted with distaste. "Oh uh---I'm not sure I'm qualified for this one."

"Marc," Wilhelmina said, looking up at him, irritated. "Do you remember that Christmas bonus I promised you this year?"

Marc smiled and nodded. "Yes."

"Well I never told you this---"Wilhelmina rose from her chair and stalked towards Marc with sharp clicks of her heels. "But for every minute of my time you waste with one of these asinine conversations---I take a dollar away."

Marc gasped and placed his hand over his chest. "Oh no---"

She raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Oh yes."

"So the twenty questions about argyle and lace last week---"

"Fifty dollars-"She waved her hand in the air. "Poof."

"Right," Marc said. He looked down at the post it. "Don't worry Willie---you can count on me-"

"Discretion Marc," she said. "Use it."

Marc made a zipping motion over his mouth and then paused. "So---do you mind if I ask how much is left?"

"Well---if you a good little boy the rest of the year you may be able to afford---"She frowned at his suit. "---a new tie."

****

"But Daniel---I don't understand why you won't let me come with you to the Paula Grey meeting. You always have before----what's so different about today?"

Daniel did his best to avoid Betty's eyes. His assistant had a way of looking through him that was unnerving and downright creepy at times. And the last thing he needed today was her peeking into his brain and prying out what was inside. All he could think about was Wilhelmina.

"Betty, I need to you supervise the lingerie shoot this morning and go over the---"

"Okay, stop right there." Betty held up her hand and tugged on those ugly glasses she favored, which usually meant he'd been found out. Daniel swallowed hard and furiously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Huh---what," he stuttered---stalling for time.

"Daniel," Betty said. She sighed and his stomach rolled with dread. "Look---I know what this is about. I've known for a while."

Oh God no.

"I mean---it's perfectly understandable that you would feel this way about Wilhelmina after everything you two have been through---"

"Betty please---it's not what you think---"

"I mean every one feels insecure now and then----she can be really intimidating."

"Insecure," Daniel said. His stomach unraveled and he fought the urge to wipe his brow. "Right---no," he exclaimed, realizing what he said. "Betty I'm fine I just want to handle this one on my own."

"But you know she'll try to take over the meeting---Ralph Lauren is our biggest advertiser this year and if we can lock them into the same deal for the next five years----"

"Betty, please," Daniel said, pulling at his jacket. "I know how to do my job."

"I know you do," Betty said. She touched his arm and smiled, revealing a blinding row of silver braces. "And I believe in you Daniel I always have---you can do anything you set your mind to."

Daniel smiled in return, pushing his shoulders back a bit. So what if he had a few wet dreams about Wilhelmina giving him head behind his desk or riding his lap while he told her what a bad girl she'd been. So what if he daydreamed about spanking her till she screamed or---

Anyway that stuff didn't matter---Betty was right---he could do anything if he wanted it badly enough. He'd walk into that meeting and show them all what's what---including Ms. Slater. After that he'd call up that Brazilian cover girl he'd been avoiding and bang her brains out until he'd forgotten all about his recent fixation on Willie's ass.

Oh shit---did he just call her Willie?

"Thank you Betty," he said, buttoning his jacket. "I appreciate your support."

Betty punched his arm playfully and smiled. "Knock ‘em dead----and don't forget to give Wilhelmina exactly what she deserves."

Spanking---a hard, slow spanking. "Right," he gulped.

Wilhelmina's rule of mind-fucking #3

Never arrive at the scene of your mind-fuckery on time. Part of the process is making your target dread the sight of you. Time it just right and they'll be sweating bullets, cursing the day you were born and wondering why they thought for even a second they were good enough, smart enough, etc. to take you on.

Side note: This rule is also useful for parties thrown by the bitchy wives of your ex-lovers. However, arriving too late could prompt spontaneous fits of violence as the place settings most likely have been finalized---always have 911 on speed dial.

"Hold still," Christiana mumbled, her mouth filled with clothing pins. She tugged at ripped seam of Wilhelmina's skirt and glared up at the woman with resentment. "I don't understand why ye' wore this one again anyway. You said it gave ye' ghetto booty."

Wilhelmina sighed and rolled her eyes at the annoying Scottish brogue of the woman below her. "Look, do I come to your office and scold you about the size of your ass?"

"Yes ye' do," Christina said rising to her feet. "Last week actually---said I needed to lay off the haggis ‘cause only perverts like a fatty."

Wilhelmina paused. "Well---it was good advice," she said, gesturing towards her. "Could you just fix the skirt and be done with it. I have a meeting in five minutes-"

"Oh yeah, with the big Ralph Lauren representative---I heard."

