Boss Thighs / Weighted Wait

Paul Tanner

boss thighs

 

she likes what she sees

 

licks her lips

breathes in

 

looks up from the disciplinary form

 

I’m afraid

she gasps

 

uncrosses her legs

 

looks you in the eye

 

we’re going to have to let you go

 

sits back

and exhales,

the once taut meat above her knees

melting across the chair cushion

 

you leave her there

behind her desk

staring at the ceiling

 

walk out

blue unemployed balls swaying

 

fucked

but not

fucked.

weighed wait

 

she went to the bathroom.

we didn’t say anything.  

when she came back

she looked at us both

and said:

you two are quiet.

it was somehow worse

than if we’d have spoken.

Paul Tanner earns minimum wage and writes. And sometimes, he just plain is. he recently gave up cheese and hope, in that order.

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