Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 13byTallBlondeGretchen©
It was precisely 8:30 a.m. Monday morning when I held the front door of my single-story office building open for Alexis Barron.
She strutted in, hands free, and with a confidence I had never witnessed before. Meekly, I followed behind the young black woman carrying all her things, and breathing her perfumed tail winds as we reached the front desk.
The office was now fully redecorated in the most flagrant and flaunting african-styled design. Yes, the design was both classy and business oriented with excessive detail and highlights. But, it was clear that she had changed the feeling and theme to reflect her personal style and proud black heritage.
Thoughts of the expense this had to take continued to enter my mind as I continued scanning the front offices and desks.
The style was almost the same that the black teenager showed me on her computer that previous weekend. There weren't many things that resembled my business office from last Friday, and I simply reamined standing behind Alexis amazed by the changes.
All three of the glass-doored executive offices had been redecorated, as well. Even the two that had not been occupied for years. I had been using only one of them for myself these past two years. Now, all three of these offices against the back wall appeared decorated in this distinct and pronounced african design.
The 18-year-old black woman stood at the front desk with her hands on her hips, apparently admiting the changes. The receptionist, Meghan, barely glimpsed upward to see who had entered the main office before her eyes quickly lowered back to her desk.
I noticed that all 7 of the white women staff members had their eyes lowered to their desks and were working diligently. All seven now had the white skirts and wider red leather belts young Alexis had ordered from Sarah's shop.
These were the sames ones she directed the 65-year-old white woman to deliver to the office by 8 o'clock this morning. The changes to the staff's outfits appeared to satisfy the black woman, and they matched mine nearly exact.
As Alexis Barron remained standing at the front desk with an unspoken authority, the entire office grew more tense. The faint sound of R&B music flowed from the speakers on the ceiling. I continued standing behind her clutching her portfolio, purse and lap top. Nervously, I stared at the transformation with my face still stinging from her slap. The humiliation I felt caused a mild dizziness that I struggled to control.
"Meghan!" Alexis snapped.
The 41-year-old irish woman snapped her head up quickly, in compliance.
"Yes, Miss Barron?" she asked, suddenly quivering as she looked into the black girl's eyes.
Meghan merely glanced over towards me as she sat there waiting for Alexis' words. Her eyes met mine for a split second, but I could feel them locked onto me as she suddenly realized my appearance. Her shock in seeing me caused a breif, yet noticeable pause.
"Meghan, I'm speaking to you!" Alexis ripped.
The firmer tone from the beautiful black teenager caused the older white receptionist to respond, in a near panic.
"Y-Yes, Miss Barron. I'm sorry, Miss Barron." Meghan replied.
"Get the staff together for a meeting in 10 minutes. The conference room." she ordered.
"Yes, Miss Barron. I-I will do that, Miss Barron. Ten m-minutes, Miss Barron." Meghan repeated, obediently.
As the 18-year-old black woman sauntered through the main office and back to the private glass offices against the back wall, things felt so different. Her exaggerated and slower strides caused me shorten mine as I obediently followed behind her like I was her lackey. The entire staff seemed to fight the urge to look up as they kept their eyes focused upon their work.
Alexis strolled through the office looking over their desks like she was a grade school teacher strutting around the classroom during a test. The 7 other older white women kept their eyes down and their heads bowed to their work. Only then, when the young black woman and I reached the back offices, did they began peering back over their shoulders in curiosity.
The glass door to the office that once carried my name was gone. It had been taped over and nothing was visible in it's place at this time. My heart began to beat faster as we stepped inside.
The private office was now redecorated in the same african design as the main office. The exceptions were the larger desk and the excessively enhanced and far more prominent detail. My office was now just like the photos young Alexis had shown me on her lap top computer. It looked much classier and richer in person, and it seemed to almost breathe a new life.
"Set my things down. I'll be right back." Alexis ordered.
"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I replied, the cloud of humiliation surrounding me like a fog after a rainy day.
