There are things I left out in my previous entry, important details that should be taken into account which I will document in several entries, this being the first.

The first detail I left out before is that when we met, Pretty-Little-Mouth and I hated each other. She and I had already been working for at least six months in the same company when we became close friends, but before that it was a dark time. The company where we worked was a small company, but we still bumped into each other in the hallway and the kitchen now and then.

She hated me and I disliked her. I disliked essentially her style, her tacky clothes went from really, really cheap and skanky (lots of stupidly bright colors and huge flashy earrings) to extremely conservative, but conservative in a way that screamed hypocrisy. In one week she would go from looking like a summertime Eastern European cleaning woman to some sort of 1950s model housewife, it was pathetic to watch. She was 13 years older than me and married, so I thought she was probably having a midlife crisis. But despite noticing all this I didn't care about her either way.

I really rubbed ther the wrong way, though. So much so that her hatred for me was a lot worse than my dislike of her. We never spoke to each other as it was, but I could see in her eyes how she despised me, and she tried really hard to dissimulate her hate by acting arrogant around me. I was, however, higher up than her in the foodchain, so she was careful not to upset me. On top of this, I enjoyed coming downstairs sometimes to where she was and assigning her tasks which were usually as unessential as they were difficult, just to annoy her. I had fun being a bitch to her, so much so that I think it's really odd that we ever became friends at all after that.

Why is all this important? Well, months later, when we were in the car and she was kneeling on the floor kissing my shoes, she accidentally exclaimed: "Gosh, I hate you so much!..." And after this she kept kissing my shoes more, with enjoyment, and I understood what she meant. I knew she was in love with me, but she hated me too because, according to her, I was better than her in every way and she couldn't stop thinking about me.

In any case, the fact that she had hated me so much before made it all the more enjoyable for me to see her kneeling before me, worshiping me. The fact that she, a former hater, had voluntarily surrendered and submitted to me physically turned me on in a strange way, and it empowered me.

I loved "kicking her while she was down" too, it's in my nature to do that: Once she came to me crying because she and her husband had had another fight because he thought she was having an affair with another man. I listened to her weep for a while as I stroked her hair, but eventually, when she calmed down, I told her coldly: "Now you know I'm not here to listen to this all night, do you? Kiss my shoes, darling, I'm getting tired". She obeyed, and soon her face was bright with enjoyment instead of sadness. Shortly after that, as she brushed her tongue up and down the crotch of my black thong, I knew her husband and children were the last thing on her mind. All she wanted was to worship and please Me.