“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”
Caitlin frowned as the audiobook played in her car’s stereo. She had thrown on one of the classics—Dickens, her favourite—to help her relax on her drive home from work, but as she heard those opening lines, she only found herself growing more tense. And after the day she had just had, that was saying something.
She should have realized that work was going to be a fucking nightmare the moment she walked through the door and headed to her floor that morning. She hadn’t gotten three steps towards the elevator when Pamela, the lady at the front desk, called after her.
“Caitlin!” she yelled, her voice shrill and nasally. “Mr. Langton wants to see you in his office.”
She hadn’t been sure what to expect when she greeted her boss a few minutes later, but she had a suspicion that it would be nonsense as usual. The first words out of his mouth all but confirmed it.
“Caitlin, I’ve decided not to run with your article on the missing girls.”
“What!?” she said, her voice incredulous. “That’s outrageous, Tom. The public has a right to know about these disappearances.”
“They do,” he agreed. He walked over to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of whiskey. At 9 in the morning. Caitlin narrowed her eyes. Was it some sort of prerequisite for all editors to have sideboards in their offices—a sort of unspoken adherence to some fondly remembered cliché? He threw the whiskey back and grimaced, then looked at her. “They do,” he repeated. “Which is why I’m getting Lillian to write it.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Lillian writes articles,” he continued. “Whereas you... you write Mensa riddles.”
“Excuse me?”
“Caitlin, the Daily Trumpet is one of the most widely circulated papers in the city. People love us. And do you know why that is? Do you know why we’re holding our own against the rise of blogs and online articles and twitter journalists?”
Caitlin was beginning to feel indignant. Patronized. “Well, I should assume it’s because of our adherence to—”
“It’s because we’re easy to read, Caitlin. We use small words. We get to the point. People read us because they don’t have to work hard to understand us.” He poured another drink. “So when an article comes across my desk, and it’s all ‘recalcitrant’ this and ‘indelible’ that, what am I supposed to do about that? I can barely make sense of your articles. What do you think would happen if Johnny Mullet from Bumfuck lane were to read one of your pieces?”
“If he had any sophistication he’d—”
“I’d tell you what he’d do, Caitlin. He’d very slowly put the paper down, then he’d back away. He’d back away right to the nearest iPad, where he’d check out buzzfeed or msn dot com, and he’d never read another newspaper again.” He held the glass of whiskey out to her. “Drink?”
But she was too outraged to accept his offer. “Mr. Langton,” she said, her voice very cold. “When I endeavour to write an article, I merely use the choicest word to suit any situation. It can’t be helped if certain... troglodytes can’t be—”
“But you just did it!” her editor said. He took a sip from the drink that she had refused, then placed it on his desk. “Just say idiot! Or moron. I’d even settle for imbecile over ‘troglodyte’.” He let out a sigh. “Look, you’re a young, brilliant writer. I get that. But just because you have an IQ of one-hundred-and-smart doesn’t mean you have to always show it off!” He sat down on his desk, next to the drink, and looked at her seriously. “Simplify, Caitlin. It’ll make my life a lot easier, and yours too, come to think of it.”
Caitlin stared at him, eyes narrowed from behind her glasses, and her editor stared back. Simplify? she wanted to yell at him. I’m trying to write meaningful, insightful articles that will change the world, and you want me to simplify? You’re the reason print is dying. But she didn’t say any of that. Instead she just cleared her throat. When she spoke, her voice was calm and even.
“Mr. Langton,” she said. “Are you quite finished?”
After another moment, Tom Langton looked away, draining the rest of his drink. “I suppose I am. Sorry for holding you up, Caitlin.”
So she returned to her desk feeling positively livid, too angry to concentrate on her work for more than a few seconds at a time. Every e-mail that came across her desk, every word from a co-worker, just set her teeth to grinding.
She was amazed she had managed to make it to 5 without yelling at a single person. That had been a small miracle in itself. But now, sitting in the car and listening to Dickens, she found that her mood was only getting worse.
Dickens was a genius, she thought to herself. The man got paid by the word and composed absolutely elegant literary treasures. She tried to imagine how Charles Dickens would feel working in her office. She pictured Langton telling him that Great Expectations was fine and all, but did it have to be so wordy? Despite herself, she gave a bitter laugh at that image.
