Afterlife In the Office

A girl stands at the entrance of a cubicle that has been assigned to me. Her little breasts are tight under her sweater. She speaks: “Are you cold?” “Yes” "It’s the white precision that examines us, the pristine. Have you figured out how to fit in yet?” She says. “No, please tell me. is there a password? A special name tag? I am sure the one they gave me isn’t working. Should I frown as if concentrating on something?” “Yes that might help” “Am I dead yet?” I hear myself ask. “Not quite yet. Your little cold cock is still attracted to me. When the supervisor comes, then you will be dead.”