From my glass doored office, I watched as young Alexis Barron made her way down the hallway, and to the ladies room. I was standing there feeling so ashamed by the entire event. The moment was all too surreal for me. I felt as nervous and humbled as ever by what I was observing in my own office as I timidly looked around.
As I set her things down on the desk top I viewed the changes to my glass doored office a little more closely. Just like in the photos, the redwood desk looked expensive and ritzy, only nicer than I remembered.
The secretarial side desk chair was pristinely anchored to the side of the main executive's desk where I had sat for years. A lower, much smaller desk top was attached before the side desk chair in a rudimentary fashion. It was not much moe than a small surface for someone who would be sitting off to the side of the executive to write upon.
This smaller side desk chair and writing area truly resembled one of those older school girl's desks, only it was exquisitely modified to match the executive desk.
I struggled to understand the reason why this side desk chair and desk set had the seat portion positioned about 4 inches lower than the executive's chair. At the time it seemed rather impractical to me.
The executive's desk had the ankle or foot rest Alexis mentioned on the left corner closest in. It was a small, padded ankle rest molded onto the corner desk top and directly angled to the side desk chair where a visitor or secretary would be sitting.
The design of this so-called ankle rest seemed a little curious and unusual to me.
The change was subtle, yet one could easily see the ankle rest was designed for the person sitting at the executive's chair to prop their feet upon to rest during long business days. In the past, I had tried propping my longer legs up onto the corner of the hard desk during phone calls. But, it had become uncomfortable after a short while. This apparent foot and ankle rest seemed to cleverly rectify this problem.
The more curious part to me was that it seemed to be angled "too close" to the side desk chair, in a ridiculously exaggerated manner. I remember thinking that the position of it would make it virtually impractical to use when the executive had a visitor sitting off to their left side.
Nevertheless, I bypassed this thought for the moment and continued scanning the landscape of the office with an increasingly nervous feeling.
As young Alexis Barron remained in the ladies room, I looked at her things laying on the desk top. I began wondering what could be in them.
Curiosity got the best of me.
Tentatively. I opened her portfolio and began to peek inside. There were a number of folders inside and I thumbed through to see nearly a dozen of them, in a variety of opaque shades and colors.
The very first folder on top was a lighter maroon shade and I opened it slowly. My hands trembled as I viewed the first page. It was a list of our staff and it included me. When I looked a little closer, I realized how unusual this list was.
This list contained a full description of each one of us in the office. It was neatly printed onto an eggshell colored sheet of paper. At the end of the description, and to the far lower right side of each description there was a line of small boxes.
The small check boxes were marked with the numbers 0 through 5, and the above caption read "Business-Intelligence Level." One of these little boxes was checked off with a red felt tip pen. Unbelievably, it was a ranking for each one of us in the office. It was my name that was the first on the list!
Astonished, I began reading through it.
Gretchen. Age 40. 6'1" tall, 142 lbs., 36-26-37. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,501.00.
Beth. Age 48. 5'9" tall, 190 lbs., 36-28-40. Brunette hair. Hazel eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00.
Ginny. Age 56. 5'10" tall, 145 lbs., 36-26-38. Blonde-Grey hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero, or less. Annual Salary: $32,500.00.
Meghan. Age 41. 5'8" tall, 152 lbs., 34-28-36. Ash blonde hair. Blue-Green eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00
Tiffany. Age 44. 5'11" tall, 155 lbs., 38-24-36. Red-Auburn hair. Green eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00.
Candace. Age 53. 6'0" tall, 148 lbs., 36-26-36. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00.
Grace. Age 50. 5'11" tall, 205 lbs., 38-29-42. Blonde-Grey hair. Hazel eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00.
Kate. Age 45. 5'8" tall, 135 lbs., 36-24-36. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00.
Terry. Age Unsure. 5'6" tall, 145 lbs., 36-27-36. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero, or less. Annual Salary: $32,500.00, or less.
As I looked down at this page, I was immediately taken back. It was truly humiliating and degrading how this young black woman had rated us. She had actually rated us on our business intelligence and business sense. The manner in which she rated us all with a zero number was even more defeating.
"How could she do something like this?" I thought.
