Dragon Pants

She came to work wearing her dragon pants, the ones with the scales from thigh to ankle and the heavy yellowish green tail that drags behind her when she paces between the cubicles.  She bared her teeth in a grimace that she fancied resembles a smile even though she knew it scared all her employees.  She knew.  She knew and she liked it.

She swept into her glass enclosed office at the corner with windows facing out onto the green park below and windows looking in at her peons bent over their glowing computer screens.  She saw the way they were exchanging glances and she loved it.  She couldn’t hear them, but she knew they were whispering.  “Dear God,” they were saying.  “Watch out.  She wearing her dragon pants.”

She had positioned her office above the factory in the design division.  Her minions designed widgets and party horns and rings for teenagers to fasten through their nostrils.  They all worked twelve hour shifts with rotating breaks so no computer was ever idle.  Then they’d all go home and another shift would come in.  The workers never knew when she’d show up.  It could happen any time.  At 3 am, wearing footie pajamas.  At 6 in the morning, suddenly maternal, handing out toast, cream cheese and blueberries.  At noon, striking in a pencil thin skirt.  At 7 pm with a large platter of sashimi to share.  She was always surprising.  But oh, no, clear way when she comes in in her dragon pants.  When she’s wearing her dragon pants, heads are gonna roll.

She’d been in her office fifteen minutes amusing herself as she watched the barely perceptible signs of tension—the furtive glances in her direction, the slow passing of a bottle of pepto bismol on one end of the room, the passing of a bottle of dark rum on the other.

Then he appeared.  A stranger come to visit.  He got off the elevator and headed toward her office.  She watched as he approached.  He was impeccably dressed in an Italian suit, possibly silk, possibly wool, but luxurious either way.  He had dark hair and dark eyes. When he paused at her door, he belched fire like someone wearing a dragon top.  Staring at him through the glass she felt her heart skip a beat.  She had met her match.

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