SO, naturally, after one of the longest weekends of my life, I get to work on Monday and find out that my partner, Mark, is playing hookey. No explanation, just a message sent through our mutual secretary that he "needed a day or two off". This after I had to run into work in the middle of the night on Friday to cover his ass because he had an oh-so-important date. If I wasn't so exhausted I would have been foaming. He had a swift kick in the balls coming, but it would have to wait.
I wouldn't have made it through the morning without Rachel. She served as a personal assistant for both of us, brightening up the office and (even though it wasn't in her job description) sometimes handling part of the workload. On days like that she was a godsend, an endless well of energy to make up for my lack of it. And that cute butt scooting around the office was more than enough to keep me awake.
We had a slightly flirtatious relationship. I knew she was straight, and she knew I wasn't, so with that barrier we had a lot of fun with it. Good fences make good neighbors: when you know you can never be seriously involved with someone, it opens up the relationship.
That being said, sometimes she absolutely dripped sex. You know the type; those gifted few who can make every smile a secret and every word an innuendo. She was like a nymph, glowing with ethereal energy. Every so often she would do something like lean across my chair to reach something on the desk, leaving her lithe frame poised for just a moment too long, inches from my face... then she would turn and smirk at me.
I recognized it for what it was, though: she was young, only 24, and still got a kick out of other people finding her attractive. Not that I'm an old maid myself-- I'm only 29. But Rachel brought out the girl in me.
When I trudged through the door that morning and made my way through the florescent lit halls to my office, she was already waiting at my desk with coffee and a smile, red locks of hair curled lightly around her shoulders. It was all I could do to force a smile before collapsing into my chair.
"Well, there's good news and bad news," she said, with a sheepish smile. "Which do you want first?"
"Oh god."
She sat on the desk and handed me my coffee. "Mark's not coming in today," she said.
"You're kidding me."
"Nope. I'm sorry, Molly. He called a little while ago."
"He knows how much work we have this week. What the hell is he doing? I can't keep covering for him like this." I slammed the mug down, spilling some coffee and not caring. "Doing my own job is hard enough."
I took a deep breath. Mark and I were friends, that's why I could yell about him like that.
"Well, what's the good news?"
"I've already gathered his files for the day and I even started on the first one. Cheer up!" She held up the stack of files triumphantly.
"Thank you so much, Rachel. I don't know what I'd do without you. Really."
"You'd be even more boring than you are now! I know! It gives me the creeps just thinking about it."
I smiled, genuinely this time.
The day went smoother from there, but the amount of work we had to do was simply mind bending. Paper after paper, file after file... ugh. We'd gotten through a large portion of the day's work already but there was still plenty more to do. I was ready for a good 2 hour lunch. Beer and burgers had been growing in my mind since 10. Mmm. Beer. Burgers. Plural. Screw the diet.
As I grabbed my coat and got ready to leave, Rachel came in and blocked the doorway.
"Where do you think you're going?" she said playfully. "You owe me lunch for what I went through this morning!"
I laughed. She was right, and I owed her my sanity on top of that.
"Come on, I need a drink," I said. "I'll buy."
"I have a better idea. Let's go to my place and get take out. It's only 5 minutes away, and we can get through a few more of these files while we eat."
"Does this place deliver beer?"
"You don't trust my taste in beer! Well, sure they will if you want, but I have some nice wine that I can't stand to save any longer."
"You're on. Let's get the hell out of here."
Rachel's apartment was comfortable and very, very... purple. It was everywhere: purple curtains, purple couch, purple throw rug. And on the counter, a vase of lilacs (of course).
We worked for about a half hour until the delivery guy arrived. He stole more than a few glances at Rachel's cute bottom as she went to fetch the money, I can tell you. But when he noticed me glaring at him that stopped, and fast. So I can be territorial. Sue me.
Then we took a break and relaxed on the couch. I sipped my wine slowly. It was red wine and it had a deep, rich flavor. I love red wine and this one was good enough to make me forget about beer. If we didn't have to go back to work eventually I could have drank the whole bottle. As it was I drained two glasses easily. The room smelled like lilacs, and I began to relax and let the day slide off me.
