“These are forced times, Katarina, and I will push you to task until you get it right,” Harland shouted over the blaring radio.
Katarina stared at him blankly, it was all she could muster. Working for Harland was something of a nightmare; something like being sold into white slavery. In the beginning, this job seemed harmless—creepy, but harmless and the money was better than what she would make flipping burgers or standing behind a register. So she started again.
Harland sat there in his yellowed boxers, his large pendulous gut hanging over the worn out elastic of his underwear, rubbing the apex of his massive stomach. He watched Katarina slowly dance around the room, gyrating and bending herself into inhuman shapes of flesh. He was unshaved and his gray whiskers were askew on his face, his hair greasy and thin, and this was as good as he was ever going to get.
“Hold it right there darlin’……yes…..yes….I like that.”
She froze bent over in half with legs apart, her body an equilateral triangle. Katarina suddenly hated math. She hated biology. She hated psychology. She hated living. She wondered why she didn’t just walk out. She wondered why she continued to take Harland’s filthy money; why she let his bulging eyes slip and slide inside her while he licked his lips. Katarina didn’t have an answer.
“Do it again baby from the top. Do it again.”