Emma glared at him from across the room. This was her every day, forced to endure her sexist boss with nothing she could do about it.
It all started in January, a few months back, when she lost her job, and was in such a devastating state that she had almost been kicked out of her apartment. At a point where she was too embarrassed to ask her parents for help, she decided to look for any job she could possibly get. This is where Mr. Rogers came along. He was an independent lawyer, though worked in an office with a few others, and had put up an advertisement on Indeed regarding a secretary position. Emma hadn’t ever seen herself as a secretary, and had a Political Science degree from a reputable college, but she was desperate, and applied to anything she could get.
The interview itself was strange. It felt as if he didn’t even care about what she did at the job itself, as long as she looked presentable to his clients. Well, the pay was very high, and she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to take a job that could save her from getting kicked out, so she accepted it immediately after it was offered to her the next evening.
Now, three months in, she’s regretting her decision more and more each day.
Emma was twenty four, with long auburn hair she tied in a high ponytail, and a stunning smile that usually got the attention of men at the bar. She had soft curves, and was blessed to not have to exercise a single day in her life to maintain her body. Her girl friends had always expressed their jealousy, though she had always laughed it off in embarrassment. Today, she was wearing a black dress with a metallic belt around her waist, skin colored pantyhose, and brown heels.
It was only a week into her job when Mr. Rogers had called her into his office, and expressed to her the importance of looking presentable at the job. “When I had hired you originally, I thought we were in agreement about how I expected you to look in front of my clients.”
She raised her eyebrows, confused. Her outfit was immaculate, with beige dress pants, a matching blazer, and white blouse. In fact, she even spent her time ironing them before putting them on in the morning. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean?”
He shook his head, clearly exasperated. “Just look at yourself in the mirror. A secretary is the first thing a client sees when they walk in. It is essential that you wear dresses on a daily basis, complete with pantyhose and heels.” He peeked his head around the corner, and grimaced. “What are those? I’ve never seen a presentable woman wear flats.”
She blushed furiously. “Don’t you think you’re being a little misogynistic?” She wanted to step right out of there, but something stopped her, something nagging in the back of her head. Her last warning to pay her rent flashed before her eyes. No, she never wanted to face something so horrible again.
“It’s not me, Emma. It’s the way the world is now,” he replied matter-of-factly. “It’s what other people perceive.” He shook his head, “honestly, when I hired you I thought we were on the same page. Now, I’m not so sure. I gave you a week to figure it out yourself, but it is evidently not happening.”
It was from that day on that Emma had begun wearing heels and dresses to work every single day. Mr. Rogers hadn’t said a single thing about it, though the lack of more calls to his office reprimanding her was definitely a success. She tried to convince herself that the new short dresses did look great on her body, and it gave her some more confidence. It was also difficult buying a whole new wardrobe, but she was making so much at this point that money wasn’t really a concern.
It was this day three months later that he had called her into his office again, and she sat uneasily, hoping she hadn’t done anything particularly wrong. In fact, it didn’t seem like she could possibly do anything wrong, as he barely tells her to do anything in the first place.
“Hi Mr. Rogers, is there anything I can help you with?” She asked in the most gentle voice she possibly could, though she knew he constantly spotted her glaring at him from beyond his office door.
“Please, sit, Emma.” She had to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes, but she complied.
“You haven’t asked for a meeting for months, something wrong?”
He nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, there is.” She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply, “remember when Mr. Crawley came to visit? From the firm across the street?” She nodded, not knowing where this was going, “he informed me that he didn’t think you looked presentable enough.”
“Excuse me?” She asked. This was preposterous, she was already dressed to the extreme.
“There’s a new style that’s come in recently, and a lot of secretaries are sporting it. It’s proven to increase the value of the company tremendously, and I want you to do the same,” he explained.
She was immediately hesitant, “what kind of new style?”
“They’re called ballet boots. I must insist that you wear them every day from now on,” he said it so firmly it was clear nothing would change his mind.
“I’ve never heard of ballet boots before… though right off the bat I don’t think they sound very office friendly,” she couldn’t help but voice her opinion, it might’ve been her only chance.
“I’d say I have more say than you about what is deemed office friendly, as the person who pays you,” he replied curtly. “I expect you to buy a pair tonight, at least one, and begin wearing them tomorrow.” She was shocked. She had already known he was ridiculous, but this was just taking it a step too far.
She was speechless, and sat there staring at him. “Do you have any questions, Emma?”
