sleeping my way to the top

sleeping my way to the top is a full time job. my boss says he likes a red lip, likes them young, likes the innocence. he wants to feel like he's ruining a work of art. i have never been a portrait with a slack jaw. the second wants something more worldly. wants to feel like he's been to barcelona and back in the time it takes to meet up in the washroom on a smoke break. i like to travel, he likes to let his lips travel up my spine. another rung on the ladder. the third clings to power like the spiderweb in my kitchen clings to the edges of the broom i use daily to remove it. it's fragile. i am not and have never been (have always been) fragile. the power balance is broken, that sells it. the fourth loves me in a suit. i love me in a suit, the feeling of pompous importance that comes from adding a jacket. his own suit falls on the floor, and i drag my heel across it, sharp, my teeth on his neck sharp. listen: the draw of power you're feeling is the knowledge you're leaving a mark. the fifth is the last, acts like he needs me, acts like he loves me until he doesn't. the last rung is within reach so i take a leap of faith. when i look down all i see is my heel-print on their backs.