Nobody would have said that to him, she thought ruefully. People didn’t worry about appealing to the lowest common denominator, or dumbing themselves down for the sake of accessibility. As she pulled into her driveway, she had to ask herself: what kind of age was she living in, where a genius such as herself was being forced to write for a barely literate audience?
Well, it certainly wasn’t “the best of times.” Which only left that one other option.
* * *
There were three e-mails waiting for her by the time she barrelled her way through her front door, and none of them did any good in immediately improving her mood.
The first was from Robert.
Hey babe. Had a lot of fun chatting with you over dinner last week. Maybe we can meet again soon? A few of my friends are having a get-together and I know they’d just love you. Anyways, let me know. -R
Her eyes quickly scanned over his message and she frowned in obvious distaste. The dinner to which he was referring had been nothing short of a disaster, in her opinion. The restaurant had been overcrowded, the food had been sub-par, and worst of all, the conversation had been stilted and dull. She had tried to float topic after topic his way, from her interest in classic literature to the modern remounting of La Traviata that was playing later in the month, but it was no use. He had responded to each of them with the same polite bewildered smile, like a deer caught in a particularly confusing set of headlights. She felt less like she had been on a date and more like she had been training a chimp to use sign language.
And now he wanted to meet with her again? To show her off to his friends? She tried to imagine what they could possibly be like. The first image that popped in her head was of Robert’s friends, grouped together and staring slack jawed at her, like the apes at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey gawking up at the Monolith. She gave an involuntary shudder. No thank you.
The second e-mail was from her co-worker Lillian.
Hey!!!! I just talked to Tim... he wanted me to follow up on that missing girls piece you had been working on... hope everything is okay?? Think you could send me some of your notes? Thanks!!
This e-mail she took her time reading, studying each word—each excessive punctuation mark—in stunned disbelief. This was the ignoramus who was going to be re-writing her article? This was the “simple” voice her editor was going for? It was so absurd that she would have laughed, if it wasn’t also so tragic.
The final e-mail was from... well... Caitlin wasn’t exactly sure who. Nor did she care to find out.
Congratulations! FREE TRIAL!
Greetings and salutations! You have been lucky selected for free trial winner of product! Just click here for accept of offer and download will commence soonafter.
YES PLEASE NO THANK YOU
Despite her mood, Caitlin did laugh after reading over this piece of spam that had somehow gotten through her e-mail filters. She shook her head. If this was the state of modern advertising, then humanity was surely doomed. She wondered how long it would be before her editor offered whoever wrote this drivel a job at the Daily Trumpet.
Still chuckling ruefully, she moved her mouse over to the “NO THANK YOU” option, but must have slightly misjudged her mouse sensitivity, because the cursor went straight to “YES PLEASE” as she clicked.
“Oh, god damn it.” No sooner did she click on the icon than the words “Commencing Download” appeared on her screen. She was not about to download some random program onto her hard drive. She tried to cancel but the process was almost instantaneous, and before she could do anything, she was greeted with a new screen. “Download Complete. Installing now.”
“What? No!” Oh, this was just what she needed to finish her day. After putting up with all that nonsense from work, here she was about to install a potentially lethal virus. “Undo, damn you!” she yelled, clicking frantically around the screen as a blue progress bar began to inch its way from one side of the screen to the other. Caitlin had never been particularly proficient at computers, and if she ever had to abort a program installation in the past, there was usually a “cancel install” button to click on. But there was no such option here. Just the blue progress bar, stretching steadily forwards, longer and longer before her eyes.
She wanted to scream. This was unacceptable. She had important files on this computer—unfinished articles and research that she had spent months cultivating. And the manuscript that she had been working on. Her Great American Novel. Work that she had never thought to back up onto another hard drive. And I’m going to lose it all because of one imbecilic e-mail! Caitlin buried her head in her hands and groaned, though before long a pleasant ding!from the computer brought her attention back to the screen.
“Installation complete. Welcome to simplify.exe!”
Caitlin’s frown deepened. She had no idea what this “simplify.exe” was supposed to do, but she didn’t like the sound of it. A second later, the welcome message disappeared and the computer screen went black, causing Caitlin’s heart to nearly leap out if her chest. But before she could panic, a new screen appeared.
This must have been the title screen for the program itself, because the words “SIMPLIFY” bounced in the centre in big pink bubbly letters over a baby blue background. The speakers began to play a happy little tune, the kind Caitlin would have expected to hear playing in front of some insipid kid’s show or gum commercial. Though the screen did instill Caitlin with a small wave of relief—this didn’t look malicious enough to be a computer virus, at least—she still found the whole thing to be tacky and egregious.