"Was this even legal to put our physical descriptions in a ranking like this?" I wondered.
"And, who was Terry? We don't have a Terry working with us?" I thought.
My face blushed to an uncomfortably warm feeling as I stared at this sheet of paper with our names listed on it.
At the time, I didn't know who Terry was. Not at all. But, it was this strange and curious list and the rude manner she assessed our intelligence that caused me to feel so humiliated. The thought that this young black woman had actually given us a ranking of our intelligence was insulting.
I was in disbelief.
I had ony taken a minute to read through the list. I knew there were other words on other pages describing all of us. Some were more detailed, and others were paraphrased. But, I did not look at them long enough to decipher.
By then, I was getting quite nervous. I was terrified to be caught. I kept glancing up to the office door watching for the ladies room door to reopen, and for young Alexis to emerge. The tension filled the air like I was some sort of spy in the middle of the night as I turned to the next page in this folder.
On this page only three names were listed. Alexis was the first one, followed by two others. At least one of the two other names was not recognizable to me, and I was unsure of the other.
The heading of this page was simply typed is as "Future State," it read.
Alexis Barron. Age 18. 4'11" tall, 95 lbs., 32-21-33. Black Hair. Brown eyes. Intelligence Level Five. Annual Salary: Undisclosed.
Finesse Williams. Age 19. 5'1" tall, 108 lbs., 32-22-34. Black hair. Grey eyes. Intelligence Level Four-plus. Annual Salary: $125,000.00.
Marissa Kenyatta. Age 18. 5'1" tall, 103 lbs., 34-22-33. Black hair. Brown eyes. Intelligence Level Four-plus. Annual Salary: $125,000.00.
"Oh my Gawd!" I thought. "Who are they?" I asked myself.
"And, why do they have such salaries written in like that? We can't afford that?!" I gasped.
Then, I began to recall young Alexis Barron's numerous phone calls during all those times she had made me massage her young feet, or during those many humiliating discussions.
I remembered hearing the name "Finesse" during a few of her calls. The name "Marissa" came up once or twice, as well. As I began to recall overhearing these names, a feeling of intense embarrassment engulfed me. These other two names were the young black woman's friends.
My mind drifted as I stared, in awe, at this page. I completely lost track of time at that particular moment.
When I looked back up to check and see if Alexis was about to come out of the rest room, she was standing just outside the glass door to my office looking in.
She stood there with her arms crossed and peered at me through half shut eyes. A slight scowl appeared on her beautiful and youthful face as she caught me red-handed. I felt truly embarrassed and frightened, and as if I were a child being caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Timidly, I closed the folder and my eyes fell to the floor. She slowly walked in. My hands trembled as I zipped the portfolio shut and then stepped back from the desk, almost stumbling on the 5 inch heels I wore.
The 18-year-old black woman stepped further into my office, slowly and cockily. My heart pounded in fear as she approached. She was quiet for the moment and she seemed to be contemplating her next move. I just stood there, shaking and panicked, as she began to slowly circle around me with an unspoken authority.
Alexis seemed to be studying me with great curiosty as I hid my face from hers, in shame. She circled me in slow motion once, then a second and third time. She appeared to be revelling in my fear that made me uncomfortable to the point I felt like I was about to wet my panties.
I was becoming more and more uncomfortable with each moment that passed, and the silence frightened me to an unimagineable level. I could not believe Alexis was not saying a word to me at this time, especially when she stopped and stood before me looking up.
"What was she thinking now?" I began thinking, worriedly.
"Why did I do something so stupid like this?" I asked myself.
My 6'1" tall frame in those statuesque 5 inch tall heels "wobbled" before the 4'11" tall black woman, embarrassed and intimidated. Her look of displeasure was weakening to me as she forced me to look downward into her uninviting eyes.
My eyes then fell to the floor, once again.
Without further hestitation, the young black woman turned and snatched the portfolio from the desk. She unzipped it and pulled out the folder containing the announcement I was about to make. Casually, she just handed it to me and began walking away.
"It's time for the meeting." she said.
