The black lipstick she applied to her lips dreamed to reach the shades of darkness her moonlighting persona held.

Was she really that far gone?

Had she strayed from the light so much that the woman staring at her in the mirror bore no familiarity?

The more questions she asked, the further their relevance faded into the ether. Her lips stretched into a grin, exposing teeth that appeared bleached in comparison. The sleeping serpent of a thick, single braid lay coiled on top of her head, which presented hair so neatly brushed along her scalp, it seemed painted on. That style garnered the most fervor amongst her clientele, but she’d style her hair regardless of what they thought, and they accepted it.

She didn’t think herself cruel, but that was for her subjects to judge, not her. As much as they enjoyed being degraded and dominated, officiating the chaos was the best accelerant for lighting her pussy ablaze. Her brown-skinned reflection abandoned its home as she strolled from her dressing room to approach the five subjects prepped to give her their thirty-day testicular contributions. The thought of being covered in an abundance of sticky, stringy jizz made her clit pulse. Five giant loads from the losing basketball team – starting five – of the previous month’s local College finals awaited her, and it would be an encounter used to fuel her self-love for months to come.

She clopped down the dark hallway in her six-inch, thigh-high stilettos to the room where her donators had already been set to receive their milking. The exaggerated sway of her gait caused her breasts to bounce in her open-cut bra and her buttocks to wiggle unrestrained, thanks to her crotchless, open-back panties. Her all-black attire represented her desire for the disgusting colour contrast she expected from the off-white loads that were to come.

That balls’ cream.

That cock milk.

She couldn’t fucking wait.

***

Thirty-Six Months Ago

Alana stood in the drive-thru window as the middle-aged man in his big deal jeep berated her for his order being off. He spat and cussed at the medium fries he received, which weren’t the large he claimed to order. He was incorrect since his words through her headset were clear as day, but unfortunately, the phrase ‘the customer is always right’ worked in his defense.

“Hello? You listening to me?” the disgruntled man asked, with his graying strands standing on top of his head from the steam wafting from his brain.

“Yes, sir. I do apologise for the incon–” Alana started.

“Fuck your apologies and fuck you. You fast food broads are all the goddamn same. Always screwing up. I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time.” He stamped the throttle and broke the corner sharply and out of sight. Alana hoped for the safety of other road users, because he could’ve disintegrated into dust for all she cared.

A sleek drop-top approached the window, driven by a blonde with high cheekbones and a sunglass-tinted stare toward Alana. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Alana’s reddened corneas glistened, but she refused to allow tears to fall and mar her smile. “Here’s your order, ma’am – Cheeseburger with medium fries?”

“Yes. You’re too beautiful of a girl to take insolence from uncultured swine such as that; you do know that, right?”

Alana continued smiling, but her eyes widened.

“You do know this, right?” The lady removed her sunglasses and stared at Alana. She reached into her purse for a credit card, provided it, and when Alana took it to swipe, a business card peeked from underneath.

“I think you gave me this by accident, ma’am.”

“Oh, it’s no accident.” Alana reviewed both sides of the latter card, then returned the credit card.

“I don’t understand,” Alana said, going between the woman and the card’s details, then handed her the meal.

“What time do you go to lunch, dear?”She took the meal from Alana and rested it in the passenger seat.

“Why do you ask?”

“What time do you go to lunch, love?”

Alana should have felt annoyed at her query being ignored, but it was done with such confidence and no ill will that she replied, “Around twelve.”

“Around twelve or at twelve?”

“Um… at twelve. Wait, I don’t even know your name.”

“Susan, but you can call me ‘Sue’.”  The blonde put her sunglasses on and said, “Meet me tomorrow at the location on the card, knock on the door three times and tell the doorman that Sue sent you.”

Alana pocketed the card, nodded, and Susan smiled at her. The classy-looking blonde refocused on the road and said, “I will be seeing you tomorrow at twelve…”

“Alana.”

“Lovely name: Alana. I will be seeing you tomorrow at twelve, Alana.” And with that, Susan departed.

***

She breached the faux dungeon’s entrance, turning up her chin at the five studly athletes seated in a circle. All of them were naked and bound to their chairs, with their hands tied behind their backs as if awaiting an interrogation.

The truth wasn’t too far off.

Their cocks hardened in unsynchronised fashion as she stepped into the centre of the circle. Many believe that men into this kink lacked endowment, but the reality is a large variety of sizes; even those horse-hung craved this treatment. When one is always placed on a pedestal, the desire to be treated normally can be overwhelming.

