Volfsbayne: Glad you felt the two different elements blended well. There actually is some method to my madness, the beautification stuff is actually there for a reason. I mean, a reason other than "making the giantesses even hotter." Not that that's a bad reason in itself.
tsokei: Thanks for your feedback! Glad you're enjoying it.
And now, a selection of plot, brought to you by Star Wolf Squadron.
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Vanessa waited outside the office for her boss. As soon as Mark stepped out of the building, she shut the door and locked up, glad to be done for the day. All day long, her (mostly male) coworkers had been staring more than usual and asking her if she'd done something with her hair, or had been for a spa treatment, or was wearing some new perfume...it was like they thought something was different about her but couldn't place what. She knew, of course, that she had put on a few pounds lately, as made obvious by the fact that all her clothes were a little too snug on her. She supposed she should be happy they were all mistakenly attributing it to some positive change, but it was still annoying to get it all day long. And then there was the other thing she'd been getting all day long...
“I really appreciate you volunteering to take these records home with you and look over them again, Vanessa,” Mark said. “The cops are really riding my ass about the accident on the highway, and I don't think they believe me when I tell them I have no idea how any of that happened. If you turn anything up, call me on my cell. I don't care how late it is.” He flashed her a smile. “This means a lot to me, you doing this on your own time.”
“Sure thing, Mark. I don't mind, really.” She smiled back. Truthfully, she did mind. She could think of a hundred things she'd rather be doing than going over the Northwestern Resources records in her free time. But Mark had made some thinly veiled suggestions that, as her official duties involved keeping track of the records, she had better find something and fast, or start looking for a new job. It was a bad situation all around: Police had found a man lying on Lake View Road near a fallen tree Sunday night. The man had been found unconscious, carried no ID, and was currently comatose in the hospital, but they were assuming he was a truck driver, as the scene suggested a large vehicle had gone through the guardrail. The hillside immediately next to the road had been clear-cut, and evidence indicated a log pile had tumbled down and knocked the vehicle off the road. As Northwestern Resources had exclusive logging rights in the area, they were logically the ones responsible. However, they weren't supposed to cut that close to the road, nor were they to have log stacks in potentially dangerous positions. More worrisome was that there was no record of any recent authorized operation in that part of the woods. Essentially, the police were demanding answers from Northwestern, specifically from Mark, and he didn't have any, so he was demanding answers from somebody who, if she didn't have them, would make a convenient scapegoat.
Thus Vanessa found herself in the hot seat. She forced another smile and waved at Mark. “Hopefully I'll have this figured out by tomorrow. You go home and get some rest, try not to worry about this.”
You prick. The really troubling thing was, since Mark had been unable to find anything in the records, what he was really asking her to do was fabricate something that would at least seem plausible. That was what was really going to take all her free time. All this nuisance, coupled with the stress from putting on weight, made her very cranky. And since she was worried about gaining weight, she couldn't take the edge off with chocolate, either. At least she didn't have to worry about another CHC meeting until next month.
That reminds me... She pulled out her cell phone as she strolled to her car. On the third ring it was answered.
“Thank you for calling the office of Dr. Bruce Matthews. Do you need to make an appointment?”
“Carla! Hi! It's Vanessa!”
“Oh, hey, Van,” came a rather flat reply.
“You don't sound too happy to hear from me, Carla.”
“Oh, no, it's not you, sorry. I just had a stressful day yesterday, and today was monotonous. I'm glad it's over.”
“I know what you mean. I had the day from hell today. Mark is coming down hard on me to find an explanation for that accident I told you about. I'll have about as much luck finding it in the records as I would asking a Magic Eight Ball.” Vanessa paused for a moment. “Actually I might try that. I can't do any worse. Anyway, I had question to ask you.”
“Shoot.”
“This might sound a little out there, but, has anyone come in to the doctor's office with any, like, strange illnesses?”
The note of confusion and curiosity in Carla's voice was evident. “Strange? Strange how?”
“I don't know, just, out of the ordinary. Not the common cold, or the flu, or allergies—I don't know, maybe just something you don't see very often. Maybe brought on by contact with lake water?”
“Nothing I've seen. What's this about the lake water?” Now the curiosity was much sharper.
“Well, you know. The cops won't come out and say anything, so I don't have any hard facts, but what if that accident was a truck full of chemicals falling into the lake? There could be an entire tanker's worth of poison saturating the water as we speak!”
“Seriously, Van? I don't like Talbot-Lucian any more than you do, but not telling us about a hazardous chemical spill in our drinking water? I'm pretty sure they're not THAT evil.”
“Well. Can't say I agree with you there,” replied Vanessa. Hearing an annoyed sound, she quickly added, “Look, just do me a favor. If someone does come in with something weird, will you let me know?”
“Come on, Van. You know about confidentiality and all that.”
“You don't have to give me specifics. I'm just wanting to know if John or Jane Doe comes in with something bizarre. I'm not asking for names and medical histories, here.”
There was a significant pause, as if Carla were debating saying something. Finally, she did. “Listen...do you know something I don't? Is something going on I should know about?”
“What do you mean, 'going on'?”
“I don't know, it's just that...when I was going over the notes for our last few meetings, I just got the impression that maybe you knew something was up. And then with the way you were acting last night...”
“It's nothing, Carla. Sorry if I've seemed a little on-edge. I'm just concerned about a worst-case scenario. I mean, I could be right about that being a truck full of chemicals. You know I could. So would let me know if you see any weirdo stuff come walking into Doc Matthews' office?”
An exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine, you win. If I see something, I'll let you know.”
“Thanks. You're a real pal. Anyway, let me go. I've got stuff to do when I get home.”
“All right, Van. Catch you later.”