He nodded his head, but said nothing. Sam left the office and blushed when she noticed Mr. Smith at his desk. He smiled and wished her a good day, which she mumbled something in return. She hurried down the hall and back to her cubicle on the lower floor.
Sam felt safe there as she sat down in her chair. Her covert operation hadn't gone as well as planned, but she had retrieved the files she needed, or so she hoped. First, though, Sam put the keys back in the pocket she'd found them in. She didn't want Slinky to find they'd be taken, because there would be no other suspects than herself when the disappearance came to light.
Confident that her friend wouldn't suspect a thing, Sam was about to read them when she heard footsteps padding down the hall in front of her space and she quickly hid the folders in her desk drawer. It was a good thing, too, because one of the personnel files belonged to the woman who slowly marched by.
Mrs. Winkle scowled at Sam, who nervously smiled back. Their eyes only met for a moment, but it was long enough to give Sam the shivers. The woman hated her with a passion deeper than she could understand, and she hoped never to meet her outside the office. There was something cruel hidden in her eyes, and she didn't want to be on the receiving end of what Winkle desperately wanted to do to her. Perhaps her file would shed light on what caused such intense hatred.
As quick as those thoughts came out Winkle was gone, but the feeling remained. Her trembling didn't stop until Slinky came back from her lunch and peeked over the wall. She was really glad to see her friend's chipper face.
"How you feeling?" she cheerfully asked. She could see her friend was a little pale, but not sickly green. "You look a little better. At least, I think you do..." She hadn't actually seen what Sam had looked like before the attack except when she'd briefly passed her cubicle on the way to the bathroom.
"I feel a lot better," Sam nodded as she remembered the slip of paper to get out of jail free for an hour. "I was actually kind of hungry. You want to come with me for some late lunch? You know, just to talk?"
"That'd be awesome, but how are we gonna get out of the trouble Winkle will cause if we do?"
"I've got that covered." She handed her the slip of paper and Slinky's mouth dropped open, then her eyes narrowed.
"Is this forged?"
"Nope, one hundred percent authentic. He heard I was sick so he thought I might need to leave early with a friend." The lie was easy enough, and the smile on Slinky's face made the guilt melt away.
"Great! I got just the place to show you!"
The girls headed out, but not without being spotted. Winkle exited the elevator they were taking down to the lobby, and Slinky waved at her just before the door closed.
"Boy, did she look mad, didn't she?" she snickered.
"Yeah, I just hope she doesn't get us into trouble." Sam noted the time, since she had seen their supervisor look at her own watch. They needed to be back precisely, or at least no later, or they would definitely get into trouble.
"Well, how about we just enjoy ourselves and use that note you got to get us out of her bitching?" she suggested. Slinky treated her friend to one of the nicest uptown restaurants money could buy. She was really happy when Sam dug into every plate as if she'd been starving herself for a week. "You eating all right lately?" she scolded as Sam finished off her second steak.
"Yeah, it's just that this stuff is so great." Everything seemed to have a wonderful flavor and she just couldn't get enough of her fill. "I could eat here every day."
"I don't think they'd let us back in," Slinky teased. "You'd pretty much eat them out of all their supplies in less than a week."
"Hardy-har-har," Sam replied, but she couldn't deny that she was eating a lot of plates. She felt guilty for letting Slinky pick up the entire tab, but then she realized they wee still playing on her father's credit card.
After twenty minutes of non-stop eating Sam finally pushed back the last empty plate of ribs and patted her stomach. She felt full and content, now all she needed was a nap.
"You think so much time's passed in the real world they've forgotten we exist?" Slinky wondered.
"We've only been gone thirty minutes," Sam scolded. She accidentally let out a burp and blushed as a few of the other patrons stared in their direction. "But maybe we should get back, just in case."
"Oh no, I'm gonna use your get-out-of-jail-free card for all it's worth," her friend protested.