To be more frank, an obsession.

“Look at all of my little pigs, sitting, ready to do my bidding,” she said while turning and making eye contact with each of them. “Who gave you permission to look at my face? Eyes to my feet. Now.”

Like puppets, they bowed their heads in unison, making eye contact with feet unnaturally arched from her footwear.

“What do we say?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Apologies, Mistress,” they said in stereo.

“Good.”

***

Thirsty-Six Months Ago – One Day Later

Alana stood in front of the door for a mental five minutes but a physical thirty seconds. Every time she reared her hand to knock, she unfolded her fist and scratched behind her ear.

What the hell am I doing? Am I crazy? I don’t know this woman. This is stupid.

These internal conversations continued until she decided that wasting her lunch hour at a closed door was stupider.

She knocked three times.

No response came for what felt longer than when she stood pondering if to knock, which was obviously impossible.

The horizontal peephole’s shutter slid open, and a deep voice shadowing two bloodshot eyes asked, “What?”

“I’m here to see Sue. Um, Sue sent me.”

The eyes stared for a bit, then the shutter closed, and the door rumbled open to showcase a thick, tall man whose bald head bore multiple tattoos and piercings along his ear lobes and nose.  He turned and lumbered along without giving Alana any instruction, so she followed to avoid the awkwardness of asking if she should. He walked straight down the dank corridor, cut right, and stopped two doors down to the left before firmly knocking thrice.

“Yes?” Sue’s faint voice passed through the metal barrier.

“Your twelve o’clock’s here,” the beast grumbled.

“Thank you; you can go.” Without hesitation, the man disappeared from whence he came. Alana looked at the knob and tentatively pushed her hand forward to turn when Sue said, “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

Alana snickered and entered the room, which although well-lit, had a darkness that seeped into one’s retinas. The walls were a faded brown, going into grey. In the centre, Sue sat at a round, metal table with a medium rare tenderloin steak, a glass of red wine, and an accompanying bottle to her right. She pointed at the chair opposite her, and Alana stepped forward and sat.

“Would you like a plate?” Sue asked. “I can have one brought for you.”

“Oh, no thank you. I had a quick bite before I came here.”

“A quick bite isn’t a full meal, my dear.” Sue pulled her mobile out of a bag, dialed, and said, “Bring another wine glass and tenderloin steak; Medium-rare, please.” She ended the call as soon as the last words left her lips.

“So,” Alana said, “why am I here if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Why should you asking be a bother in the slightest? It is your right to ask, is it not?”

“I guess.”

“Try saying, ‘Yes, it is’.”

Alana sat in silence for a few moments and looked around awkwardly.

“Go ahead,” Sue said. “Try it.”

“Yes… it is.”

Sue smirked and blinked slowly. “We’ll get there.” She took another sip and then put the glass down. “I wanted to speak to you because I believe you sell yourself short.”

“Wha-what makes you say that?”

“The way that swine spoke to you yesterday and the way you responded, my dear.”

“I didn’t really respond that much.”

“Exactly my point.” They sat in silence for a few more moments until Sue finished her meal and a knock came at the door. “Enter,” Sue said. A young, ponytailed brunette came in with a replica of Sue’s just-finished meal and a wine glass, placed them before Alana, and then exited.

“Thank you for this.” Alana gestured toward her lunch. Sue filled Alana’s glass with wine, and the latter stared at it.

“You’re worried because you’re still on the clock. From what I’ve seen, you could use a little loosening up.”

“I couldn’t really reply to him any other way. He was a customer, and the customer is always right.”

“Good God, I hate that saying. It’s just an excuse for people to act like Philistines toward workers in the service industry. The entitlement is sickening.”Sue scoffed and took another swig of wine. “My dear, it wasn’t what you said, but how you said it. You were a timid little lamb, and him being the wolf – or at least he thought that much of himself – pounced and ripped you apart limb by limb. I must say, you are too beautiful and desirable to accept that.”

“You think I’m desirable?” Alana pointed to herself.

“Of course. Your smile, even though quite pained yesterday, was gorgeous; Your skin is flawless, and your backside would make anyone want to kneel and French Kiss it.”

Alana hollered and covered her mouth quickly, but when Sue cackled, Alana lost it.

“What if I told you,” Sue said, “that you had the potential to become one of the strongest and most confident women in this city? Would you believe me?”

“I – I don’t think that’s possible. Wait, what is this place, anyway? What do you do here?”

