C.E.O. of Feelings

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It was written right on the plaque on her desk. "C.E.O of Feelings". And even though Mark's job was as a regional sales liason for a company that sold household fixtures - wall hooks, light switch covers, doorstops (lots of doorstops for some reason; people couldn't get enough of those springy doorstops, who would've thought) - he knew well enough that the entire country was now run as a Feelings Based Economy.

The C.E.O. was occupied by the device at her desk. "Just let me finish these adjustments here..." And as she did this, Mark was aware of the slight shifts in his emotional makeup, manipulated through the sensors in his chair, just like the chair at his desk was designed to record and log his emotions by the microsecond, generating the crypto currency EMO, of which he was a partial stakeholder.

With a tap of her waveboard the C.E.O smiled to herself and stood up from her own chair. Mark felt the removal of her own EMO stream, but could tell that it had been powered by professional pride, hope for the future, and a sense of belonging. There was something else, but he couldn't quite...

The C.E.O. walked around her desk and stood before him. Then she leaned back against her desk and crossed her legs. Her auburn hair reflected the light from the overhead flourescents, as did her jade green eyes. She was wearing a tight sweater and leather skirt, with boots that ended just below the knee.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

He knew better from previous reviews than to lie to her. "I feel, um... Pretty attracted to you right now."

"That's because I'm sexually harassing you," she breathed, flicking back a lock of her hair away from her eyes, before motioning to the device. "Using the EMO interface, of course. And this will generate a great deal of income for International Fixtures and Doorstops Inc. Cue the outrage, followed by my apology and shame... As well as the mixture of pity and ridicule, bickering over reverse sexism, systemic barriers, and so forth. It'll go on for quite some time."

She pushed herself off of the desk and strode languidly over to his chair, placing both hands on his armrests, leaning so close that he could hear the leather rustling of her skirt, feel her breath against his cheek as she whispered in his ear.

"You see, Mark, you haven't been selling enough of our doorstops. Your numbers are down. So you can think of this as your discipline."

There was a light ding. The C.E.O. straightened up with a quick sigh and turned away from Mark, striding back around her desk.

"Thanks for coming down here to see me! We'll send you a review of this meeting at your desk." She gave a last cheery smile before settling into her chair.

As he got to the door, he placed a hand against the doorframe. "You know, it wasn't the device."

She looked up from his desk, peering over her wire frame glasses. "Come again?"

"The interface. That wasn't it." He gripped the doorframe tightly. "It was you."

The C.E.O. of Feelings leaned back in her chair and gazed at Mark with wonder. He waited a few more seconds, ensuring that the transfer through the doorframe was complete, before releasing his hold and turning away.

All in a day's work, he thought as he walked down the plush carpeted hallway leading away from her office. And LOVE paid the highest premium of all.

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Writing and images by Greg McCann, the author of this post and owner of this Steemit Channel. To view more of my work, please visit www.fireawaymarmot.com.

Image is available as a tshirt, print, sticker and more at my Teepublic Store.

NOTE: This is a rewrite the previous version of this post, that I thought seemed too stock and familiar. You can find it on this blockchain under the same title. It's near the bottom of the list, under the same title.