“No thank you,” she muttered to herself. She reached forward and hit ALT+F4 on her keyboard, forcing the program to quit.
But nothing happened. The screen just stayed the same, and the jaunty tune continued playing. She pursed her lips and tried again, and again the screen didn’t change.
“Quit, damn you,” she grumbled, trying for a third time. This time something happened, even if it wasn’t the desired effect.
The bubbly “SIMPLIFY” floated off the screen, and was quickly replaced by new text, also in that same bubbly pink font.
“Hello Caitlin, and thanks for agreeing to take the Simplify journey with us! Are you ready to begin?”
Below that text was a single button. It read, “YES! I’M READY!!!” in equally pink writing.
Caitlin stared at her screen for a good long minute. She was anything but ready to begin, and was taken aback that the program knew her name. What other information on the computer did it have access to? She tried ALT+F4 once more, just in case, but when nothing happened, she let out a sigh. It seemed she had no choice. The program didn’t look harmful, and the sooner she went through with whatever it wanted, the sooner she’d be able to quit it and purge it from her computer. She’d be cautious, of course; if the program needed her to do anything unacceptable, like provide credit card details, she’d risk a hard reboot of her system. But hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
“Alright, fine,” she murmured. “Let’s see what all this nonsense is about.” She took a deep breath, then clicked on “YES! I’M READY!!!”
Immediately, the following words showed on her screen:
“Great! Let’s SIMPLIFY!!!”
The music played a bit louder as a stream of images flashed in front of Caitlin’s screen, each image showing for barely half a second before being replaced by a new image. Kittens playing with a ball of yarn. Pink soap bubbles floating in the air. A baby panda chewing on a too-big piece of bamboo. Caitlin rolled her eyes. It was all the sort of inane drivel that her moronic co-workers would tape to their cubicle walls. A little pug riding on a skateboard. A monkey covering its eyes. A woman lying on a bed, her back arched in lust and ecstasy as a man stood over her, his erect member ready. A baby chick following after its mother. A toddler dressed like a ballerina. A-
Wait.
Caitlin’s brows furrowed. Had she seen that correctly? It had been brief, almost too brief to completely register, but she could have sworn that one of the images had been not like the others. Obscene. Pornographic. She kept watching the parade of images on the screen, looking out for a similarly vulgar picture, but none came. Just the same generic trite. A bouquet of pink flowers. A warm cup of coffee in someone’s hands. A school of colourful fish.
A bitter laugh escaped from Caitlin’s lips. She must have imagined that one image. Maybe it had been a husband and wife playing Twister or something innocent like that, and she just hadn’t had a good enough look at the image. Maybe I’ve had a longer day than I originally suspected, if that’s where my head’s going.
After another minute, the images stopped, and new pink text appeared.
“We’re only getting started, Caitie! Are you having fun? Tell us how you’re feeling!”
Below that, there was a small white box where she was clearly meant to share her thoughts. And she fully intended on doing just that. She cracked her knuckles and began to type.
“As a matter of fact, I am not, as you say, ‘having fun.’ I would, in fact, venture to say that I am thoroughly unimpressed with this whole affair and whatever ludicrousness this program is intended to achieve. I cannot begin to fathom why you saw fit to assault my screen with your barrage of inanity, but the sooner your witless program ends, the happier I’ll be.” She paused, then added, “furthermore, it’s Caitlin, not Caitie, thank you very much.” Caitlin hit return, and a moment later there was a new message.
“But Caitie is so much SIMPLER than Caitlin!” it read. “Don’t worry, Caitie! I promise you’ll have plenty of fun soon!”
This message took Caitlin aback slightly. Had the program... understood what she had typed? She wasn’t aware of any program that sophisticated—certainly nothing that could be obtained from simple spam e-mails. Perhaps there was someone on the other end, replying to her messages. Yes, that made more sense. If anything, that just made her more upset—the idea that someone was doing this to her computer without her permission.
She didn’t have long to linger on that thought, though, because the music on the screen got louder, its pitch more intense, and another wave of images flooded her screen.
