Atop the main tower for Phalarope Pharmaceuticals, the penthouses are sweet. A lot of businessfolk have worked very hard to get a place up here.

This is Ms. Jones's penthouse. It's had neater owners. Most times, though, one can't tell. These homeowners pay very well to keep their place looking like a C.E.O.'s...whether they themselves are THE C.E.O., or not.

In Ms. Jones's shoe closet, there are pumped sandals. For a certain dunnart she keeps in here, this is heaven on Earth...and MUCH better than what he wouldn't get in the Outback of Australia. He mounts one of the sandal straps, and jerks off until the sheep come home. And the sheep NEVER come home...

Dunnarts are mouse-like marsupials. The males are notorious for condemning themselves to self-manslaughter, via excessive masturbation...a quality that Ms. Jones, somehow, finds attractive in a pet.

He's not Ms. Jones's first dunnart...nor will he be her last. In fact, Ms. Jones keeps a pot of soil, where she's buried her dunnarts. With luck, she won't have to buy a new pot before she dies...and leaves the dunnarts of the Outback to fend for themselves, once more. Dunnarts are small. One pot is often all she needs to bury them. Plus, they're not all the same age when they die...although none have outlived four years.

In another room, underdressed, Ms. Jones does her yoga. And she's got quite a lot of it to do. A lot of men would pay great money, to watch her do this. She's thought about it...but has always, somehow, decided against it.

She's taught herself a lot of poses. She's thought about using this to go into crime, and become a contorting thief...but has always, somehow, decided against it.

Next, she gets online, and gambles. For her, this is fun. Alas, she doesn't do this very often. Good; she doesn't prefer to. She's a try-sexual; she'll try anything at least once.

Next, she practices her tiger kung fu. With ferocity, she beats a bag to a pulp. (Not really; but she wouldn't mind if she got there.) She's shocked she can still do this, at her age...

Next, she gets on YouTube, and watches hypno-porn. It puts her at ease. It puts her in a state of mind that feels sexual...considering it's hardly her default state of mind.

In her shoe closet, her dunnart still jerks off against her sandal strap. With her huge hand, she sneaks up on his hind, and pokes it...with an electrified needle.

The dunnart squeaks and reacts...but minimally. He doesn't fall off the strap. He just goes right back at it, as if nothing happened. Ms. Jones smiles, and keeps poking him with the electrified needle. Each time, the dunnart just remains steadfastly committed to her sandal's masturbation-branding.

She chuckles. "I've bred a good man." She unplugs the power source of the needle. "You stay committed to me, no matter what the rest of my world is doing."

Next, Ms. Jones tries on various outfits...ogling herself in the mirror, as she does so. With so many combos to choose from, she almost feels like a feminine shapeshifter...

At some point, she's just GOTTA put on the pumped sandals her dunnart's jerking off on. He still is, when she poses for herself in the mirror. She seems a bit awkward, wearing a jerking-off dunnart on her sandal... But then, in many ways, that dunnart resembles a sex slave, worshipping her feet...making her look like a goddess worthy of reverence...

This makes Ms. Jones want to think... Alas, she must commit to what helps her feel secure...

Next, she pumps iron, and lifts weight. She may be a woman...but she didn't become successful by leaving the strength training to the men in her life. Plus, it enhances her public image...even if she has gotten complaints from some of her more conservative viewers...bless their souls. And as a publicist, she's ALL about her public image...

Often, she thinks of taking this a step farther, and posing nude in public... But again, she's always decided against it. Wouldn't hurt, though, to pay a painter to do that for her...

Next, she paints her nails. Sometimes, she wishes she didn't have twenty. They sure take a long time to do... Now and then, she thinks about paying a manicurist to do this for her. Alas, most manicurists are female, and as a seasoned try-sexual, Ms. Jones has already tried the whole "lesbian slave girl" thing... It's just...not the same as having a straight male slave...or a dunnart that won't stop jerking off on your sandal strap...

Even on weekends, Ms. Jones feels like she produces much in a day. This is impressive; a lot of her male competitors only produce things during the workweek...or, so she likes to tell herself...