Nightmerrogation

SMOKEY SAGAS #15:

"Nightmerrogation"

***

Short intro. First off, as this story is immediately following what has undoubtedly become my most popular thus far ("Hooked"), I want to take the moment to thank everyone who liked "Hooked" (despite its original unintentional typos *ahem* MADE BY THE SITE *ahem ahem*) and told me so with your far too generous votes. It turned out to be a pretty nice gift—particularly for the ladies—very girl-friendly, more in the vein of "Helping Hand."

This one, though again mainly female-populated, is probably going to be geared more towards the guys (although you never know), a little more like "Hell And Back" or "Bad Rabbit." Which I don't think is giving very much away, not if you saw the title. I was going to categorize it under BDSM, but that isn't exactly accurate. Putting it under the Lebbi category is closer, but still not as close as Fetish. This is my 'tribute,' so to speak, to my number one fetish. I think I've put it (this fetish) somewhere in almost every story I've written, but THIS is, I'd like to think, my epic story revolving around it.

That will be enough of that. Without further superfluous exposition..."Nightmerrogation!"

***

July 7th, 8:57 a.m.

Just another manic Thursday.

Lucy Taylor pulled into a vacant space in front of her building and put the car in park. It was near the end of another fun-filled, action-packed week at her explosively exciting office clerk job—as she liked to sometimes facetiously refer to it—with which she'd from the beginning had a love-hate relationship. She slung the purse over her shoulder and trotted to the door to reach her desk and clock in within the next three minutes.

She got inside, tossed the purse on her desk, booted up her computer, Ctrl-Alt-Del'd the login screen and tapped in her password.

The former half of Lucy's love-hate relationship with her job was represented by the actual work they performed, and (most of) her workmates. Many of the folks in the office were at least pretty good friends.

"Hi, girl," said Mary, her cubicle neighbor and best buddy, with whom she also shared her youthful age of 22. "How's it goin'?"

"Mag-bloody-nificent," the Lincolnshire-born and raised Lucy uttered, eyes on the screen and keyboard, concentrating on getting into the time system in the next sixty seconds. "You then?"

"Actually, I could be a little better," Mary replied.

Click, click, type, type, type. "Uh-huh..."

Mary continued. "We lost last night, and only by five lousy stupid pins! I swear, I could do so much better if the other teams around us didn't steal all the ten-frickin'-pound balls."

Click, type. "Mm-hm..."

"I mean, you know that's the only weight I can bowl worth a damn with. Any lighter, my fingers get stuck or it just flies out of my hand, and any heavier, I dent the lane."

Click. "Right! There we are! Clocked in, just barely in time," Lucy smiled.

Mary smirked at her. "Haven't heard a word I've said, have ya?"

Lucy turned to her. "Huh?"

"Well, well, well!" chirped Cass, a workmate who did not fall under the category of friends in the office, sauntering over to them in her trademark catty style. "If it isn't Mucy and Lary!"

The dyslexic mispronunciation of their names was intentional, Cass's attempt at a witty verbal zing. Cass Wilson had only been working at the office for a couple of weeks to Mary's and Lucy's couple of years. They had months and months of seniority over her, and yet Cass seemed inexplicably obnoxious towards them. Lucy and Mary were both familiar with the concept of good-natured ribbing, and this wasn't reflected in Cass's remarks. Though they were a bit too polite to return her verbal fire—to her face.

They regarded her by looking at their computer screens. "Cass," they replied together in monotone.

Cass was a tall woman, about halfway between 5'9" and 5'10". Her presence brought a hint of intimidation, but she was really no more than verbally abusive. She leaned against the top of the cubicle divider. "And how is the Peanuts gallery?"

"Doing quite well this morning, thank you, Pigpen," Mary called over.

"OH, how clever, my friend," rejoined Cass.

Lucy turned to her caustic workmate with an amiable smirk and burned her with a more clever remark. "Y'know something, Cass, if you didn't act like such a wanker, you might have some actual mates around here," Lucy advised. "And failing that," she smiled at her, "You may politely kiss me bum."