A giraffe in a business suit. A cute little toy boat sailing in a big lake. Those same pink bubbles, floating shiny and round in the air. A naked woman bent over, her smooth, glistening ass facing the camera. A strawberry sundae. A-
Now hold it, Caitlin thought to herself. That time she had been sure she saw a naked woman. There was no way she had imagined it. She leaned forward, studying each image as carefully as they flitted past the screen. If there was something obscene going on, she’d catch it. She’d make sure whoever created this program was charged for indecency or -
And that’s when an image came across the screen, and took her by surprise. It wasn’t anything lewd, or inappropriate. It wasn’t even shocking. It was simply a picture of a monkey, hunched over a typewriter.
There was something about that image that resonated with her. Maybe it was the incongruity of the two elements, or something in the picture’s composition. Maybe it had something to do with her own frustrations as a writer who was constantly forced to dumb down her work for other idiots. Or maybe it was just the thoughtful expression on the cute little monkey’s face. But whatever it was, it caught Caitlin off guard, and she let out a surprised little laugh. A laugh that was free of irony or scorn.
She caught herself a moment later, and she frowned and cleared her throat. She was much too upset and indignant to be giggling at insipid little images on her computer screen. She was above that. If she wanted comedy she’d watch the latest Wes Anderson film, not search for it on the internet.
Caitlin was so caught up in her own thoughts that she almost failed to notice the next image to flash across her screen. And this one was obscene.
“Hey!” she cried out loud, but the image had already disappeared, replaced with an astronaut playing golf on the surface of the moon. Damn it all, just what was this program playing at? As more and more images flicked past her vision, she tried concentrate. Tried to think back to what she had seen.
She couldn’t have been 100% sure (that damn monkey picture had distracted her), but she could have sworn that the image had been of a woman... giving a man a blow job.
Was that right? She closed her eyes, trying to block out the steady stream of stimuli that was assaulting her eyes. As the music played around her, she focused on that image. Tried to imagine the muscled man, naked and glistening with sweat, staring down in front of him where a young woman knelt, just as naked, mouth open in pleasure, tongue wrapped around his...
Eyes still closed, Caitlin licked her lips without even realizing it. The image in her head was obscene, yes, but also sensual. The way the two figures came together reminded her, in a strange kind of way, of the risqué statues and renaissance paintings she would occasionally see when she visited art galleries. Not that this image was something you’d find hanging in a gallery. No, it was definitely perverse, but still...
The music played louder, jolting Caitlin from her thoughts, and the image in her head evaporated as she opened her eyes in surprise. She tried to recall the image once more, but the music was making it hard to focus, and the barrage of images on her screen were calling for her attention. Damn it, this was getting even more annoying.
A happy sun peeking out from behind a raincloud. A dalmatian wearing a firefighter helmet. More and more images intended for drooling idiots passed across her eyes. Still she kept watching, waiting for another display of sexuality, so she could be sure that it wasn’t just her imagination.
But no such luck. After about half a dozen more images of nonsense, that same pink bubbly font greeted her.
“Well, Caitie? Are you having fun NOW?”
“What do you think, you stupid program?” she murmured angrily. Again, there was room below for her to leave a comment. She rested her fingers on her keyboard, considering how best to reply. The idea that someone might be on the other end only made it more important that her response be full of that cutting wit she prided herself on.
But damn it, the music made it hard for her to concentrate on her writing. She had a hard enough time listening to music she enjoyed when she was trying to write, and this annoying muzak was five times worse. Still, she grit her teeth, and went about trying to craft her response.
“I’m not sure if you’re deaf or just plain stupid, but for the last time it’s CAITLIN! And no. Im not having fun, for your information! This is stupid.” She paused, looking over what she had typed. No good. She had used the word “stupid” twice in close succession. That wouldn’t do. She hit backspace a half dozen times and tried again. “This is idiotic!” Better. “I’m angry and disgusted that you would think ANYONE would enjoy this stupid-” Damn it, she had used “stupid” again. Backspace backspace backspace. “this foolish program, let alone myself. These images are obtuse. The music is annoying and vapid. Whoever made this program is moronic, imbecilic, and-” She paused again, frowning at the screen. She needed another word for stupid, but she was running out of synonyms. Normally vocabulary wasn’t a problem for her, but this fucking music was making it so hard to focus on her writing. Come on, think. What’s another good word for... oh! I’ve got it! She furiously pounded out the next word keystroke by keystroke.
“-and DUMB!!!!” she finished. She sat back and read over what she had written, crinkling her face as she did so. Well it wasn’t exactly Wordsworth, but it would have to do. She hit return and crossed her arms in front of her as she waited to see how the program would react.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“Whoops!” came the pink bubbly reply. “Sorry you’re not having fun yet! We’ll have to try harder!”
