{\rtf1\ansi\ansicpg1252\deff0\deflang1033{\fonttbl{\f0\fnil Calibri;}{\f1\fnil\fcharset0 Constantia;}} {\*\generator Msftedit 5.41.21.2509;}\viewkind4\psz1 {\*\jarte object RichPersist Version = 2 LMarg = 1440 RMarg = 1440 TMarg = 1440 BMarg = 1440 Equal = True Orient = 1 Size = 1 Width = 2159 Height = 2794 HdrMarg = 720 FtrMarg = 720 HdrFont.Charset = DEFAULT_CHARSET HdrFont.Color = clWindowText HdrFont.Height = -11 HdrFont.Name = 'Arial' HdrFont.Style = [] Wrap = 2 WMark = 'None' WColor = 13822463 end }\uc1\pard\f0\fs22 August 16, 2010\par \par \b\f1\fs28 Rose tried in vain to relax. This was her first day at her new job. In fact, this was her first day at any kind of real job. The one downfall was that her mom had gotten her the job. Rose's mother was a senior executive at the corporation where she worked and had enough clout to "create" a position in the mail room that, in her typical sarcasm, "matched Rose's skills perfectly". \par \par Rose had gratefully accepted the position, overjoyed to finally have some spending money of her own. It was better than working at the local Mickey D's or Sonic, like many of her ex-classmates. Somehow, working in an office building with elevators felt more "grown up" than wearing a silly paper hat and having a mythical psychotic clown as a CEO.\par \par High school was finally behind her! She had endured the pomp and nonsense that accompanied commencement. She was puzzled by all the garbage that went along with graduation. Apparently, the average high schooler had no clue about life as a whole. Perhaps Rose was not typical, as she was well aware that high school was primarily bullshit in terms of the rest of your life.\par \par Rose had never bought into the "group personality " trends. This was her term for the "emos" and such who considered themselves unique because they dressed a certain way. How can you be unique if several hundred kids dress the same way? What was really strange, Rose considered, was the tendency for them to act alike. Now that was downright eerie, Rose had thought. \par \par She knew that she was though of as odd by most of her classmates and she fully supported that prognosis. The transformation which she had experienced during the latter half of her senior year had been remarkable. Prior to this, Rose had been insecure and frightened most of the time. Interestingly, much of her insecurity had risen from her fear of being perverted or crazy. Her sexual fantasies had seemed extreme and fear of exploration was beginning to turn Rose into a very unhappy young woman. \par \par Finally, the emotional spiral culminated with that day in the bathroom. When she had gazed at her reflection in the mirror, a calmness had swept over her that seemed to pacify the raging lust that was Rose. From that day forward, she sought opportunities to experience the fantasies that had become obsessive. She found other girls who were willing to participate without reproach. \par \par Rose found that it wasn't difficult to discover such women. Though she never failed to practice maximum secrecy in these interactions, somehow there were always girls who made themselves available for her unique services. Eventually, Rose realized the reason for this. She had become the one who made those fantasies that no one talked about, come true. This realization was a new perspective for Rose, who typically focused on her own pleasure while engaging in perverse acts. The idea that she was fulfilling the fantasies of others made her feel very special and somewhat powerful.\par \par Rose had turned down her mom's offer for a ride to work. This had pissed off the woman royally, which was one of her motivations for doing it. Instead, she had elected to take the city bus. There was a bus stop less than a block from her house. Even better, the stop was one of the first on the route, which meant that she usually had her choice of seats. There was nothing worse than entering a bus with no empty seats and having to beg, borrow or steal the outside edge of a seat occupied by a stinky wino or a chatty housewife with 5 bags of groceries on her lap. The fact that she could easily find a seat made riding the bus tolerable and even entertaining. \par \par The first time she had ridden the bus had not been a choice. She \par was attending a concert downtown with a friend, whose car had come down with an unknown malady at the last minute, rendering the girls car-less. Rose's girlfriend's mom was the one who suggested the bus, an option neither of the girls had considered. The tickets had been purchased, so staying home would have been unthinkable, considering the price of the tickets. \par \par Getting a ride from the parents was an option but the girls were prepared to indulge in a couple of select intoxicants during the show and neither of them relished the idea of being in close proximity with mom and/or dad, while in such a mental state. Therefore, they had taken the bus. Though her friend had complained about the ride, Rose had found the experience surprisingly interesting. The sole reason for this was that there had been a large group of black teenagers, mainly girls, riding that evening. It was Friday night and they were headed to a party. \par \par Rose was an upper middle class white girl, attending a predominately upper middle class white school. The experience was a major culture shock. She was surrounded by dark-skinned beauties who were tricked out for fun. She was treated to a visual feast for nearly an hour. It was all she could do to not stare. The experience had affected her to such an extent that the concert was secondary to the fantasies she relished for 2 hours following the bus ride. Following that evening, Rose took every opportunity to ride the bus.\par \par Though the Friday night experience had never been repeated, often there were several groups of teenaged girls, usually black or Hispanic, riding the bus. Rose loved watching other women, particularly those of Hispanic or African descent. She realized that this may have been because their skin color contrasted so dramatically with her own. Today, she had been furtively observing a middle aged, black woman, who had been unlucky enough to board after the bus had filled. For this reason, there were no seats available and she had been forced to stand in the aisle, her hands grasping the metal poles extending from the floor to the ceiling at approximately the midpoint of the length of the vehicle, on either side of the aisle. This situation wasn't typical, Rose knew. Generally, a man would offer his seat to a woman who boarded after the bus was filled. This was always the case if the woman was elderly. Today, however, there seemed to be no such chivalrous male available. Rose's sympathy for the woman conflicted with her feelings of lust. The woman was wearing a skirt which reached her calves, though she wore no slip. Therefore, she might as well have been naked. \par \par Rose's eyes pored slowly up the dark outline of the woman's legs. It was curious that viewing her body through the thin fabric was somehow more erotic than if she were actually naked. The diffused visual could have been one of Rose's fantasies. Rose realized that she was staring and forced herself to look away. \par \par When she looked back, the woman had turned her head just enough to catch Rose's gaze. Rose's eyes darted quickly away but not before she caught the woman's knowing smile. Rose felt the familiar sensation of prickly heat creeping up her neck and face and knew that her embarrassment was visible. How had she been caught? The woman had never looked around and she stood at least 4 rows in front of Rose's seat! Rose looked toward the window and suddenly knew. Her gaze met the woman's reflected gaze in the window! \par \par Rose's stop was at a busy intersection on the edge of downtown. At least 15 people had the same stop so it took a couple of minutes to for everyone to exit the bus. Rose's building was less than half a block from the bus stop. She had recollections of visiting her mother's work many times throughout her life. Rose recalled being excited when accompanying her father to the building as a young girl. Her excitement today was of a different nature. It was the first day at her first job!\par \par As she approached the enormous stone and glass structure, Rose began to feel a little nervous. She deliberately slowed her breathing, taking some deep, rhythmic breaths until calmness returned. Reaching the entrance, she merged with the flow of humanity, rushing through the huge doors, into the lobby of Schreiber and Laccolite, Inc. \par \par The mail room, Rose's new "home", was in the sub basement. Rose headed toward the elevator accessing the lower floors. She strode calmly by the throng of anxious employees having to wait for the main elevators. Her elevator was along the back wall by the emergency exit. She pushed the call button and almost immediately heard a soft "ding." The doors opened with a corresponding "whish", and Rose stepped into her new life.\par }