MODERN GODIVAS

         Post #1 - We live in a fucked-up world. A fucked-up world where just the idea of the past is enough to make any self-righteous, modern-day Godiva quake with rage. If the notion rears its vile head in a meeting they preside, these half-estrogen, even-more-testosterone-run gladiators will spill the booze losing its chill in their self-indulging hands. If it pops up in their eco-friendly homes, it will make their vegan smoothies rattle... It was a day and age with no quarter for them and those of their ilk. The time since Adam laid Eve till the late 90s has given way to grass-fed liberals and their views on what this godforsaken century should have in store.

When it comes to bending the modern world to their enlightened will, these corporate warriors know their game, they inhale their credo... . Some say they're nothing but the by-product of the modern times, well-instructed and wrapped in the height of posh... Such folks, they are the public enemy. No pants-and-blazer Godiva will allow such Joe to roam their playground - the liberated 20s. These crusaders, they have medium-to-short-cuts, nude paint on their nails...  Shirts and (at least allegorical) balls. They sip on scotch and walk like a bloke.... Determination, fierceness, tiger on the prowl... all soar from one such lady's stride. They give every conservative a run for their primitive beliefs... They will stop at nothing to have it their way, they will put up a fight every time they walk outside their doors... The fact that one's applying should be enough to get the job - regardless of what one can bring to the fucking table. 
It was downright misfortune that they were born in a time of traditions... In a time carved by white, christian, heterosexual men... Fucking misfortune to be born in a time when the notion of "woman" came hand in glove with the one of "mother"... or at least a human regarding her lady bits as the gateway to something beyond the enjoyable craze of blunt fucking... Having reached their revolutionary 30s, now they can finally fulfill their mission - days of breaking sweat inside the firm, nights on wine and dildos... All in the name of changing the world that's been. The notion of the "strong, independent woman" is not a title in itself. It ain't even a state of mind... 
  It's the look in their eyes. That steel look in their Kevlar eyes that  lets any poor soul know these ladies mean fucking business. The look of a crusader that uses men just for sex - if and when she takes a break from banking millions - that's when their bearded lovers rush to quench the itch begging in their nether regions. The look of one that makes her kid (if she sacrifices the time to procreate) take up ballet... piano... Chinese... So the tit-sucker will be well-rounded in a globalizing world... One where the hand-me-downs are loud and the few values still around cowed in silence by the noise of the former.