Sue responded with a broad smile and stood. “Come, let me show you.”

***

She walked behind each sub, gracing their shoulders with her palms, allowing only the sound of her stilettos to resonate as their penises flexed.

“Have you all abstained from masturbation as I demanded?” She padded into the centre for all of them to see.

“Yes, Mistress,” they responded.

“Have you abstained from sex with your girlfriends or anyone else?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you demanded it,” replied a sub. The others nodded in agreement.

“Also, because November has just passed. Everything that’s inside of your pathetic balls will be mine. Before this night has ended and I send you back to your miserable lives, your seed will be all over me. Is that also clear?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“There is, however, a problem.”

The restrained men gulped; some looked at her with worry.

“One of you hasn’t answered.”

***

Thirty Months Ago

Alana replayed the events of the last six months, and it all felt like a fever dream. When Sue explained her offer, Alana rallied between offense and intrigue. On one hand, she wanted to place her fists akimbo, given Sue promised to mold her into a woman who dominated for a living. On the other, what kind of woman did Sue think Alana was? Out of all the career options, sex work never graced her top ten prospects, furthermore top fifty.

She’d be a liar though if she denied the fun she was having. Trying on different outfits and make-up and being ogled by men rather than overlooked filled her with pride. With each client that Sue sent her way, her comfort increased, yet her awkwardness lingered. As if she didn’t know a damn thing, even though she was far more confident than when she started, but that was still a very low bar.

The previous night shattered some of that confidence, though. Her day manager berated her over something as trivial as being a minute late – she fell into a rabbit hole of bukkake videos – from lunch, and that annoyance carried into her night gig’s performance. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t spank the middle-aged CEO’s backside with the appropriate force, and as a result, he complained to Sue. Her night boss asked if everything was okay, and Alana lied, saying she was fine. Sue told her that when she had another bad day at work, or if anything happened, to call her immediately. Alana didn’t understand Sue’s intuitiveness but got bored trying to question it.

What really sparked this self-reflection was her superior berating her for the second day in a row. This time, a horseshoe-balding patron complained about her not being cheerful enough and that it ruined his outlook on the place. Of course, the expectation that she would be in full spirits after such a riveting meeting and greet customers with all the glee in the world didn’t take. When she had enough, she took a break and called Sue. No matter what, Sue always had the answer and the course to sail her through the storm.

“Channel this frustration you’re feeling right now into your work tonight,” Sue said. “Make the world understand that you aren’t weak, Lanni.”

Alana smiled at Sue calling her "Lanni" because no one had called her that since her favourite aunt died when Alana was only sixteen. The first genuine smile she had all day devolved into neutrality as she internalized Sue’s advice.

Later that night, after she adorned a black, wet-look catsuit, Sue knocked on her door twice and entered. She scanned Alana up and down as she always did and asked, “Are you ready?” Alana finished putting on her gloves to complete the outfit.

“Yes,” Alana said, still looking into the mirror, then spun to Sue with doubtful eyes. “Yes, I am.”

“Remember what I told you today, okay?”

Alana nodded, and she stepped in front of Sue. “Is the client ready?”

“Yes. Standing with his hands stretched overhead and his tiny penis barely bobbing.”

Alana scoffed, exited her quarters, and proceeded to her designated playground at the end of the hallway. When she entered, the man’s arms were rope-pulled straight above his head, as Sue described. However, a more important detail tipped in favour of serendipity rather than her mentor’s freakish intuition.

“Wait,” the horseshoe-balding customer said with a surprised look. “It’s you. What is go–?”

“Did I say you can speak?” Alana asked with a cold stare.

“Now, hold on a minute. I dema–”

“Did I say you can speak?” Alana’s expression and tone remained unchanged.

The man closed his mouth, bowed his head, and murmured, “No, Mistress.”

“You’re a big deal on the outside,” Alana said, going behind him and then whispered into his ear, “but you’re just another insecure piece of fuckmeat. Isn’t that right, swine?”

“Y-y-yes, Mistress.”

While still at his rear, Alana palmed his mouth, and he panicked before she said, “Relax, or you will not cum. Nod if you understand.”

He stopped shivering and nodded.

Alana reached around with the other hand and fondled his testicles for a bit before stroking his cock. Utterances of “worthless”, “not a real man” and “pathetic” increased his rate of breathing before she released his phallus, and he dribbled cum onto the ground. Her wicked laughter served as an outro to his weak release.

“Listen,” he said, trying to compose himself, “I’m sorry about toda–”

“Silence!” she said louder than intended. “Open your mouth.”