As I accepted the folder from her small hands I felt almost relieved. I was glad that she did not mention the incident, or take any action against me. I knew that my actions has to disturb her. It was so obvious that she had caught me rifling through her things. At this time, I found it nearly impossible for the young black woman not to "scold" or "reprimand" me for this, or worse.
"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I answered, tailing behind her as she strutted towards the conference room.
The walk down the hallway felt like the longest walk in the world. It was certainly the longest walk in my life, at the time. My intimdation couldn't have been higher.
The thought of what I was about to do made me feel so unbelievably ashamed, yet somehow I found myself unable to fight it. She had degraded, dominated and disciplined me so much since last Friday, and I was completely in awe of my full compliance to this young black girl.
My mixed feelings of humiliation, fear and intimidation combined with my inability to resist her truly confused me.
The front office was empty as we walked down to the conference room. My entire staff of 7 other older white women were waiting patiently for the meeting young Alexis had called to begin. When we reached the area just outside the conference room, the black teenager turned back to me.
"Don't embarrass me. Just do it right." she warned.
I shook my head, in an embarrassed agreement.
"O-Okay." I barely whispered, timidly.
At this moment, I was intimidated and just wanted to get this all over with. By then, I had all but succumbed to her strength. In my depravity, I felt as if this was the only thing that I would be able to do to get passed this day and move on with my life.
Thoughts of making the announcement and then running back to my homeland in Norway began to cross my mind. I didn't think I would be able to take this embarrassment much longer.
Then, the thought of keeping this company alive to pay off all my debts seemed to win over. My past failures had been exposed, and I certainly did not wish to get into any trouble with the law, as young Alexis had threatened. Her aggressive and straight forward business sense, as well as her exceptional beauty, seemed to magnetize me for some unknown reason.
Yes, I felt my company slipping away. But, I also felt as if this would be the only way it would survive. As I stood there, all these thoughts ran through my mind. More over, the intimidation I felt around her was overwhelming. My nerves stirred when she spoke to me.
"Oh, and one more thing. Remind me to slap you for that little bullshit in my office." she ordered.
My face turned a beet red shade. Once again, the young black woman was actually directing me to remind her to discipline me at a later time. I could not believe her gall. Her cockiness and arrogance in demanding such an order turned my nerves into a frazzled mess, and she was doing this just seconds before I had to give such a demoralizing speech. I stood there unable to speak at that monment.
"By the end of the day." she added.
"Understood?" she asked, demandingly.
"Yes, M-Ma'am. O-Okay." I replied.
"Make a note of it. Always take good notes. I expect that. Is that understood?" she asked.
"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I returned.
I held the conference door open for young Alexis as she sauntered in with a regal presence about her.
The rest of the staff had already been waiting for more than a few minutes over the time the meeting had been called for. In defeat, their heads seemed to look down to their note pads as the black teenager headed straight to the front of the conference table. She stood there looking over the all-white female staff, who was seated. The tension inside this room seemed intimidating in itself.
"Gretchen has an announcement to make y'all. Look up and pay attention." she commanded.
The other seven white women instantly complied, bringing their worried and sullen eyes up to hear this announcement. Their eyes seemed to catch mine for the briefest of moments until their slightly bowed heads could only hold on to my image standing before them.
They stared seemingly embarrassed for me. I realized this was now the same embarrassment they had been feeling for themselves as this young black woman took such control and intimidated them. Yet, they seemed to take more pity on me for being the one who was chosen to take the brunt of her controlled wrath over us.
Standing there in this ridiculously youthful and sexier outfit, the one Alexis was making all of us wear, was humiliating. She was making us all dress this way, and none of us had the backbone to complain. My face was reddened and nearly raw, caused by the "grinding" of her panty-clad pussy this past weekend.
For me, even more defeating was the other 7 white women's faces trying to look at me. They all had the same look of despair that I felt being in the young woman's presence. They seemed awed by my appearance, and the fresh detailed red hand print on my cheek from Alexis Barron's slap. This hand print on my face had to be so obvious to them, although I did not realize it at that moment.