Slinky paid their bill, which well exceeded two hundred dollars for food alone, and took Sam on a tour of the more fashionable part of the city. They traveled through expensive lingerie stores with vixen mannequins and through sporting goods stores which stocked shoes more expensive than an entire month's rent for Sam's apartment. People dressed in stylish clothing brushed passed them and so much money exchanged hands at cash registers that Sam felt she was in an entirely different world. She felt some pains of jealousy at their ability to be so extravagant, but then she also felt like a fish out of water.
Slinky, accustomed as she was to this lifestyle, dragged them into a women's clothing store. She flitted to and fro the shelves selecting a few bits of evening wear clothing. She frowned at some of the more buxom customers who were able to fit into dressed which had a more severe neckline. They glanced back, it was a mother and daughter duo, and grinned as they looked over her slim figure. The daughter leaned over and whispered something into her mother's ear, and the two of them laughed.
"Something funny?" Slinky asked.
She'd dealt with types like these before and particularly these two. They were actually the spouse and child of one of the board members, out to spend his paycheck. They were those who looked down on others because of what they saw as monetary or physical deficiencies. Sam, however, was in the dark about this information and just didn't want to start any trouble.
"They probably didn't mean anything," Sam insisted as she took her friend's shoulder and tried to move them away. She wasn't budging, however, until she got an answer. "Come on, let's just go."
"We were just commenting on your, um, nice suit," the mother tried to save face, but the daughter wasn't so tactful.
"I'm sure you were, Mrs. Elliston," Slinky sarcastically replied. Sam recognized the name as belong to one of the board members, and now she knew they were in deep trouble.
"We don't have much time left," she pointed out to her friend. They actually had a good ten minutes, and the walk was only a brisk five.
"Out on your lunch break?" the daughter, Priscilla, sniffed. By her well-manicured nails, she'd never worked an hour in her life.
"Actually, we were allowed to leave by special permission from Mr. Davies," Slinky shot back. She was glad when both their faces showed surprise. Very few of the family of the board had the pleasure of any acquaintance with the vice president, much less one intimate enough for favors. "He said we could enjoy ourselves for an hour."
That changed their tunes so fast Sam wondered if they'd been struck by divine inspiration.
"Miss Slink, you haven't introduce us to your friend here," Mrs. Elliston mentioned as she graciously smiled at Sam. She returned her own shaky grin, but she'd rather have been ignored.
"Samantha Olsen, Mrs. Elliston and her daughter, Priscilla." She said the last name so venomously Sam could easily tell there was a lot of bad blood between them. No doubt some harsh words had been exchanged at board member parties and the like.
"A pleasure," she honestly greeted.
"Likewise," Mrs. Elliston warmly returned. She had at least enough manners to keep up a decent conversation. "I don't believe we've ever seen you at one of the company gatherings. Are you a relation to Miss Slink?"
"Nope, she's just one of the office workers," Slinky chimed in. Mrs. Elliston politely nodded her head, but Priscilla turned up her nose. Sam wasn't even sure if she liked Slinky bluntly noting her low stature in the company.
"Oh." Priscilla looked her over with a sneer. "So you push papers around all day?" This riled Sam's dormant temper. She had
n't done anything more wrong than to have an honest job working at a company her father happened to be a boss in.
"Not really, the papers don't like to be pushed around," she warned. Slinky tried to hide her smile at the good comeback.
"Dear, weren't you looking at a dress to buy?" Mrs. Elliston interrupted. Even she could see the conversation was quickly going to devolve into insults. She wanted to stay on the better side of those who were well connected with the vice-president.
"Nah, all these are too cheap." Sam had noticed some of the price tags exceeded one thousand dollars. "Let's go farther uptown, where the company is more refined."
Slinky was about to jump to their defense when Sam pulled her back. Mrs. Elliston did likewise with her unruly daughter and dragged her away to another store.
"She pisses me off so god damn much!" Slinky snarled after they'd left. "What the hell is her problem?"
"I don't know, but we really do need to get back now," Sam pointed out. They only had five minutes left until their hour was up. "Or Winkle's going to show us the door."
