by Dana Jerman

Fin-Domme Diary, OR:

I Took The 9 to 5 as the Operations Director at

Pay Pig Quality Control Headquarters—

But really, it’s more ten-to-four. Or

Noon-to-Whenever hours, like at a tattoo shop

Maybe a movie theater, only in a downtown

High rise exclusive to those with bigger

Appetites than one lifetime can accommodate

And more liquid assets than god himself.

I arrive for only two days out of the week

When I’m done making pretty- ready

To show-and-tell off. Here to offer

A little “PC”- Professional Courtesy-

The office as much mine to kick aside

As my steel-pointed Louboutin heels.

In them I make a sure dance featuring

Standard old steps to a black car. Low cut.

But no one is peeping any titties today.

No one thinks to do a thing but sweat.

If some clean-room elevator connected floors are

Getting treated like a meat market anyhow,

Then why shouldn’t this old steam engine bellwether

Deserve to be on retainer and on premises?

Charles is a fixture. Eager to be at the entrance

Offering lowered eye contact and a fistful of twenties.

Rich lay in my path. Ready to be stepped over, on,

On the way to my corner suite. He’s the first one

And the last. He can’t resist bookending his day

With a little worship that leaves me an extra zero

And him a reliable stain near the fly of his slacks.

Dress left. A tailor spent hours getting perfect

the back-slit on my suede pencil skirt.

Ah, it’s paper work that I’ve got, to be sure

But it’s green paper and there’s a whole lot of it.

And now- what a view. Wesley has washed my floor

To ceiling windows with his tongue before bringing

My espresso and proceeding to polish the wide

Brass handles on my mahogany double doors.

Down the hall I hear a few phones ringing. Mergers

Are being approved on my behalf. Codes changing.

Grown men are climbing over numbers like digital

Mountainsides to get to the place where my attention

Can be pried away from my bejeweled nail file long

Enough to drop some phrase into their ears both

Poison and antidote. Sweet and cruel. Cause and cure.

If you enjoyed this piece, consider purchasing a copy of I Didn’t Marry a Prostitute… on Amazon.