Bravely Sam zipped back up her skirt and strapped the belt around her waist. It fit with a little room to spare and she now felt like her skirt wasn't going to drop down. Without her underwear she'd be flashing any innocent bystanders.
Fully prepared to face the remaining hours, Sam marched back to her desk and focused on her duties. Well, she tried to focus on them, and she succeeded for all of one hour before her unruly stomach began to clamor for food. She couldn't believe her digestion system that day, and stubbornly she refused to satiate it's demands with food for a good thirty minutes.
By that time, however, her stomach was loudly growling, enough so it caught Slinky's attention and she glanced over the wall.
"I thought a bear was eating you or something," she teased. "You hungry already?"
"Seems so." Sam grudgingly pushed back her chair and stretched. "Any food in the break room fridge?"
"Only if you're really hungry. Some of that stuff's been around since the company was founded."
"Great, maybe I can find a twinkie," Sam countered as she stood. "Care for something?"
"I'm too young and beautiful to die, so I'll just wait until after work."
Sam made her way to the lounge and opened the fridge door. She cringed as a putrid smell wafted out, but her stomach growled and she forded on. After a few minutes of browsing through a wide variety of Jurassic junk and French Revolution food, she finally decided on a simple jar of pickles. The expiration hadn't quite expired, but it only had a few weeks of life left. It also wasn't opened nor did it have anyone's name on it.
With her prize in one hand and a fork in the other, she didn't even bother going back to her cubicle before she dug into the jar. She was so hungry she ended up choking on a few of the dills, and when they had disappeared down her gullet all that was left was the juice. There was only a little bit of hesitation before even that was downed in a few big gulps.
Sam tossed aside the jar and washed her fork, but she still wasn't quite satisfied. The growing was gone, though, and nothing else looked edible. She didn't want to risk poisoning herself just because she was having some sort of once-in-a-lifetime food craving. She'd also managed to kill another thirty odd minutes, so there only remained an hour left on this horrible Friday. Even that wasn't positive, because she could leave a good five or ten minutes beforehand.
Sam walked back to her cubicle with a chipper smile on her face, but a sudden shouting match ruined her mood. She recognized both of those voices, and she knew there was trouble. Now she hurried around the corner of the hall and saw Winkle and Slinky wrestling with one another and each holding onto the side of a bag.
"Give it back, you thief!" Slinky yelled as she tugged on her end.
"This is none of your business!" Winkle snapped. Her clawed hands were wrapped around a black strap. "Now I order you to let go!"
"Like hell it's none of my business! This is my god damn bag!" Sam moved in closer and realized her friend was telling the truth. It was the bag that had been hidden beneath her desk. "Now you let go before I call the cops!"
Being the younger of the two, Slinky gave a great tug and pushed back with her feet. The bag came loose from Winkle's grasp and she fell forward even as her opponent fell back. Sam rushed forward and caught her friend before she hit the hard floor, but there was no one to help their supervisor as she crashed to the ground.
Winkle was only down for a moment, however, and when she sprang back up there was a trickle of blood oozing out of her nose. Her eyes were wide and her hands trembled with anger as she glared at her two adversaries.
"How dare you interfere in my official capacity!" she snarled. "I'm going to write a report so full of your disgusting display of rude and irresponsible behavior that even your father won't be able to save you!" Her voice was at a high pitch and everyone was now looking over their cubicles to view the spectacle. Her flaming eyes darted over to Sam. "And you! You're in on this, too, aren't you! You two are planning something behind my back!"
"You're bat-shit crazy!" Slinky yelled back as she shrugged out of Sam's grasp. "I caught you stealing this out of Sam's desk and I'm the one who's gonna get written up? Like hell that's gonna happen."