"Whot?" Cass shot back, mocking her British drawl. "Oy cont unduhstond yoh foncy occent."

Lucy didn't answer. It wasn't worth her time. She just shook her head, returned her face to the screen and got on with her work. The unimaginative mimicking actually bothered Mary much more than it bothered Lucy. The fact was, Mary became steamed when anyone mistreated or insulted her best friend.

"Okay, how old are we here?" Mary countered. "You gonna act like a jerk or a little brat? Make up your frickin' mind!"

"Don't get cross with her, Mare," said Lucy. "That's precisely what she wants. She's obviously nothing better to do with her silly little life than to behave like a rat. Don't lower yourself to her loutish level."

"Know what, you're right, Luce," Mary agreed. She plugged her ear buds' cord into her iPod and placed them in her ears, turning only a few degrees towards Cass. "Goodbye, Miss Wilson."

"Oh-kay, fine," Cass smiled tartly at them. "You two have a nice day now..." She turned around, then thought of one more offensive comment to deliver and turned back around.

"Incidentally, Lucy," she asked, "Is that your name, or are your pants just easier to get into than a community college?" She promptly turned on her heel and sauntered her way back to her cubicle.

"Thank you, Mama Ass," Mary commented once she'd left.

"Oh, forget that buffoonish sod," said Lucy. "Why don't we talk abou—"

"I mean, why do they keep her around here anyway?" Mary went on. "She's rude as hell, she does a half-ass job, she's g—"

"Oh, come now, Mare!" said Lucy. "I say, don't let her spoil the whole blooming lot for us. It's not as if she can really do anything serious to us. If there's anyone who can make our lives miserable, it's not Cass, it's Victoria."

It was Lucy's turn to go sour in the face. The latter half of Lucy's love-hate relationship with her job was represented by her boss. She wouldn't normally ever use the word "hate" to describe how she felt about any other human being, but if she had to make an exception, their boss Victoria would be at the top of the list. Victoria Sorenson was in her early 30s and had been in the company for about ten years before Mary and Lucy had started, and when they'd gotten onboard, Victoria had for some bizarre reason seemed to adopt a direct disliking to Lucy, a disliking as inexplicable as Cass's demeanor. She wasn't exactly crazy about Mary either, but Lucy in particular often felt personally attacked by her. To her, it was as if the first time they met, Victoria singled her out as an employee to make something of an "example" of, to gun for.

It wasn't as if Lucy's apprehension about her was completely unfounded. Victoria had done a few things to Lucy that made work rather tough on her. Just for instance, she'd docked her half a day's pay for being a few minutes late when she docked others only an hour for the same negligence. She'd embarrassed her in staff meetings. She'd given her what often seemed like the lion's share of the collective labor. It was almost as if she were going out of her way and bending over backwards just to be a thorn in Lucy's side and give her a hard time. And because of their employer-employee relationship, the way she picked on Lucy felt, in a painful, embarrassing way, like Victoria always "won" over her somehow. Victoria would push her around and bully her, and she was the boss, so Lucy automatically "lost." So when Lucy's attitude regarding her boss was, "I just can't win with her," it carried a deeper significance.

Lucy didn't know what Victoria's problem with her was. "Why doesn't she like me?" she often wondered out loud. "Everyone likes me!" It sounded like a toot of her own horn, but it was true; Lucy was a very lovable person.

But as she once confided in Mary, "Oh, perhaps she's just Anglophobic."

"Yeah...perhaps she's just an evil witch who likes to torment people," Mary'd muttered. It wasn't entirely untrue; Victoria didn't exactly treat anyone in the office like royalty. Mary'd gone on to make the comparison, "It's like I'm Anne Hathaway, you're Emily Blunt and she's Meryl Streep."

Lucy nodded. Then she thought about it a moment and asked, "...Wouldn't I be Anne Hathaway? I know we started at about the same time, but I think the woman still jolly well hates my guts far more than yours."

