by Jade Sinclair
Diana stood on the sidewalk and again gazed up at the office building. It was very tall. She felt very small, which she knew she shouldn't. At 5ft 5 she had a body that made men drool and women glare: modest B cups, trim waist, curvy ass that looked great in a bikini, and firm thighs. The cool autumn breeze wrapped about her. It was refreshing and reinvigorated her, yet nothing about her body budged, not even her long hair. Diana always tried to be controlled and contained, thus her long blond hair was cinched tight in a bun.
High powered companies like Duvall, Baxter & Associates expected a high level of professionalism, and she was determined to start this job on the right foot. She'd even gotten herself some killer three-inch heels, which were two inches higher than she'd ever worn before. They made her a little unsteady, but she didn't care. She would master them just like everything else she set her mind to! Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and just focused on the aromas wafting about her. Her dad had taught her to do it, had insisted she use the technique regularly. He was concerned about the stresses of her life getting to her. Diana dismissed such worries. Stress was like the cool wind lashing at her; it stimulated and encouraged her to keep moving forward.
Clutching her business case, she stepped into through the revolving doors and entered the main lobby. It was not at all what she'd expected. Diana had checked out the company online. Duvall Baxter was a powerful aggressive company that showed no mercy to any firm that didn't willingly submit to its dominance. So she expected such an alpha persona to be reflected in the company's building decor. It wasn't. Everything around her signified fun and frivolity, and most of all warmth. The floor wasn't hard cold tile, it was plush green carpet. Soft music played in the background, the aroma of fresh flowers filled the air, and a candy jar sat atop the receptionist's low circular desk.
Stepping up to Angie, as her name tag made that clear, Diana cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me; can you direct me to Accounting? I start there today."
Angie turned away from her computer screen, where she was watching a video of a kitten, and smiled.
"You must be Diana. Welcome to our little world. Can I get you something?"
"No thanks, I don't care for candy."
"Candy? Oh, the jar. Naw, that's for guests mostly. I meant breakfast. We got a buffet in the break room: eggs, bacon, cereal, fruit, you name it."
"Thanks, but I ate already. Wait, you know my name and that I'm starting today?"
It was a lie, the line about her having eaten. Diana had been so nervous about the new job that she'd just had coffee. Come to think of it, she was usually so worried about her day that she rarely touched food until lunch. That and her punishing exercise regimen was why she was so trim. Angie clearly enjoyed the buffet. She wasn't fat, merely well proportioned: fine curvy figure, strong arms, and long flowing red hair that cascaded down her broad shoulders and brought out her lovely green eyes. Standing, she made Diana feel a bit intimidated. At over six feet, her legs seemed to go on forever, and Diana was shocked at her outfit: casual slacks, sandals, and a simple cream colored blouse.
"Hey, I'm not just a pretty face," Angie said with a smile. "Come on and follow me. I'll give you the grand tour and drop you off there."
"Oh no, you don't have to do that," Diana protested. "Just point me in the right direction and I'm fine."
Angie shook her head. "No, no, none of that now. Fearless Leader would punish me severely if I violated protocol."
Diana's tongue raked across the back of her teeth at that word: punish. It was a word that made her head spin each time she heard it, but she never understood why.
"I-I... very well," she said.
"Angie, aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?" a man said.
She and Diana turned, and Diana let out a soft grunt. Here was clearly some know-nothing office boy. He was leaning in the doorway, donut in one hand, cell phone with a text message of some sort on the screen in the other, and dressed like he was going hiking in the woods. His jeans were faded, flannel shirt open to show off his upper chest, yet he was clean shaven, and his short black hair was beautifully styled. His chief saving grace were his looks. Diana had to admit, he was smoking hot! The hazel eyes, the strong jaw line, and the soft kissable lips added up to one thing: he could ask her out anytime he wanted.
"Max, this is our newest addition," Angie explained.
Stuffing the donut in his mouth, Max chomped it down, and stepped forward to give her a grand bow. "Greetings, and welcome to our little den of iniquity. Angie, you can go back to what you were doing: nothing. I'll escort the lady."
Angie stuck her tongue out. "Fine, I'll do that. I've got plenty of videos on YouTube to watch."
Diana squirmed and tried not to breathe too fast thinking the pair of them were on the fast track to unemployment; if a manager were to catch them goofing off, they'd be history.
"Come on, Di, let's leave Angie to stew," Max said, gesturing for the elevator. "Don't worry; she's not typical of the folks around here."
He pressed the call button as Diana stepped up next to him, and then she jumped a bit as she heard someone behind them, presumably Angie, blow a raspberry.
"I... okay," she stammered.