"Oh shit!"
With Slinky leading the way they weaved their way through alleys and back streets. The shortcuts gave them another minute of extra time as the elevator doors opened. Winkle stood nearby directing one of their coworkers, but they both could tell she'd been watching the elevator doors for their coming. Their supervisor glanced at her watch and scowled.
"Where have you two been?" she harshly questioned. "You've been gone nearly an hour."
"We were taking a long lunch," Slinky dared to comment in a flippant manner. She was being purposefully vague to irk her enemy. Sam only wanted to show the pass and go sit down in her chair. She was still drowsy from so much food.
"Without express permission from one of your supervisors? That's grounds for punishment in this office." She looked almost gleeful at the thought of doling out whatever consequences that were within her power. She would no doubt exercise them to their limits. The older woman turned her narrowed, venomous eyes on Sam. "Perhaps even firing."
"Oh, I forgot to mention we had permission from Mr. Davies<" Slinky chimed in. "Show her the paper, Sam."
"What?" Winkle couldn't believe her victory was going to be snatched from her.
At her cue Sam quickly pulled out the paper and held it out for Winkle to take. She grabbed it from her fingers and quickly read over the contents. Her face grew redder as she reread it, and again for a third time.
"We'd better get back to work now," Slinky commented as she glanced at the clock. "Like you said, we've been gone about an hour, so time's up."
Slinky dragged her friend passed their furious supervisor, who tore up the document into the smallest shreds possible. The other workers in the office were staring at her with a mixture of amusement and fear, and she noticed their prying eyes.
"Get back to work!" she growled, and they all quickly looked back at their screens.
"I really don't think you should've done that," Sam whispered to her friend when they reached the safety of their cubicles.
"Nah, it's all good." Slinky covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. "Did you see the look on her face? Priceless."
"I think it might be too steep a price." She was genuinely worried about the repercussions. Now they had to be on their guard even further to avoid slipping up, or Winkle would use that as an excuse to punish them for poor work.
"You worry too much." Her companion gave her a gentle nudge with her elbow. Her bone came into contact with her friend's buxom chest, and she gave her a glance over for the first time that day. "You get a different bra or something?"
"What?" Sam was wholly unprepared for that question.
"Well, you've just seemed to change a lot over this last week," she slowly commented. She didn't want to anger her friend any more than she was. "You know, physically. You're just more, um, well-endowed." She poked at the vest which covered her breasts. "Really well-endowed." She glanced up at her with a smirk on her face. "You get a boob job?"
"Do you think I could afford one on this salary?" she quipped. The pay wasn't that bad, but it would take a few years to save up for that procedure.
"I don't know, you might have some extra cash stashed around." She slid up to her and there was a twinkle in her eyes. "Or you might've got a sugar daddy to help you." Sam blushed because Slinky was so close to the truth. "Oh ho! So there is someone in your life!"
"Quiet!" Sam hissed. Her friend's voice was getting a little bit too loud.
"After work I am so drilling you for this," Slinky quipped.
"Not if we get fired," she shot back.
"Like I said before, you worry too much."
"I think you worry too little." Sam sat down in her chair and sighed. This day wasn't going as well as she'd hoped. First the botched spying and now even more trouble with Winkle.
"Don't let it get to you," Slinky consoled. "You're getting pretty good at the job already, so I don't think you're gonna get fired for that."
"You think so?" Sam wasn't so sure. Some parts of the position were a little tricky, especially when it came to making appointments. The board member would give them a list of workable times and they would need to call up the other party and work out a schedule. It was nerve-wracking trying to get both sides to agree on a day and time.
"Positive, and speaking of work, we'd better get some done before ol' sour-puss comes around." Slinky slunk out of sight into her cubicle and soon Sam could hear the clickety-clack of a keyboard.
She turned to her own work, and the trouble she still had with all those folders on her desk. She'd need to ask Winkle where to put them, as she didn't want the trouble or responsibility of handling the personnel files. There was probably enough trouble in the two hidden in her desk to last her a lifetime, or at least her career at the company.