As he complied, Alana squatted where his droplets lay, scooped some with her fingers, and placed them in his mouth.

“Suck them clean, pussy.”

He hesitated briefly but then closed his mouth over her fingers and sucked. Although he hadn’t long ejaculated, his penis engorged just a bit. Alana squeezed the base and slapped it with her other hand before laughing maniacally.

“P-please, don’t stop.”

Alana stopped slapping it. “Repeat, but say it properly.”

“Please don’t stop… Mistress.”

“Good.”

Alana continued to slap his penis until it flushed red. He begged to cum again, so Alana scooped more of his semen from the floor and used it for lube until another disappointing load escaped – and again, she released her grip while he emptied.

“Please, may I see you again?” he panted from his weakened body as she left his six and faced him.

“We will see.” Alana flicked spunk from her gloved hands in his direction, turned, and sashayed out of his presence with a satisfied yet disturbing grin.

***

“Why haven’t you answered?” Alana’s voice remained calm as the muscled sub averted her gaze.

“My girlfriend… she said that ‘No Nut November’ was nonsense, and I gave in.”

Everyone remained silent as Alana walked toward a table wedged into a corner, opened a box on top of it, and removed a black scarf. She walked behind him, tied the scarf around his eyes, and said, “You will not have the pleasure of seeing me covered tonight.”

“Mistress, please. I-i-it happened ten days in. I didn’t do anything for the last twenty days. I swear.”

“Be grateful I’m feeling lenient tonight because I could deny you release until the end of the year.”

“Please.” Tears moistened his blindfold and wet his cheeks. “At least let me watch myself nut all over you. I-I don’t need to see you covered in everyone’s. Please.”

“But then, you wouldn’t learn your lesson.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he sulked.

“As further punishment, you’re not allowed to make any real noise when you climax. Keep your mouth shut and whimper like a bitch.” He nodded.

Alana clopped around until she was in front of him and then squatted on her elevated heels. She looked around at the other men and ordered them to look at her fat ass before she started dry tugging the disobedient man’s cock. The crotchless panties’ open-back nature gave her subs the perfect, accentuated view of her round, brown buttocks. When she first concocted the outfit, the open-cut bra impressed her more, but she knew her exposed cheeks, more so than her naked cunt and tits, would inspire the powerful loads she’d be seeking that night. Speaking of which, her fuckpig’s straining throat signaled the first emission’s pending arrival.

“All of you, look at my face,” she said. They followed her command and flexed their cocks at her roughly jerking off the dissident and then pointing him towards her tits before his semen spouted. She held the base with one hand and his balls with the other as he whimpered with each gush that spewed to reside on her boobs.

“Thank you, Mistress,” the man said as Alana released her hold. She went to the table again, retrieved a large bottle of baby oil from the box, and sauntered back.

“The rest of you, I want to hear you as you cum all over me. Your Mistress demands all thirty days of your pent-up aggression as I relieve you. You will not, however, call me names.” She dropped once more, ass to heels, for the man next to her empty client.

“Yes, Mistress,” the remaining men said as the recent ejaculator sniffled.

Alana poured baby oil over the new cock, giggled, and then massaged his gonads with one hand. She then stroked the top half of his penis with the next.

“I want every last drop of cum out of your fucking balls.” She licked her lips and moved the hand massaging his balls to the base while the other one continued stroking. “Give me that cum, right fucking now.”

The hairless ape growled as spools of semen arced over her face, hair, back, and ass. His vocals became more pained as Alana continued rubbing his cock, and he squirmed in his seat until she finally showed mercy. Alana exercised great restraint by not scooping the semen and eating it as if it were frosting on a cake. God-level restraint, by not rubbing her exposed clit for her audience, whom she refused to give the satisfaction.

The next fellow in line gulped as she lowered and fanned her legs wide. “Do you like how I look covered in cum?” A line of jizz ran from her coiled braid to the side of her nose and down to her lips. Evidence of the previous finish also dappled her cheeks.

“Yes, Mistress.”

She poured oil over his genitals and aggressively stroked his rod, making the wet sounds of her handiwork fill the room. “Then cover me in more. Hurry up and cover me in more, you little bitch!”

His hips lunged upward, testing the restraints’ resilience, and a war cry escaped his throat as semen forcefully splattered against her forehead, speckled her tits, and just above her hairline. The remainder hopped between her breasts and trickled along her taut torso as she tortured him post-orgasm. Her clit throbbed from his coverage, and she withheld a moan, but her chocolate-brown nipples stiffened in betrayal.