"I'm going by nationality," Mary jokingly explained.

Lucy tried her best not to let it bother her. She was a positive person with a lot of optimism inside her, and what was more, she always tried to see the good in everyone she met. It might have been difficult in Victoria's case—in fact, it might require a pair of X-ray goggles—but she tried anyhow. She was indeed the only British person in the office—in fact, she was the only non-American in the office—which led her to the possibility that her boss could be Anglophobic—ironic for someone named Victoria. But Lucy wouldn't allow her boss to change who she was. She always greeted everyone—boss included—with a cheery smile and a friendly tone of voice.

She took special pleasure and pride in being sweet and kind to individuals like Victoria and Cass, because she refused to give them the satisfaction of making her upset. She instead preferred to kill unlikables with kindness and TLC. She spoke in pleasant, pacing tones to them, not because she enjoyed annoying them—although that was a bit of a bonus—but because, like she told Mary, she wouldn't lower herself to their level.

Getting back to this Thursday morning, Mary continued their conversation about the dear boss lady with, "Yeah, no kiddin'. Y'know, she and Cass oughtta get together and go bowling or something. Uh—not in MY league, though," she quickly added.

Lucy smiled. "Hey, who knows, maybe they already have."

Mary made herself laugh. "Hey, maybe they're lesbian lovers."

Lucy laughed back. "Why, Mare, what a thing to say!"

On went the day, as the sun made its daily arc above them.

***

July 7th, 5:24 p.m.

The day had progressed more or less like normal. When it was almost time to go, Lucy and Mary started getting their stuff together.

"So when's Greg get home?" asked Mary, referring to Lucy's boyfriend.

"Oh, he's got an extra few things to do, so probably about 7:00, 7:30," said Lucy.

"Cool! So we've got time to grab something to eat."

The final minutes ticked down, consisting of very little work and very much purse-packing. When they at last clocked out, they headed for the door, discussing dinner options.

Victoria came out of her office with a folder in her hands. "Oh, Lucy, I almost forgot..." she said.

Lucy didn't see this being very great news. "Oh, bugger," she whispered to Mary.

"Turns out I'm gonna need you to be here actually both days this weekend, Saturday and Sunday. Got way more than usual for the week on Monday, and we're still really swamped. We're not going to be able to get it all done tomorrow."

She started to go back into her office to collect her things.

"W-...what?" Lucy said. She followed her in. "But-but...but Victoria, I already have plans for this weekend!"

"Yes, well, 'Victoriur' is sorry," she said, mocking Lucy's accent, "But you're just gonna have to cancel them. While you're employed here, your work's always priority number one."

So Victoria did hate her for being British, it seemed.

"N-bu-I...Victoria, I-I can't!" exclaimed Lucy. "My boyfriend's birthday's on Saturday! I was going to spend the whole weekend out with him! He'll be so disappointed!"

"I'm sorry, Lucy," Victoria repeated. "When you came on here, you knew from the beginning that weekends would sometimes be mandatory. That's all I can tell you."

Mary followed Lucy into the office. "Oh, come on, Vicki, that sucks!" she insisted. "Let her have the weekend off! I'll come in and cover for her!"

It wasn't any good; Victoria, finishing ordering papers on her desk into folders, promptly shook her head and reiterated, "Again, I'm sorry. The schedules have already been printed up and processed through the system. There's nothing I can do at this point."

Mary and Lucy both sighed in frustration. "But-but, Victoria—" Lucy began to protest again.

Victoria slung her own purse over her shoulder and herded them out. "Ladies, I'm afraid our business is concluded here. Please plan on coming in Saturday and Sunday morning, Lucy. Now, I've gotta be off. You two have a good evening."

Lucy threw out one more "But—" before Victoria let the door swing shut behind her. She made her hands into fists and shook them angrily. "Oooooh, bleeding hell!"

Mary was just as cheesed off on her behalf. She shook her head, hands on her hips. "That bitch! She totally did that to you on purpose."