Rachel was telling me the latest office gossip. Mary from accounting was sleeping with Gary from data entry. Bill from down the hall never payed his taxes. And so on and so on, blah blah blah. I stopped paying attention after a while and just watched her lips move and her nose crinkle in that cute way it did sometimes.
Eventually the phone rang and I was left alone on the couch. I stared out the window, watching some birds on the roof of the building next door and feeling the wine go to my head pleasantly. The couch felt great on my ass after sitting on those hard office chairs all day. I sank into the plush cushions and giggled like a schoolgirl at nothing.
Soon I felt myself nodding off. Rachel's voice had stopped coming from the other room, but I didn't bother to wonder what she was doing. I picked my head off the purple cushion (I didn't even remember lying down, a sign that I'd definitely had one too many) and looked around. My eyes didn't want to focus. Oh shit, I thought, I'm not going to be able to finish the day. And with so much to do. Dragging my unwilling body to a sitting position, I shook my head.
"Rachel," I giggled (not bothering to care that she wasn't in the room), "I think I'm drunk."
I stared at a point on the wall to try and focus my eyes. It almost seemed like, at the perimeter of my vision, the light in the room was pulsing slowly: the purple walls changing from light purple to slightly darker and back again. If I looked someplace else it stopped, but started again as soon as I let my eyes rest. I blinked and giggled to myself. I must really be wasted, I thought. Jesus, drunk at lunch time, at your age. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open and keep from drifting off.
Rachel must have put some music on without my noticing. Anyway I noticed it for the first time. I couldn't identify the artist; it had a slow and smooth techno beat and fit my mood perfectly. It throbbed pleasantly in my ears. Some explorative, synthesized keyboard was laid over it, mixed with low tones that sounded like a mellow organ. I began to imagine the music as colors, like you might do when falling asleep (or stoned).
The feeling of my chin coming to rest on my chest brought me back to reality. Snapping my head up, I realized I'd almost nodded off again. What time was it? I tried to check my watch, but my arm didn't want to move. My whole body felt heavy, not just my head. It was like lead weights were tied to every part of me. I tried again, and managed to drag my hand into my lap, but when I looked down I couldn't focus on the watch.
Something was wrong. From my experimental drug use days in college, I recognized that I was hallucinating mildly. Faint sounds bounced around the room. I knew what being drunk felt like, and this was not it. This was like being stoned or on extasy or something, except... I lost my train of thought and instead sank deeper into the couch, feeling the wonderfully oversized cushions cradle me like a hug.
Rachel reappeared finally, gliding in from behind the couch. I wondered how long she'd been back there. She'd changed from her office clothes into pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. I couldn't help staring at her body through the thin cloth as she moved; I seemed to have lost control of even my eyes. It was amazing, I don't know if I said that before. Her lithe hips pressed against the cloth gently when she walked and the shirt was just short enough to expose a thin strip of white stomach above the pajamas. She noticed me looking. With my slowed reactions from whatever was in the drink, there was no such thing as a "quick glance"; everything, every movement and thought, seemed to take hours.
She giggled as she stood over me. "How ya feelin, Hun?"
"Mmm," I smiled, despite the part of my mind that knew something was very wrong. Anyway it was too difficult to say more. My tongue felt too large for my mouth.
The shrinking rational part of me realized too late that there had been something in the drink, something powerful. It knew that Rachel was acting strange, and knew that I was in danger, but I was unable to act. It was too late, and it was easier, so much easier, to go with the flow.
She didn't answer but moved closer, straddling my knees so that I had to look up (past her breasts) to see her face. My head fell back against the cushion. Holding it up was too much of a strain. The smell of lilac perfume wafted from her. There was a manic and far-off look in her blue-gray eyes.
"Do you like the music? I helped write it." She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, drinking in the beat. Everything seemed to be moving slightly and almost imperceptibly along with it now. I listened too. For a moment I thought I caught words in it, whispered snatches that seemed more like another instrument than real words. But as I tried to focus on them they were gone. I became aware that Rachel was looking down at me again. She leaned closer.
"I have some friends that would like to meet you. Would that be ok? They're really interested in your work."
