"It's Tuesday. You should wear your midnight blue tie," Margaret said, handing me the aforementioned tie.

"Thanks, babe. You always dress me so good," I said, hanging the tie on my neck and checking the lengths of each end in a mirror.

I leaned into her, and we rubbed noses together. It was something we just started doing because we thought it would look weird and dumb to other people, but then we unironically started enjoying it.

"It's 'dress me so well' dear," she said, grabbing the ends of the tie and tying it for me. As I said, she always dressed me so good.

"I know, but sometimes I like to talk bad. I think it makes me seem adorkable," I said.

"It does do that, so mission accomplished, but isn't the most important thing, turning on your girlfriend? I think it's so hot when you speak real good like," she said, as she put the finishing touches on my tie.

"See? I have you doing it now. It's addicting, isn't it?" I said, as she patted my tie flat against my chest.

"Perfect," she said. "You are right. It is fun to talk like that, but it's unprofessional."

"I'm the Devil. How professional do I need to be?" I said.

"You do have a point. The old Devil always wore the most ridiculous looking outfits, but he got away with it because he had the power to back it up. You're still getting there," she said.

"Yeah, but no one else knows that. You better not be telling your girlfriends that. I have a reputation to maintain. Besides, with sword Steve at my side, I'm plenty more powerful than any demon alive or dead," I said, patting my sword on my waist. It hummed with anticipation over the next time I would draw it. I mean that literally. It literally hummed. With its "mouth."

"I love you. You know that?" I said, leaning in for a kiss.

"I know you do," she said, kissing me back passionately.

"Why aren't you saying it back? You always say it back," I said, confused.

"I'm trying on a new, confident, sassy attitude. How does it look?" she said, grabbing and swaying her hips.

"It's extremely hot, but maybe don't do it in front of the neighbors. You don't want them to get the wrong idea," I said.

"And what idea would that be, my dear?" she asked, stroking the underside of my chin with an index finger.

"That I don't wear the pants in the house," I said.

"You don't though. You're literally not wearing pants right now, and we're in the house," she said, gesturing at the house.

"Yeah, but I don't want people to know that. I'm supposed to be a big, strong man. I don't want them to know that you're my world. That would be a sign of weakness, and you know what they do with weaklings down here," I said.

"They eat them alive," she said at the same time as me, like she'd heard it a hundred times. Which wasn't true. I'd only said it on two dozen occasions. No more than that.

"It's bad enough they think I'm dating my secretary," I said.

"That's because you are dating your secretary," she said, smiling adorably, prominently displaying her sharp white teeth.

"That's only because you insist on calling yourself my secretary, when you're really more of an assistant director," I said, mussing up my hair.

"That's because it's hot," she said, handing me my pants.

"It is, but it undermines my authority," I said, putting on my pants.

"Your authority is plenty strong, my love. If anything I think your image needs some humanizing," she said.

"Really? Doesn't the fact that I'm human do that already?" I asked.

"No, people still fear you babe. Lucifer was a known Devil. People understood what motivated him. You're still relatively new so people don't know what to expect. They're afraid you could fly off the handle at something unexpected," she said.

"They're waiting for me to prove I'm as crazy and unstable as Lucifer was," I said.

"Exactly," she said, straightening my collar.

"But I'm not," I said.

"They still don't know that yet, but things will settle down in time. You'll show them who you are and they'll love you for it," she said. "Just like I do." She kissed me.

"Thanks, babe. I've been the Devil for a year now, though. You'd think they'd be used to me by now," I said.

"A year is nothing to a demon," she said. "Imagine you've had a new boss for a month, and you'll understand how they feel."

"I see. Well, I guess I'll just have to keep on keeping on," I said.

"You will," she said. "Now get out there and be a good Devil." She smacked my butt to get me going.

I left the house and teleported to the control room. I looked out over all the machinery, switches, computers, and Steves.

"Alright boys," I said. "We're going to crack some whips today, just like we do every day."

"Sounds good boss," Steve one said.

"I just finished oiling the whips boss," Steve two said.

"Two, how many times do I have to say we're not cracking literal whips? It's a metaphor. Where did you even get those?" I said.

