The Quiet Car

Bliss stood in front of the door angrily clenching the paper in her fist. “Amtrak - Acela 3:15, Quiet Car, DRESS APPROPRIATELY”

She looked down at the paper one more time before she tossed it in the trash. Dress appropriately, her ass! She always dressed appropriately! She was classy and professional. It wasn’t her fault “the dictator” thought his colleagues spent more time looking at her than the presentation. That was a “them” problem, not a “her” problem. She couldn’t change the way she looked, and she wasn’t going to dress like a nun to ensure people paid attention in meetings. Maybe he didn’t need to work with jackasses with short attention spans. A point which she had made more than once. Honestly, he probably should have fired her for back talk ages ago, but she was really good at her job, and they both knew it. There was just something about him that made her want to give him a piece of her mind or stick her tongue out, she couldn’t decide.

And the more stern and overbearing his orders, the more she wanted to rebel in some way. The chill air from the corridor skated across her skin, making her hyper-aware of the small rebellion she had chosen for today. She was all professional on the outside, but under her clothes, she made the choices, and today…that meant no bra and no panties. He would never know all the ways she subtly defied his orders, which was a...