It Is Not Easy Being Queen

(Possession of A Weapon by Caitlyn Scarlett got me thinking about badass women and then this kinda just happened)

Ensconced upon a red-gold throne was raven-haired Blair Barclay, business tycoon and Times woman of the year. Before her was a rich oak desk with a silver ashtray and an expensive computer. Staring rather obnoxiously at the V neck in her blood red dress was Blake Johnson. A man with no idea what was about to happen. The ashtray alone had more value than this man’s life… despite his three-year service on the board of executives.

“Let me tell you a story Blake” she said calmly. Eyes staring daggers at his startled face.

“Why am I even hear this late?” he questioned.

“I think you’ll like this story” she continued as though she hadn’t heard him. Such an audacious remark didn’t deserve a response. Blake himself didn’t particularly deserve the explanation she was going to give, he was a fairly worthless man. Lost the company more money than he brought in and served to be patriarchy on legs. But Blair had wanted the opportunity to give a villain monologue ever since she brought the velvet throne.

“Once upon a time I was in a business studies class. This is a thrilling revelation I’m sure. Now, in my class was a delightful young man. Jacob. His name doesn’t matter though. Most men’s names don’t matter, but I digress. This young man looked somewhere between Robert Pattinson and Zac Efron. As you can imagine the class was quite taken with him.”

“What has any of this got to do with me!?” He was growing impatient. His gaze however remained on her eyes rather than her chest so there was no particular reason to answer his demands.

Moonlight shone down from the large window behind the chair perfectly framing Blair’s smiling face. Serene, yet sinister and all the while simultaneously beautiful. Appearance of a flower, power of the serpent beneath.

“At the time I was a fairly average looking woman, this must be quite the surprise considering how stunning I look now, and certainly in no position to pursue this young man. Samantha White was the most likely candidate for him. Sam, I suppose you could say was a young Pam Anderson. Quite the bombshell, men following her like puppies.” She paused and looked over Blake’s shoulder as though picturing the girl in the room with them.

“I’ll save you some time Blake. I’m generous like that, as I’m sure you know. It took six months before I had not only our object of interest, Jacob, but also every other male in the class drooling over me.”

“Blair, what is your point?” He clearly took her pause to be her being finished. It was actually her taking a moment to revel in the image of having such attention.

“Fifty or so people, our whole class, were watching him when it happened” She carried on once again not caring for Blake’s input. “He came to me one day… not unlike the way you have tonight. He was a stranger in my domain and I had all the control. All eyes were upon him. He gave a heartfelt confession. It was pathetic. I smiled sweetly awaiting the question. He asked. I turned on my heel and laughed. Back to him and everything. The crowd parted for me. Which is when I found Sam.”

“And… I have a family to get home to Blair” This one was worth responding to.

“Maybe you should think of your family next time you decide my breasts are important daily viewing. Now, let me cut the shit. I’m bored of you.” She gave a gleaming smile. “Let’s just say Sam White looked real pretty between my bedsheets. Still the real highlight was watching the light drain from Jacob’s face.”

“Oh… Oh shit is that why?” He cut in.

“No that isn’t why. Let me finish. And even if that was… why should it matter? You’re the one who just mentioned your wife.” She shook her head almost as though she was disappointed. “What I haven’t told you is I was failing the class. Our heartbroken lad was the only student in the whole class worse than me. Sam on the other hand seemed set to be Ellen Musk. In the real-world Blake, sex is never just sex. Everything is currency if you’re playing the game… not that you’d know because you’ve spent a lifetime losing the game.” Blair gave another sickly smile. Blake looked hurt and clearly missed the wider message.

“In the next year I didn’t just match miss Samantha White in intellect and success, I surpassed her. It’s amazing the knowledge you can get when you’re nailing a brain the size of North London… again not that you’d know. What is it your wife does? Remind me.” Blair was in absolute ecstasy playing with him like this and made no attempt to hide it.

“She’s a model.” Blake said, his head low in shame.

“Ah yes. I could’ve been one of those, but unlike your wife, I have a brain. Now, where were we?” She knew full well where she had been but wanted a moment to reflect on her savagery as Blake’s face went pale.

“Once I was secure in my knowledge and position at the top of the class I broke up with Sam and fucked her ex. He didn’t have much to offer me. But I’d say I hit a nerve, after all you remember the crack whore we paid off last quarter.”

“Blair. You are a literal sadist. My god.” He spoke slowly and lingered on every word.

She laughed for an uncomfortably long time. The moonlight highlighting her contorted face.

“No honey, I am a businesswoman. A successful businesswoman. It’s a shame we can barely call you a businessman, let alone a successful one. Now seeing as you don’t have anything to offer me anymore you can leave.” She said coldly.

He stared blankly, stunned, for a moment before leaving quickly.

Blair didn’t build an empire worth half a billion dollars playing nice.

She entered a set of numbers she’d clearly been anticipating the use of into her phone. “James I’m going to need you to write a non-disclosure clause into Blake’s agreement. Make it seamless.” She ended the call and laughed manically before lighting a cigarette.

Manhattan businessman Blake Johnson, 35, found dead in his home. Suspected heart attack.

Blair Barclay read the headline the next morning and smiled.


Spitting Fire

(Turns out I’m a rap god.)

Sold my soul to Satan for a sesh
Call me Sampson,
I’m a pretty piece of flesh.


(I’d say there’s a girl… but this “girl” is better suited being called a woman.)

Cherry red lips,
Coal black shirt
Softly curved hips,
Denim skirt.

Shattered silence,

The bright goddess,
Longing to be heard.
Breaking from the herd,
A queenly grace. 
Like a gold songbird.

Smoothly written notes,
Beautiful mind.
Pale skin, overcoats.
Rapid new thoughts,
Reinforced with quotes.
Class… enlightened.


(I do not like children. Children are burdens.)

Self-spawned prison…
Loud, obnoxious, tormenting.
Inescapable creature
Shattering my dreams
With your never ending demands.
Aspirations crumbling
Beneath your rattle.
I’m a slave to you,
My fatal mistake.