She bit her lip. “Okay,” she said as nonchalantly as she could before bending, then crouching, down. His legs were long and strong; the man wasn’t skipping leg day. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat inadequate next to him. He might have been younger, but appearance wise he was in a very different league. “He must have a lot of girls after him, and all prettier than me.” Truth to be told, the same could be said about the twins, too.

She crouched, looking at the loafer-clad feet in front of her; Polo flexed them, and the leather audibly creaked. She could see a faint outline of the side of his foot bulging under the leather. She looked up to say something like “very nice”, and found herself a bit taken aback by the sight of this young athlete towering over her, his face smiling down.

Behind them, there was a roar.

“Useless bitch!” - Hoodie exclaimed. Dani turned around just in time to see him kicking Chloe away: his foot squarely connected with her chest, sending her tumbling backwards. Only one of his feet was shod. “So slow! Where do you find these incompetent pieces of shit?”

“Fuck you!” Chloe screamed back. “And fuck you too, Felicia!”

“Chloe!” the manager sternly replied, obviously hoping to get her subordinate back in line. She then turned to Hoodie. “My apologies for this...”
“Not enough!”
“I know. Let me just...”
“Do it yourself!” Hoodie commanded. Chloe was just standing up; this last comment made her snicker. “Yeah, Felicia, why don’t you do this yourself, I’m done with this shit!”
The manager was frozen where she stood.

“Lower.”
Dani didn’t immediately recognize this was directed at her. Flannel took the opportunity to circle them and was now behind her. He pressed down onto her shoulders with his hand; shocked, she allowed herself to sink a bit more, such that her knees touched the floor. “What...”

Suddenly, she was the center of attention. Chloe was prepared to storm for the exit; Felicia stood motionless, staring into the floor, while Hoodie was looking at her with glee; and then there was Dani, pushed down by Flannel. “No...” she let out, but she couldn’t withstand the pressure, and, losing her balance, she went almost prostrate, and now Polo’s loafer was right in front of her face.
“Now you’re getting a good look,” cheerfully said Polo. “Turn your head around.”

She did it - mostly because she didn’t want to look at Felicia and Hoodie anymore - and found herself looking into the same mirror that Polo was using to get a good look at his new shoes. Her head looked comically small. Flannel was standing right beside them; she could only see his jean-clad legs.

“Now let me get a better look,” Polo said, and, without missing a beat, lifted his leg to put it back down right on the side of her face, as if it was a stool. Pain and pressure shot through her head; her bottom cheek flattened against the floor. His large foot almost cast a shadow over her face. Her reflection in the mirror was one of the most pathetic things she’d ever seen: how could it come to this? Used in such a demeaning fashion by this weirdo? She shrieked as she tried to get out, but a moment later another weight pinned her down: Flannel casually stepped onto her chest, keeping her in place.

“Quiet down there,” Polo frowned. His ped shifted on top of her head, treads scraping against the skin. “I think you look great, by the way.”