Celeste

“Isn’t that her?” one of the male workers whispered as soon as I stepped off the elevator.

“Yeah,” another one replied, his voice loud enough for me to hear. “I never knew she was so cheap. If I’d known, I would’ve hit on her from day one.”

I froze. This was different from yesterday. Yesterday, it was just the women. Now the men were staring at me too—not with curiosity or professional indifference, but with something that made my skin crawl: hunger and contempt.

I ...