GCAVixens: F*ck the Boss: A Brazzers Guide to Calling In

Brazzers

David Perry, Tarra White Pic(s)

The digital alarm clock’s blaring red numbers felt less like a wake-up call and more like a final verdict on another soul-crushing day at the office. David Perry, a man whose spirit had been systematically dismantled by corporate jargon and his micromanaging supervisor, stared at the ceiling from his rumpled sheets, a revolutionary idea taking root in his sleep-deprived mind. He wasn’t just going to be “unwell”; he was going to stage a performance so spectacularly unhinged that his boss would have no choice but to grant him a permanent reprieve. With a newfound sense of purpose, he reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over the contact labeled “Tyrant,” and began to craft his masterpiece of deceit. Meanwhile, his partner-in-crime, Tarra White, lounged beside him, her mischievous grin a clear endorsement of the chaotic plan unfolding. “Remember,” she purred, her voice a silken promise of the day’s distractions, “you need to sound genuinely on death’s door, or at least convincingly contagious.” David took a deep, theatrical breath and initiated the call, his voice instantly morphing into a weak, raspy tremor that suggested a man moments from a full respiratory collapse. He described symptoms so vividly bizarre—a phantom limb ache, a sudden allergy to fluorescent lighting—that his boss could only sputter in confused concern on the other end of the line. As he finally hung up, a triumphant silence filled the room, broken only by Tarra’s delighted laughter. They had successfully declared a personal holiday, a glorious, boss-free interval where the only item on the agenda was each other.