"That's swell," he replied, his smile going practically ear to ear. "So, is that okay, calling you Di? Just seems like the perfect nickname for you, and we like those around here."
"Ah... sure, why not? As it happens, my dad used to call me that."
"What, when you were knee high to a grasshopper? By your turn of phrase I take it he doesn't call you that anymore."
"You're sharp," she replied, the elevator rising. "He's been gone for... a while."
The smile vanished from Max's face. A mixture of grief and sympathy replaced it. "I'm so very sorry. I apologize for bringing up a painful memory."
A very powerful surge thrust into Di's heart. Max might be a clown, but he had a gentle soul. Her mouth was suddenly a desert and it took her a moment to collect her thoughts. "I... it's okay, you didn't know."
He playfully wagged his finger at her. "Now, now, none of that, let me make amends. Tell you what; lunch is on me, okay?"
"I... sure, why not?" she said with a shrug. It would likely be a hotdog from a street vendor.
He smiled, the doors opened, and they stepped into organized chaos. It was a huge space, sleek and modern, and very open. Cubicles dotted the area, but there were few walls, and those that were there were minimal, they didn't come above the desks.
"This is the fourth floor, it's the main hub for the company," he explained, leading her into the throng.
"Hub?"
He nodded. "Yeah. We don't really have departments. Related divisions are grouped on the same floor. It's to promote the free exchange of ideas. Hey, Bill, how's it going, you crack that egg yet?"
"Oh, I'm on it, have it wrapped by lunchtime."
"Dude, don't make promises you can't keep," Max replied.
Bill gasped. It was loud and over the top. "You doubt my word?"
"Hey, put up or shut up."
"Fine, loser buys the winner a pizza," Bill said, holding out his hand to him.
Max shook his hand. "Done," he said with a grin and turned to Di. "Guess lunch is covered. Come on, meet the gang."
The place was a little overwhelming and not at all what she expected. She felt as if she was at a college mixer more than an office, everyone seemed so damn happy! They milled about, chatting and exchanging ideas, and represented the most diverse group of people she'd ever seen. On her left, a guy who looked like he stepped out of the 60's: dungarees, tie-dye shirt and red headband knelt next to Mr. Conservative Businessman: three-piece suit, tie, cuff links and in a wheelchair, and they discussed the coding for a new app. On her right, Goth Girl helped Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm review the performance of several green tech mutual funds.
Di was seriously having second thoughts about the job. From first impressions, the place seemed nuts! Yet she really didn't want a repeat of her previous jobs. She'd graduated from university with a history degree and couldn't get a job. One option had been to take a teacher training course, but that didn't appeal to her as she wasn't sufficiently outgoing or confident and couldn't really see herself as a teacher. So she'd signed up with an agency and gotten a few temporary, short-term jobs and made enough to pay the rent on her small apartment, but felt unsettled because no sooner had she settled into a particular job than it ended and she had to move on to somewhere else. After a few months of that, she'd finally landed this job, and it was different, they needed someone for a whole year. She was looking forward to some stability at last.
Maybe she could make it work. After all, they were in the creative area. Surely Accounting would be quiet and conservative. One thing she already liked about the place was that everyone had a name tag. It made learning names a no-brainer. So, as Max took her from floor to floor, hub to hub, and introduced her to a nearly endless stream of people, she was at least able to call them by name.
"Goodness, how many floors is the company on?" she said as they stepped onto their fourth landing.
"Ground floor and the two above it, and the top five," Max replied, leading her through the legal hub.
"That's a third of the building! Wow, that's a lot of rent."
"It would be, but the company owns the building. Ah, here we are: Accounting, and the lovely Marla, Mistress of all that is evil. Madam, I present you with your new acolyte," he said, giving Marla a deep bow.
The lady made a fist with her right hand; it shook a bit, and she slipped it behind her back and painted a smile on her face.
"Thank you, my loyal little minion. Now run along back to your cave," she said, trying to sound playful. Her performance was less than stellar.
Max made a little cluck-click sound, winked at Di and said, "See you at noon."
She smiled and nodded, and almost laughed. He was goofy, but very cute. Turning to Marla, her smile vanished, and she felt as if she was back in grade school. The lady looked like the stereotypical old fashioned schoolmarm: dark green form-fitted business suit, long skirt, ebony hair cinched into a tight bun, and she towered over Di. While quite attractive, she had great curves, her hawkish nose and piercing eyes gave her a downright predatory look.
"Hello," Di managed to say softly.
Marla cast her eyes down on her, exhaled hard through her nose, and turned away. "Come with me."
Di felt like the proverbial fly entering the spider's lair. Marla was the polar opposite of Max and most of the people she'd met so far: all business and clearly in charge.
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