"Uh, Shawlmart?" Two said.

"Shawlmart sells whips now? Huh. I guess they really do sell everything," I said. "Well, were they at least on sale?"

"Nope," Two said.

"Can you return them?" I asked.

"Not after I oiled them," he said.

"Ok, just put them in a corner. I'll figure out what to do with them," I said.

"Ok, boss," Two said.

A young demon woman came through swinging double doors. She wore a waitress outfit and carried a cup of hot coffee. "Here's your coffee, sir."

"Thank you, Nimby. You know you don't have to wear that uniform anymore, right? You can dress normal," I said, taking a sip of coffee.

"I don't want my normal clothes to get dirty. Besides, what is dressing normal, anyway?" she said.

"Fair. How's breakfast coming along?" I said.

"Chef Demi said it'll be another five minutes," Nimby said, pausing and just looking at me.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" I said.

"No, you're just a really handsome man, boss," she said.

"Nimby, is that really a professional thing to say?" I asked.

"What? Of course it is. I call Demi handsome all the time. Do they not do that on Earth?" she said, looking mildly offended.

"Oh. Um, sorry. They don't. They consider it unprofessional up there," I said.

"They sound like a bunch of prudes if you ask me," Nimby said.

"I suppose they are," I laughed.

"Fuck 'em. I say find joy where you can whenever you can. Life is short and you only get one," she said.

"You're right. You're an adorable young lady yourself," I said with enthusiasm.

"Thanks, boss," she said, slapping me on the ass.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I pointed at her. "Ok, that's unprofessional," I said.

"Maybe it is," she said, putting her finger up to her lips. "Sue me if you've got a problem with it. What do they say up there? 'If you can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen'," she said, flicking her lower lip with her finger provocatively.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I'm pretty sure that's not how you're supposed to use that phrase. Also, bad Nimby! That's a bad Nimby!"

She was a hell spawn, and a spicy one at that.

She stuck her tongue out at me. "Prude." She walked back into the back, swaying her hips in an exaggerated manner. If she wasn't careful, she might end up throwing her back out doing that.

"Thank you, Nimby," I said, rolling my eyes.

I hired Nimby and Chef Demi from the IRS Cafe that Margaret and I visited on our first date. All of Lucifer's inner circle had been in on the apocalypse plan with Harvey, so I had to build my staff from scratch.

I hired a few well-known technicians and had this whole control room setup in real time. I still didn't have Lucifer's conjuring ability, so I had to do everything the old-fashioned way. I preferred it, though. From my experiences in the therapy zone, Lucifer's conjuring ability could sometimes produce unexpected results.

One time, the dishwasher started talking to me about how it wished I put more dirty dishes inside it rather than washing them by hand. It was like, "I gotta eat too, you know." Man, that was weird.

I snapped back to what I was doing. "One, Two, Three, Four, are you guys seeing anything?"

One, Two, and Four replied with different versions of, "No, boss." Three put up a finger, indicating he was in the middle of something.

"I got something!" Three said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A recent spike in the global death rate. It's minor, but statistically significant. And there's a corresponding anomaly in the data," he said.

"Hit me with it, but don't actually hit me. Just give me the information," I said.

"Ok. Famous people from all walks of life have been dying in droves. The local law enforcement agencies are labeling them as murders, but they don't give any details on how the murders were committed. There's no link between the victims other than the fact that they're all famous for something," Three said.

"Ok. Can you cross reference the names with our database? On the off chance, they're related to Hell in some way. It's slim, but it's better to check than not," I said.

"Yes, sir," he said, as he worked on the computer. "We got hits."

"How many?" I asked.

"All of them," he said. "They're all in our database as people who've made deals with the Devil or a demon."

"Huh. There has to be a reason for that. Try to find out why," I said.

----------------------------------------

The rest of the day was uneventful. There were no new major disasters that would indicate a coming apocalypse. No plagues or strange natural disaster phenomena.

The Circles of Hell were operating as intended. The weather and atmosphere were correct, and people were being punished appropriately.

