Clerical Terror

"Hee hee...makes sense. My name's Wanda, but I'm not a gay comedian with a funny voice and a French wife. I assure you, I was not gonna ask you that. Here's what I was gonna ask. And, this has nothing to do with Klondike, and I don't 'mean' anything by it or nothin'. 'S just curiosity. I's just wond'rin'...what do you wanna do in life? Where's your ambition lie?"

Quinn arched her brows.

"Oh. Uh...huh. Well...damn, Wanda, that's a good question. I, eh...I really dunno, actually. Be totally honest with ya...I guess I just haven't figured it out yet."

Wanda nodded, giving her half-full mouth a wipe.

"That's cool. How old're ya, 21? 22?"

"23."

"Oh, nice. Just two years younger than me. See, we're still super-young. Plenty of time to think about it."

"Yeah...how 'bout you? What do you wanna do?"

"Wulp," Wanda paused to gulp again. "I have the coolest parents in the world, first off. With the exception of Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, of course. That said, when I was your age, kiddo, I got my music degree. I wanted to play my guitar or synthesizer in a band. But y'know, musicians don't have super-stable careers. And I also realized I really wanna be a corporate biggie too. Which makes working at Klondike perfect for me while I'm going to college again. So getting back to my parents, they're letting me keep living at home, and they're helping me fund matriculation number two, till I get my business degree. Like I said, coolest Mom and Dad ever. 'Course, they're also way happier with me going into the biz biz than playing music gigs at a coffeehouse."

"Gotcha," nodded Quinn. "I live at home too. And if you want, you can bring over your guitar or your synthesizer for my birthday, and we can all play karaoke. It's February 14th. Lucky for me you don't have to celebrate your birthday on the exact day."

"Oh, yeah...you might be a little short on guests."

"Yup. And most single February babies, including myself, refuse to call it Valentine's Day. To those of us without mates, it's a silly holiday made up to sell more candy and flowers. But then, I also have something in common with your fellow Wanda: we're both gay. God knows it's hard enough for straight people to find love."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's cool. Being single can be nice too. I can flirt with as many cute chicks as I want, as aggressively as I want. Never a shortage. Much fun as a girlfriend could be, I do enjoy my freedom to look, and touch. I'm sure you feel the same way about dudes."

"Sure, sure. Not quite as boy-crazy as I was, say, ten years ago. But yeah."

"Hey Wanda, can I ask you a question?"

Wanda gave a shrug. "Technically, that was a question. Two's my limit, so tread lightly."

"Heh! Okay. So...I swear, I'm not trying to be...whatever here. Like you said, just curious. Have you ever...considered dating a girl?"

Wanda furrowed her brows and let her eyes meander in thought.

"Well...not much. Guess I...found out I liked boys when I was twelve, and...that's basically that. But now that you ask...I dunno. The thought of...touching another girl doesn't totally creep me out. But I can't really say I get that fire in my, erm...belly, from it either."

"Got it," Quinn winked with a raise of her glass. "Just askin'."

"And on that note, I guess we'd better be gettin' back to the office," announced Wanda. "But y'know what, here's a thought. It's not usually a great idea for people who work together to get involved. But you and me could try going on a, sort of a...'quasi-date' together, so to speak. Just as an experiment. We're both unattached, we both like to flirt...and I may be completely not into girls whatsoever, but...honestly, Quinn, now you got me a little curious about it myself."

Quinn tingled just a little. It felt good.

"'Quasi-date,' huh? Well, I do like a gal who uses 'q'-words in her everyday speech. And I do like the sound of my own name."

Wanda tossed a coy, unassuming smirk.

"No need to...quibble over vocabulary."

Quinn smirked back.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"What if I am?" Wanda countered beatlessly.

Another tingle tickled Quinn's now full tummy. Above it, her heart accelerated. Below it...

"...I'm free Saturday night."

"Saturday night it is," confirmed Wanda. "Wanna go out for drinks?"

An alarm went off in Quinn's mind.

Drinks? Alcohol??...Red flag! Trauma alert!

"N-NO. No," Quinn objected, trying not to sound abruptly panicked. "I-I...eh...what I mean is, I don't drink. Um...how about if we go see a movie instead? I like movies."

Wanda did seem to note a sudden shift in Quinn's demeanor. But she enjoyed movies too.

"...Okay, cool. Facebook me."

*****

Quinndows 7: Distraction Center

Thursday, October 7th, 2010, 2:04 p.m.