At that I laughed. Who could be interested in my work? It's like saying you're interested in working at a paper clip factory, or finding out more about the fascinating world of being a librarian. Whatever. I didn't care. As long as Rachel was there you could tie me to an anthill in the desert and I wouldn't complain.
She reached out and I felt her hand on my neck. She traced a line with her finger from my ear to my collar bone, slowly. It was like a gossamer thread running over my skin. I shivered. Sparks like little electric shocks ran all through my body.
"They'll be here in a little while. In the meantime, we can just hang out and relax. How's that sound?"
"Mmm hmm," I said. It felt good and right, everything she said did.
"Good! I have some reruns of Columbo on tape. I know how you love that show." She hopped onto the couch beside me, curled up like a cat and flicked the TV on gingerly. Columbo appeared immediately; it was the episode with William Shatner as guest star.
I smiled and mumbled, "Best show on TV. Crime that it was taken off the air." I had a thing for Peter Falk. Don't ask me why, I'm a lesbian and he was like 60 years old even back then. It's just one of those things. Go on, report to me to the lesbian club.
I was disappointed though; I didn't want to watch Columbo, I wanted to watch her. It was nice having her so close without worrying about what people in the office would think.
As if responding to that thought, she snuggled close to me, pressing her thigh against mine and resting her cheek on my shoulder. We sat like that for a while in silence, and I felt myself drifting off again.
The phone woke me up. Actually it was hard to tell if I'd been napping or just daydreaming, but the effect was the same: I was out of it. Rachel was still there beside me, but now her hand was on my shoulder and she seemed to be whispering something in my ear. It was so soft I couldn't catch the words. Had she been talking to me the whole time? How embarassing, one of the only people I actually liked listening to and I missed the whole conversation. I hoped she wouldn't be offended.
The only thing that seemed to offend her was the phone. She sighed loudly.
"I gotta get that. You stay put, relax, and watch the talented Mr. Falk."
The jolt of being woke by the harsh ring of the phone had slid off of me as soon as she spoke. The word relax bounced around in my head pleasantly. In fact everything she said seemed to carry a weight it never had before. I felt an urge to listen to every word, so strong it wasn't so much an urge as it was something that happened automatically, as if I'd thought it myself. Well, what's so wrong with that? I thought. That's just overactive hormones. Any high school kid can write whole books about the three words their sweetheart said to them at lunch. So you have a crush, big deal. It's probably good for you at your age.
I watched TV while trying to listen to what was being said on the phone in the other room. It was a different episode. How long had I napped? The light coming through the large windows was dimmer and more orange: twilight. Shit! It had to be at least 6 o'clock. How on earth did I nap (or daydream) the whole day away?
Rachel came in with the phone and stood in front of me, eyeing me carefully. I realized she was talking about me. I didn't care.
"Yes, she is, and she's ready. Yes, I'm sure, I did it myself," she said, taking a businesslike tone. "It's fine. Come on over-" she stopped and frowned. A woman's voice came faintly from the receiver, but she must have been talking very loud for me to be able to hear it. I couldn't make out what it was saying.
"What?" Rachel looked at me and raised her eyebrows. "That's silly, I know her and she's not-" The voice shouted something and cut her off. "Are you sure? Ok, but I've known Molly for a long time and she's not dangerous."
The voice on the other end spoke one word, and Rachel changed visibly. Her body seemed to go limp for a split second, then her back arched and she stood straight up, like a soldier answering roll call. Her manner changed completely; there was no playfulness left in her voice. She seemed to stare at an invisible point over my head.
"Yes, Miss Craig." The voice spoke again and Rachel returned to normal. The change had been so brief I wondered if it hadn't been another trick of my eyes.
"Ok." She rolled her eyes as if she was talking to an annoying aunt that wouldn't let her off the phone. Then she hung up abruptly and walked into the bedroom, reappearing moments later with something in her hand. It was a clear mask with what looked like a small black canister attached.
"Well my friends are on their way, but get a load of this: Miss Craig says you're dangerous. Can you believe that? She says that you had some training from the CIA and that you could kill all of us with your bare hands if you wanted to. Is that ridiculous or what? I told her I've known you like forever and that's stupid, but she insisted."