“Oh my God,” he cried, squirmed, and then she stopped to scuttle and kneel under her next victim.

“Mmm, I haven’t seen these big motherfuckers in thirty-plus days.” Alana crawled closer and poured baby oil over his balls first and deftly kneaded them while licking her lips. “I bet you must have a city’s worth of cum in these fat nuts, huh?”

The fourth man nodded nervously, with sweat rolling down his temple. His relationship with her preceded the deal made in case his team lost, so he better than the others knew what to expect.

“Mmm, you’re always a guaranteed big load. Remember our first session when you completely doused me?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Tell everyone else what made you do that.” She continued rolling his balls and then lubricated his turgid cock.

“You left a Hitachi Magic wand under my balls while I sat in a chair. You were um…” He paused briefly as Alana slowly stroked his rod. “You were on all fours shaking your ass in a g-string toward me.”

“Yes, and I told you that you weren’t man enough to ever fuck me. That you could never be with a woman like me, then outta nowhere, I felt these big, warm splashes all over my back, shoulders, and ass. Paint me like you did that night. I want that heat all over my face and tits.”

Victim number four’s breathing grew heavier thus Alana stroked faster and reclined. His voice strained, and thick, shotgun bursts of white blasted her face, neck, and torso. Three rich, vertical stripes ran down her visage, gluing one eye shut and the other two running off her nose and cheeks, and dripping from her chin and jawline. At this point, Alana’s brown-skinned presentation featured off-white stripes and squiggles all over her barely there costume. The sharp contrast to her jet-black hair represented the fantasies of amateur photographers everywhere.

“Yesss,” she said, losing a smidgen of stoicism, lasciviously sticking her tongue out and curling the tip onto the roof of her mouth. “That’s what I fucking wanted. You all enjoy showering your Mistress, don’t you? Don’t you, you fucking perverts?”

“Yes, Mistress,” they all said.

She stood and walked to the last servant, whose cock was the longest of the five. She poured the baby oil onto his glans and allowed it to cascade over his lengthy pole. Alana, then bent over and looked directly at him while slowly stroking it from top to bottom.

“I love you, big dick motherfuckers,” she said. “You walk around the place, being all nonchalant because of what’s between your legs. But you understand you’re nothing.”

“Y-yes, Mistress.”

She squeezed the base and slapped it silly, making its owner wince. “You fucking love that, don’t you, bitch boy? I bet your girlfriend really thinks you’re the man, but in reality, you’re just another pathetic loser looking to be put in his place.” She hacked and spat at his meat several times and started to jerk it angrily. “Tell me how that feels.”

“Amazing, Mistress.” The young man’s jaw hung.

Alana arched her rump upwards until it resembled hills rising behind her pretty countenance. She gritted her teeth and cussed while jerking him harder and said, “Fucking piece of useless cockmeat. Fuck yeah, fucking roar for me when you paint my face. You hear me, bastard? I want all of that nasty, fucking cum out of your long cock now!”

“Fuuuck!” he roared as she commanded, and his expression resembled pure anguish when potential life spouted high into the air, over her face, hair, and twerking ass.

“Nasty motherfuckers. All of you.” She remained bent, with her big ass elevated above her coiled braid and licking her luscious lips. “All of it. I want all!” Alana grabbed his schlong with both hands, squeezed, and slowly climbed to get the remnants stuck in his urethra out and the sliver that surfaced; she leaned forward and licked it. Her long-cocked servant writhed until her state of satiety reached its capacity.

“Look at how you perverts have soiled your Mistress. Well, not the first guy because of his disobedience. But the rest of you, you have done well.” She stepped into the centre, tilted her head upward with her hands akimbo, and strutted her partially clad, cum-glazed existence through the door.

As she headed to her quarters with wads of DNA threatening to brighten the hallway grounds, thoughts of masturbating furiously to her bukkake-drenched reflection reared their dominant head. Sue stepped out of a side room to not only obstruct her march, but to cock-block those fantasies – okay, her intuition wasn’t that good – and gave a slow round of applause.

“My goodness, Lanni,” she said. “Your continuous growth leaves me in complete awe.”

Alana did a curtsy, and two globs fell from her chin and tits onto the floor. This drew a laugh from them both.

“You’re the only dom I know that’s done this.” Sue pointed at Alana, palms up, and then slapped her own thighs. “None I’ve ever worked with or observed ever cared to get sperm on them. What is it about it for you?”