“No,” Caitlin said out loud to the screen. “Don’t try harder! Just stop!” As if on cue, the music picked up speed and was accompanied by another flurry of images.
Caitlin groaned. What the hell was going on? What the fuck was the point of this stupid program? It was so dumb. She didn’t want to look at these stupid pictures. She just wanted to be done with the whole thing.
More pictures. This time, each image seemed to linger for a while, as if asking that Caitlin studied them in more detail. A sandcastle by the beach, about to get swept away by an approaching wave. A goldfish looking out from a tiny bowl. An angry cat getting a bath, face devoid of amusement as pink soap bubbles popped around her... okay, that picture was a little funny, Caitlin had to admit. She gave a little involuntary laugh.
The next picture wasn’t quite as funny, but it was pretty cute nonetheless: a gorilla falling asleep with a kitten in its arms. Caitlin was half-temped to let out an “aww,” but stopped herself. Just because something was admittedly adorable didn’t mean she had to coo like an idiot. Still, she allowed herself a smile at the image. It wasn’t very often that one saw gorillas and cats interacting, which she supposed made the picture unique in that regard as well.
The next image was of an ice cube melting on a table. Caitlin rolled her eyes, disappointed. Compared to the previous two, this one was boring. Why did this stupid program think that such an image would at all appeal to her? The image seemed to linger for an extra long time as she impatiently waited for the next one to show up.
Eventually the image did change, and Caitlin smiled with relief. Finally, she thought to herself, curious about what would be shown next. She hoped it wouldn’t be another boring one. Honestly, if I have to sit through any more of those I might just give up and get a new computer.
The next picture was another funny one, thank god. It was of a plumber leaning forward, inspecting the underside of a sink. Only his pants were riding low, and his butt crack was visible. A little crude? Perhaps. But Caitlin laughed anyways despite herself, likely more out of relief that it wasn’t another boring one.
Up next was a picture of a sinking ship, and Caitlin let out a frustrated groan. Another stupid boring one, she thought ruefully. What a dumb program. Hopefully the next one will be funny. Or cute.
But she was disappointed when the next image were just of more pink bubbles. “Ugh, come on!” she shouted. “This is boring!” Sure, the bubbles looked pretty in their own way, but if she wanted to look at dumb bubbles she’d go see Cirque du Soleil or whatever. She was considering simply unplugging her computer to stop all the boring images when those same pink words appeared on her screen.
“How about now, Caitie? Are you having fun yet!?”
“NO!!!!!” was her immediate and vehement response. She nodded to herself as she allowed herself to really go to town on these dummies. “Im not having fun because these pictures are BORING! If you weren’t so STUPID youd know to put better pictures, like maybe something CUTE or FUNNY ever think about that? And also your music is SO BAD!!! Its for really stupid people... kind of like YOU!”
She allowed herself a small smile at that last little dig. Sure, maybe it was needlessly cutting, but Caitlin felt justified. After all, she wasn’t the one who asked to be part of this stupid program. She hit return, feeling proud of herself for showing the program who was boss.
“You want less boring?” the reply read. “Okay, I think we can do that, Caitie!”
Caitlin smiled happily, relieved that the stupid program was finally listening to her. Maybe it won’t be so bad now, she thought to herself. Maybe the pictures might actually be nice to look at.
And sure enough, the first image was a definite improvement. It showed a man in a fancy suit, his expression scrunched up as a pie collided into his face. Caitie burst out laughing at that. Finally! she thought to herself as her giggling died down. How hard was that? Maybe now she could finally enjoy herself.
“That’s more like it!” she said aloud, not sure if anyone could actually hear her, but not really caring.
The next picture was even better. A bloodhound was staring into a fan, and the wind was blowing its heavy jowls backwards, giving the dog a very comical appearance. Caitie’s giggle was louder than any that had come before it, and she pressed her hands together in delight. That dog was so cute! She could only imagine how silly that dog must have felt, and it made her giggle even more.
“Better!” she said again. “I like that one!”
Another picture, but when Caitlin saw it the laughter died in her throat. It was two women lying naked on a bed together, one thin and one curvy. The thin one had her hand on the curvy one’s ass, fingers pressing deeply into her soft flesh. The curvy one, meanwhile, was bent over, nuzzling her face between the thin one’s breasts...
