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The cavernous shed, constructed of brick, mortar, granite, steel pilings and steel roof structures, was filled with the hammers and rattles and clangs and clanks of working men and women. The sound of workers doing hard manual labor. That it was an automobile assembly line.
Anita Dumont shifted the door into place and began to connect it to the frame of the car taking shape. She had to move quickly. The assembly line demanded workers be fast or fall behind and then face the wrath of supervisors, who in turn faced the wrath of their higher-ups. It wasn’t an easy job for a woman to be holding. It was hard work. But Anita was nevertheless glad she had the job.
After the first few days the aches and strains of adjusting to the new job went away. She got used to the job. She no longer complained. There were still some days when she did bitch about it, when she did curse the alarm clock which woke her, when she asked why an experienced, intelligent bookkeeper could not find a job and had to support herself this way. But in the end she told herself not to complain, that things would eventually work out. That word someday vibrated again and again in her head as she worked. There had to be a better way of going about things. A better way of facing what life had to offer.
Her attention was diverted by one of her supervisors stepping up behind her and his hand closing around one, bouncy, satiny asscheek.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.