Alana walked past Sue with a smile and beckoned her, making Sue drop her jaw, point to herself, and follow as they padded into Alana’s dressing room. When they were both inside, Alana picked up her phone and took regular and mirror selfies before answering.

“Way I see it,” she said, “I’m in charge, and I get what I want. I’ve been the nice girl for so long, and because of that, guys always did the right thing. The appropriate thing. Cumming inside of me, or cumming in a condom. I was too shy to ask for it on my face or in my mouth like I wanted to try. Well, now that I’ve got this gig, I want all the jizz.”

“Goodness, I have a feeling if I had a penis, you’d drain mine too.” Sue raised a brow and folded her arms.

“While making you beg for permission to release it all over me.” Alana sat on her stool, staring at the mirror as if Sue wasn’t present, then locked eyes with her, and they both broke into laughter.

“I have created an absolute monster.” Sue approached her and placed her hands on Alana’s shoulders from behind, and they admired her cum coating in the mirror.

“You didn’t create it. I wouldn’t say I’m a monster, either. I’m just the badass bitch I was always supposed to be.” Alana touched Sue’s left hand and kissed it.

“I’ll give you your space to clean up… or revel in it. Whichever you choose.” Sue walked toward the door, opened it, and smiled before making herself scarce.

Alana sat for a while longer, observing the loads which were turning translucent against her frame. She waited for at least a minute to pass, before she parted her legs on her stool and glided her middle and ring fingers over her clitoris to rub it in a circular motion. It would have been so easy to slip those fingers in immediately and agitate her g-spot, but she generated electricity in her nub first, observing the cum-slut in the mirror. She swiped her clitoris from side to side in a blur until her first orgasm vibrated her body and soul. Organized religion did nothing for her, but her devotion to her lust button and inner fuck walls would embarrass the most zealous worshippers. This church’s activity spiked when she began this nightly gig and after her earlier baptism, she craved more unbridled salvation. When she regained her balance on the stool, she slid her fingers into her soppy cunt and frigged her g-spot until crossed eyes and nostril lifts accompanied a growling “Fuuuck” for her second explosion. Her legs trembled and clamped over her soaked, masturbating fingers, so she held onto the counter until all guttural groans settled into whimpers. That was so damn good. Fuck, I need to cum again.

She reached into the drawer under the counter, retrieved her Hitachi Magic Wand, and then clicked it on.

Looks like I’ll be leaving here late again.

***

Another day in customer service inevitably meant another grouch asking to speak to someone higher. The beautiful yet timid brown-skinned young lady knocked on her manager’s door and awaited the word.

“Open,” her manager said, and she made her way in. The employee relayed the whiner’s gripe to her superior. Apparently, his soda was too cold, even though he requested it with ice. The manager nodded and allowed the young lady to lead the way to the main counter where the complainant, at that point, was backing.

“Sir, the manager’s here to address your concerns,” said the young lady, who then reversed and allowed her superior to step forward and clasp her hands to shield her waist as she stood.

“Good. Why in the hell is this drink,” said the tall, broad-shouldered complainer, as he turned, “so damn… cold?”

“I do apologise for the inconvenience caused, sir,” said the manager. “It’s my understanding that you asked for ice in your cup?”

The man slackened his jaw, gulped, and replied, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Excuse me?”

“Um, I mean, yes, ma’am, but it’s fine. I… ya know, I’m a bit stressed out and probably asked for the ice without realizing.” He shrugged and laughed nervously while wildly gesturing with his hands. “My fault totally; I’ll just go on ahead; it’s fine.”

“Are you sure, sir?” She pointed to the drink machine. “We can go ahead and replace it now if you wa–”

“Oh no-no-no, it’s fine, it’s absolutely fine.” His nervous smile and gesturing became serious when the manager’s customer service demeanour fell into the depths of Antarctica upon his interruption. “I’m sorry for cutting you off. Very kind of you to offer the am… offer, but the drink is fine. I should actually apologise to you both for wasting your afternoon.”

The manager grinned, but her eyes remained cold while her subordinate standing close by struggled to hide a snicker.

“Tell you what,” the gentleman said, “I’ll just go. Thank you so much once again.” He then picked up his order and looked back repeatedly until his swift exit.

“Alana,” said the young lady, “I don’t know how you do it, but almost all of the guys that come in here lose their bravado when they see you. How do you do that?”

Alana turned, smirked at her charge, and then strolled to her office as if time served her rather than she served it.