Christina rose to her feet and Wilhelmina fixed her with a harsh glare. It was probably that homely assistant of Daniel's running off at the mouth again. The girl was bright but needy---and good heavens those eyebrows were enough to give her nightmares. Wilhelmina fought the urge to hold the girl down and attack her with hot wax and tweezers every time she stepped into the room. But Betty could be shrewd at times---her presence would require a bit more cunning than she'd originally anticipated. "Right," Wilhelmina said, deliberately nonchalant. "It's kind of important so if you don't mind---"

"I have to say," Christina said, turning to pack up her sewing kit. "Ye're outfit is kind of racy for some big important board meetin'." She looked at Wilhelmina. "Is it with some old, horny toad who likes to get a peek at the girls before he signs on the dotted line?"

"You know, if there were anyone else in the building that knew my actual measurements I'd have fired you years ago."

"Yeah, well unless ye're ready for the world to know Willie Slater's ghetto booty rocks a size eight, I'm thinkin' we're suck with each other, for now."

"I got ‘em! I got ‘em!" Marc bounded into the room and paused at the sight of Christina. "Oh---you're still here."

"What are you goin' on about?" Christiana frowned at Marc who waved a small brown bag in front of Wilhelmina. They were snatched from his hand which made him flinch, and Wilhelmina shook out the contents into her palm.

"Oh Marc," she breathed, lifting two peach toned silicone erect nipple covers. "They're perfect."

"I tried to find them in brown, but no such luck," Marc said with a sigh.

"What the hell are those for," Christina gasped.

Marc and Wilhelmina looked at her, their hostile expression nearly identical. "Do you really want to know," Wilhelmina asked. Christina paused, looked at the jiggling nipple covers and shook her head. She grabbed her kit and made her way out the door, grumbling about psycho bitches and needing a pint. Marc turned to Wilhelmina and clapped his hands in delight.

"Oh this is good---you think Daniel will notice them---"

"Honey," Wilhelmina said, sliding the discs into her bra. "Trust me, if there's one thing you can count on---it's a man's fixation on the slightest hint of something he's not supposed to see-"She looked down at her chest with a critical purse of her lips. "Marc---do these look straight to you?"

"That one's a little high."

"Well don't just stand there----fix the damn thing." Wilhelmina tossed her hair back as Marc poked at the plastic nipple with tentative fingers. She rolled her eyes. "Seriously," she said. "You act like it's going to force you into a vagina. Just do it so I can get to that meeting." Marc pushed the nipple down and held up his hands in satisfaction.

"Perfect symmetry!" He frowned. "Wow that looks real."

"I know," Wilhelmina said, with a lift of her eyebrows. She buttoned her jacket over the camisole and grabbed a leather-bound folder. "Wish me luck."

"Happy hard-on hunting!"

Daniel struggled not to squirm under Paula Grey's piercing blue gaze. She hadn't cracked a smile since she walked through the door. Wilhelmina was late and Daniel offered to start without her but the woman had refused---informing him she was used to dealing with Ms. Slater and that she'd rather wait for her arrival no offense.

It was a subtle slap in the face but a slap nevertheless. Daniel was forced to fill the time with coffee runs and asinine questions about the whether and her dog. She'd answer in two word sentences and sink them back into the same thick silence punctuated by their constant glances toward an empty doorway.

Daniel was furious---it was just like Wilhelmina to pull a stunt like this as some kind of power play. She was obviously trying to make a point. As opposed to her long standing relationship with the woman in front of him and Ralph Lauren, he'd never even stepped foot into one of their stores (he generally preferred Armani) and had no history with the company to speak of. Daniel leaned forward, spurred on by his frustration and the sudden realization that this was obviously another one of Wilhelmina's tests, which so far he was failing miserably. "Ms. Grey, I understand your desire to wait for Wilhelmina out of respect for your long history but as you can see she obviously doesn't see the need to offer you the same courtesy. Now---"Daniel opened two copies of Mode and flipped to large Ralph Lauren spreads that he pushed in her direction. "Looking at your prior ad space-"

"How long have you been doing this Daniel?" Paula's voice cut through the air, so abrupt that he flinched. He blinked at her, looked down at the magazine and then back up as he stuttered a response. "I uh-well---"

"That long?" Paula said. "Look---you seem like a nice boy and I've seen some of your work. There's some impressive stuff there---and some no so much."

Daniel swallowed. "I thought the Christmas issue was---nice."

