Hadn't he ever heard of feminism?  "Be a doll and fetch me some

coffee!' he said, like she was some waitress.  And he had said it in

front of four other bank executives too, two of them women!  And the

women had smirked too, which hadn't totally surprised Amy.  She was

learning that the female executives at the bank treated their own

secretaries much worse than the males did.

Amy had given him a small, angry smile and brought the coffee

silently.  She had hoped he would say something later, maybe

apologize.  Instead he told her to refill the cup, without even looking

up from his papers.  She popped a piece of Sexy-licious in her mouth and

began chewing. It calmed her right down and she obediently filled

the cup.

****************

The crack about her pantsuit just frosted her. It had come at the end

of the day, just as she was ready to leave.  They were going over some

tasks for her tomorrow when he looked up and shook his head, with

that utterly superior attitude he was increasingly showing towards her.

"Goodness, I didn't know secretaries still wore those things!"  His

amusing patronizing tone aggravated her to no end!

"Mr. Baines, many of the women who work here wear pantsuits.  Why,

Ms. Jensen--"

"Is an EXECUTIVE, my dear-- not  a secretary.  At her level, it may be

appropriate-- even though she has an attitude problem I'm not entirely

happy with.  Far too assertive for her own good.  But at YOUR level,

well, a pantsuit really isn't befitting a girl of your position."  His

slate eyes looked down at her in an over-patient way, as if he was

explaining something to a child.

The next day, Amy gritted her teeth and wore a skirt.

******************

"So we're not wearing make-up today, Amy?"  Mr. Baines scowled at

her.  She sighed.

"Yes, Sir, I am."  Amy searched her brain.  Of course she had put

make-up on-- not much because she didn't like a lot.  But she WAS

wearing make-up.  It upset her that Mr. Baines was mad at her. She

was feeling a little ditzy and very vulnerable, probably all the sugar

in the gum.  Lately she was feeling so passive, so easily confused.  Amy

resolved to cut down on her newest bad habit-- it was doing the

strangest things to her.

"You can hardly tell, young lady!  Don't you think it's important for

you to look nice while you're working for me?  Or does the job mean that

little to you?" he was demanded angrily.

She twitched nervously.  "Uh, no Sir, I mean, Yes Sir, I--" she groped

for the right words, all the time chewing her Sexylicious gum.

He cut her off with a wave of a hand.  "Just start wearing make-up in

the office from now on.  Don't embarrass me in front of the rest of the

executives by coming in here with your face looking like you just got

out of bed, understand me?"

She nodded, chewing faster.  "Yes Sir!"  She shook her head rapidly to

show just how well she understood.  The next day, Amy's face was

painted and made-up as enticingly as any of the other secretaries-- the

other single, young unmarried secretaries, that is.  It was just easier

to get along, she told herself.  And Mr. Baines smiled widely at her,

proving she had done the right thing.  Still, it bothered her. Just

like the tickling in her sex now bothered her. Was she horny? Amy

blushed and shook off the thought at once, popping another piece of

chewing gum in her mouth.

******************

The final straw.  That was it. She was still fuming, still

completely humiliated by it.  By no longer surprised.

She had just finishing watering the plants in his office when he had

returned from a planning meeting.  He was pleased with this kind of

initiative, just as he was pleased with the other things he now had Amy

doing for him-- picking up his dry cleaning on her lunch hour, sewing

the occasional button that popped of a shirt cuff, trotting down the

post office for him, standing in line at the Registry to renew his

plates, and any other mindless chore he could dump off on her.

At least it had made things better.  She no longer asked questions

about what she was doing, she just did, without comment, whatever she

was told.  He was pleased with her new attitude.  Watering his plants

without being told to was EXACTLY the kind of initiative he

appreciated and he said so.  She had smiled demurely.

"Thank you Sir.  I'm trying to be the kind of secretary you want."

THAT seemed to go over very well, so well in fact that Baines had

patted her ass as she left his office.

"Good girl, Amy.  I KNEW this would work out after all."

She had frozen, then kept walking out, without saying a word.  She

didn't look behind her, keeping her dazed eyes focused on the path in

front of her.  The nerve!  That he would think he could touch her like

that!  She could still feel his palm on her ass, the proprietary way he

had patted her, like she was some bar girl or something!

As she walked home, Amy steamed.  Bob Baines was a pig, an

absolute pig.  How could she work for a guy like that? What was

wrong with him?  It dawned on her that she longer wanted to be Baine's

secretary.   She would do something else, maybe get a job waitressing,

something.  If only they weren't counting on that money.  And it would

take time to get another job.  Wendell wasn't having any luck...

That was when she saw the construction worker nailing the sign up next

door to her house.  Her face went white.

"NEW HOME OF THE BENTSON TOXIC WASTE TREATMENT CENTER"

She raced into the house, slamming the door behind her.  Wendell was

fixated on a teevee cartoon, his eyes half-opened.  Empty beer cans

littered the room.

"What the hell is going on next door?  Did you see--"

"Look at the mail," he answered flatly, pointed at the opened envelope

on the kitchen table.

She picked up the envelope with the registered mail receipt glued to

it, pulled out the thick document inside.  She began to read, her heart

falling with every paragraph.  "As you may know," it began innocently

enough, "the recent establishment of a chemical processing facility on

commercially zoned land abutting yours will serve the whole

community of Bentson County in many ways.  The First Metropolitan

Bank was pleased to finance this important new project.

Unfortunately," the letter turned somber," this development has

adversely affected your own property value very drastically.  A recent

independent appraisal by the bank shows that your property has lost

two-thirds of it's value from six months ago.  As a result, and given

your own uncertain employment prospects, the bank has no option but

to reconsider its investment in aforesaid property and mortgage."

She had worked at the bank long enough to understand that the legal

terms and figures all added up to one thing.  The bank was calling in

the loan.

"Unless you are able to demonstrate long-term employment, the bank

will have no option but to request full payment on your mortgage note.

Please respond to this correspondence within twenty-four hours.  Thank

you for your attention in this matter!"  There was no signature.  It

was a form letter generated automatically by the bank's computers the

first of every month.

"Howduya like that?"  Wendell was drunk.  Amy figured he had been

drinking all afternoon-- ever since the letter had been delivered.  "I

thought we'd wait till tomorrow to tell my folks they'll have to live

in the street," he said, eyes rolling in despair as he cracked open a

fresh can of beer, "unless I get some big job in the next twenty-four

hours, that is."  His eyes were filling with tears, drunken, pathetic

tears. "I could always rob a gas station or something," he groaned,

half-seriously.