Well, she had no idea what they looked like… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She shook her head, smoothed out her dress, and said, “no. Thank you, Mr. Rogers.”
As she left his office, she missed the smirk on Mr. Rogers’ face as he watched her step out, her dress barely covering her bottom.
“This is just too easy,” he muttered under his breath before going right back to work.
—-----------
Emma had spent the afternoon at the mall, trying to figure out exactly what he meant by “ballet boots”. It took three different stores before someone could point her out in the right direction. Ballet boots were in fact used as a type of fetish wear, and she wouldn’t be able to purchase them at any store at the mall.
She was guided to a specialty store she had never heard of, and was immediately uncomfortable as soon as she entered. There were knick knacks she had never seen before, things that looked incredibly painful, and clothes that were entirely inappropriate. She wondered if her boss would escalate this further, and force her into wearing something of the sorts.
Thankfully, the woman working at the store was incredibly kind, and led her to the pair of boots she was looking for. She stared at them, unable to say a single word. “Here you are, m’dear. Ballet boots. Wearing them for someone special?” She asked, a sly grin on her face.
The woman was carrying tight leather boots, coming up past the ankle and laced like a pair of sneakers with zippers on the side. There was a clip on the side of the zippers for a lock and key, and the heels themselves were the highest Emma had ever seen in her life, with toes that pointed just like a ballet slipper would. There was no way she would ever be able to wear something like that without falling, and no way this was even remotely work appropriate. His whole spiel about other secretaries wearing it must’ve been complete bullshit. The fact that she had to even purchase something like this from a fetish store made it even more obvious.
She shook her head, realizing further that he had said he expected her to wear them every single day. He must’ve gone insane.
“No, just buying them for myself,” she lied after a long pause.
In the end, she purchased the boots in her size, but refused to even try them at the store. She was going to have a word with her boss in the morning, and possibly quit once and for all.
She was feeling more and more confident the next morning, and as soon as she had arrived she slammed the boots on his desk, looking completely furious. “You must be kidding me!” She exclaimed.
He cleared his throat and rested the documents he was holding back on his desk, “good morning to you too, Emma. I see you’ve purchased the ballet boots.”
“You want me to wear these?! Every day?”
“Yes, is there going to be a problem?” He was acting like she was the crazy one!
“Yes, there’s going to be a problem! How am I supposed to work like this? I can barely handle 3 inch heels!”
He shook his head, “that seems like something you need to work on as a woman. In fact, this will be great for you to get started on how to wear proper heels.”
“I’ll be a laughing stock. No one’s going to take me seriously.” She had started so strong, but now she was beginning to feel like a whiny baby.
“No, everyone will take you quite seriously. Now, if you’re done with this ridiculous conversation, please close the door behind you as you leave. I have quite the busy day ahead of me, as you should be quite aware of.”
She didn’t know what to say. She had been dismissed again, like none of her opinions even mattered to him. All she could do was walk out of his office, the heels in her hand.
She spent the next fifteen minutes staring at them as she sat in one of the client’s waiting chairs. Mr. Rogers had removed her ability to sit at her own desk quite a while back, and she had had to use a standing desk ever since. This made the notion of wearing something like this all day even more ridiculous. Now, she had to decide. Was keeping the job more important to her, or being completely and utterly treated like an object?
She decided that she should at least try the heels, just to see how difficult it would really be. She slowly took off her own 3 inch heels, unzipped the ballet boots, and slipped them on slowly. She grimaced as soon as she slipped her entire foot in. That sadistic bastard. It felt horrible, like her foot was being forced to curve in a way that it was never meant to do.
She did the same with her other foot, and zipped them both up. Thankfully, she had at least purchased the right size, though she didn’t know if any size would ever feel comfortable. She held onto the chair’s edge as she slowly pushed herself upwards. She swayed forwards and backwards, and eventually balanced herself with her tiptoes right in the center. She felt as if even a single breath could knock her over.
Determined to do this now, she took a single step forwards towards her standing desk, and proceeded to crash to the ground, her ankles completely losing control. “Fuck!” She yelled, knowing Mr. Rogers would be able to hear her. She had missed the chair completely, and landed squarely on her ass, with some of her dress riding up. She knew at once she would be bruised from this, and that she would likely fall many more times that day.
Mr. Rogers came out of his office, trying hard to hide his smile. He had a cellphone against his ear, and grimaced down at her, “don’t be such a disgrace, Emma. Get up and go back to work.”
She would’ve given anything at this point to give him the finger he truly deserved.