Her lips curved into a ghost of a smile. "Right---what I'm trying to say is while you seem to have a lot of promise, I don't know you---and as a result---I don't trust you. Now---the only reason we're having this meeting is because I know and trust Wilhelmina Slater. So if you don't mind---I have all the time in the world to get this deal worked out and finalized. I think I'll just wait."

Daniel was sure he could feel his balls whither and retreat into the safety of his body. What was it about women of a certain age that made him feel like he was ten years old again getting slapped for playing in his daddy's dress shoes?

"Paula, darling." Paula and Daniel stood up at Wilhelmina swept into the room. They air kissed and Paula smiled, clutching her arms. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

"Oh Willie you look magnificent."

"Thank you darling---and so do you. Amazing eyes---who did them?"

Paula blushed (the bitch actually blushed) and shook her head. "Dr. Reamer on Third---he also serves these little cheese things with parsley while you wait---"

Daniel cleared his throat and smiled at them both. Wilhelmina met his gaze with thinly veiled annoyance. "Wilhelmina," he said by way of greeting.

"Daniel," she said. "I'm sorry I honestly didn't see you there." Her gaze flicked to the wall behind him. "Well no wonder---you're sitting on the beige side of the room---move over there," she said, pointing to a bright red wall. "You don't blend as well."

"Right," he said. "Should we get down to business ladies?"

They sat down at the table, Daniel still directly across from Paula and Wilhelmina on his right. He frowned at her close proximity (they usually sat as far apart as possible) and gathered the magazines in his hands. "Now---like I was saying before Ms. Grey---"

"Paula," Wilhelmina interrupted. "Is it hot in here to you?"

Paula frowned. "It is a bit yes-"'

Wilhelmina clucked her tongue with annoyance, and pulled at the buttons on her jacket. "I told maintenance to fix the air in this room before you came---I do apologize." Wilhelmina opened her jacket, picked up one of Daniel's magazines and began to fan herself with it. Daniel watched her actions as though in slow motion. Her breasts were pushed high on her chest, the smooth skin glistening the subtle glow of her perspiration. The camisole she wore was the same color of her skin---she almost look a naked---but then his eyes moved lower and he practically doubled over in his chair. Her nipples---they were large and fully erect-poking through the thin material like little soldiers standing at attention. He bit his bottom lip and tried but failed to look away.

"Daniel?"

I was like they were pointed right at him---

"Daniel?"

He looked up at the sharp sound of Wilhelmina's voice. She looked at him, annoyed and gestured towards Paula. "Are you going to continue---we don't want to waste anymore of Ms. Grey's time."

"Right," he said, looking down at the magazine. "Uh---space---you---I mean Ralph Lauren has always been a large purchaser of ass---I mean add space."

Paula glanced at Wilhelmina and then back at Daniel. "Yes we have."

"Right," Daniel said. He shifted in his chair as his groin began to stir. "And we here at Mode are really grateful for that erection---addition." Daniel closed his eyes, his entire body covered with sweat. Wilhelmina laughed---a fake trill of her voice and patted Daniel's forearm.

Which didn't help his condition---one---damn----bit.

"What Daniel is trying to say is that Mode is honored you've chosen us these past few years as one of your primary methods of marketing. Which is why if you'll allow us to continue to fill that role for you the next five years----we think you'll be pleasantly surprised by the way your campaigns will be featured in the future."

Paula nodded and smiled at Wilhelmina. "Sounds great---I'd love to hear more."

Wilhelmina caressed Daniel's hand and finished with a soft pat. "Excellent," she said, her voice a soft purr. Daniel rubbed his hand along his thigh, looked at the two women and did the only thing he could think of in his condition of lust glazed panic.

He prayed.

Wilhelmina's rule of mind-fucking #4

Sympathy is for the weak. Though your target may have hit rock bottom on the scale of pathetic babbling, do not let up. Because in the end, if wasn't you some other---lesser individual would have come along and mind fucked them instead--- maybe left them with a venereal disease for good measure. This is your gift to the broken thing that lies before you---a painful lesson yes, but a necessary one nevertheless.

Side Note: Once your mind fuck is complete, never leave your target wondering how they got screwed---a wrap up of the day's events is a must but keep it short as this is not your moment to gloat. That comes later during your bread and cheese binge washed down with a bottle of Chablis. Congratulations you mind fucker you----you done Mamma Willie proud.

It was too easy. A touch here---a strategically crossed leg there. Daniel dissolved into a sputtering mess as the meeting went on, and Paula took to averting her eyes every time he spoke. Of course Wilhelmina helped things along a bit with carefully placed phrases that sent him into a fresh squirming fit.