"What the hell is going on?" Mr. Slink's voice bellow as his door flew open. He stomped out into the hall and glimpsed the scene before him. "Can somebody explain to me why our office has suddenly become a shouting match full of mad women?" Slinky and Winkle both tried to get the first word, and he could see he'd asked for something impossible. "Enough!" he shouted to stop their squabbling. "I can see this isn't going to work." He looked between the two combatants, or who he assumed were the two adversaries. "Both of you, I expect a report on what happened giving your sides of the story, and since you've both decided to make fools of yourself with less than an hour's work left, I expect the report on my desk promptly at eight Monday morning."
"But dad-" Slinky tried to protest.
"No exceptions!" he snapped, and she flinched. "Now everyone get back to work!" He slammed his door so loud the walls vibrated.
Slinky was despondent over her father's attitude, and Sam put her hands on her friend's shoulders to comfort her. Their nemesis down the hall, however, was a look of pure fury across her face.
"You disgusting little whores," she whispered loud enough only for their ears. "I'll see to it you're both fired."
"Only if you lie on that paper," Slinky shot back. She was in no mood to deal with their psychotic supervisor.
"That's enough from both of you," Sam interrupted. This would only turn into another yelling match. "Let's just get back to work." The suggestion was directed more at her coworker than Winkle. She had a feeling the woman wouldn't listen to her advice, so she'd just be wasting her breath. "We've got less than an hour left before we can leave. Let's just get it over with."
Winkle saw the merits of stopping the argument and stomped off into her office. She slammed her own door almost as loud as Mr. Slink, but with fewer vibrations. Meanwhile, Sam led Slinky back to her cubicle and made sure she was all right.
"You going to be fine?" she questioned as her usually bubbly friend slumped down into her chair.
"Yeah." She didn't look fine. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she was trying not to blubber. "It's just...he's never spoken to me like that before. Not ever."
"He's probably already regretting saying that and he'll be apologizing to you with some fancy restaurant," Sam teased, but her companion only shook her head.
"I don't think so. I made him look back in front of all my coworkers. I don't think he'll ever let me live this one down."
"Well, look on the bright side." Sam tried to figure something out, but her mind drew a blank. "You could, um, well...you could have to marry that guy your dad introduced you to a few nights ago." Slinky snorted.
"There's a problem there," she noted. "I actually kinda liked him. He really wasn't as stuffy as I thought he'd be."
"Really?" A sly look came into Sam's eyes as she leaned in closer. "Are you going to see him again?"
"Yeah, this weekend. He's taking me out to one of those fancy restaurants."
"All alone? No chaperon?"
"Yeah, just the two of us." Slinky's mood was lightening at her friend's mischievous teasing. "Unless you wanna be that third wheel and get some free food out of it."
"No way, I plan on sleeping in for the rest of my life after today." Sam glanced down at the bag still tightly gripped in Slinky's hand. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "So what happened between you and Winkle, anyway?"
"I caught that bitch trying to steal my bag out of your cubicle." She pulled it up and into her lap as she looked for any damage. Other than stretching and tearing at the points where the straps met the bag, there appeared to be no damage. "I tried to grab it from her, and then all hell broke loose. She fought like her life depended on it."
"Maybe it did."
"Hunh?" Slinky wasn't following her friend's thoughts.
"What would happen i
f any of us was caught stealing something from someone else's desk?"
"We'd probably get fi-" Slinky paused and her mouth dropped open. "Ooohhh. You think she went so crazy when she was caught because she knew she was gonna get fired for it?"
"Exactly. She's been working here for how long? Twenty years or something."
"I heard it was thirty, since she came in real young, so she's probably really close to retirement. I wouldn't want to miss out on that retirement package. I heard Mr. Cass is gonna be set for life when he leaves."
"So that's probably why she wouldn't let go. That bag was the evidence needed to get her in trouble." Sam glanced over all the pockets, but she didn't notice if any of them were open. "Did she manage to take anything?"
"Good question." Slinky went immediately to the main pocket, no doubt to the keys, and rummaged through it for a minute or two before she sighed with relief. "Looks like everything's still there, especially these babies." She lifted the key chain out far enough for Sam to see them, and then she dropped them back inside the pocket. "She probably wanted to take it to her office to make a good search of it. I wonder why she took it at all. I mean, it's not like you're hiding anything from her."