And Heaven and Purgatory were normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. I teleported in front of the door to my home and opened the door. Something was bugging me. The murders were weird, sure, but we'd figure it out and fix it like the other issues we'd encountered. That wasn't a problem. I was confident about my work.

What was messing with me was how Nimby acted towards me that morning. I walked up the stairs and sat down on the top of the steps. It was a place I liked to think. Margaret saw me and sat down beside me. I used my Devil authority to widen the stairs, so it was more comfortable for us to sit side by side.

"What's going on?" she asked, concerned.

"I had this really weird experience at work today," I said, rubbing my forehead.

"What happened? Are you ok?" Margaret asked.

"I don't know. Nimby. She crossed a line, and I don't know what to do about it," I said.

Margaret scrunched up her face uncomfortably and said, "Did she get too rough during intimacy?"

"What? No!" I said.

"Did she try something inappropriate without asking first?" she said.

"No! Nothing like that," I said, getting confused and a little worried.

"Oh! Did she break any of the standard workplace protocols for subordinate to manager relations? I hear Earth has strict rules about these things," Margaret said, looking worried herself. She wasn't worried for the same reason I was, though. She was worried by how anxious I was getting from her questions.

"What? No! Margaret? What are you talking about?" I asked, standing up.

"Dave? Are you ok? You're scaring me," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

I sat back down. My getting upset was upsetting her. I tried to relax and calmly explain my confusion, but first I had to make sure she was ok as well. "Babe, I'm sorry. I think there's been some sort of miscommunication. I don't want to see you cry. I'm sorry for whatever I did to cause that. Are you ok?"

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Yeah. It's just I've never seen you so upset before. You always brush everything off so easily. Demon men get angry and aggressive and physical so quickly, but you don't. I'm just really shocked to see you this way is all. Can you explain to me what's upsetting you so we can work through it together?"

"Yes, Margaret. We can. I'm sorry for getting upset. I have a feeling a cultural difference is causing my distress, but as I said when we started this a year ago, I'm here to learn," I said, rubbing her back.

"Ok. Start over. Nimby crossed a line at work today. What line did she cross?" she asked.

"She hit on me rather aggressively, then smacked my ass and called me a prude. I'm just so confused," I said. "I don't want to fire her. She's such a hard worker, and she really needs this job. She's helping support her siblings with the money and it's barely enough for her to get by. I've been considering giving her raise too. But this sexual harassment thing has my stomach in knots."

"Sexual harassment? She forced herself on you?" Margaret asked.

"No," I said, confused again.

"She forced you on her?" she asked.

"No," I said. Man, this was confusing. There was a serious miscommunication happening, but I didn't know how to untangle it.

"So then she pulled you out of your pants and performed a sexual act on you?" Margaret said.

"No. None of that," I said. I forced myself to remain calm despite my confusion. Was that what they saw as sexual harassment down here? Because on Earth those things would be classified as sexual assault.

"Then where's the sexual harassment?" Margaret said, genuinely confused.

"She smacked my butt and flirted with me. Does that not count as sexual harassment down here?" I said, with my head in my hands.

"No. That's just teasing. I thought she had done something bad during intimacy from how upset you were," she said.

"You keep bringing that up, and I could not be more confused by it," I said. "Why do you keep assuming that Nimby is performing intimate acts on me?"

"She's not?" Margaret said, shocked.

"No! Why would she be?" I said.

"Because that's what you do at work," she said matter-of-factly.

"Come again?" I asked.

"Ok, by how this conversation is going, I'm assuming they don't do this on Earth, but in Hell, subordinates sleep with and or please their boss or bosses if they have multiple. It's standard workplace etiquette. It's also healthy. It creates a stronger bond between the manager and their subordinates," Margaret explained.

"It's in the employee/employer handbook. Did you not read it? I gave it to you after you took me home on our first date," she said, starting to get a little upset.

I grimaced. "Uh, yeah, I forgot to do that. I figured it wasn't that important. I thought it would be like any handbook on Earth."

Margaret smacked me on the arm. It kind of hurt, and I was supposed to be invulnerable. I guessed I wasn't. I must have just been really, really tough. While my body tanked most hits, really hard ones could get through. Actually, that would explain why Steve was able to kill me with a punch to the heart over a year ago. But that wasn't important right now.

