Each smooth operator should have a boss in charge with the qualifications of Daphne Rosen. Red is fortunate sufficient to have one. His lack of motivation, his crummy work reports, his wasting of office time on the net and–this is a biggie–his leaving a copy of SCORE mag in his desk have culminated in his being summoned to Miss Rosen’s office. It’s rumored she keeps a piranha reservoir under a trap door in the floor. That is how fearsome her reputation is at this company.
Has he also been whacking off to SCORE magazines in the men’s room? The night janitors have complained. What a dope. The Wrath of Khan is no thing compared to the volcanic fury Red is about to face. But the truth is, Miss Rosen deeply cares about her crew, especially when they have a larger than run of the mill ramrod. When that babe screams at wayward workers, removes her handsome clothes and sticks their weenies betwixt her bra-clad super-melons, it means she desires ’em to succeed. Miss Rosen is plan to do anything that babe can to motivate this lump into giving her a vigour lunch sixty minutes. Red faces a wild tongue-lashing from the hard-as-nails executive just for starters. Observe that tongue work its motivational magic. All men in the work place should be so fortunate as to have a stacked supervisor with permanent erotic delirium.