Once Quinn ferried them back to Klondike, she thanked Wanda for lunch. Wanda took her by the paw.

OH, um...what's this?

Wordlessly coaxing her to wait a minute before they returned inside, Wanda gave her a smile.

"Let's just focus on work the rest of today and tomorrow," she suggested. "I think if we resist the urge to talk to each other, it'll make our 'quasi-date' Saturday night more...exciting, and special."

The contagious smile spread to Quinn's face as well.

"I could hardly disagree less, Wanda."

"Fabulous." Wanda raised their clasped hands and gave Quinn's a quick peck. "Catch ya later."

A balloon of happy energy inflated inside Quinn. She waited for Wanda to go back inside, then followed a moment after.

An hour and a half later, she was back at work, ear buds in, softly singing along with the iPod. Not unlike would-be musician Wanda, Quinn enjoyed music of all genres and eras herself, and was also tech-savvy. Her folks got her a computer-capable turntable so she could make digital files of their old LPs. Her parents were already almost to their 40s when they had Quinn. Both were record collectors from way back, so that's where she must've got it from, she thought. The vinyl transfers came out with some ticks, pops and hiss from the needle on the wax, but Quinn didn't mind. In fact, she kind of liked it. It made the old songs sound "authentic," as in the original format. And then of course she could rip CDs with the computer's drive. Today, she had the Pod set on random, being regaled with a slew of oldies-but-goodies. The next song it chose was a mid-'60s classic by the Beach Boys.

"...And I can give you lotsa reasons why..." she mouthed with the lyrics. "You gotta—

"Help me, Wanda... get her outta m—"

Quinn's mouth froze in mid-lyric. Her eyebrows jumped. She'd just absentmindedly replaced the song's title girl's name with Wanda's...simply because they rhymed. That wasn't supposed to happen.

Oh, dear...I really am distracted by her. Well, we'll just have to take care of that. Sorry, Brian, sorry, Boys. Maybe next song.

She directed the Pod to play the next track, while trying to focus on her duties. Music never interfered with her concentration, but today there was a compounding factor. This time she heard a doo-wop tune by The Monotones, from the late '50s.

"...In chapter three, remember, the meaning of romance," she started quietly crooning again. "In chapter four, you break up, but you give her just one more chance... well, I Wanda, Wanda who, ba-doo-doo-doo—" Gasp.

...I did it again! Oh, c'mon, iPod, this is getting silly. Click; next song: Dion, 1961.

"...And when I find myself a-fallin' for some girl, I hop right into that car of mine and drive around the world!

"'Cause I'm a Wanda-rer, yeah, a Wanda-rer, I roam ar—"

Gasp! You have gotta be kidding me! Click: Del Shannon, '61 again.

"...I'm a-walkin' in the rain... tears're fallin' and I feel the pain... a-wishin' you were here by me... to end this misery...

"I Wanda... I Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa-Wand—"

...NO...way. This...this thing has to be messing with me. It's got a mind of its own! And, also...god, my parents're old!

Quinn decided maybe no music would be best right now. She removed the ear buds and continued working.

The Klondike Corporation had recently upgraded OSs to user-friendly Windows 7, which increased production and claimed approval from the collective. Once paperwork was scanned into the system, the accounting department utilized sites and applications to process it. For her portion of duties that occupied this part of the day, Quinn logged into a site called Evergreen. It was a tad slower and more convoluted than their other resources. Early on, Quinn had to ask Raven, David and Wanda more than once to help her maneuver through it. Midway through August, she'd finally mastered it. She worked her way through batches of documentation, entering check numbers, routing numbers, monetary figures, and business codes based on individual clients. And even though her iPod had decided to cease messing with her, her mind continued to go off Wanda-ring.

Okay, this one's done, we hit Enter, go back to the...

I do not have a crush on her. I do not have a crush on her. We're just work buddies. Being friends requires no prep work. People who barely know each other become "friends" online all the time. I know Wanda better than barely, but we are still only friends. Let's just concentrate on work. We go back to the main screen, click Post...whoops! Got a little trigger-happy on the mouse button there. Guess my finger spasmed. That's cool, few pumps on the trusty ol' hand grip'll take care of that. And...

Uh-oh...think I made a typo. Well, that's okay. That's happened before, everyone makes typos. I'll just let Miss B. know, she'll fix it.

*****

Professional Quinnvitation

Friday, October 8th, 2010, 10:10 a.m.

Quinn's desk phone rang. She glanced to the display. RAVEN

"Hi, Miss Bower."

