The Underground Spa
These are the tales of Florence. She is going nowhere fast, unless you count down.
Special thanks to editor lonewolf68alpha for keeping me in line.
(if you are just here for the action skip to chapter 5)
Part 1
Chapter 1 Sense of Dread
Driving to work I had an overwhelming sense of dread. This was not going to be a good day. I had known it was coming for a while, but finally it was here and I felt like I was driving to my doom. Melodramatic? Yeah sure, maybe, but I wasn't wrong. The surf wear company where I had been working for 10 years was being bought out by some Germans. Some 'umbrella' company, whatever that means, I didn't understand how anyone not involved at all in the industry, would want to buy a 'lifestyle' clothing company, but I did understand that it likely did not bode well for me.
I was middle management, and if I was honest, after 10 years, I wasn't even sure what I did there. I was only hired in the first place because I was young and cute and dating one of the sponsored surfers. They more or less found stuff for me to do and as time went on, and I moved on from dating a sponsored surfer, to a sponsored skateboarder, and back to another sponsored surfer again, my pay kept going up and eventually I had my own office. (Which was a total mess by the way) The last two years I have been single. I don't know why those sponsored athletes don't just all admit they are gay. They only want to hang out with one another anyway, and bond way too heavily over their 'sports'. I am sure they would all be better off out of the closet. Anyway, athletically I was always capable but never competitive. I was still in shape, but couldn't remember the last time I was in the water. Sure, I was 32 which isn't too old at all, but what did I really know how to do? I had a cute apartment by the beach with a mortgage I could barely afford, a cute little Alfa Romeo with a payment I could barely afford, no skills, and no marketable experience outside of going into an office every day, looking cute, and pretending to be busy. Doesn't make a great resume. If I lost this job, I was screwed.
All of this was on my mind as I idled in traffic on my way to the office. I always got stuck in the same spot. I looked out the window and saw the familiar pink on black neon sign, 'underground sauna'. It wasn't obvious where the entrance was, but the same poster was always on the wall, 'Ladies Free, Couples half price' - I was pretty sure that didn't make sense somehow, but I was admittedly curious, I often thought, if ladies are free entry, it would cost nothing to have a peak. It's for sure some seedy swingers club, but Sauna, Hammam, Jacuzzi? That was written under the 'ladies free' part, and who doesn't like free jacuzzi and hammam?
A horn honked and I realized I was holding traffic up. It was finally moving again and I would soon be at work facing the German takeover.
Chapter 2 Germans Germans Germans
I checked myself in the car mirror, blinked my green eyes while I dripped in some whitening drops, vainly tried to straighten up my messy crop of kinda blonde hair, took a deep breath, and put my best confidence strut on as I headed to my fate. In the office, everything looked normal. We had a pretty open plan space, it was meant to inspire 'cohesion' in the team. There were offices around the perimeter but they all had glass walls. I hated that, my office was always a mess and since this renovation it became a constant point of anxiety for me to keep a tidy work space. I also felt insecure, because having a messy desk was the only way I knew how to look busy and important.
The boss, Franc, had the corner office, and I could see four suited men in there with him. That would be the Germans I assumed. An assumption that would be confirmed immediately on reaching the coffee room. We did have a great espresso machine. It was Italian.
As I walked in Isa and Brice were in the middle of a two-way rant.
"...exactly! They came in here at like 6am so they could go through everyones shit while no one was around."
"That is so not right, who do they think they are anyway?"
"I can't believe Franc is selling us out to these assholes!"
"Well, he says he is staying on"
"Yeah right, that's bs, he will stay on until his new yacht is delivered and then adios! It will be us and those a-holes!"
"Yeah sure, easy for you to say Brice." I interrupted, "You manage so many accounts, if they canned you, they would have to immediately hire someone just to inform all of your clients of the change. It might be you and those a-holes when Franc gets on his Yacht, but the 'us' (I waved my finger in a circular motion indicating more or less the whole office) are by no means going to be 'putting up with anything' for much longer."
Isa glared at me, I was sure she was thinking the place couldn't run without us, but I actually had no idea what she did either. She was for sure paid less than me, so she would likely last a month or two longer but...
Brice replied, "Oh shut up you cranky bitch, you're too cute to get fired. Look at yourself, you look like a poster girl for the brand image. Your face is in half of the important press we ever had and one look at your ass in a wetsuit and it's no wonder you never bothered competing, you pretty much win just by being there. Fuck you!"
I stuck my tongue out at him and replied, "Bitch!"
Brice was a rare entity in the surf industry. An actual out of the closet gay man. We only ever bitched at one another, but he was my favorite. We had both been with the company for about the same time and confided in one another quite a bit. I called him often, especially over the last two years. The office banter bit was an act, we both loved it. Isa rolled her eyes and walked out.
"He's kinda got a point Flo, why didn't you ever do any modelling shoots, catalogs stuff?"
I snorted a reply, "Too short Iz, petite surfer is one thing, petite model is not a thing, you know that! Jeesh... you two... fuck off."
I took my good espresso and left the room.
Brice launched a statement at me as I left that cut deeply,
"Flo! Franc wants you in his office. You're always late, so he told me to tell you when you turned up."
Fuck!
I went to my glass walled office and pretended to look busy at my computer while I drank my coffee. I wanted a cigarette at this point, but felt it would have been too much to go to our smoking area outside, so I just stared at the screen and drank my coffee. I looked over the workspace to the other side where Franc's office was, full of Germans, and contemplated how I could get out of this.