<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cd/73/a7/cd73a732bf24b4f2f5d76d1e8eff7c64.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Mariska Moon<br/><strong>Age:</strong>26<br/><strong>Sexual Identity:</strong>Lesbiflexiaggressive<br/><strong>Position:</strong><del>scissor</del>Operator<br/><br/>If Mariska had needed more proof that life was, literally, Hell, well. There it was. Lia wasn't in, but she could hear Sam and Belinda nattering down the row- she'd do either of them in a second, especially Sam. New Kid, a totes humpable ginger, was talking to Trainer Dude who, for a guy, was completely acceptable ride. Both he and Sam were gonna get a leg over, for sure, leaving Mar in the cold again. Meanwhile she got...<br/><br/>Grady.<br/><br/>Oh, she was used to the guys lecching on her; not that she was All That in the looks department- went out of the way not to be, hiding a trim body and decent enough features under a load of Caught In The Rain Goth- but she had tits and holes, and for most males that was all it took. Hell, for some of them the tits were optional. For months after she'd been hired, Barney, one of the Security check-in guys, had made a big hah-hah out of threatening her with a strip search every time she came in. She'd finally shut that down by, rather than using the lancet for the weekly blood draw, biting hard on the tip of her own tongue and spitting in the vial, then offering him a big wet kiss. Squicked him right the fuck out. Of course, it turned his partner Leroy on something awful, so she was back to square one, as usual. But you took your victories one at a time. Hadn't some smart dude said that? Someone who hadn't worked in a call center in a sub-sub basement?<br/><br/>Then there was Grady. Leroy was at least in good shape. Grady was...Grady. Annnd there went Sam and Belinda, headed for the break room, probably for a hot, wet moment. Dammit. Well, at least Grady's lumpy form didn't hide the luscious rear view as the pair went by. And Sam was tall enough<em> nothing</em>could hide her superstructure...that profile!  Evil Corp should sell<strong>that.</strong>They'd make mint.<br/><br/>"Hey, Knobster," she cooed. "I just read this cool article. You know, way back in the day, they thought headaches were caused by evil spirits pounding to get out?  Weird shit, huh?  They used to drill holes in people's heads to let them out. Kill or cure, kill or cure." Grinning darkly she picked up the tooth-marked stub of her pencil. "Think if I poke a hole in your face, the headache that is you will fly up, up and away?"<br/><br/>For once she was glad the phone rang. The one leather-and-cuffs-bound rule was: you do NOT interrupt CS calls. Not even if the building was falling down and bursting into flames and being invaded by dragons.<em>Especially </em>then. So it got her off the hook with Grady. For a few, at least.<br/><br/>"ThankyouforcallingEvilCorphowmayIdeflectyourcalllll?"