Sam blushed and tried not to look too guilty. She wasn't sure how much Winkle knew about her illicit relationship with Davies, but the supervisor knew enough to consider it a threat to whatever plans she had. She honestly wasn't sure what Winkle had planned for the bag, however, and could only surmise it was to get her out of the good graces of Davies.
That's when Slinky's pager went off. She looked at the number and paled.
"It's my dad," she informed her friend. She sighed and accept her fate as she stood proudly to her feet. "I guess I better get ready for one hell of a talking to."
"Good luck." Sam wasn't sure what else to say. Her friend wasn't shaken, but she was nervous.
"I might need it and a stiff drink when I get out." She glanced at the time. Forty five minutes left. "Maybe after this I'll skip out. Make some excuse to go downstairs and not come back." She glanced over at her comrade. "Want to come with?" Sam shrugged.
"I'm not really feeling all that well," she reminded. She tapped the belt around her waist. "And I think I'd better work some of this stuff off before I go out drinking with you. You'll drink me under the table and I'll end up rocking myself to sleep."
"I guess I'll let that slide, but I need to warn you." Her eyes darted to and fro as she leaned toward her friend. "I think Winkle's gonna really get at you pretty soon."
"You mean other than the bag?"
"Yeah. I heard through all those people I talked to that she's got it in for you being right beneath her. I guess she feels pretty threatened by someone as young, pretty and talented as you being the new up and coming star of the place."
"You're kidding, right?" That had to be an outrageous exaggeration.
"Nope." Slinky was dead serious. "I don't know why, but there's a rumor going around that you're being groomed to be the new top dog of the management."
"But I only just got here last Monday!" Sam protested. "There's gotta be someone else here who wants the job that's been working at it longer."
"I guess it takes more than just seniority to get up higher than we are." She gave her friend a comical smile. "Now if I were ambitious enough, I'd try to bump you off in the elevator." Sam cringed at the idea. It sounded too close to what she suspected Winkle would do to her. Her friend noticed the slight fear in her manner, and slapped her shoulder. "Bah, you know how unambitious I am. If this cute guy I'm going out with asks me to marry him, I'd probably jump ship and become a housewife." Sam laughed out loud at the image of her friend cleaning the apartment and burning the dinner. If Slinky was ever going to be a stay-at-home wife, she needed a lot of practice. "What's so funny?"
"If that's your plan, you might want to buy some cookbooks right now," she teased.
"Hmm, you've got a point," she noted as she rubbed her chin. "But if he kicks the bucket, I could be a rich widow. I can see the headlines now. Death by food poisoning. Lovely widow mourns loss of husband as she inherits millions."
"You'll never get away with it," Sam sadly shook her head. "Anyone who's had your cooking will know you must have forced him to eat it to get him poisoned."
"Not if I cook him breakfast." She rubbed her hands together, and then the beeper went off again. "Oh shit!" She tossed the bag into Sam's hands and flew passed her into her father's office.
Left literally holding the bag, Sam rolled her eyes and glanced at the clock. Forty more minutes. Maybe she would leave those ten minutes early just to escape this mad house and its inmates. Until then, she had a few errands to do which, if she were slow enough, would swallow the rest of the thirty minutes.
Slinky came out of the office about fifteen minutes later with a glum look on her face, but she brightened when she noticed Sam peek her head out of her cubicle.
"So how'd it go?" Sam whispered.
"Not as bad as I thought, but he gave me a real talking to about office etiquette," she admitted with a resigned shrug. "He said he was gonna have to put a strike in my file, even if I was just saving my bag."
"That doesn't sound very fair."
"That's what I told him, but he said I should have figured out some other way to stop her stealing than starting a fight." She sheepishly grinned. "He said I needed to stop treating this place like my playground and graduate to high school."
"Has he seen high schools lately?" Sam laughed. "Those places aren't exactly run like offices."
