In my ascent to the ladder of power, I have learned its sexual nature and its ability to lure men and women towards your sphere of influence. Power is a very useful tool, but very fragile too. And when it is abused, it becomes a time-bomb that could destroy everything around you.
There’s a special union between power and sex (lots of illicit sex). The higher one goes, the more intense the craving for sex gets. I think power begets illicit sex and vice versa. And it gives the shallow promise of immunity, henceforth corruption. And there you have it, the ultimate unholy trinity of human nature.
The forbidden liaisons and corruption of those who are on top will never pass unobserved by the lowly servants of a big company, especially when there are gossiping pinoys around and burdened employees.
There’s nothing more exquisite for destitute drones than finding solace in the sweet exchanges of devilish gossips with their fellow bondservants, about what’s happening in their masters’ bedchambers.
You really can’t blame the drones or keep them from talking about the secret liaisons of their masters. It’s the ultimate revenge of subordinates against their slave-drivers and opportunist masters. Others may be bitter and intend to destroy their masters’ reputation. And some are curious or are simply born as certified busy-bodies.
In our workplace, I have gathered enough stories and facts about almost everybody in the company’s ruling class.
Let’s start from the very top of the ladder- He Who is Proclaimed King of Fast-Food of
, a subtle
philanderer. He WAS a true Italian male beauty- tall, blond, charming smile,
cool voice, and a sharp mind that was forged in the most prestigious business
school of the country. It was said that he got his wealth by marrying a Belgian
beauty. Their marriage was the fruit of love; and just like any other fruit, it
started to rot. Florence
We presumed that the owner of the company would be quite busy running his business and saving his empire from economic downfall. But one night, he was spotted by an employee in a club where the young and reckless dwell in the night. He was there on the dance floor, a reckless rich guy, with one of his female general managers, a young whore in heat. Will the Belgian beauty know about this affair?
Then there’s the Brazilian business consultant, also known as The Sperminator. A father of two, and husband to exotic glamazon from
. He’s no hunk.
A bit flabby and has the nasal voice of a frog. Perhaps it’s his Latino
machismo and his legendary super-endowed phallus that makes many women hover
around his groin. Even the wisest and most powerful dragon-lady of the company
(simply the Brazil CEO) was disarmed by his
advances. Their affair was one the reasons that led her to fall from grace.
Indulging the needs of the Sperminator can definitely bring you success. A young Filipina, ALLEGEDLY, got her promotion by her outstanding performance, in the restaurant and in bed. Every night her roommates would hear the squeaking of a bed, screams and moans of two people banging like there’s no tomorrow. So you see, a good service brings success.
As for my superior, I always bring up stories of her unfaithfulness to the most desired bachelor of the company. When Mr. Bachelor was gone, she was whore-fucking his friend, one of the company’s directors who dated tall blond models. This director was cute but skinny. I wondered why was she attracted to this guy when Mr. Bachelor had better looks, more successful, and rich. I found out that skinny director was skinny in everything but his reproductive tool. His member is not just big. It’s mouth-wateringly the biggest and healthiest, and the premium example of an Italian stallion-like member in the realm.
So behind the angelic charm and soft voice, my boss is actually a raging, insatiable bitch of all time.
At the time, their story was sensational. You can actually hear employees maliciously sneer behind my superior whenever she’s around. Everybody was sympathetic to poor Mr. Bachelor. Now, he has found happiness in the arms of an Indian girl, and my boss found happiness grabbing Mr. Stallion’s happiness-tool.
One time I was sent to another branch of our chain of restaurants to help manage it and solve problems regarding its operations.
And there I met Mr. Beefcake, an employee in his forties, married, broad-shouldered, beefy arms, not good-looking but deliciously meaty and virile.
I always made sure that his shifts would coincide with my shifts (early signs of my own corruption). So even though work went smoothly, I always had a “hard” time. It was always a delightful experience having an eye-candy by my side. But it was just all looking but no touching.
During those months I found out that some of the problems and the difficulty of rallying the whole work force as a team were rooted to this- the secret affair of Mr. Beefcake and their Russian store manager who probably showered him with favours. Obviously, I found out about the affair.
Mr. Beefcake’s wife found out (God knows how) and she came to the restaurant making a scene, demanding that the Russian bitch be fired.
It was really a sad sight- the Russian store manager still keeping her job but still unhappy with her Italian fiancé, Beefcake lost his job while his family was falling apart, and me, still pleasuring myself, on my own. But after all this madness, I think I’m better off like this.
I hope not to fall from grace or commit any of my superiors’ sins. If I really have to rub off an itch, may the Heavens be merciful to steer me away from any chance of becoming the next Clinton-Lewinsky phenomenon.