[Note from the author: This story takes place prior to the main Dress Off series, and tells the tale of another attempt by the Agency to recruit a new agent through the intense, life-changing recruitment method known as "Dress Off", a game of mental dexterity and physical prowess, where even the best players can be left wildly exposed. The story also re-introduces Angelica Highsmith, last seen in "Dress Off 00: Origins - Kate vs Jane". The main series will continue in "Dress Off 08: Hotpants in Helsinki", publishing in early March 2020.]
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[Utah, USA - 2010. Five years after the events in "Dress Off 00: Origins - Kate vs Jane" and three years prior to the events in "Dress Off 01: Sasha vs Tara"]
The gentle tapping of fingers on the keyboard sounded rhythmical against the flickering laptop screen, the woman at the swivel chair absorbed into her work as the otherwise pitch dark room gave no other indication of life or movement.
The curtains to the left of the laptop were pulled tightly shut, and the woman occasionally shivered, before finally succumbing to the cold late night air seeping through the window's old wooden frames and pulling her hoodie up and over her head. The reflected light of the laptop briefly revealed a shot of auburn hair sticking out the front as the woman moved closer to the device for a moment, and her hand seemed to pause over the touchpad, before an audible sigh escaped from her lips and a quick tap was followed by her leaning back in her chair and looking up silently into the dark ceiling.
On the screen, a progress bar silently blinked away, indicating that an image was being uploaded. It only took a few seconds for the action to be completed, and a jaunty dialog box popped up. The woman ignored it for a couple of minutes and spun her chair around a few times, and then looked back at the laptop. Hesitating again, her hand seemed to waiver over the touchpad and betrayed the conflict of emotion going on in the woman's head. Finally, a finger jerkily hit the bottom of the touchpad and the dialog box disappeared. Immediately, the woman slammed the laptop lid down, looked down briefly at her lap, and then pushed away roughly from the desk.
Standing up, she rubbed her hands slowly and then pivoted on her feet, seemingly lost in thought. Eyeing up the bed in the corner, the woman didn't even bother to get changed or undressed. Walking over, she flung herself on the bed, and covered her face with the pillow. A low sigh escaped from her lips once but otherwise she fell silent, and as late night seamlessly transitioned into early morning outside, the auburn-haired woman finally fell into a muddled sleep, her mind jumbled with emotions about what had just happened. As she slowly sunk into a deeper yet troubled sleep, even the first morning rays of the sun several hours later couldn't stir her from the dreams of what her actions might now lead to.
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"That bitch!" seethed Bryony, as she gestured angrily at her computer screen, a rising fury marring the otherwise flawless beauty of the blonde-haired twenty year old.
Her audience of one was a much older woman, quite regal and sophisticated looking, whose only admission to having noticed Bryony's outburst was a slightly raised eyebrow. Sitting across the table, she slowly drank the coffee that had just been delivered by the fine young specimen of manhood who worked as a server at the cafe they were currently frequenting. The server had also merited an eyebrow raise, and had even graduated to the level of deserving an appreciative glance as he'd walked away, even though the woman was probably twenty five years the senior of the man in question.
Bryony turned to her older woman, expecting some kind of supportive murmur, only to realise that Bryony's concern was probably still only occupying a minority of her friend's attention, with the majority still firmly applied to an analysis of the finer aspects of the server's backside. Finally, the other woman pursed her lips, seemed to package some thought away for later review, and turned to give Bryony something approximating her full attention. She gave Bryony a small smile, and indicated for Bryony to now show her the screen.
Bryony turned the screen around, and gestured again accusingly at the silver Apple laptop. On the screen was a photo of the blonde-haired Bryony in a bikini. It was not, the older woman had to admit, a particularly flattering angle for the otherwise gorgeous Bryony.
"Well," the woman tried to say with an air of polite diplomacy, "on the bright side you've clearly lost weight since that photo was taken."
Bryony gave her a flat stare and then cast her eyes up to the heavens. "Angelica," said Bryony between gritted teeth, "I have never ever been that fat!"
Angelica Highsmith - successful businesswoman and recently assigned as mentor to bright young business student Bryony Richmond - just shrugged. "Well, the camera adds..." she started, but was interrupted as Bryony slammed the lid down on the laptop, almost to punish it for daring to show the offending image in her presence.
"It wasn't the camera that added thirty pounds to that photo... _my_ photo!" Bryony said, her tone pleading now as if trying to convince a judge that not only had she been mortifyingly wronged, but that the guilty party deserved every ounce of justice that could be flung at them, "it was that evil bitch Maria who did it!"