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 TIPPING THE SCALE, michanie
Michaela Graves
 Posted: Aug 3 2014, 01:04 PM
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The craigslist posting was specifically designed to attract one of them. It had been a long time since Michaela had taken on a personal assistant, and she wasn't about to waste the next one on some boring regular human. She wanted someone young, with an air of power about them, someone hanging in a moral grey area. Someone corruptible. As such, she would be holding the interviews herself. Even with the subliminal messaging in the posting warning the regulars away, she had been weeding them out of her office all morning. In fact, she had just sent away a student from the New York School of business, with a bachelors in Administrative Assistance, and an associates in Pharmaceuticals. They had left crying, unable to believe that they were turned down for a position that seemed to be tailor made for them. How droll.

Located on the 66th Floor of 666 Fifth Avenue, Michaela's office was opulent and intimidating. The south wall was entirely glass, offering a gorgeous view of downtown Manhatten, over-looking St. Mary's Cathedral, with heavy brocade curtains the color of blood. In contrast with the cold marble flooring and walls throughout the rest of the buliding, Michalea's office was dark with it's African Walnut walls and floors. A modern looking fireplace sat on the left wall, flanked by bookshelves that were filled to the limits with books on every subject. Her desk was made of the same dark woods, sitting on an intricate and expensive Persian Rug. Artwork dotted the opposite wall of the fireplace, mostly ancient depictions of hell and dark faeries. The room itself seemed designed to make one both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.

Taking a drag off of her new electronic cigarette, Michaela looked at the next resume on her desk. A senior at J. Barrie University, Alannah Strider. She wasn't the best candidate on paper, one extra-curricular, average grades. She was wholly unqualified for the position. But something about the resume caused a smile to curl on Mich's face. The girl would be along any moment, and was in fact, running about 20 minutes late, but Michaela was not irked. No, far from. She found herself anticipating this girl. Logging on to her computer, she ran a quick background check on the candidate. Parents deceased, older brother is a fuck-up, grandparents hold the stately fortune. Minor misconduct, some trouble in school, ADHD diagnoses. Everything about this girl seemed to be the opposite of what Mich was looking for, and she might have sent in a resume as a joke.

Yet the smile on her face still stayed, if anything it grew wider, predatory. If she was right in her suspicions, there was nothing average or ordinary about Alannah Strider.

WHAT'S A KING TO A GOD?
HEDGIE | 458 | its short but i love u

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NAHNIE J. STRIDER
 Posted: Aug 4 2014, 01:48 PM
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i said "tell me your name, is it sweet?"
she said "my boy, it's dagger"

Nahnie didn't even know what she had been doing on craigslist. Well, actually, she had probably just been really frustrated with work. She was sitting there, in her gross uniform, still smelled like the diner, but not ready to take a shower yet. She needed to blow off steam first, since last time she had showered angry, she ended up breaking the shower head off and was fined by the school. Also, her and her roomies had to use other showers for about a week until they came and fixed it. So there she had been, sitting on the computer, looking for a new job on craigslist.

It had been the usual bullshit - some horny old dude who was a patron at JoJo's had tried to touch her inappropriately without her permission, and Nahnie was not about that shit. She had went off on him before, but that was not looked well upon because he had given them business since the place opened, and Nahnie had gone off on too many customers before, scaring them away. So she did her best to avoid him, but unfortunately the diner was small and she was his waitress, so she had to plaster a fucking smile on her face and put up with that shit until he left ten minutes after closing.

The customer service industry was not for her, obviously.

When she stumbled across the personal assistant ad - she didn't know why, but it sounded pretty cool. She had no idea why she actually submitted the application. Nahnie, alpha female, issues with authority, a personal assistant? But somehow she ended up filling out the application (after she had a couple of shots of the emergency vodka she replenished after giving John the last of her previous supply), and actually somehow landed an interview.

She was genuinely shocked. So shocked that as an appreciator of shock factor, she was shocked to be shocked, and appreciated it. So shocked, even, that when time came to get to the interview - she forgot about it. It had to be a joke, she probably had the shittiest resume out of all the applicants, but still - she had to rush home to get ready. Home-home, unfortunately, since Baum was out of the way.

Of course she had shit for clothes there. Luckily she had a dress and tights - but she needed a jacket, since immodesty was like a thing or whatever, and shoulders were totally immodest right. Ugh. Well the only jacket she had was a leather blazer, so it would have to do. She put what makeup she still had in her room - so, one of ten thousand smoky eyeshadow sets and red lipsticks she had. She also managed some blush to hopefully conceal her annoying freckles.

Basically she was not dressed for an interview. Why was she even going? Well, any chance at a better job, right? There was no way she was getting hired - she was late, for christs sake - but hell if she wasn't going to show up.

Of course, she didn't have time for the subway - so she had to break out the motorcycle she was almost finished working on. It ran fine after she had worked on it for months, she was just in the middle of painting it and making it her own. She had been busy with school and work, so she hadn't got the chance to really try her out for real yet. Well, here was her opportunity - ten minutes late already and New York traffic was rampaging as usual.

