Rose didn't know she was going to slap Monica until it happened. She was just standing there in the locker room, peeling off her soaking wet jumpsuit and feeling the harsh industrial soap against her raw, reddened skin and listening with impotent fury as the bleach-blonde bitch who never seemed to have to get her hands dirty said, "Oh, Mister Fudderman says he needs someone to cover Saturday night--you're not doing anything, are you?" And suddenly she was watching herself leave a full-on handprint against Monica's ivory cheek, Will Smith-style. It was the closest she'd ever come to having an out-of-body experience. The room filled with silence for a long moment as she struggled to figure out if it really happened, or if it was just another one of her recurring daydreams.

But the stony look on Monica's face told her it was real. Which meant Rose had probably just lost her job--she already knew management played favorites around here, that was the whole reason why Monica got to flounce up to the boss's office and make sad little puppy-dog eyes and get someone else to take her Saturday night shift in the first place. If Monica decided to tell Mister Fudderman that Rose had physically assaulted another employee, especially if that employee was Monica herself, Rose would be escorted off the premises before she could even finish cleaning out her locker. And the vindictive little shit would probably make sure she couldn't even list the car wash on her next job application to boot.

All of which caught up with Rose's stunned brain while her mouth was still feebly flapping away with a mumbled, "I--I'm sorry, I don't know what--I've never done anything like--I don't know what I was thinking, I just, just, just...." She finally trailed into uncomfortable silence before collecting her thoughts into a single apology. "I'm sorry," she murmured contritely, looking down at Monica's shoes. "That was completely uncalled for." Even as she said it, she knew that wasn't going to be the end of it.

And sure enough, Monica fixed her with a smug, triumphant little smirk that told Rose she knew she had the chubby brunette exactly where she wanted her. "Do you have a problem with me?" she asked, sounding for all the world like a high-priced lawyer closing in for the kill during cross-examination. "Go on, say whatever you need to. Get it out of your system. I think we'll both feel better once we've cleared the air." The low, sensual menace in her voice told Rose that it wasn't a request.

Rose swallowed hard. "It's just, well... it's, um, frustrating sometimes. I, I mean you, I mean...." She wished this hadn't happened right as she was letting her sodden jumpsuit fall to the floor--Monica's contemptuous gaze made her feel incredibly vulnerable in just her bra and panties, but at the same time she couldn't imagine reaching into her locker and pulling on her clothes while she talked. Her feet seemed to be rooted to the spot by Monica's stare, and all she could do was fumble her way through the conversation despite the cold conviction that she was only digging herself deeper in with every word.

"It feels like Mister Fudderman--I mean, not that he's not a great boss," Rose interrupted herself to add, knowing there was at least an eighty percent chance that anything she said to Monica would go straight back to the petty tyrant who watched them all from the window of his second-floor office and made their lives a living hell eight hours at a time. "But sometimes it feels like he has kind of a, um, a preference for you. When making schedules. And setting duties. And, um, and enforcing some of the rules, and, and, and... and you always get your fucking way about fucking everything, goddammit!" Shit. There she went again. There was no way she was going to get out of this with a job--at this rate, she'd be lucky if Monica didn't pop her one and call it self-defense. Rose was easily a head shorter and had no muscle tone, she knew she'd get her ass kicked if this actually came to a fight.

But although Monica stepped in uncomfortably close to Rose's nearly naked body, it didn't feel threatening. Not exactly. It fell into that subtle gray area between overwhelming and intimidating, an assertion of her presence and her dominance that made Rose want to back up and at the same time left her more rooted in place than ever. "Is that what's wrong?" the taller woman asked, angling her stare so that Rose had to look almost directly up to meet her cloud-colored eyes. "You wish you had the boss wrapped around your little finger the same way I do? I could give you some pointers if you'd like. He's a real pushover once you know what motivates him."

Rose suspected she already knew what motivated him--this place practically ran on gossip and innuendo, and she'd heard more rumors about what Monica did to keep her position at the top of the pecking order than she could count. But she needed to get back into the blonde's goodwill, and suggesting that she sucked off the boss on her lunch breaks every day didn't seem like a good way to go about it. "Um, uh, sure, that sounds... yeah!" she mumbled, embarrassed by the wheedling sycophancy in her voice but not so embarrassed that she was about to stop.

Monica chuckled. "The thing you need to understand," she said, putting her hand on the lockers and leaning in so close Rose could feel the warmth of her breath against her damp, chilly skin, "is that everyone has certain basic, primal drives that they need to satisfy. Some people might think they're too good for that, too prim and proper and dignified, but when you scratch the surface I guarantee you there's a needy little bitch underneath. All you have to do is make them admit it, and they'll be yours forever."

Rose blushed. This was the part of the social game she was always bad at, even with the women she otherwise got along with pretty well. Every time the conversation got a little bit bawdy, she always flushed deep red and retreated into herself and hoped they didn't think she was being judgy when she really just didn't know how to cope with sex talk given her... her lack of experience. An entire childhood of being made fun of for her weight had left her uncomfortably certain that any guy who expressed interest in her was just setting her up for a later humiliation, and she'd never been able to get past it well enough to engage with that kind of playfully adult banter.