"Good morning, Quinn. I realize this is a bit of short notice, but would you be able to stay awhile after your regular time today? Perhaps two or three hours? I'll be glad to pay you overtime."

"O—...oh, sure! Sure, Miss Bower, I'd be happy to."

"Excellent. You may proceed with your normal duties. And, please see me in my office at 6:00. Thank you." Click.

She hung up before Quinn could say anything more. Quinn was left frankly a bit curious. She wasn't sure if she was in any sort of trouble, but couldn't imagine for what. She'd done nothing differently than any other day(s). She stood, rolled down her shirtsleeves, stepped outside and removed her cell.

"...Hey, Mom?...Hey. Yeah, I just wanted to tell ya I'm gonna be working late today. They asked me to stay a couple hours...yeah. So, I dunno when I'm gonna be home, I'll just...see ya when I see ya...okay...love you too, tell Dad ditto for me...bye."

Seven and a half hours later, it was time to meet Raven. Quinn wasn't sure if she should leave her screen up or log out, but the system would automatically do it for her after fifteen minutes. And along with Miss Bower, she was the last person here—apart from the janitor, who'd be leaving himself shortly. Raven's door was half-ajar. Quinn gave it a few knocks and poked her head in.

"Miss B.?"

Raven looked up. "Ah, Quinn. Good. Please come in, shut the door and have a seat."

"Sure." Slam. She perched across the desk. "So what's up?"

Miss Bower placed down her pen, cleared her throat, and folded her hands to address Miss Simmons.

"Quinn, you've been with Klondike for three months now, and I'm very pleased with your overall performance."

Quinn smiled with a nod. "Thanks, Miss Bower! I've been giving it my hundred-percent best since day one."

"I know. Which makes me conclude the following was of no intent. Yesterday, you processed an item to one of our most substantial clients, Christopher MacIntosh. If you recall, you brought to my attention that you made a typo, as per your diligent, honest nature."

Quinn nodded again.

"This particular item, as you know, was a $20,000 transaction, outgoing from our end," Raven went on. "As you entered the amount, you struck the '1' and '2' keys at the same time, that being the typo you mentioned. So you accidentally entered it as $120,000. I would make the assumption that you didn't notice the typo till after you hit Enter, to complete the form."

"Eh, that's right, I didn't. Sorry about that again, Miss Bower."

"Well, after this, you returned to the main screen as usual, to click the Post button, and finish this item. However...in this single instance, you appear to have double-clicked Post."

Quinn thought a moment, and remembered.

"...Ohhh, gosh...yeah, that must've been when my finger spasmed on the mouse. I, uh, I meant to mention that too. Did I forget?"

Raven nodded. "It seems you did. Now, normally, Quinn, a mistake such as this can be corrected, even after the Post button is single-clicked. Unfortunately, if you happen to double-click it as you did...a glitch is triggered in the system. The current item and entry in this case are automatically locked, frozen, and cannot be entered or edited again."

The girl's eyes widened. "...Uh-oh..."

"This should've been the type of thing David informed you of when he walked you through Evergreen."

Quinn darted her eyes back and forth as she tried to think.

"He...might've..."

"Did he warn you never to double-click Post?"

"Ummm...maybe."

"Well, Quinn...regardless, we've got a problem. A...sizable problem."

A pang of panic colored Quinn's face.

"I understand this was an accident. Nonetheless...it's happened. And, there's nothing we can do about it. So Quinn, bottom line...

"...I'm afraid you've caused us an incorrigible $100,000 clerical error."

The panic in Quinn's face increased tenfold.

"No."

"I'm sorry, Quinn. It's true."

"Oh god...Miss Bower, I-I'm...I am so, so, SOOOO sorry. I...just can't believe I did that."

Raven solemnly shook her head.

"I know you're sorry. But this is bad news, Quinn. Very bad."

Quinn lowered her head, tightly shutting her eyes. She began breathing heavily. Her heart sped up.

"To reiterate: we both know this was an accident. And an anomaly. But due to this unfortunate set of circumstances, it cannot be rectified. A number of potential Klondike careers will be affected by this, Quinn. The future of the company will take a setback."

Poor Quinn dropped her face in her hands. "Oh god," she forlornly murmured. "Miss Bower, I feel awful."

"I know. I know you didn't mean it. But, I'm afraid you've left me no choice. Accident or not, some infractions are too severe to pass."

Quinn looked back to meet Miss Bower's eyes, her own filled with trepidation. Then, Raven said those terrible five little words.