“Uhhh...” Caitlin said, at a loss for words. She had thought that there had been something obscene going on with these pictures, but seeing it now after the funny and cute pictures was nonetheless still very jarring. She felt that she should have been outraged, but she was honestly more taken back than anything.
The picture lingered for several seconds, and Caitlin stared at it. Stared at the two women doing inappropriate things to each other. It was filthy. It was perverse. And it certainly had no business being on her computer screen.
Still, she couldn’t look away. As loathe as she was to admit it, there was something about the picture that was appealing. She supposed maybe it was the expression on the thin one’s face—how happy she looked. Caitlin tried to remember the last time she had been happy like that with a lover. It had been a long time, she knew. She frowned. She didn’t like the idea that some dumb slutty woman was happier than her. It made her upset, and frustrated, and-
Another image. A chipmunk with its mouth absolutely stuffed with nuts, cheeks bulging. This was enough to cheer Caitlin up and she let out another uproarious laugh. “That’s a lot of nuts in its mouth!” she said out loud, then laughed again when she realized she had just made a clever double-entendre.
She was still laughing when the pink speech returned.
“How was that, Caitie?”
Caitlin allowed her laughter to die down before replying.
“Okay yea that was a BIT more like it. The squirel was prety funny and I liked the dog to. BUT WTF was with the two ladies!?? That was inaproprate.” She hit return.
This time when the reply came, there was still more space for her to write a reply.
“Inappropriate, Caitie? Why do you say that?”
“Um,” she said aloud as she considered the question. Why did she find those images inappropriate? Was it because the ladies were both naked? Surely that couldn’t be right. After all, she had always been able to admire the artistic nudes of Francisco de Goya, Édouard Manet, and... and that other guy. The Italian sculptor. Mike something. How was this any different? Still, she had to type something.
“Its inapropate becuz not everone wants to see naked people when they shud be lookin at CUTE or FUNNY things!” She paused as she considered how she felt about the image. How it made her feel. “OK maybe its not all bad i mean some if it is prety sexxy like how the 1 ladys ass was nice and curvy like a good famus paiting but STILL!!!! Its inaprporate becuz-” She paused again, unsure how to continue. What was it she was trying to say? She tried to focus on the point she was trying to make, but that dumb music was making it hard to concentrate. “-becuz its DUMB!!!” she finished, then read over what she had written.
Caitie pursed her lip into a pout. She didn’t feel she had quite expressed her feelings as effectively as she would have liked, so she added a few more exclamation points to the end, hoping that her conviction would more than make up for it. Then she hit return.
“Okay Caitie, I hear you loud and clear! Would something like this be better?”
Below the pink text was another image. Another lady, her body looking so soft and inviting, was reclined in a lounge chair. Her skirt and panties were pulled down around her ankles, and her white tank top was lifted above her heaving breasts. One of the lady’s hands was tweaking a pink nipple, while her other hand was lower, between her legs, pressed deeply against her sex. On the woman’s face was an expression of gentle bliss as she bit her bottom lip with her eyes closed.
Caitie licked her own lips as she stared at the image. This was... this was nice. There was no denying that it was easy on the eyes, but the lustful passion in the woman’s face sent a shiver of excitement through Caitie’s body. She could feel—to her utter embarrassment—her own panties growing damp. She shifted a little in her seat, hoping the motion would be enough to satisfy the small itch in her loins. It definitely helped as she gently rocked her hips back and forth.
“mm,” she murmured. Her eyes drank in as much of the picture as it could as she continued to work her hips. That lady looked so nice and pretty. So happy. So hot. Caitie traced a finger from her own flushed cheeks to her neck, and then down further to her sternum, where it lingered for a moment as she breathed heavily. Caitie absently fiddled with the top button of her blouse before she realized that there was space under the image for her to offer a comment. To answer the program’s question.
“Ya! Thats more like it... much better! This is a good pic... nice and sexxy to look at not liek the other DUMB pics!” She considered hitting return at that moment, but decided to press on. After all, she was never one to shy away from an in-depth analysis or critique.
“i liek how her breasts are nice and sexxy and soft and i also like teh way shes playin with hersef its a nice tuch. U should show moer pix liek this one. Moer FUNNY and CUTE and SEXXY pix OKAY!??? No stupid dum BORINGE ONES!!!!!”
She hit return, feeling satisfied with herself. It was nice to be heard for a change, to feel like her opinions actually mattered. Maybe she had misjudged this program after all. Only time would tell. Depends how good these next pictures are! she told herself. Depends on if they’re nice and funny and cute and sexy! That would be nice!
