I sigh and look around me. All my colleagues are bored out of their minds while our bosses seem too serious about whatever corporate bullshit that's at hand. I've clicked and spun the pen in my hand for the thousandth time. But I do it once more anyway; it's just that mind-numbing.

The guy sitting next to me leans back in his chair in a half-assed attempt to take a nap. No one here cares about the company except for our bosses. They discuss policy like we're not even there.

Like all the other office drones, I was enthusiastic at the start, chiming in as often as I could when I felt like I had something to contribute. But gradually I realized why all my colleagues didn't give a shit about weekly sales review, reports and meetings. The input of those on the lower rung of the corporate ladder didn't matter at all.

Now I take meetings as an opportunity to think about the meaning of life, to practice for the pen spinning world championships. At best, it's an awesome time waster that gives me a legitimate excuse not to be at my desk. At worst, it's a soul-sucking time waster.

My ears tune out to the monotone chatter coming out of the manager's mouths. The clock ticks at me with impunity; it gleefully reminds me that I have so much more time left to go before getting off work.

I reach up for my tie, tugging at it lightly. It loosens as expected and I catch myself just in time from taking an obvious deep breath of relief. The dress code here is like the office environment, suffocating. How apt.

I glance at the clock at again. Shit! The minute hasn't moved at all! And I didn't even bring my mini Sudoku challenge pad to secretly do underneath the table. Is there simply nothing to focus my idle mind on? If things continue for just another minute, I might actually discover that you can literally be bored to tears.

My eyes widen. I feel Izzy slowly rubbing the stockings on her smooth legs against my dress pants. I look up, trying to catch her eye. She doesn't even look at me. Instead she's as engrossed in the boring management conversation like some of the other douchebags in this room. Still, it feels pretty awesome to have a secret like that going on under the table. I feel her warmth as she rubs her legs against mine. Her flesh is as soft as ever and since that unforgettable Friday evening, I have been wondering when she will ever dominate me so nicely again.

What a naughty girl Izzy is! She's immersed herself in the important conversation between management douchebags, but somehow finds the presence of mind to turn me on at the same time! I stare intensely at her full lips. They're covered in Estee Lauder's latest line of rose red lipstick, the type that could cause men to fawn over her with a single kiss. If I look closely, I can swear that the corner of her lips have curled into a slight smile. But I don't dare to confirm, for I know that while she's unusually nice to everybody, in private I'm the only one who gets to see her mean side.

Tick, tock, tick - Oh shut up! I beam all so sorts of dangerous mental thoughts at the damned clock taunting me with its ticks so that it'll stop. It doesn't. I sigh and lean back into my chair like the guy next to me. At least the chairs are comfy; he slept a long time ago. How long more will I have to endure this monotony? Corporate rots your brain.

I intertwine my legs around Izzy's, holding on to the only person in this meeting room that I care about. A bright idea suddenly strikes me. I stop spinning the pen in my hand just long enough to tear off a scrap of paper on my writing pad and scribble down a few words on it.

Crumpling it up, I discreetly flick it in Izzy's general direction. The tiny message ball flies through the air, too swift and too small to be noticed. It bounces off Izzy's supple cheeks. Head shot! She flashes me a look of irritation. I mouth an apology on feeling her legs constrict around mine, crushing me into submission. Wow, she knows martial arts too? It's just another reason never to fuck with her.