"Ow! What was that for?" I said, rubbing my shoulder.

"You always read the handbook. Every new job, every new piece of machinery or technology, and every new relationship. Everything in Hell has a handbook, and you always read it! Even small things like refilling the soap dispenser and washing your hands have a handbook," she said.

"Ok, ok! I didn't know! On Earth, no one reads handbooks. They just ask people how to do things or they figure it out through trial and error," I said.

"Earth is not Hell. Hell is not Earth. Get that through your thick skull, Dave! You're the Devil now! You have a lot of responsibility and if you mess up, people die, or worse. They suffer and live," Margaret said, very upset. She stood up, then sat down, then stood back up again, and then sat back down again.

"I really want to storm out right now, but we still need to talk about this sexual harassment situation. You are not firing Nimby because she flirted with you and smacked your butt. It's in the employee handbook."

"If anything, I'd fire her for taking a year to start coming on to you, but she's young and inexperienced. And she's not a succubus. Sexual customs and behaviors don't come as easily to her as it does for others. She called you a prude because you are a prude, Dave. Look in the mirror."

"Wait, so you wouldn't be upset if I slept with people at work?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, since Nimby is the only woman there and you're not bisexual, I would be confused if you slept with multiple people at work. Especially, since Steve is practically your son. But no, I wouldn't be upset. I thought you already were sleeping with a person at work. Nimby. She's fully mature, but young. She's the perfect age to be shown the way by a kind older man with experience like yourself," Margaret said, waving a handbook at me.

I wondered where she even got a handbook from. She'd been sitting on the stairs with me the whole time. Was she carrying it on her person?

"Okay. Okay. Okay. Ok…Ok. I know you're not supposed to tell someone to calm down, but please calm down, Margaret. You're scaring me now. I'm sorry I haven't read any of the handbooks you've given me," I said.

"I get that you told me to read them, but you have to understand, on Earth, everyone tells people to read the handbook. No one ever does. Not even the person telling the other person to read it. It's a weird Earth thing."

"Now that I know in Hell you're supposed to read the handbooks, and it's important for me since I'm not from here, I will read the handbooks. I promise. I will spend all night tonight reading them."

"No, you will not," she said. "You will get your required eight hours of sleep, mister."

"That must be another Hell thing. Man, I really should've read those handbooks. Sleep on Earth is a recommended thing, but culturally, a lot of us don't get enough of it, and some people even see it as a badge of honor that they don't get enough sleep," I said.

Margaret looked at me like I was a talking fish. "You Earth people are weird."

"You can just say 'humans'. 'Humans' are weird," I said.

"We don't classify people by species down here, Dave. That's speciest," she said.

"Man. I really need to read the handbooks," I said, rubbing my temples. "Hold on. Are you sleeping with anyone else?"

"I'm going to ignore the judgment in your tone for now, but by tomorrow, you better talk right, or you're going to get smacked," she said. "No, I'm not, since I only have one boss, and that's you. I'm doing my duty."

"That makes sense. I'm not making any promises, but I'll think about my prudish ways while I read the handbooks. I may not follow through with what you're saying, but I will respect it," I said.

"Wait. I'm your only boss, but you have male subordinates. A lot of them. Do you?" I said, trailing off.

"No," she said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because they aren't you." She sighed.

"I feel the same way," I said. "Why are you allowed to feel that way but not me?"

"Because you're a man. Don't men want to spread their seed?" she said.

"Maybe other men, but not me," I said.

"Ok, you dont have to sleep with Nimby if you dont want to, but you better figure out a way to turn her down without destroying her self image and self confidence."

Margaret stood up and slapped the handbook she was holding into my hands. It was the employee/employer handbook. "Read it. Then come back to me. I'll stay up until midnight to wait for you, but no later. You and I have work in the morning."

"Ok. I will," I said, as she walked down the hallway and closed the door to our bedroom behind her.

I sat there, dumbfounded. This was by far the weirdest and most confusing conversation I'd ever had. I looked down at the handbook in my hands. I figured I might as well get to work, so I locked myself in my study and began reading.