I didn't bother asking who Miss Craig was or how she knew so much about me. Asking questions, even thinking them, felt unnecessary and needless, and it disturbed the warm feeling I got while listening to Rachel talk.
Whoever Miss Craig was, she was right, though. I hadn't always worked as a pencil pusher. For the first four years of my career I had been in field operations, and had received a good bit of combat training, far and beyond what the ordinary agent gets. Even in the offices like mine that did nothing but paperwork, they had a minimum number of "real" agents to keep an eye on things. I was one of them. How anyone but a select few in the agency would know about that, though, was beyond me.
But hurt Rachel? That really seemed ridiculous. Of course, if I'd been in my right mind and been able to move, I definitely might have.
"I told her I'd been working on you all day, gave you the 'special blend' and everything, and that you'd come down to the facility willingly, even go to sleep if I asked, but she wouldn't listen."
It was like a movie. I was just a spectator, too far gone to do anything but listen and watch.
She came close and leaned over, putting her hands on my shoulders and pressing her cheek against mine. It was like a silk pillow. I inhaled deeply. Lilacs.
"I'm sorry, Molly," she said into my ear.
"It's ok," I mumbled, finding my voice for the first time in what had probably been hours. It was ok. Everything was fine when Rachel was there.
She began whispering again in that way that made it difficult to catch the words. Or maybe I was hearing the words, just forgetting them as she spoke them. Then she placed the mask over my face and pressed a button on the canister. Gas hissed out. It smelled like vanilla. No doubt at Rachel's request. I couldn't move or fight, and I didn't have any desire to. My body and will were dead and useless.
"Just breathe. I promise, they won't hurt you."
I breathed. After drifting in and out of consciousness all day, it hardly felt strange to drift off again.
I woke up slowly. I was on a large plush bed, with oversized pillows and a soft down comforter half covering me. It was all purple, and as I looked around I saw the walls were purple too. Rachel's room?
I looked to my side and there she was, sleeping peacefully with a smile on her face. She was naked- so was I. Her arm was around me, resting lightly on my shoulder. Oh man.
Not that that exact situation hadn't been a dream of mine since I'd first laid eyes on her... but I couldn't remember how it had happened, or anything about the last 24 hours. That didn't come back until later. At that moment, waking up groggy and disoriented, I just assumed that we'd probably gone out, had one too many, and bang, great night and probably a bad day at the office to come. What had I been thinking? I glanced back at her. She looked like an angel, sprawled serenely in the thick covers. That's what I'd been thinking.
I got up, looking for my clothes. They weren't anywhere to be found. Two light purple robes were piled in a heap by the foot of the bed, though. Grabbing one and putting it on, I searched the room for anything of mine. No use, it was empty and pristinely clean. They're probably tossed all over the living room, I thought, then felt a deep pang of regret that I couldn't remember the wild night I'd apparently (finally!) had with Rachel.
Making for the living room, I was stopped at the door. It was locked. There didn't seem to be any lock on this side. Had we been so wasted we locked ourselves in? No, that didn't make sense, why would you build a bedroom door with a lock on the outside? I felt up and down for some hidden latch, but there was none. The door felt oddly cold, too... like metal, though it was a wooden door.
Rachel's voice came from behind me, groggy with sleep.
"Mm. Come back to bed, hon. I'm cold."
"I have to find my phone and make sure everything's ok at the office. What time is it?" There were no clocks in the room, and the windows were sealed with opaque shades that let in no hint of the time of day. "And why the hell is your door locked, and how the hell do I open it?" I laughed, half frustrated.
"Come back to bed, please."
I yanked at the handle one last time before giving up. The bed did look inviting. It would have even without it's siren inhabitant. It was just that comfy. I walked back and sat on the edge. Rachel opened her eyes and smiled.
"All the way in!" She giggled, taking my hand and pulling me. I let her draw me back into bed; she leaned up and kissed me slowly, still smiling. Not to get poetic and shit, but her lips were like flower petals, I swear to god, they were that soft. Don't tell anyone I got that sappy or I'll have you killed. Seriously. Anyway, five minutes wouldn't hurt anyone.
