Serendipity By Rocky

CHAPTER 18

Siege. The peons were huddled at their desks, almost too afraid to slip into the break room to snag life-sustaining coffee. This dragon was not to be pacified by something as piddling and mundane as a virgin sacrifice; the only recourse was to be quiet as humanly possible. The air of the Administration office was eerily silent, only broken by the occasional bleating of a ringing phone.

Greta had been swooping down on unsuspecting Admin staff and swallowing up self-esteem in a single toothy bites, ever since the meeting. No one was safe, not even blissfully ignorant visiting staff from other departments. By the end of the day, everyone at Intercorp knew to stay clear of the Admin office at all costs.

One brave soul hovered near the gates of the beast's lair, waiting for sign that she was on the move again. Hopefully he could warn fellow co-workers before yet another rampage and forestall the carnage -- that is, at least until quitting time.

Inside the closed oak portal, simply marked G. B. Heinz, paced the beast. Flapping her leathery wings, she growled and ran her hands through her hair. This was highly uncharacteristic because, Greta never mussed her hair, it always was perfect, every hair in place; now it looked as if a family of voles had taken up permanent residence. A rumbling outside her office indicated the rush for the elevators, signaling the end of the workday. Still she paced.

"Why?" She begged of the guest chairs that stood silently at attention in front of her desk. "I had it all there in black and white…" Grasping her hair and looking on high to the fluorescent fixtures, she blew fire and smoke, howling and stamping in frustration, to the point that the vibrations caused a stapler to dance off the edge of her desk and land in a trash can.

Pain. Beeping noises. No smells? Carson realized then that he couldn't breathe through his nose. He could feel a warm hand wrapped around his own and he cracked one eye to see whom it belonged to.

"Tru?" His voice came out pinched and nasal.

Trudy stood up from the chair at the bedside and gave a little sob of relief. "Yeah Hon, it's me." She squeezed his hand and placed a kiss above the small plaster cast that bridged his two blackening eyes. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Where's Josh?"

"Sherri's keeping an eye on him back in the family room."

"Sherri?"

"Yes Sherri," Trudy smiled sadly, "she's a very nice young woman, I'm just sorry that this had to be the way that I finally got to meet her."

The enormity of it all hit him and he drew in a deep breath. They knew, they all knew. As the panic set in, the monitor above his head started pinging at an elevated rate. The weakness held him to the bed, but his eyes moved over the room rapidly as if to find a way out of the web of deceit that he built for himself. Trapped by his own body, Carson did the only thing that was left open to him; for the first time in his adult life he began to cry.

"Shhh…" Trudy stroked the man's face and leaned into the narrow bed doing her best to hold him. "I know that you lied to me, but now isn't the time to worry about all that. All you need to worry right now is getting better."

The pinging slowed as Carson began to relax. He sucked in a breath, his mouth gaping since he couldn't breathe through his nose. He swallowed hard, grimacing at his sore throat. He still couldn't conceive of why Trudy was still by his side. If she had been talking to Sherri, she had to know about Eleanor… Images flashed through his mind of screaming and pain. His eyes searched her face. "You know, don't you?"

Trudy sighed and closed her eyes. "Yes."

"Eleanor was here …hitting me."

The young woman nodded. "She's had a breakdown of some sort and they've admitted her to the psych ward for observation."

Carson looked away, unable to meet the gaze of the woman that he'd so blatantly lied to. He shifted on the bed and became aware of pains in his face, belly and crotch. Putting one hand up, he touched the white plaster on his battered face. "She did this." It wasn't a really a question, more like a surprised statement.

"You passed out. Amy had to drag her off you. The Doctor was able to set your nose, so you won't need surgery. However…" Trudy trailed off trying to get her nerve up.

"What?"

"Um… The Urologist still has to see you."

"What!"

Trudy bit her bottom lip and pulled in a breath so she could say it all at once. "When Eleanor jumped up on you, she ripped out what they call a Foley catheter. The Doctor has to see how much damage there is."

Carson made a little squeak, and stared goggle-eyed at Trudy like she had suddenly started speaking in ancient Greek.

The phone was ringing when Amy unlocked the door. Leaving Rory and Robert at the landing she raced ahead and pulled the receiver from its cradle. "Hello?"

"Hey." Sherri's voice was uncharacteristically cheerful.

"Hey Sher, what's up?"

"I thought I'd better let you know that Dad's out of the CCU and he's been moved to the sixth floor. I'm taking Trudy and Josh home with me; we'll go back to the hospital in the morning."

