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11 - Friday
The next morning Sarah didn't get out of bed at all, good thing tomorrow was the weekend, maybe she shouldn't have emptied the champagne at night when she couldn't sleep, for quite a while she sat smoking in the living room, had put on her new black overknees, and played around a bit lost in thought. In the process, she had completely forgotten the time and only noticed how late it already was when she poured the last drops from the bottle into her glass. Now she was much too late, still she had the boots on her feet, she shat on the buffers in the newsroom, quickly put on a short, black stretch dress, which she had bought many years ago for a small private party, her chest filled the stretchy material format-filling and also her crisp, firm and round ass came in the dress excellent. As she stood at the apartment door, she noticed that she had forgotten to go on the scale, she made a snide hand gesture and hurried to the car.
She hurriedly stalked through the editorial office to her office, ignoring the appreciative glances of colleagues and snide looks from female colleagues, closed the door behind her, started the computer. She briefly glanced at the few lines she had already written for the article, but then clicked her way much more devotedly to the Internet pages with garishly erotic fashion, even finding a page that was not particularly meaningful, but which pointed to the regular Bimbo regulars' table. Other links could not be opened, because they belonged to an erotic contact platform, where one had to register first to be able to view the pages. Sarah briefly considered whether she should not directly create a profile as part of the research, but decided to do so later at her leisure, she could then also directly upload a few photos to her profile.
When she returned from a cigarette break, the editor-in-chief ran into her, examined her from top to bottom and immediately asked her to come into his office.
"Sarah, what's wrong with you? You recently disobeyed the smoking ban, now you're walking around here like a cheap tramp, doesn't your current research suit you? Then someone else can do it."
Sarah tried to think and give as intelligent as possible, as well as innocuous answer, however, in her head always echoed only one sentence:
"Horny, do you also have a horny cock? I want to suck you."
Sarah had to really wrestle with herself not to pronounce it, several times she started, again and again her sentences began with the word "Horny", which she immediately stifled in the approach.
"You don't have to push around like that, I can't dictate your outfit, but I would ask you not to disturb the operational peace here with something like that. Therefore, I ask you to appear here in a civilized manner again as of Monday, and I'll give you the rest of the day off so that you can perhaps sort out your thoughts."
"Fucking wanker!" grumbled Sarah quietly as she left the office.
"What are all these uptight buffers? After all, I'm not naked or anything, and just because the other cunts don't dare to style themselves like an attractive woman, I get one over and I'm forbidden to do it, just look at the gray mice! Of those not a single sexy boots in the closet, let alone such a chic body-hugging dress. They're all just jealous because I've always had such a great figure and they don't, and now I have to suffer for it," Sarah thought as she shut down the computer and left the newsroom.
On her way to the car she called her hairdresser to make an appointment, fortunately for her someone had just cancelled at short notice and she was able to drive by her place immediately. Still full of rage about her boss and her stuffy colleagues, she sped through the city, she immediately found a parking space just a few meters from the hair salon, stumbled the short distance to the store, not without drawing one or the other look at her, she felt the looks of the men literally on her skin, her chest began to pull again, her warts straightened up and also her column became even wetter than it was already for days.
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