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He relented when I agreed to pay for his meal.I wasn't physically afraid of him, like I was with the beast rearing down on me, but it was the power of intimidation he had over me. Just the threat of seeing the manager and I was paying for his lunch. Sure, my manager probably would have stood by me, but in the moment, I was weak and scared.If I forced myself to be honest, even the "real" me, the workaholic, really was just afraid and intimidated by those above her and that's why she convinced herself she did it for love of the work. Of course she ... She? That was me! Of course [i]I[/i] wanted to get to the top and be the one doing the intimidating. But try as I might, I would forever be passed over for promotions because I was too weak.I readied myself for the blow. The psychological intimidation paled in comparison to what Gregg's threat of violence made me feel. How could the whore stand it?The blow never came. Before he could strike me, the whore lashed my leg out and kicked him. The deliveryman let out a deliberate cough. Darren threw the pad at him and slammed the door shut.Opening his package, he sifted through the unfamiliar items and organized them. He slapped the lipstick on, crammed his feet into the shoes, stuffed some socks into his shirt and pulled on the wig. He stumbled around his apartment, and then yanked the giant floral print dress over his head. It was now or never. He couldn't chicken out. He'd walk around the building once or twice, and then get back into his apartment. Just enough so he'd bee seen. Darren headed for the freight elevator.He walked around the block once, nervously, and staggered around like a drunken crane. He just kept his gaze straight ahead, and made no eye contact. It was a big city. These people had seen stranger, and didn't give him any trouble. He then skittered back into the rear delivery entrance of his building. At least he hadn't seen anybody he recognized.Darren dropped himself on the couch and let out his.
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