Friday's Appointments· Prince Rogers Nelson

Chapter 1: Orgasmic Screams

I couldn't focus. I tried my best to make my hand move the pen to sign off on just one of the many papers that needed to be signed. I bit my lip and tried humming to block it out, but nothing worked.

The constant orgasmic screams and howels of passion coming from studio B down the hall prevented me from getting anything done. It happened every Friday morning, usually around Ten or Eleven AM and always in the same room. Never the same women, but always the same way. Some broad would waltz in, head straight for his studio, scream until her voice was weaker than he dress sense, then she was gone. I eventually stopped asking who they were. I took a chance letting so many women in without asking what they were there for. But I knew, so why bother asking.

I managed to plug my ears the remainder of their 'session'. I sighed loudly when a women stumbled out of the hall, her skirt half way up her tighs, her teased blonde hair an absolute mess. Not to mention her bright pink lipstick was smeared. Poor girl couldn't even walk straight.

She looked directly at me, a lazy but fulfilled smile on her lips. "He's really something, isn't he?" She chuckled.

I gave a fake smile and flicked my eyebrows up quickly. My way of trying to avoid as much talking as I could. I had work to do. I didn't have time to talk to the weekly piece.

She starred blankly at the floor, chewing her swollen lips. "He's so..."

Disgusting?

"...Manly."

"Well, he is a man." She would know. She has just seen the proof. She laughed at what she believed to be a joke and I stappled papers together and tossed them in the bottom drawer of my desk. Before I noticed she was still standing there. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I just ask him if I could come by again, and he said he is a busy man. Does that mean he's always working in those crampt studios?" She lightly chuckled and rubbed her arm.

It usually meant he's working another girl every week, not so much a record. But this girl seemed sweet, young and nieve. I almost felt bad for her.

"Listen," I sighed. "He isn't one for...commitment. He's more of a grab one as they come type, you feel me?" It was as if all the hope in her green eyes just drained. I knew she wasn't stupid, she knew she was just a piece. So many girls in his life were simply that.

"So I guess your saying he's done with me?"

"I'm saying your young and pretty. Go find you a decent man."

She shook her head, a massive frown on her face. She turned her heel and began to walk away. I watched her until she was out of the building, driving away. I shook my head and chuckled coldy. It was moments like that I realized the man I worked for. Sure, I hardly ever saw him or spoke to him but I knew exactly who he was. I knew his kind and it angered me. How could someone use women and wake up with a clear conscious? It was a question I asked myself everyday.

Several hours had passed. It was the end of my shift, I had taken several phone calls and even more notes I had to leave for the boss. I looked at my watch and saw how late it was, 4:52. A 15 minute ride home, a possible stop at the store, I was going to be very late getting home. Lance wasn't going to be happy.

I quickly gathered all the papers that needed to be dropped in his office, turned off the lamp that sat on my desk and grabbed my purse and blazer and hurried to the elevator. "Come on, come on..." I whispered as I waited for the bell and the doors to open. I pressed the button repeatedly until finally the doors opened. I didn't need to think of which floor to press, I could walk those halls blindfolded. I looked again at my watch, sighing at the time, and frowning at my wedding ring. I could hear Lance patronizing me, asking why I wasn't home. Asking who I was with, why I didn't think about him. It was the same lecture I got when I was late. Its why I made sure I never was.