The Corporate Whore, alias The CoHo, was thrilled to be back on the streets – her Wall Street. Even the squishy-squashiness of the PATH commute did not crush the passion she had for the city – her City. Stuck between expensive, friday-crumpled suits on the Century 21 intersection, a twenty-something elbowed her. “She’s waaay too chunky to be wearing those boots in New York. Atlanta? Perhaps. But New York? Pah!”, The Coho sneered, as she adjusted her maternity work pants.
The deafening din of Ground Zero construction was interrupted by a fire engine siren. The CoHo turned to catch a glimpse of New York’s Bravest and scanned the descending, greasy heroes for the oft-mentioned sexiness they exude. “Nice pants”, she decided and trudged along.
Zigzagging through the crowds, The Coho lugged those last 10 pregnancy pounds around as fast as she could. Would she make it on time? Aaah yes. There it was. The last buttered roll wedged between the shelves of the coffee dude’s cart. “Small coffe, milk n’ sugar + a buttered roll please”, she panted. Coffee dude discreetly tossed in several spoonfuls of sugar into The Coho’s coffee and quipped, “How’s the baby miss?”. The Coho was stunned silly. How did coffee dude remember? It had been ages since she’d stopped by. Why, it had been almost..uh…”Baby’s almost 6 months, yeah?”…almost 6 months. Wow! The Coho was immensely impressed, proud, flabbergasted and freaked out as she sipped her morning drug of choice muttering, “Umm…thanks. Keep the change”.
As the caffeine breathed life into her veins, The Coho programmatically zoned out and drifted into The Office. She flashed her badge, admitted her bar-coded person into the premises and surrendered herself to the will of her cubicle.