Alpha Mail

#likeaboss

Thirty-seven extremely hot men are looking at me, each one listening to my every word. Most twenty-eight-year-old women would be loving it, but me? I'm frustrated as hell right now.

"How much clearer can I be, you guys? No dick pics. Ever. It doesn't matter if it's your dick or not, we don't transmit lewd images at Alpha Mail."

A blond guy in the front row, whose name I can't remember, frowns at me. "But we're supposed to keep the customer happy..."

"Women can live full and thrilling lives without ever getting a dick pic," I say, an edge of frustration in my tone.

"But on the platinum plan, we can get as dirty as the customer wants."

Who is this guy? Does he not realize he's talking to the owner of the company? I give him a tight smile.

"Our procedure manual is very clear that the platinum plan includes dirty texts and phone sex. No photos."

"What if the customer sends photos first? What if they ask for dick pics?"

I take a calming breath before responding. "It's still a no. You know how to handle requests that are against our rules."

He nods, and I think it's finally sinking in. But then he furrows his brow. "But what if it's...just the tip?"

There's a snicker from the back row.

"Did you seriously just ask that?" I shake my head.

He shrugs, his cheeks reddening. "I mean...what if it's only part of...you know?"

I hold up a hand to emphasize the point I'm about to make. "No photos. None. No photos of dicks, dick tips, faces, chests, balls, or even kittens."

My company's marketing guru and close friend, Gretchen, must sense my irritation, because she steps in.

"Tyler, we're going to have you repeat the training on this."

I glance down at my notes and see that my next point is going to take a while, so I dismiss everyone for a fifteen-minute break. The guys all head straight for the lounge, which is always stocked with coffee, doughnuts, sandwiches, fruit, and other snacks and drinks. I found out early on that the key to keeping a twenty-to-fortysomething male workforce happy is plentiful food and drinks.

When I'm left alone in the conference room, my mind starts racing with nervous anticipation. There are so many things I want to perfect about Alpha Mail before the tour we're doing in a few days for investors.

Even though I have a team that monitors all the communications between our team of alphas and clients, it would only take one mistake to give the whole company a black eye. One man who takes things too far or says something offensive, and we'd have a PR nightmare on our hands. I have a team for that too, but you know what they say about an ounce of prevention.

I need this investor meeting to go well. My company is thriving and growing at an unexpectedly fast rate, and this will help us build it strategically. I never imagined the idea I hatched over drinks with my best friend Carmen two years ago would grow into what it has.

"I've had enough of alphas," I grumbled to her that night after yet another relationship had ended. "They're too possessive and temperamental."

"Not all alphas are as extreme as Tony," Carmen had said, rolling her eyes as she referenced the man I'd just broken up with. "Taking you into a bar bathroom for a spanking because you made eye contact with another man isn't normal."

We'd laughed and drunk and laughed some more as we both lamented dates and relationships from men who'd said things like, "This pussy belongs to me, kitten," and "Who dis dick belong to, baby girl?"