"Did the doctor have to set his nose?"

"Uh huh, and the Urologist says that there's no permanent damage, just bruising of the urethra."

"OUCH!" Amy grimaced, glancing up to see her lover and Robert hang up their coats and move into the front room. "How's Trudy?"

"She seems better since she went in to see Dad," There was a wash of quiet white noise, as Sherri paused for a moment. "Amy, …she really seems to love the son of a bitch."

Curling the cord of the phone around her finger, Amy played with it for a moment trying to think of what to say to her sister. The love and loyalty that Carson's second wife showed in spite of the cruelest of lies and deceit, was at the very least an enigma. "I know that it's weird Sher, but we have to respect her feelings even if we don't understand them."

There was silence on the line. Amy decided that her sister was digesting what she had just said. "Did you go see Mom?"

"No." Sherri's reply was terse and cold.

Amy frowned and looked at the receiver in her hand. "Sher… Is something the matter?"

"I wish I was an orphan. …Do you think Rory would adopt me? "

The quiet little petulant statement had the most profound effect on the small blonde woman, whether it was the stress of the past week's events or just the joy of being able to talk to her sister in a manner that she hadn't done in years; Amy began to laugh. This wasn't a little titter or giggle; it was a bone deep belly laugh. Tears streamed down her face, as she slid down the wall beside the phone and landed on the floor with a 'plop'.

Rory's face appeared around the corner, at first her face carried a curious frown but soon broke into a smile at the contagious laughter of her lover. She hobbled over to the seated woman and took the handset, while brushing the tears from the blonde's cheeks with her thumb. "Hello?" She asked, only to find an echo of the laughter at her feet coming from the phone. Hearing uproarious laughter in stereo, the tall woman caved into peer pressure and began to chuckle. "What are we laughing at?" She asked between snickers.

Amy looked up and opened her mouth to say something, and began sputtering instead which unraveled into more laughter. Having not a single clue as to why she was laughing, Rory simply joined in.

Robert shyly poked his head around the corner. The two women sat on the floor, Rory had one arm draped loosely around Amy and they where both approaching the border to hysterics. He stood there, his arms crossed and a crooked smile on his face, as he waited patiently for one of them to return to sanity.

Night had fallen, and the only sound in the house was the resonant ticking of the big clock on the stairway landing. Rory rolled over, vainly trying to slide the last few inches into dream. Her foot itched, and throbbed slightly at the same time, and she was damned if she was going to get up and get a painkiller for something so trivial. All the same, the irritation was keeping her awake. She leaned up thumped her pillow and settled back down trying to get comfortable.

"What's the matter Baby? Can't you get to sleep?" Asked the warm breath that tickled the back of Rory's neck, as she felt a body curl up behind her. Teasing fingertips had found their way up under her t-shirt and were making gentle little circles above the waistband of her shorts, and she smiled into the darkness of the room.

"I'm all wound up. Sleeping most of the afternoon away and then finding out that all hell has broken loose back at the office has left me with a dozen things running around in my head; the biggest of which, is the thought of having to leave you to take care of this mess."

The hand on Rory's stomach stopped circling for a second while Amy contemplated what to say and then it slowly started moving over the soft skin again. "I still don't understand why they expect you to just drop everything and fly back there."

"A order from the board is like a command from god; it's not to be questioned, simply followed."

The wet tip of a tongue traced the outer edge of Rory's ear. "Yeah, I understand that part of it, but isn't this whole thing about keeping you from taking another job somewhere else?"

"That's the general gist of it, yes. What they don't know is that there is no job and the only romancing going on is with an English Lit student working on her Doctorate. …Mmm!" The taller woman rolled over to catch the lips that had been working their way up her neck. Slowly as she came back up for air, it dawned on her what her lover was trying to say. "You're right!" She sat up abruptly in bed, leaving Amy in mid-pucker.

"I am?" The blonde woman asked, leaning up and then moving over straddle the tall woman's lap, "…about what?"

Rory shivered as she felt a finger tip slide up the material of her t-shirt and trace ribbed material of the collar. "It's my turn to pick the music and their turn to dance."

"So…" Amy leaned in feeling for the veil of dark hair and swept it up over a wide shoulder, uncovering a tasty earlobe that she teased with the tip of her tongue before sucking it in and chewing softly. She was rewarded with a groan and a shiver. Chuckling silently to herself, she waited patiently for Rory to finish her thought.

