"I've goddamn had it!" the stressed out leader

"I've goddamn had it!" the stressed out leader exclaimed as another person let her down. "You all think that you're so freaking great, yet no one can face up to me." flipping a ta

blespoon at her dumbfounded assistant. The truth was: she just wasn't fit to be a leader. She used to think she would astonish everyone with her understanding of

the intricacies of the Infernal organization. She had even written a book about it called THE ORGANIZATIONAL DEMON: 9 HELLS TOP TO BOTTOM. It did not sell well. She blamed the her

Mit who was her Publisher for not promoting the book. I published myself and made millions. She died before copyrighting it, so I claimed all the money. I went to the Caymans.

Unfortunately the glassy waters and bright sunshine did nothing to quell my guilt for passing the book off as my own. The only way I could live myself would be to

stage an elaborate car chase in which I stand atop a tractor-trailer whilst firing automatic weapons into the air, eventually concluding in my returning the book to its owner.

It's owner, Chrystabelle, thanks me for returning the book, by way of a steamy lovemaking scene. Nothing obscene, lots of gripping hands and parted lips, that sort of thing. We

part after several hours, head home to our everyday lives and routines, but now there is a number written on my palm from someone I want to see again.

Her name is Wendy and I hear she owns a restaurant. She told me she'd text me, but I haven't heard from her in weeks, so I've decided to call her.