*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*****
Chapter 1
Arthur Petitjean wanted to groan, not so much from the pain in his mouth, but from the boring topic of conversation Dr. LeMoine droned on and on about as he drilled on Arthur's tooth.
That was the problem with Dr. LeMoine. The man was a good and thorough dentist and seemed to be a very compassionate man to all his patients. But the problem was, the man was about as exciting as Luke-warm tapioca pudding. And the man assumed, just because he was an egg head, everyone was an egg head. Dr. LeMoine assumed that everyone found the same topics that he found interesting to be of interest.
"So they've recognized that carbon is the building blocks of all life," the man said as he began filling the cavity. "So it makes perfect sense that we're now using this carbon fiber polymer, you know, instead of the old material to fill cavities, how long have you had that gold sheath? Don't often see gold sheaths on a canine like that."
"You're the one put it on," Arthur reminded him. "We were going to use stainless steel but you didn't have any."
"Oh yeah, yeah, that's right," Dr. LeMoine nodded and used his air jet to harden the carbon fiber on the lower tooth. "Yeah, got hit with a rock, split the tooth, right?"
"Yeah, damned kid; told him didn't want him throwing rocks at my house so he threw it at me instead," Arthur chuckled mirthlessly.
And with a final shaping grind with his drill, Dr. LeMoine was finished and went on to the next patient. Arthur gingerly tested the tooth while he waited to pay. His left hand rested on the wooden ledge and he imagined he saw a young mother, holding a crying child and looking at Dottie with interest.
Arthur looked at Dottie, the dental assistant, as she talked with Bertha, another dental assistant and shrugged his shoulders. The young red head was attractive enough and had a very pleasant personality, but was fairly skinny, too skinny for his taste.
He bit down again and took the charge slip the new administrative assistant handed to him. For an instant, Arthur saw the administrative assistant's absolute panic; she was in a new job, in over her head and was terrified they'd find out she didn't know what she was doing and would fire her. The girl desperately needed the job; she and her boyfriend were renting a decrepit old trailer and could barely afford their month to month expenses.
Arthur didn't know how he knew this, but a glance into the girl's eyes told him what he sensed was true. He started to say something, and then clammed up. He too had been right there. His first job after qualifying to be a CPA and he just knew, day after day, that they would fire him at any moment. The only way to outgrow fear is to go through it. He couldn't tell this girl that; she'd just have to live and learn.
So he signed the charge slip, gave her as reassuring a smile as he could, and then left the small building.
It was a beautiful autumn day, not too cold, oranges and reds and yellows all around as Arthur Petitjean drove to his new job.
Paula Lambert, the Administrator of St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center had smiled a dazzling smile when he screwed up his face and told her, on his very first day as the Accounts Receivables specialist, he'd have to be a couple of hours late, having scheduled the dentist appointment a month ago.
"Had to have a root canal done," she smiled. "Why? Had a cavity, but got too busy go take care of it and all of a sudden found half a tooth in my steak. Go; go have it taken care of. We're not going to go broke just because our AR Specialist is an hour or two late."
Yvonne, his wife had smiled when Arthur told her of his new boss's lax attitude.
"And Brett would have docked you three hours for it," she said, having no love for Brett Johnson, his old employer.
In fact, Arthur had to threaten a law suit just to get his last paycheck when he put in his two weeks' notice.
"Good morning," Paula smiled when Arthur strode off the elevators onto the fifth floor of the building. "How'd it go?"
"In and out," Arthur smiled at the attractive woman.
If he had to guess, he'd say that Paula Lambert was in her early thirties. She actually looked much younger, but he reasoned that someone in their mid-twenties would not have the experience to head a large hospital.
He followed the strawberry blonde down the main corridor to a door with a frosted glass pane. She pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and then handed him the key.
"There's this outer office; we're interviewing administrative assistants now," she informed him, pointing to a small desk and a garish green leather chair.
"In the meantime, I assume the old Admin will fill in?" Arthur asked.
Her clear green eyes instantly misted over and she turned her head away from him.
"She, uh, she was killed," Paula admitted.
"Oh!" Arthur gasped. "Oh, I am so sorry! I uh, I didn't know!"
"Yeah, well, kind of why we needed an AR Specialist," Paula said and opened a second door that sat to the left of the small desk. "And here's your office. You need anything, do not hesitate to ask. I apologize, but like I told you, we're really backed up since the, since the, well, you know."