As the blonde woman was congratulating herself for being so deliciously evil, she suddenly discovered herself flat on her back with hot breath panting in her ear. "…So -- we finish our holiday, get your affairs settled and then, and only then, will I answer the 'summons on high'. In short, the board can go fuck themselves, until I'm damned good and ready to show up."

Amy giggled. "I love it when you talk dirty to me." She slid her hand over the silk boxers and the round derrière under them, and down to the apex of her lover's thighs, groping around like she was feeling for something.

"Not that I don't love what you're doing… But what ARE you doing?" Rory asked puzzled at the small hand that was patting and poking her crotch.

"I'm looking for the balls that you suddenly gave gotten." Came the smug reply. She felt around some more. "Nope, not here but I know they have to be here somewhere." Amy grinned over her the exec's shoulder into the dark. "Hmm… Does seem to be getting a little damp down there though…"

Rory growled into the ear next to her lips, "I'll show you damp, Ms. Goose" as she eased up the tails of Amy's nightshirt and nudged her legs apart with one thigh. Cupping the round firm flesh of Amy's bottom, she moved with slow measured thrusts. The hem of her shorts rode up as the firm muscles of her upper thigh moved against the crisp hair of her lover's sex, to slide into the moist gathering heat.

Amy's breath caught in her throat; then warm lips found hers and sucked it free. She panted lightly as the lips finally moved to draw hungrily at the pulse below her ear. As the hem of Rory's shorts moved up her belly, they caused the most unique sensation as they slid over her skin. 'I have gotta get her several more pairs of these boxers.' She mused as the last of her sober brain cells gave over power to the more urgent need of the pleasure centers.

Thud… Thud… Thud. The box spring had come unattached from the headboard and made a muted thump into the wall, each time the lovers moved one stoke closer to a passionate release. Rory couldn't get enough of the small woman, kissing her lips, her eyes, her ears, everywhere that lips could reach while still sliding over the body below her.

…Meanwhile

Upstairs Robert frowned at the thumping coming from the wall beside his bed. "That's not what I think it is… That's not what I think it is…" He muttered in a mantra of denial. He tried holding the pillow over his ears and humming. "Shit!" He was sure he could still feel the vibration coming from the wall. He groaned and looked up at the ceiling waiting for the noise to stop so he could get back to sleep. After all, how long could they keep it up?

Ten minutes later…

Robert was almost ready to take matters into his own hands. The thumping had accelerated and cries of passion were filtering up through the floor. He felt that if he didn't do something soon he'd be up all night with a permanent woody.

BANG!

The thumping ceased. In the brief silence Robert wondered what the hell had happened, then he heard peals of laughter and the thumping started up again.

Back downstairs…

"Ngh! Nnnngh! Oh yeah! Ahh… I'm gonna… Oh Fuuuu-CK!" Amy shuddered and jolted as every neuron, light bulb and signal flare in her body, lit up in one giant happy dance. She lay there panting and waited for her heart to crawl back inside her chest. Squeezing the larger body above her tight and luxuriating in the security of her lover's weight upon her, she turned her head in to a sweaty neck and placed a small kiss there, followed immediately by a tiny lick. "Baby if you're this good after only a week of practice, neither one of us is going to see our next birthday."

The two women lay tangled in a mass of wadded and tangled bed- clothes, on a bed that canted badly to one side where two of the legs had given out and folded in upon themselves. Rory chuckled as gravity asserted itself, and they slowly began to slide to the lower portion of the bed.

"Now I'm really not sleepy."

With the bed propped up on stacks of large books and the linens remade, Rory settled back down on her pillow and reached out to snap off the light. She frowned at a hissing noise coming from upstairs. "What's that noise?"

Amy cuddled into her accustomed spot on her lover's shoulder and cocked her head listening. "That's just the upstairs plumbing, Robert must be taking a shower."

"At two o-clock in the morning?" Rory asked turning her head to see the glowing numbers of the clock on the bed-stand.

"Oh crap!" Amy giggled, "You don't suppose he's having a cold shower do you?"

Rory dropped her free hand down onto her forehead in a halfhearted slap. "Oh crap!" She echoed. "I totally forgot he was upstairs."

Amy just laughed and rolled on top of Rory. "Now where were we?"

"Don't break the bed."

"I'll be careful," Amy promised as she eased one hand down into the waist- band of a damp pair of red silk boxers. "In fact I think we have discovered a whole new definition for 'safe sex'," she said with a giggle, using her free hand push up the front of her lover's t-shirt.

…Back upstairs.