“Funny. Cute. Sexy,” the pink font responded. “You got it, Caitie!”
The program didn’t disappoint. The next image might have been the funniest picture yet! It was of a fat lady sitting down on a whoopee cushion. Oh, that’s great! Caitie thought. To make matters better, there was even a small farting sound effect that played on the speakers when the image popped up. That was a nice little surprise. Caitie giggled and clapped her hands. This is so funny! I love it!
She laughed and laughed until the image switched, and her laughter almost immediately morphed into an “awwwwww.” The image was of a baby sloth wearing a hat that was many sizes too big for it. That’s soo cute! Caitie thought, leaning forward and smiling.
From there, the image changed to that of a young woman straddling a man while two other men stood to either side of her, their erect members clutched in her hands. Caitie bit her lip as she studied the oily surface of the woman’s bare breasts. Her full, luscious lips. The hard, rigid dicks she held. Oh my god, that is sooo sexy! Caitie squirmed in her seat, gyrating her hips in a futile attempt to control a growing craving within her. She felt constrained in her clothes, brought a hand up and undid the top button of her blouse. That felt... better. But it wasn’t quite enough. The craving was still there.
All too soon, the image was replaced by that same bubbly font.
“Was that better, Caitie? How are you feeling?”
“im feelin GOOD!!!!” she typed, still gently rocking her hips. “those pix were teh best ones!! sooooo much beter than the stupd bornge ones!!! tey were soooo funy and cute and SEXXXY!!!! only 1 problm i want MOOOOOORE.” She giggled to herself, then bit her lip. “serusly, thos pix made me HORNY lol!!!” As soon as she typed those words, she blushed. She knew that that was probably too much information, not to mention grossly beneath her to be admitting, but she didn’t care. She was fucking horny, and wanted more sexy pictures, pride be damned. She hit return without another moment’s hesitation.
“Of course, Caitie! Very soon! But first... are you ready to SIMPLIFY?”
Below that, there were two options. One was labeled “YES! LET’S SIMPLIFY!” and the other said “NOT YET.”
“Ummmm,” Caitie said out loud, suddenly a bit unsure of herself. She didn’t know what the silly pink writing meant by Simplify. It didn’t sound dangerous or anything, but she was nonetheless hesitant. But then again, the pink letters also promised her more sexy pics, so there was that, at least. After a moment’s hesitation, she clicked on the “YES! LET’S SIMPLIFY!” button.
“That’s great, Caitie!” the bubbly pink letters read. “First thing’s first, why don’t you tell us about your job?”
Caitie frowned at the blank writing space in momentary confusion. “My... my job?” she repeated, reading the word out loud. For a moment she had to think to remember what her job was, but as soon as she did she scrunched up her face into a pout of distaste. Oh right. Her job. Writing dumb articles for her stupid editor. Memories of her argument from earlier in the day came flooding back as she began to type.
“I HATE MY JOB!!!!!!!!!! serisly everone is soooooooo STUPIDDDD epesally my BIG DUMM EDTOR!!!! hes jus jelous bcus im sooo much smartr then everone else an my arcles r 2 SMART 4 HIM!!!!!!” She felt her heart beating with exhilaration as she typed. It felt so liberating to fully express all her frustrations. “He is a BIG STUPED DUMMY and not SEXXY he is UGLY!!!!!!!”
After sending her reply, she found herself nearly breathless with excitement, waiting to see how the pink bubbly words would reply. It only took a moment.
“Wow, Caitie! That doesn’t sound fun! Would you like to tell him how you feel?”
Below the words, there was another button to click on. It read, “VIDEO CHAT WITH TOM LANGTON”.
Caitie hovered her cursor over the button, then paused. Did she want to tell him what she thought of him? She felt like maybe she shouldn’t. Like it would be a bad idea. But then again, it had felt pretty nice sharing her thoughts here. She could only imagine how much more nice it would feel to tell the big dummy how she felt to his face. She clicked on the button.
Caitie waited, her heart hammering in her chest, as the music on the speakers was replaced with the sound of a ringing phone. She was really doing it. She was really going to give her dumb boss a piece of her mind. She began to think twice about it. Oh no, this is a bad idea! I’ll get in a lot of trouble! I should-
“Hello?” A new window opened on her screen, and she could see her editor staring at her from what looked like a home office. He had a look of vague confusion on his face. “Caitlin, is that you? Is everything okay?”
