Chapter 3: Amber and Cynthia

Yeah I have a whale of a time at work, I really do. No female competition either – only other girl is this plain dumpy thing called Cynthia. She secretly hates me too of course, I'm everything she'd love to be but isn't. Poor cow really is a minger (that word guys use to describe an ugly girl). I said I'm a 9.99, didn't I? Well Cynthia is a 2 and that's on a good day. Giggle. Can't be easy for her either, being the Beast to my Beauty, observing close hand how I've got every guy there wrapped round my little finger – all of them panting adoringly over me – when she gets no male attention whatsoever. Jealous isn't the word. She's GREEN with envy. Totally eaten up by it, and you can't really blame her. She's the sort of girl who doesn't have a boyfriend and knows she never will. Probably never even been kissed. God, can you imagine? No, neither can I. So glad I'm pretty and can have fun with guys whenever I want.

The contrast between poor Cynthia and me is so obvious and cruel that it's actually very funny. Funny for me, anyway. I get quite a kick out of it, I'm not ashamed to say. Makes me look even more gorgeous than I already am for one thing, only other girl in the place being fat and ugly. She gets called some really hurtful names by some of the boys in the office – "Dumpster" being the default – but I don't do that. I often laugh along with the rest of them when they abuse her like this, egg the boys on, but I personally don't call her names - she's always Cynthia or "Cyn" to me. What I do is more subtle but it's maybe more cruel. I pretend to be her friend. She's very needy and has zero self-confidence (for obvious reasons) and so she puts up with our totally unbalanced relationship.

She sort of reminds me of this ugly girl at school who was totally in awe of me, and who I used to let hang around, just so I could do stuff like get her to hold my bag, and keep watch for teachers, while I kissed good looking boys.

I'm very capricious with Cynthia, alternating between being friendly (but always in an extremely superior and condescending manner) and ignoring her. She never knows how I'm going to be on any particular day, or even during the day, since I chop and change as the mood suits me. She's kind of my lapdog, if you know what I mean. Like I'll beckon her across to my desk – "Hey Cyn," I'll drawl, crooking my finger at her, and over she'll trot. It really is quite pathetic and usually leads to an outbreak of cackling from the likes of Dean and Donny.

"Over she goes," they jeer, "Amber's best friend."

"Shut up guys," I say, but I'm grinning so they know I'm finding it as funny as they are. "Don't worry about those bozos," I say to Cynthia as she stands by my desk.

Then I go silent for a while, start tapping away at my keyboard as if she isn't there. The poor girl doesn't know what to do now, just stands there shuffling from side to side, wanting to speak to me but scared to – since I've made it clear to her many times how I don't like her interrupting me while I'm typing.

I keep this up for a few minutes, enjoying her discomfort, how the guys are sniggering at her, just kind of revelling in my power.

"Err ... Amber?" she finally manages to get out.

I look up and smile. "Cynthia!" I exclaim, as if I'm surprised to find her standing there. "How are you today?" I ask.

"Good. You?"

"Oh you know, same old same old," I say, sounding extremely bored with the exchange. I stretch my arms up and back and I yawn in her face. The stretching has the effect of pushing my spectacular breasts up hard against the flimsy material of my blouse and I'm deliciously conscious that every guy within eyeshot is ogling.

"Tell me something fascinating," I say to her.

"Er, well..." and she tails off into silence. No surprise since not much that's fascinating, or indeed even slightly interesting, happens in Cynthia's life. Most noteworthy thing is probably what I'm telling you about here ... how I torment her.