<div class="floatleft">(https://www.pngkey.com/png/full/889-8891004_calling-girl-png-call-center-girl-png.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Belinda Taylor<br/><strong>Age:</strong>22<br/><strong>Sexual Identity:</strong>Ambitious Workaholic<br/><strong>Position:</strong>Agent (Outbound Voice)<br/><br/>“It’s because I’m actually happy,” Belinda smiled at Sam. “Which is a fuckton easier when you’re doing outbound market research jobs, I can tell you that. Nobody expects<em>me</em>to fix shit. Which is good, because oh my god, shit is fucked pretty much all the time.” She shrugged. “You either laugh about it, or you end up like Terry.” She tilted her head to indicate the cubicle on the other side.<br/><br/>Did she feel like taking a break? Her water bottle was nearly empty. “Sure, she said, and smoothly navigated the menus on her computer: not ready->break->hydration->non-emergency. A timer appeared, filling the entire screen with a countdown that was in a font that was quite difficult to read:<strong>8:13</strong>was where it started, for reasons Belinda didn’t try to understand. “Let’s call it seven minutes?”<br/><br/>Climbing out of her chair, Belinda rose to her full height of 5’8”, which would have been three inches less without the heels on her<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button"> classy but dressy work shoes.</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://clarks.scene7.com/is/image/Pangaea2Build/db-journal-best-heels-2-fw-wk45-aw20?wid=1100&amp;fmt=pjpeg)</div></div>. White stockings contrasted nicely with those, leading up to a deep blue pencil skirt that was (literally) straight out of the examples in the employee manual. Then a casual blouse, and a very carefully done ‘girl next door’ makeup job to complete the look. All in all, there should be something there to please any supervisor who took an interest in her appearance.<br/><br/>Walking or standing next to Sam always felt a bit awkward, though. Something about having those magnificent breasts at eye level was a bit embarrassing, especially since they were always straining against the fabric.<em>God, I’m such a hypocrite</em>Belinda scolded herself. It’s not as if she wasn’t wearing a push-up bra; combine that with the top button being ‘missing’ from her blouse, and a great many people at work would look down past her eyes. She sighed, there was no sense being stupid about shit and driving herself crazy.<br/><br/><em>Grady’s being more persistent than usual</em>she observed, and walked straight past, completely confident in Mariska’s ability to handle herself. And then at the end of the row, the new girl was getting coached by what’s-his-name, the good-looking one. New girl was clearly having a rough time, though, and that spelled opportunity.  Belinda leaned over towards<strong>Tserin</strong>, put a hand on her shoulder, and said. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. He’s one of the best we have, let him in and you’ll be OK.” She looked at Tom for a moment, nodded, then turned and walked briskly towards the kitchen before Tom or Tserin had a chance to see that she was about to burst out laughing.