“Ummmm...” Damn it, it was too late to back out now. What the hell was she supposed to say to him? “Hi!”
“Hello...” Tom replied, eyeing her uncertainly. There was a long silence as Caitie smiled at him. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Was there anything you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Oh. Um, ya.” She took on a serious expression and straightened in her chair. Well, there was no use putting it off any longer. She looked directly at the camera above her own computer. “Ummmm, there’s, like, something I wanted to tell you?”
On the other end of the line, her editor sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Look, maybe you should wait a day or so before you say anything you might regret. I know you were upset this morning, and it sounds like you’ve been drinking...”
“Huh?” Caitie scrunched up her face, confused. She hadn’t been drinking. Why would he say that she had? She felt a flash of annoyance at his words. Ugh, he’s sooo dumb!
“Why don’t we discuss this in a few days, once we’ve both had a chance to clear our heads? Is that alright, Caitlin?”
“No!” she yelled, and pouted. She didn’t want to wait to tell him how she felt. “I want to talk now!”
Another long pause, followed by another sigh from her editor. “Alright, Caitlin. If you insist. What was it you wanted to tell me?”
“Ummm...” She wanted to make sure she worded this perfectly. After all, it’s not every day one got to tell off their boss. She had to really nail this. “I wanted to tell you... that you’re really really stupid!”
The shock was plain on her boss’ face. “What?”
“Ya!” she replied, feeling her confidence building. “You’re sooooo stupid and dumb! And the whole paper is dumb! And, like, everyone who works for the paper is super duper dumb!” She gasped as inspiration struck her. “Oh! And they’re all gross and ugly and none of them are sexy!”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest, feeling triumphant. Her boss, meanwhile, pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched up his face.
“Look, Caitlin,” he said, sounding very tired. “I don’t know what you’re playing at. What esoteric ironic message you’re trying to make, but can we just assume your bit of masterclass theatre is above my simian brain and call it a night? We can talk tomorrow properly.”
Caitie frowned. Eso-what? What the heck was he babbling about? “Ummm, I’m not done yet!” She cast her eyes about the room, trying to think of another insult. Something that’d really cut deep. She gasped as inspiration hit. “You smell like a big piece of poop and also you probably have a reeeeeeally small penis!” She giggled at her own merciless one-two punch.
For his part, her editor’s only reply was a very slow blink as she smirked at him triumphantly. Finally, he cleared his throat. “So, this is... what? Your letter of resignation? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Caitie opened her mouth, but then hesitated. Resignation? That meant, like, that she’d be quitting? Careful, Caitie! she told herself. Are you totally absolutely super duper sure you want to be quitting?
She didn’t have to think about it too hard before she knew her answer.
“Ya!” she cried, putting her hands on her hips. “I quit, Mr. Stupid Ugly! Good luck trying to find a smarty like me to write your dumb stupid newspaper stories!” And with that, the feed went black, the conversation over, and that same bouncy music resumed.
“That was great!” said the pink writing. “Great job, Cayti! You sure showed him! How do you feel?”
Caitie thought about it for a second. How did she feel? Excited for sure. Scared and uncertain? A little. But more than anything, she just felt relief.
“I feel GRATE!!!” she typed. “That is a dumm job 4 dummy stupd peepol and now i am FREEEEEE lol!!!” A thought crossed her mind, and she bit her lip mischievously. “I do what u say. Can i hav a treet? mor SEXXXY pix plz?”
When the pink bubbly words reappeared, Caitie had to squint to make out what they said. They were kind of... fuzzy. Hard to decipher, like a language that was almost English but not quite. Maybe it’s just my glasses making it hard to see good, she thought to herself. She flung her glasses off and blinked at the screen. That helped a little, but it was still tricky. She moved her lips as she read along to the words.
“Sure thing, Cayti!” the text read. “We still have lots to do but I think you’ve earned a fun little break.”
Caitie practically squealed with delight as the next image popped up. Oh, this one was good. It was a tanned lady with platinum blonde hair. She wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Caitie could see that her boobs were huge. The sexy tanned lady was lifting one of these humongous hooters to her own mouth where she licked at a hard nipple. Her other hand was trailing down her soft pillowy stomach towards her itty bitty g-string that didn’t cover anything up.
Caitie continued to grind her hips against the seat of her chair. <em class="thou