"I have to fire you."

The grief-stricken girl's mouth collapsed open. Almost as a reflex, she flung herself out of her seat, straight down to the floor on her knees, practically kicking her chair over in the process. She threw her arms on the desk, clasped her paws, and begged.

"Oh god, no, Miss Bower, please!" she cried. "Please don't fire me! I love my job! I need my job! You know more than anyone! I...I know it's only been three months, but...this job's become my livelihood! It's part of my identity now! It's helped define me! I'll never find another job this good! Please, please, plee-e-e-ease don't fire me! I'll do anything! Anything at all, I swear!"

Raven had more or less expected this sort of reaction. She'd felt sorry for Quinn since yesterday when this had happened, and so had this meeting mapped out rather thoroughly. Including the resolution to their dilemma. She addressed the girl after a bout of silence.

"Quinn...how bad would you say you need your job?"

"Extremely!" Quinn repetitively insisted, shaking her clasped hands at her. "You have no idea, Miss Bower! It's everything to me!"

Raven thoughtfully turned her eyes upwards.

"Well..."

A faint glimmer of hope came into view, to which Quinn clung.

"...There may be one way we could work this out, which could result in you keeping your job, Quinn."

Quinn gasped with a small grin.

"Yes! Yes! I'll do it! Anything, Miss Bower, I told you. Anything."

They locked eyes. Uncountable moments passed. It felt like an eternity before Miss Bower spoke again.

"Anything?"

"Anything. I swear."

"Very well, Quinn..."

A strange, unexpected, inscrutable smile crossed Raven's face.

"...Strip naked."

"...

"...What?"

"You heard me."

*****

Quinntimate Penalties

Friday, October 8th, 2010, 6:41 p.m.

Down to the underthings, Quinn was pretty much okay. She handed Raven her garments one by one, and was prodded just as harshly to expose her delicate girl-bits. And for a while, Miss Bower was charmed by Quinn's pink-faced embarrassment. But when the charm wore off, she ordered Quinn to get those bra and panties off before Miss Bower did it for her. So once Quinn finally dropped them, her body—almost reflexively—curled in on itself to try and keep concealed.

So then stood a completely naked—and almost as freaked out—23-year-old Quinn Simmons, back to the wall, in Miss Raven Bower's office, manually covering her privates. Raven had placed her clothes in a far corner, about-facing to her jaybird-nude employee. She slowly, ominously approached, inching in to face Quinn, till they were almost nose to nose. Quinn blushed as Raven's sultry perfume teased and toyed with her nostrils.

"Ar—...aren't there some kinda rules about having to wear a shirt and shoes in the office?" asked Quinn. ...To say nothing of pants??

"'Rules'?" Raven facetiously replied. "What are those?"

"Miss Bower, how exactly is this supposed to help me keep my job?" was the next Quinn wished to know.

"I'm glad you asked," said Raven. "Quinn, my friend, there's a couple things you oughta know about me. For one, I'm a bit more than just a department head here. I am an integral cog in the gears of Klondike Industries. Everyone knows me, Quinn. What's more, they love me. I'm a woman of respect and esteem. I've spent plenty of years building an ironclad reputation at Klondike, as a force to be reckoned with. And as such, I wield a considerable bit more clout than my fellow department heads. I have ways of getting things I want done by those in our company. And..." She affectionately dabbed Quinn on the philtrum.

"...I have never been in prison."

Quinn dropped her gaze to the floor, a bit wounded by this remark. Moreover, that didn't really answer her question.

"That doesn't really answer my question."

Raven nodded. "Valid enough. To elucidate, a few additional things about Miss Raven Bower: she enjoys working with Quinn Simmons, and would like that professional relationship to continue. She knows the feeling is mutual, and what a lovely young person Quinn is. She also knows that Quinn has a teeny-weeny bit of a crush on her...and becomes frequently excited in her presence."

Quinn gaped at her in disbelief. The sensual, sneaky leering grin of Melora Hardin melted her mind and revved her sex drive.

"Oh, do not play coy with me, kiddo," Raven sneered at her. "I know I have an effect of arousal upon you. I've seen the way you behave when you come into my office, all giggly, fidgety, overwhelmed. It's rather adorable, really. I've also seen the way your, eh, 'girls' wake up when I'm around, poking visibly through your shirt..." She chuckled malevolently. "Poor thing; you can barely contain yourself when you're with me. If I wanted to really mortify you, I would tell you that I know the real reason you wear dark trousers."