Arthur looked in and saw a large, kidney shaped clear glass table, supported by three chrome legs, a large computer monitor , wireless keyboard and a wireless mouse sitting on top of a mouse pad that had a woman's vagina imprinted on its surface.
"Oh good God, I told them throw that damned thing away," Paula snapped, grabbing the offensive mouse pad off the desk.
She grabbed the mouse pad off of the small wooden desk in the outer office and slapped it on the clear glass table.
Arthur came around the desk, saw the computer sitting on the floor against one of the chrome legs and turned it on. He then sat down in the executive chair that sat behind the desk, and then stood up again.
"Take it the last AR Specialist was kind of short?" he asked, pulling the lever to raise the chair.
"Guess he was about five six, maybe five seven, why? How tall are you?" Paula asked, slightly amused.
"Six three," Arthur said and sat down in the chair.
"It's asking for a password," he said, nodding to the monitor.
"Told Oscar use the last four of your Social Security and your first and last initials, all lower case," Paula said, then looked at the ceiling as her name was paged. "Oops, got to go. Need anything, let me know."
Arthur rapidly typed in his password and went searching for the accounting program.
Whoever had been the previous AR Specialist had been very good at his job. Either that or his administrative assistant had been very good at making him look good.
Arthur looked up in surprise as the chair gave a soft sigh and slid down slightly. He decided to ignore that and forge on.
Another soft sigh and he slid down a few more millimeters.
Within fifteen minutes of his sitting down, the chair was resting solidly on its base. He stood up slightly, pulled the lever again, and raised the chair to its maximum height. This time, he shoved the lever in, hoping to lock it into place.
Again, in fifteen minutes, he was resting on the base again.
"What the hell; I'm not that heavy," he grunted.
He found the Outlook program, clicked on 'New' and typed out an email to his new boss that a new chair would be needed; the old chair being defective.
"But in the meantime," he said, wheeled the chair out to the outer office and grabbed the garish green leather chair.
The chair itself was quite nice; soft leather, plenty of firm padding, and good stitching throughout. But the color was simply hideous.
He smiled; whoever had used the chair last had it raised to its highest level, just right for him. He smiled again as he looked at his monitor; Paula had already responded that Supplies was busy searching for a new chair for him.
Arthur found the last billing cycle and saw that they were at least three weeks behind. Paula had laughed and said they would not go broke if he was an hour or two late, but if he had been a week or two late, they would have had serious trouble making payroll.
He unconsciously bit down on his filling as he waited for the batch of the first twenty billing cycle to finish printing. Obviously, until he got an Administrative Assistant, he would have to stuff his own envelopes. He had no Administrative Assistant at Johnson's Furniture and Appliances so he was used to it.
He put his hand on the leather arm of the chair and in his mind saw a petite Asian woman with a short pixie cut hairstyle, barely more than nineteen years of age, sitting down in the same garish green chair. He heard a man's laughter as the girl got up and raised the chair to its maximum height and sat down again.
"Shut up!" Arthur heard the Asian girl squeak. "I can't help it I'm short!"
"Green is my favorite color in the whole wide world," Arthur heard the girl proclaim. "See?"
Arthur opened his mouth in shock as he saw the petite Asian girl lift the hem of her skirt and flash her hairless pubic mound at the unseen male. The vision disappeared the moment he opened his mouth, but in that millisecond of vision, he had seen a butterfly tattoo, a large green butterfly that covered the entire mound, with her wet, puffy pussy lips fitting perfectly within the center of the butterfly.
Arthur got up from his seat, looked at the hideous green chair, and even rocked it slightly with his hand.
The printer gave a soft chime and he gathered the papers and grabbed a handful of envelopes that were conveniently next to the printer.
"Knock knock," a woman's voice sang out and Arthur looked up to see an older, much heavier version of Paula Lambert enter his office.
"Hi, Sherri Lambert; Insurance; I'm in the office right next door. Been doing what I could make sure we don't have to declare bankruptcy so all insurance claims are current as of eight o'clock last night, how are you?" the woman said, extending a pudgy hand.
"I was wondering about that; saw that they were up to date, great job," Arthur said, smiling and shaking the offered hand. "Arthur Petitjean, great to meet you."
"The woman had on a top that was far too snug for her and far too revealing for a woman of her age, or in a professional setting. Same with her skirt; it was far too short to be appropriate.
"Paula says they've narrowed the search to two candidates, a girl just got out of college and another one been doing it for three years, no college but plenty of experience, so you won't have to be doing that for long," Sherri commented as Arthur started stuffing the envelopes.