Suddenly Sam felt a twinge in her stomach. She reached down and rubbed the bulging skin, still full from her feast at the restaurant. It wasn't that the food wasn't settling like it should have been, but that the food was reacting differently. She wasn't feeling bad, but there was definitely a strange change there.
Sam leaned back and shifted uneasily in her chair. Her already tight skirt was stretched nearly beyond its capacity with all the food. She also felt a little bloated, like she was full of gas, but not quite like that.
Just then Mrs. Winkle passed by on her routine inspection, and it looked like she was going to ignore her charge entirely until she happened to glance at her extended stomach. She came to a sudden stop and her face paled. Sam blinked and wondered if there was some food on her face or clothes but she looked down at her shirt and wiped her face, and there didn't appear to be anything. She sat up and tried to make herself look a little more presentable, though, as she straightened her shirt and pressed out the creases in her skirt.
When she looked back up into Winkle's face, there was a dark cloud over her brow. If they hadn't been in the office setting, Sam would have worried for her safety. At it was, the proprieties of civilization saved Sam from probably imminent injury.
"Something the matter?" she asked her supervisor. She wasn't sure what else to say. She certainly couldn't bolt out of her cubicle with her standing there. When the other woman didn't immediately reply, she pointed at the folders. "Oh, what am I supposed to do with these now? I got them all done."
Winkle opened her mouth and the expression on her face warned Sam she was in for a barrage. Her supervisor must have thought better for it, however, and she quickly shut her trap. Winkle let out a simple, calming breath.
"Put them on my desk at the end of the day." She was less angry than Sam expected, but there was something hidden deep in her tone. She was hiding something, and it wouldn't be good when Sam found out the secret. "And I expect you to be there promptly at five. No later, no earlier."
Winkle stalked off and Sam was allowed to resume her work in peace. However, as she recalled again and again the horrible expression on Winkle's face, she wa
s sure there would be more benefit than risk in escaping work a few minutes early. After all, she'd clocked in early that morning, and hell would freeze over before she found herself riding down an elevator with that woman. Especially if they were alone.
At the moment, however, she had bigger problems to worry about. Literally. Her stomach felt so cramped inside her skirt she worried the zipper wouldn't hold. She had only one person to turn to for help at strange times like these, so Sam mustered her courage and peeked over the wall.
"Slinky?" she whispered. She didn't want Winkle to overhear them. "You there?"
"Yeah, what you need?"
"You happen to have a belt stores someplace?" The only way she'd keep her skirt on was with assistance. "My skirt's kind of, um..." There was no way to politely explain it without embarrassment.
"Kind of tight?" Slinky began rummaging around in her drawers. "You did eat enough to feed a small village."
"I couldn't help it," she lamely objected, but her pout turned into a smile as her friend came to her rescue. She'd pulled out a thin belt from one drawer full of strange items. She swear she saw an iron before the drawer was closed. "Why are you keeping one of these things around, anyway?"
"Are you looking a gift horse in the mouth?" Slinky teased as she dangled the belt just out of reach. Sam tried to swipe it from her, but she pulled it back. "What do you say?"
"Are you going to give me them or just torture me?"
"That doesn't sound like the secret word."
"Please? Thank you? Gesundheit?" Sam was getting a little desperate as she felt the bands of her skirt tighten even more.
"That last one sounds good." Slinky handed over the belt.
"I'll give it back Monday, I swear," Sam promised as she whisked away to the bathroom.
Safely in the confines of the stall, Sam now had the task of fitting the belt around her burgeoning waistline. For a moment, however, she unzipped her skirt and breathed a sigh of relief as the tension around on her stomach lessened. As she ran her hand across her waist she felt the deep lines from her skirt fabric where it had dug into her skin. She glanced at her watch and frowned. There were still three hours left of the workday. This was turning out to be the longest Friday in her life.