Robert came out into the hallway scrubbing at his damp hair with a towel. The cool water had done its job and perhaps now he could get some sleep. He lay down on the bed and turned off the light. Then he heard it.

It was quieter than the first time but he knew exactly what it was. He turned his ear to the wall… thud… thud… thud. "I Don't Believe It!" He growled into the air above the bed and then stuck his fingers into his ears.

The nurse's station was a yellow puddle of light in the otherwise dim lighting of the hallway. A night nurse was bent over a stack of charts and in the distance came the sound of a rider-waxer as one of the janitors resurfaced the shine on the tile floors at the far end of the ward.

Eleanor cracked open one eye and peered down at the soft padded restraints on her wrists. The left one was just a little bit looser than the right. Rolling her thumb up into her little finger, She swiveled her hand back and forth. Slowly, patiently and painfully she compressed the small bones in her hand and wrist until it slid free of the cuff.

That woman had taken her pearls, and by God, she was going to get them back!

Quiet as a red headed mouse in a 'gaping in the back' hospital gown, Eleanor worked her way up to the nurse's station. Ducking under the clapboard counter, she crept forward armed with a shiny new stainless steel bedpan. When she was standing directly behind the seated woman, she reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.

Startled, the nurse swung around, surprised to find Eleanor standing there, glaring at her. Her hand moved back towards the panic button on the desk. "Mrs. Stafford, You're not supposed to be out of bed."

"Someone has taken my pearls." The short woman stated. "I want them back." Her fingers tightened on the lip of the cold metal behind her back.

Leaning back into her chair, the nurse knew that the button had to be just a little further… "Mrs. Stafford, …Eleanor… You've been ill and I really think you should go back to bed. I'll help you find your pearls in the morn…"

"Wrong answer."

Bong! The sound of the bedpan bopping the nurse in the head rang though out the ward but it was swallowed up by the buzzing whine of the floor polisher.

"The impertinence of some people." Eleanor muttered to herself as she watched the nurse slump in her chair. "You better not be dead. Do you hear me?" She lifted one limp hand and shook it. "Oh bother, you are dead. Well it's your own fault." A small ring of keys attached to the nurse's wrist by a red coil, jingled. "I guess since you had go and die, I'll just have to find my pearls on my own, won't I?" Eleanor chastised the crumpled form as she took the keys and started checking the drawers in the desk.

A half an hour later, the nurse woke to find the worried face of a janitor who was patting her face. She looked around groggily, noting the upturned desk drawers. What the hell? A sick feeling filled her, not totally due to the concussion she had suffered at the hands of the bedpan-wielding patient.

Pushing the janitor aside, the nurse stumbled over to the room that Mrs. Stafford had been in. Flicking on the light, she was greeted by an empty bed. The locked closet that had held Eleanor's clothes and possessions hung open and empty. "Oh Shit!" She said out loud and pinched the bridge of her nose to fight back the crushing headache behind her eyes.

"Stan," she called over her shoulder, "…call security. One of the patients has eloped." Wryly she noticed the dented bedpan on the guest chair and leaned wearily into the door-jam of the hospital room. Raising one hand to the top of her head, she gingerly felt at the painful lump there and winced when her fingers came back bloody. "…And page Elaine, she's on her supper break; I don't think I feel all that well."

There hadn't been any noise from the Dragon's lair for the better part of the hour. The mail clerk had stood outside of her door for the better part of an hour just to be certain she wasn't there. He gripped the interoffice packet tightly and advanced close enough to touch the shining brass knob. It was cool to the touch, turning easily. The large door swung open silently. 'It should have a squeak… all creepy place's doors should squeak.' He thought as he crept forward to place the packet on the disheveled desk. He turned and ran back to the elevators and freedom, barely remembering his cart. As the doors slid shut he heaved a sigh of relief and congratulated himself with a grin, "I did it! Ernie owes me fifty bucks. I made it out in one piece."

The mail clerk would have lost bladder control if he had stopped to look under the desk. Ajax was curled in a little ball, tightly clutching her employee of the year award from 1983. A mascara-streaked eye popped open at the sound of a pair of sneakers scampering quickly across the carpet of the front office. The beast emerged to look onto the surface of the desk.

Warily, she regarded the packet before stretching out one perfectly manicured hand to pick it up and dump the contents on to her desk. There, right on top, was the copy of a purchase order for a plane ticket …for Robert Greyson. She looked at the destination and Tropicana pink lips curled in an evil smile. She flipped open her Rolodex to 'Airlines' and let loose a plaster cracking giggle.

(c) 2001 S. Day

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