With her other hand she untied the cord of my robe and pushed it back, then drew my body against hers with one motion. I stole a quick look at her for the first time without having to worry about etiquette. She was amazing. Whoever put that body together should be given a fucking medal. She pulled the covers up over us and pressed her full frame against me, and the gorgeous sight was lost... for the moment. I could feel her heat. She was already wet.
Then she moved above me and put her face against my ear. I thought she was just giving me a chance to kiss a terrific breast (which I did); instead she kissed my neck once, then whispered something in my ear.
I was instantly wet. Not just wet, DRENCHED. My body had never acted that way before. I was suddenly an animal, moaning and squirming, and my hips undulating of their own accord. With one hand I grabbed an ass cheek of Rachel's and with the other I sought my own sex for some relief from the unbearable burning that was breaking out all over my body. It was like some dream of pleasure, with electricity crackling in the sheets. My ears rang.
Rachel gave me an odd, mischeivous smirk; she was happy to oblige me. She stopped my hand before I could satisfy myself-- no easy feat, at the point I was like an animal in heat, barely aware of anything outside myself-- and moved down between my legs, brushing her body lightly against me as she did. A delicious breast dragged over my cheek, then my own breasts. She held my wrist tightly against the sheets, not allowing me to pleasure myself; that was her job. I felt her tongue.
Lights exploded in front of my eyes, and I screamed, tearing at the sheets in the most massive orgasm I'd ever had. My legs and hips bucked like a gazelle in a trap, completely out of my control now. And again. And again, every time the merciless tongue entered.
On some level of my mind I began to wonder if I would faint from the exertion. I think I did, for a second.
When I opened my eyes again, Rachel was smiling at me from between my legs. I made a motion for her to come lie next to me; I had no breath to speak. Utterly spent, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open for ten seconds.
She curled up beside me, her head on my breast, and we both fell asleep; though it's hard to tell if I slept of not. Waking and sleeping dreams were becoming so similar.
"So who taught you that, straight-girl?" I said, playing with her hair. Rachel was on her back with her head on my stomach. We both stared dreamily at the ceiling.
"I read Lesbians for Dummies."
I idly wondered about the change that had come over me simply from a whisper, but not much. Hey, the earlobe is an erogenous zone, right? And this girl had skills.
We lay there for a long time. The world was completely dead and silent: no car horn from outside, no dog bark and no neighbor's footsteps were to be heard. It was our own little pocket of nothingness. The lights seemed to dim on their own.
Eventually I wondered what time it was again. Thoughts of the office nagged at me. I sighed out loud. Good fences make good neighbors; we had to make sure the day's work was done because it's hard to pay for a nice purple apartment without a job. I nudged Rachel.
"C'mon, we gotta get up. Work to do, hon. What time is it?"
"Noooo," she whined, rolling over and pulling the sheets over her head.
"At least we have to find out how things are going downtown." Images of 40 waiting voicemails floated at me. The old business sense clicked back in. Dragging myself out of bed, I followed the primitive business urge to search for a phone. But I'd forgotten about the door.
"Hey," I said, "what gives with your door, babe?" I yanked once on the knob then, as an afterthought, thumped it once with the heel of my hand. It rang like a steel drum. "What the hell?"
"Please don't do that," came Rachel's voice, still sleepy but with a hint of fear, like a child waking up from a nightmare.
"Do what? Come on, we gotta get moving. Seriously. We can continue-" I waved my hands, grinning, searching for a word, "this, later."
"Just come back to bed Molly, please. They don't like it when you do that."
I stopped dead. "What?" Was she still half asleep, talking gibberish? Some thought, some memory began to tug at me, but I couldn't place it. "They who?"
"Please, just leave the door alone."
I pounded on the door.
"Molly, STOP! You don't know what you're doing."
I pounded more. The nagging memory grew and began to take shape. They, Rachel had said 'they'. Where had I heard that? I turned back-- she still had the sheets pulled over her head, as if to ward something off.
Then it all came back at once. The afternoon, the drink, the music, Rachel's 'friends'... I froze.
As if in response, a voice came out of nowhere.
"Hello, Ms. Park."