Well Mode would just look naked without Ralph Lauren here in the front. Completely bare---don't you agree Daniel?

I think you'll agree with me when I say we need a hard, firm push for the new fall collection.

I don't know about you Paula, but whenever I'm tense I go that masseur on Seventh. After a good, hard pounding I just feel energized and refreshed.

"Well Wilhelmina, I just have to say, I've thoroughly enjoyed our meeting today." Paula stood up and Wilhelmina walked around the table to accept her hands. They looked at Daniel who stared down at the table, his collar soaked with sweat, and his back hunched with shame. "Walk me out?"

Wilhelmina nodded and walked towards the door, smoothly buttoning her jacket along the way. Paula glanced down at her shirt and smiled. "I have to say---that presentation you gave in there was very impressive."

"Well we do our best for most valued customers," Wilhelmina said, all innocent smiles.

Paula paused and reached out to touch her arm. "If I were Daniel I'd watch out for you-you keep this up and you'll be running this place one day."

"How nice of you to say so," Wilhelmina said, "But really the thought never crossed my mind." Paula smiled and shook her head as she walked away. Wilhelmina turned to look inside the conference room and spied Daniel in the same position as she'd left him. She straightened her shoulders and made her way back into the room, closed the door and lowered the shades until they were hidden from sight.

"You did that on purpose," he said, looking up at her. "You knew that I---"

Wilhelmina crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Want to spank me like the bad little girl I am---of course I know Daniel."

"That was---"Daniel leaned back, looked down at his pants and leaned forward again. "So unnecessary."

"Was it?" Wilhelmina walked towards him, placing one foot in front of the other with a slow roll of her hips. He watched her entranced, and she fought the urge not to roll her eyes at his obvious fixation. "What did you plan to do today Daniel---before you got here, hmmm? Make me look like a fool?" She trailed her hand along the table as she moved closer. "Show me who's the boss around here---take me down a peg or two?" She paused, inches from his arm and he looked up at her with wide blue eyes. "Tell me when I'm getting warm."

"That's it," said. "I'm---you're not going to do this to me anymore. You hear me Wilhelmina I'm done---"

"Do you want to spank me Daniel?" His eyes flew open at her question and Wilhelmina leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk and winked at him. "You do am I right? Come on---just one smack." Daniel stared at her behind, breathing hard through his mouth. Wilhelmina wiggled her hips in an invitation, and smiled as she saw his fingers twitch on his thigh. "Daniel----do it," she said. "I want you to---I've been bad and----need to be punished."

Daniel rose from his chair, and lifted his hand in preparation to deliver a sound smack to her bottom. He moved it forward and Wilhelmina spun around, grabbed his wrist and held it up between them. "Now--you see what I just did there?" Her voice was cold and Daniel stared at her in shock. "You were in the middle of reclaiming your pride, walking out of here with some modicum of dignity and all it took was a little ass wiggle to make you forget your own last name." She sighed. "And you know why that is Daniel?" He pulled his hand from her grasp and glared at her. "Because you're weak," she snapped. "You always have been and that's why you'll never be fit to run this magazine. I worked my ass off for this place----sacrificed more of my life than you'll ever know." She lifted one manicured finger and shook her head. "I earned that editor in chief position----and I'll be damned if I'm going to watch some spoiled, barely literate party boy stumble in and take it all away from me."

Daniel swallowed hard. "You really hate me that much?"

Wilhelmina blinked and lowered her hand. "No," she said. "I mean yes," she shook her head. "I hate that you're in my way Daniel----and believe me---I'll do anything I have to, to get you out of it." Wilhelmina sighed. "But you make it too easy," she offered, propping her hand on her hip. "If you learned anything from today, it's to watch your back ---because honey-"She smiled. "People like me will always be right there, ready to stab a knife into it." She glanced down at his pants and raised an eyebrow. "Pity though," she said and then turned around on her heel. She made her way towards the door and Daniel scrambled after her.

"Wait---what did you mean-pity?"

Wilhelmina paused, a slow smile spreading across her lips. She turned around, the smile gone and her eyes wide and innocent. "Oh nothing---it's just---well if things were different----maybe I really could use a good----spanking." Daniel's mouth fell open and she turned around and made her way through the door. She wanted to raise arms in a victory V---do a little two step back to her office, but there were people watching and she didn't want to gloat in public.

She'd wait till later---grab some brie and Chablis, then laugh until her stomach hurt as she reflected on the success of the day.

Yes---definitely a Prada day.

 The End