Cheebee eased Grandma’s quilt to her chin while her thoughts slipped to sleep.  Simple satisfaction and immense relief crooned lullabies rocking away her immutable conscience.  Tomorrow, she knew, would be different from today and the last six months of yesterdays.  Her Personal Assault Manager was dead.   

The day following her hire as Richard’s Administrative Assistant, he slid his hand under Cheebee’s skirt. Shambling his fingers between her thighs, Richard declared his needs must be assisted.  Cheebee leaped away.  His lecherous gaze radiating into her cleavage exposed wanton desire.

Cheebee’s debt loomed larger than her bossman’s advances.  As bill collectors swarmed and the eviction notice arrived, her financial straits jailed Cheebee to this hard-sought job.  Pulling a pay proved more vital than to quit over misplaced fondling.   

Displaying her value and worth as an employee, Cheebee dared think Richard’s willfulness would wane.  She demonstrated various distractions and matronly dress, but he savored the cat-and-mouse play.  Richard’s lust intensified confirming Cheebee’s naiveté.  One Friday afternoon, in the throes of pinning her between office equipment and a door, he nibbled her earlobe promoting himself as her Personal Assault Manager.   

Today, Richard whirled Cheebee the wrong way.  The letter opener she clenched in her fist kissed his jugular.  Disbelief in his eyes, Richard stumbled into his leather chair yanking the dull implement from his neck.  Cheebee straightened herself, the office desk, and Richard’s tie before seeing the dregs of his heart ooze out to the oxford’s blood-soaked collar.  Cheebee left for the day.