Every day it was the same goddamn thing. Up at 6, washed, dressed, and out the door by seven thirty, and at work by eight. Walk through the security checkpoint, clock in, take the elevator down to the second basement level, pick up that days work packets, then back up to the 7th floor for the day. Eight hours on floor seven. I'd been doing this for 18 months. Working here at Romentex, a company that thrives on making "Gee I'm sorry I liked that other chick's cunt while you were away" cards. Romentex was a company that tried to appeal to the last of the romantics, but failed miserably, so they started playing the 'I'm Sorry' game. And it was my job, along with 28 other people, to pick up design and text schematics for a new Hallmark card or Mylar balloon. And it was like that every day. Every goddamn day, the same thing.
Well... almost every day.
The thing about being me is this, when you're Amy O'Neil, no situation is permanent, and anything can happen. I had learned that so many times before. First with my estranged father on my 18th birthday, then with that hooker my boyfriend was seeing on the side, and then with my College Psych Professor. If you haven't heard the stories, I'll be sure to tell you later. Anyway, remember that daily routine I was telling you about? Well the most monotonous part was about to become the most interesting. It was that elevator ride down two stories, although there was about to be a lot more going down.
Everyone clocks in at 8 at Romentex, except for the Artists and the big shots, they all clock in at Ten.
One day, on my way home from work, I decided to stop in at a local Bar. Long story short, I came home with a Guy who had a very long.. em... story.... Man, did he fuck me. I don't usually talk so crudely, but there's no other word for it. There were no pleasantries, just his ten inch rod in my wet, slippery snatch. That and about 2 pints of cum dripping down my chin, and rolling off my tongue after he was done with me, then he left. And I fell asleep.
When I woke up, It was 9:45. I was so very, VERY, late for work. I skipped the shower, i hopped out of bed, and immediately tried to wash the dry jizz off of my face and neck. I would deal with the stuff that had dripped onto my breasts when i got home. So i slipped a Black Bra and Panty set on and threw on a Long Black dress and flew out the Door. It was now 10:20 and I was worried that someone would notice I was late. I mean, Romentex has a security checkpoint, of course they'll notice, I have to give them My ID Card.. Oh Crap, my Card!
As I pulled up, It was 10:28, and the Artists and Fat Cats were just arriving, I was hoping i could sneak in with one of them. I stood In line, straightened my hair, and then waited for my turn at the checkpoint. When it came, I explained that I had forgotten my ID, but that stupid fat pig of a guard wouldn't have cared If it'd burned down in my House, he wasn't letting me By.
"George, I'll Authorize a Database Lookup."
The person who had gone in In Front had turned around in hearing my predicament, and was helping me! The surly guard asked my name and SSN, and I gave it to him. He looked me Up in the computer, and Authorized me through by verifying my picture. He also printed out a temporary Security Pass. I was surprised that an Artist like this guy had so much power over these guards...
"There ya go, Mr. Rollins, all set."
Mr Rollins, eh? Alright, so maybe this stud WAS a big Shot. Of course, I only noticed the stud part when tubby over there spat out that SIR part...
I got into the elevator with Mr. Rollins, and another guy, this one in a suit and tie, so definitely an Admin, run up. They were both probably in their early thirties, As the door started to close, I looked out and just before it closed, I saw the Fat Guard drop a match, igniting a small Oil Slick on the Surface on the pavement. The last thing I saw when the doors closed was the blaze erupting to the surprise of that guard.
"FIRE!" I yelled. Mr Rollins responded with a shocked, "What?"
"That Guard out there started a fire!"
The other Admin grabbed the emergency phone and dialed a 3-digit code, asked about a fire, and after about 30 seconds, hung it back up.
"The confirmed it" he said grimly. "It's a small one, but it got to the power switch-box on that level, which is in the guard post. It's fried the circuits. They said the elevator will probably..."