But there was nowhere to hide right now, literally or figuratively. "Now I know what you're thinking," Monica continued, her body obliterating Rose's concept of personal space. "But it's not just about having sex. You have sex right away with someone who wants you, they start thinking of you as a commodity they can tap whenever they're in the mood. You have to convince them that you're their everything--not just unattainable, that's easy, but the ultimate expression of everything they desire."

Rose gulped. "Um, h-how, uh, how do you do that?" she asked, captivated despite herself. She never thought she could be any kind of seductress, not with her broad hips and wide ass and round, curvy belly, but something in the way that Monica fixed her with that smoldering gaze made her feel sexual in a way she hadn't imagined before. It almost seemed like it was her and not Mister Fudderman that the leggy blonde was talking about, like she was the needy bitch hiding beneath a veneer of shy, straight embarrassment.

Monica leaned in and whispered in her ear, coming so close that Rose could actually feel the heat of the other woman's body radiating into her skin. "I thought you'd never ask." She leaned back, a smile on her face. "So much of it is reading people. You can tell so much about a person simply by paying attention, by winding them up and seeing what happens when they finally release all that emotional tension. The opposite of love isn't hate, honey girl. It's indifference. When you see someone get emotional about you, even if they're mad and confused and act like they can't stand the sight of you, then you know you can twist that hate into desire. You just need to get them appropriately vulnerable."

Rose nodded, hoping she looked appropriately interested. Not that she wasn't--honestly, it would be nice to find a way to get Mister Fudderman to treat her a little better, and even nicer if she could maybe generalize it to one of the cute guys who went to the gym next door to her apartment--but she was all too acutely aware that if there was a single person who was vulnerable right now, it was her. She needed to convince Monica that she was an eager, attentive student of her seduction game if she wanted to get out of this, and if that meant sucking up to her a little, well. She could always hate the bitch tomorrow.

"The trick is to add sexuality to every interaction," Monica went on, putting her face so conspiratorially close to Rose's that their lips practically touched. "When you're always sexual, and at the same time always unattainable, you create that sense of potent desire even where it didn't exist before. Even if they think they hate your fucking guts, if you're always tantalizing them with the promise of sex then on an unconscious level, their libido is going to scratch away at their determination and make them want to please you."

She chuckled. "Of course, it's easier if they're so horny and repressed they're practically gagging for it from anyone." Rose nodded again, even though she had no idea how that applied to Mister Fudderman. The oily fucking bastard only hired women in their twenties, and everyone who worked at the car wash knew exactly why.

It wasn't a question Monica seemed to want to answer. "Now with some of them, you're going to want to work on them for a long time. Really get inside their heads, prick-tease them... or cunt-tease them... until you're their new fucking obsession. But even then, they should always feel like if they just keep playing the game and staying on your good side, they're just one good day away from getting fucked." Rose couldn't hide her shocked intake of breath, and not just at the openly filthy language the blonde was using. She'd never realized Monica was bisexual. Suddenly their nearness took on a new and potent meaning that left Rose almost swooning with confusion.

Monica must have noticed. She leaned in even closer, so close that her leg brushed against the sheer fabric of Rose's panties. "But with some of them... the really weak-willed and horny ones, who don't know what they want and need to be told... you don't need to play around that long. You just need to show them that you're the one in charge, that they don't have a choice anymore and they have to be good and do what they're told. After that, you can fuck them as much as you want so long as you keep it clear that they're always going to be your bitch."

She finally leaned in that last little distance, her lips pressing against Rose's even as her thigh ground hard against the shorter woman's surprisingly slick cunt. "Isn't that right... bitch?" she asked, breaking the kiss and fixing Rose with a piercing glare that only allowed one answer.

Rose tried to fight it. She really did. She tried to remind herself that she fucking hated Monica's guts (but wasn't hate just a twisted kind of desire?) She tried to remind herself that she wasn't gay (but wasn't she so horny and repressed she was practically gagging for it from anyone?) She tried to tell herself that she wasn't the kind of woman who would debase herself by humping someone's leg like a horny puppy (but wasn't there a needy little bitch inside her just waiting to get out?) And all the while, as she struggled to understand the tangle of confusion inside her dazed and bewildered head, she kept grinding against Monica's thigh. And that only made thinking that much harder.

"That's how you know you got it right," Monica purred as if she knew exactly what was going on inside Rose's head. She yanked Rose's bra down carelessly and began fondling her heavy tits. "When they go all passive and meek and submissive, when they start looking up at you with those glassy cow eyes like they're hypnotized and you can tell they're just so pathetically grateful to rub themselves off on you because at least it's something... that's when you know you own them. Forever. And between you and me...."

She pinched Rose's nipples firmly between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, tugging on them until Rose let out a long, shuddery moan of pain mingled with pleasure and came so hard against Monica's thighs that she made a sopping mess of her panties. "That's when the real fun begins." Rose nodded vacantly, unable to make sense of the noise inside her head. She decided, without ever really making a decision of her own, that it would just be easier if she stopped thinking and let Monica tell her what to want. And with a heavy sigh, Rose did exactly that.

THE END