So she got on her helmet, mounted, and weaved the fuck through all these cars, jesus christ, where did they all come from? And on she went towards 666 Fifth Avenue.

She attempted to remember all the interview tricks she had learned - fuck, what was that one? Right, don't swear, it wasn't "professional". Well - frick if she was cut out for this job already.

Parking her still unnamed bike in the parking center across the street, she ran scros the street like they did in the movies, somehow managing to not get run over. Her hair was a mess from the helmet, but she didn't even give a fuck - frick at this point.

She used the mirror in the elevator to attempt to fix her hair, but it was to no avail. She just ended up throwing it up into a ponytail. The helmet was still in her arms as she never trusted leaving it, and wow she was not going to get this job, there was no way in hell.

The office of the employer that was not going to hire her was actually - well, it was pretty fricking rad. The dark woods and the cool artwork wowed Nahnie and she almost wished she had a chance a this point. There was something thrilling about it, and maybe it was just the adrenaline pumping from dodging traffic and traffic officers, but even the almost creepy air it gave off was interesting to Nahnie and she wanted to punch herself in the face for forgetting about this.

Approaching the desk, she smiled, fake as it was, and held out her hand to shake the lady at the desk who was as attractive as she was intimidating. Her other arm held her floral printed helmet. "Hi, sorry I'm late, traffic was shi - horrific." Frick. "I'm Alannah Strider," the name tasted like milk that was two months past the expiration date "may I have a seat?" Somehow she remembered that tip, to ask before you sit down or whatever.

outfit • for mich • i <3 u

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Michaela Graves
 Posted: Aug 6 2014, 11:16 PM
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Most people who knew Michaela knew that she was not a patient woman. There was one time she was stuck in traffic behind some idiot who decided that five under the speed limit was a good pace. She followed him home where she...

Perhaps lets not get into the gory details.

The point is that by now, with someone running so late for an appointment that she made would usually grate on her nerves. Her garnet colored acrylics should have been clicking incessantly on the rich Walnut, tapping out eight staccato beats a second. Instead, she was experiencing a calmness she could not fathom, and was rewarded when a flurry of movement and mall-goth floral patterns nearly burst through the heavy door to her office. There was a surge that passed through her when she made eye contact with the girl. This was what she had been waiting for.

Standing, Michaela smoothed out her dress, long fingers running down the length of the black fabric. With a quick toss of her long black hair, she smiled as warmly as she could, taking the girl's outstretched hand, and doing a good once-over. She was pretty, with blue eyes that carried a warmth that Michaela's could never achieve. A smattering of freckles dusted her cheeks, and her long brown hair was haphazardly pulled into what was obviously a last-minute ponytail. Her jaw stuck out petulantly, as if she spent most of her time broadcasting her distaste for everything. It was clear she was slender, though the jacket she was wearing was doing it's best to hide that. Michaela gathered that the girl did not have a wide range of 'interview clothes,' but instead of irritating her, it just added to the girl's charm.

It was clear that she was a lost soul, and that was perfect.

As Alannah spoke, giving an excuse to her lateness, she stumbled over a curse, and Michaela's well shaped eyebrow shot up in amusement. "It's no matter, Miss Strider, as you are here now." Her tone was unplacating, as she sat again, grabbing the file she had collected on Alannah. "Please. Feel welcome." This interview was a formality, from the moment she had locked eyes with the girl, she knew that she would hire her. The rest was just making the girl squirm a bit. "Let me tell you a little about myself. My name is Michaela Graves, and I am the CEO of Graves Pharmaceuticals, among other philanthropic activities." She wasn't sure if Alannah had done her homework on the company before submitting her resume, so she launched into a little history on the company, and exactly what is was she did there.

After expanding on her own background, she pushed a folder toward the girl. "The position you are applying for is a difficult one. As I am a very busy woman, I need an assistant to make sure I am prepared for everything I need. You would be arranging my meetings, speaking to representatives for different companies, and potentially accompanying me to various cities around the world as needed. You will be punctual," she stressed the word, casting a heavy gaze onto the girl across from her, "and compliant." She let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "You will also be heavily compensated, with outstanding health benefits, and a personal cell phone which you will only use to contact me. Bonuses and the like will be discussed based on performance." This was the boring part, and Michaela spoke quickly to be rid of it.

With all of the descriptions finally out of the way, she leaned forward a bit, becoming more personal, and smiling again. "Now. I'd like to know about you. Are you from New York originally? Do you have family that you would like to spend holidays with? Will you be continuing your education? Tell me everything about yourself Alannah." Her tone was drenched in curiosity, the girl was interesting, but if she was altruistic, perhaps she wouldn't be a good fit. Michaela needed somebody she could trust with every facet of her businesses, legal or otherwise. She hoped that Alannah would fit the bill.

WHAT'S A KING TO A GOD?
HEDGIE | 697 | outfit

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