"Yeah, but I wasn't gonna argue with him again. He was pretty mad about blowing his top in front of everyone." Here she really did look a little ashamed of herself. "He's probably right that I need to stop goofing around so much and talking to everyone when I'm supposed to be working."
"So does that mean you're not planning your 'raid' this weekend?" Sam questioned. With the files in her possession, it probably wasn't going to do her friend much good.
"Not with that hot date I've got." Sam almost imagined there was a bit of drool at the corners of her mouth as she thought of her lovely date. "I just told my dad about it, and he's gonna get me all fancied up for the affair." She wrinkled her nose a little at the thought of all that preening. "I guess he's worth it, but I'm gonna order the most expensive thing on the menu if I'm gonna have to sit through a hairdryer."
"If he's really as cute as your drool is telling me, I think you can do it," Sam assured with a smile. She was inwardly relieved at her friend for ditching the spy job.
"But anyway, I think I'll call it a day." Slink slung her bag over one shoulder and picked up her coat. "I still have to write that report for my dad about what happened, and I sure as hell don't want the bitch reading it over my shoulder." She turned to leave, but glanced over at her friend. "Are you thinking of leaving soon? She seems to hate you even more than me now."
"Yeah, I just was going to wait another ten minutes and split."
With their farewells exchanged Slinky left for the weekend and Sam quickly pushed through the paperwork she was working on. Thankfully Winkle huddled down in her office for those remaining minutes, and stealthily she picked up her things and snuck into the elevators. Before the doors closed, she noticed a number of other cubicles had emptied. Besides Slinky, she wasn't the first one to leave early.
The car ride was uneventful, other than her stomach gurgling at her, and she made it into her apartment safe and sound. The rooms were quiet except for her appetite loudly reminding her that it was again time to gorge herself.
"What am I, a cow?" she asked herself as she tossed her coat onto the couch.
She slipped off her uncomfortable shoes and headed for the bedroom first. There were her tight clothes and the borrowed belt to deal with before she could figure out dinner. She breathed a sigh of relief as the belt came unbuckled and she was able to massage the tight markings across her belly. As her hand slid across her expanded stomach, he realized she really was going t
o have to watch her weight if this insatiable appetite continued.
Now dressed in less formal attire, namely some sweat pants and a large t-shirt without bra and panties, Sam felt ready to tackle the fridge. She opened the door and stuck her head in to access the situation. There were a ton of leftovers she'd neglected to eat, so she dragged out all the bowls to see which one she wanted. There was also some pickles and a cucumber just begging to be eaten before they got bad. Then she noticed the head of lettuce and carrots she could make into a salad.
By the time she was done the fridge had been emptied of all but the ice cream, and that only because she was afraid it'd melt before she got to it. Sam sat down at her loaded dining table and started from the top. She didn't pay attention to what went into her mouth, only that it was delicious and she wanted more. It was almost an addiction, and she didn't want to stop as plate after bowl emptied before her eager mouth.
For a full hour she sat there satisfying her hunger for anything and everything she had, and then she finished the meal off with a course of ice cream. The gallon jug melted away at the onslaught of her spoon, and only then did she lean back and pat her stomach. She had eaten nearly everything in her house except a few loose boxes of cereal and some uncooked grains.
Sam let out a loud burp which seemed to defuse her food euphoria. Her mouth slowly dropped open as her eyes drifted over the empty dishes. All had literally been licked clean by herself and not a speck of food was on the table. Her silverware was spotless from her tongue running over every crease to get the last drop of every bite of food.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" she whispered to herself.
Sam pushed her chair away from the table and looked down at her belly. Her skin peeked out from beneath her shirt and she could see her stomach was stretched beyond what was normal for her waistline. She gingerly stood and waddled away from the devastation which had been wrought on the table. She instead turned her feet to her bedroom as a strange sensation began to pulse from her middle.
Sam carefully sat down on the bed and swung her legs over. She leaned her back against the wall and rubbed her swollen stomach. The feeling she was getting from it was less pain and more movement. She fidgeted atop her covers as her the unknown sensation began to grow stronger.