Chapter 8: Laney Loosens Up
Elsie: I'm coming to get you bitch.
Laney looked at the message again, took a deep breath and counted to ten. It was better to not engage with Elsie Salver. Apparently, the stuck up blond had just found out about Laney's little fling with Will Cheston the other night. It didn't matter to Elsie that the two had been on a break when they hooked up (at least, she was pretty sure that's what Willy had implied) or that he was the one cheating on Elsie, not Laney. And it certainly didn't matter to her that he wouldn't have come to Laney if his stuck up girlfriend had known how to keep her man satisfied. Apparently, the little prissy prude was going to take this out on Laney.
Bitch can't stand knowing she's been beat, Laney thought, her resolve to not engage already starting to crumble. Leaving Elsie on read won't help anyway, she thought; that's just how girls like that are. Elsie needed to know she'd get nothing from Laney. The woman began to type.
Laney: LOL! Fuck off you frigid little cunt. I'm not scared of you.
That ought to do it. Laney stretched her hands above her head and settled back into her studies, sure that she'd shut Elsie down. Vera had already warned her about bringing her drama to work. The last thing she needed was Elsie coming in thinking she could get the better of her.
She'd almost put Elsie out of her mind when a sound made her jump. There'd definitely been a thump, loud enough to hear over the music playing through her headphones. Laney glanced back at her work, wondering if she might have imagined it. She'd been so deep in her studies, it was hard to tell. She reached up to slide off her headphones.
There it was again. This time a deeper thump, like something falling on the floor. For a woman who worked with her hands, Vera could be a total klutz sometimes.
Still, she thought as she stood up, best to make sure everyone is alright.
"Hey Vera, everything okay in there?" she asked, tapping lightly on the door.
Inside, she heard what sounded like scrabbling, and a woman voice that sounded like the client — Cara or Carla or something like that. It was followed by a muffled sound that might have been Sammie, but it was hard to tell between the sound insulation inside the studio and how loud Vera had turned the music up. That was weird too, come to think of it. Most of the clients liked a little background music, but not this loud.
"Hey Vera, everything okay in there?"
"They had to step into the back," the cute male client, Joey called through the door. "Do you need us to get dressed?"
"In the back? Both of them?" she asked.
That sounded very wrong. Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door.
Carla was standing by the door to front office, wrapped in her robe with a disconcerting smile on her face.
"Buckle, dear!" she called out cheerfully.
The receptionist's eyes caught something shiny flying through the air from the back of the room. Her jaw dropped as she looked back at Joey. He was completely naked, his massive member, chubby and half-hanging as he reached for something — no someone! He was grabbing Vera's key from around her neck. She was piled beside the back door on top of Sammie, each of their faces covered by what looked like some kind of white dish towel.
"What did you do to them?" she asked, suddenly frozen, her eyes darting between the helpless girls and the member, which seemed to rise under her gaze. She glanced behind her and tensed to make a break.
There was a sharp pain near her tricep, and a cold feeling started to spread through Laney's arm. The woman calmly dropped whatever she'd just injected Laney with into her bag, and pressed a button on her watch.
"That's it! I'm calling the cops!" Laney shouted.
"Are you?" Carla asked, looking at the watch. "Better make it quick, then. 15"
Laney's licked her lips. "Why? What did you just do to me?"
"13, 12," Carla called out, as Joey opened the door and hoisted Laney's coworkers over his shoulders, one on each side.
"Tell me," she said, lunging at Carla, who sidestepped her without even looking.
"10, 9," she continued, glancing curiously at Laney's eyes, as if to measure the progress of whatever was happening to her.
"Stop!" Laney said as she turned around, trying to bolt out of the door. Her thoughts already seemed strangely muted and disorganized.
It's an emergency. I've been drugged, she reminded herself.
"8, 7, 6," Carla called out, following Laney as she picked her way around the desk, slowly and deliberately.
."5, 4."
* * *
Carla clicked off the timer. "Oh, good. Faster than expected. That's a nice change, isn't it?"
Laney didn't answer. She was leaning over from the edge of the customer side, looking very intent, as if trying to remember something.
"How are you feeling, Laney?" Carla asked.
"Have to call the cops," Laney muttered, slowly and quietly, as if she were trying to remember a dream.
The words seemed to stir her, and she began slowly bending over the desk.
"That sounds important," Carla said, sympathetically. "Why do you need to do that, Laney?"
Laney paused, her eyes fixed on the desk somewhere between Carla and the phone. "You did something... to me."
"Really?" Carla asked, with interest. "What did I do to you?"
Laney glared back over her shoulder, supporting herself on one hand. "Uh... poked. My arm got cold, and...." She trailed off.
"Why would I poke you just to make your arm cold?"
Laney had a a quizzical look on her face, as if she were trying to remember how to stand back up. "No? You tried to... knock me out, I think. It didn't work. "
"Well, that's a relief, Laney! I'm glad you're alright."