I wheeled around, trying to locate the source. A small speaker, painted the same purple as the rest of the room and nearly invisible, was set in the wall near the door. Another was set above the bed. I hadn't noticed it before with the obvious... distractions.
"Why not have a seat and we can talk a bit? I think you'll find the door quite unopenable," the voice said.
I ran to the window and threw open the shades.
The shades hadn't blocked out all light by themselves... the windows were fake. Where the glass would be there was a concrete wall. I ran to the other window. Same.
"Rachel, where are we?" I said faintly.
She didn't answer. I shook her. She pulled the sheets more tightly around herself and refused to look up.
"RACHEL."
"We're at the place. The secret place. My friends live here. They made it look just like my room. Isn't that cool? It's like..." she rolled over, with a dumb happy expression, "it's like I have two rooms!" She giggled.
My secretary, my beautiful sexy friend, had gone completely insane and become involved in something way over her head, or I was still having some nightmare. I pinched myself.
"Come back to bed," she called. She acted like nothing was wrong. Maybe she didn't even realize anything was wrong. What had they done to her?
I reached out and tore the sheet from her, then grabbed her by the shoulders, tightly.
"Rachel, wake up."
"I am up, silly!"
I reached back, and with one sweeping motion slapped her full across the face-- HARD. It hurt me more than it hurt her. A big red mark spread across her freckled right cheek, and I hated myself for a split second.
"OW!"
"GET UP," I growled, "we're getting out of here, wherever we are."
"But we can't get out, not unless Miss Craig says we can." She looked at me pityingly, like a dog that just couldn't understand why it needed to go to the vet.
Ignoring her I ran back to the door and began pounding and kicking at it. I must have looked ridiculous; a stark naked, stark raving mad woman hammering madly on a door while her girlfriend stared at her like she was insane. My hands and knees were bruised instantly, but I didn't stop. I couldn't think of anything else to do. I was like a dumb animal in a cage, beating itself senseless against the bars.
"Rachel," the voice came from the speaker, calmly. It was an older woman's voice. "Calm her down, Rachel, before she hurts herself. Your voice is the only one she's been conditioned to listen to so far." There must have been cameras hidden somewhere too.
I watched in horror as my friend and lover rose from bed and walked towards me, naked. Petite, white and freckled pink breasts swayed gently, in rhythm with her shoulder-length hair. She wore an expression of pity but also purpose.
I planted my feet firmly apart, ready to knock her unconscious as soon as she got close enough. They were gonna find out who they were fucking with, whoever they were, if I had to break their necks one at a time.
She stopped a pace in front of me. I lunged-- an uppercut, aimed at her chin with the butt of my palm, designed to knock her out but not kill her. The rest of them could die, but I was getting Rachel out of there.
But mid-swing she spoke a single word, and my hand stopped. My arm and the rest of my body went limp. All sound seemed to get sucked out of the room.
I fell forward into her like a bag of jello. She caught me under the arms with uncommon strength. For a moment my face rested against her bare midriff, then she eased my useless body to the ground, gently. My face slid down her outer thigh to the carpet. I couldn't move, not even to blink. I stared at her ankles through half-lidded eyes.
The voice came from the wall: "Good. But we'll have to get this one to Stage 2 right away. She's far too dangerous. Be careful next time! She almost took your head off."
"Yes, Miss Craig."
"A team is on their way. That will be all for now, Rachel. Report to the Green Terminal immediately."
"Yes, Miss Craig."
The door buzzed and clicked. I felt it bump against my legs as it swung in. At least my body was useful as a doorstop, cause it wasn't for anything else. Rachel seized me by the wrists and dragged me out of the way.
Something rolled in, a hospital bed or a gurney. A wheel stopped in front of my face. Two pairs of hands rolled me over onto my back. Before I could get a look at them, I felt Rachel's thin hand on my face. She drew it over my eyes gently, closing them.
Then I was lifted up, placed on the gurney, and strapped in. I felt her hand on my cheek and her lips against my ear.
"Don't worry, Molly, everything will be all right. You'll love it here." She kissed me on the forehead and spoke one of the words that I seemed to forget as soon as it left her lips. "Now go to sleep."
I did.