"I told you! Now I can't even be with my own boyfriend on his birthd-..." As a realization popped into her mind, her eyebrows jumped and her mouth opened. "Oh my God, I am Anne Hathaway!"

She stamped her foot on the ground. "Oooh, she makes me so mad sometimes! What, just because I'm not an American-born citizen, she thinks she can treat me like her slave?! What is this, her own personal Revolutionary War?!" Her rage turned to sadness as she thought about how her boyfriend would react. "Oh, God, how will I explain this to Greg? What's he going to say?"

"Ah, c'mon, Greg's a great guy," said Mary. "He'll understand."

"Bollocks!" Lucy shouted.

"He won't understand?"

Lucy sighed with a whimper. "Oh, that's not what I meant. This whole situation is just bollocks."

Mary tried to think of anything she could say or do to make Lucy feel better. "Hey, hey, maybe I could take Greg out instead, huh? Just as a buddy? I mean, I know it's not the same thing, but he could still spend his birthday with a friend, and we could do all the...the fun stuff that you were...gonna..."

She stopped as she realized this wasn't helping at all.

"I'm sorry, babe," said Mary.

Lucy shook her head. "Why should we let her get away with that?"

"'Let her get away with that'?" Mary repeated. "What can we do about it?"

A few seconds of silence and another frustrated exhalation were Lucy's only answers.

"You know, Mare," she lamented, starting to feel like crying, "Sometimes I wish that woman were dead."

"Well, I don't wanna be unsupportive, but I don't think you need to go that far," said Mary as they approached the door. "I mean, if you're gonna make a wish, just wish she wasn't our boss anymore."

"Oh, I guess you're right," Lucy agreed. "But I still say she needs to be taught a bloody lesson."

***

July 8th, 9:04 a.m.

A dejected, disenchanted and sleepy Lucy again rounded the corner onto her building's street. Greg was indeed a little bummed out about the news when Lucy'd told him, but as Mary'd predicted, he certainly didn't go into a spiraling depression or make her feel worse than she already did about it. Greg said he wouldn't really mind waiting until the next weekend, or whenever they could afford some quality time together. Lucy felt so lucky to be with him. They truly loved each other, and Greg always forgave her if she made a mistake, and she him as well. He really was the light of her life. She smiled thinking about him, and then her heart squeezed when she remembered she couldn't be with him for this exceptional weekend.

It already hadn't been the best day ever, as she was getting to work a couple minutes late. She didn't know exactly, but it felt like she'd only slept for three or four hours. She still only felt half-conscious. She'd put on one of her favorite bright summer dresses to give herself confidence and feel good about today, but it wasn't working incredibly great so far. She was in a lousy mood anticipating her half-day pay dock, but...hey, she told herself, maybe if she showed up late enough every day, Victoria might fire her, and maybe then she could be free from her cruel boss and still also collect unemployment.

What was quite strange about this morning, it somehow felt as if she were reliving it, experiencing it for the second time. At first she was certain yesterday was Thursday, but a small part of her persisted in asking, Was...yesterday Friday? She actually could have sworn...

Well, it certainly wasn't Groundhog Day. She chalked it up to her lack of sleep the previous night.

She almost felt herself fall asleep at the wheel. She smacked herself in the cheek. Wake up, Taylor! she told herself.

When she pulled up in front of her building, she saw and heard something alarming. Literally. Several police cars were gathered around the exterior.

What on Earth...? she thought. She parked, grabbed her purse and ran inside.

When she reached her suite and opened the door, she saw that nobody was sitting at a cubicle working. They were a little scattered, but most were crowded around Victoria's office. Nobody was inside the office except for a few cops. They had put crime scene tape across the door. One of them was writing up a report.

Lucy finally located Mary. "Mare? What in Heaven's name's going on?" she asked.

Mary was crowded in with their co-workers. She leaned over to Lucy and whispered something that gave her a chill.

"You got your wish, Luce."

"What?" she whispered back.

Mary clasped Lucy's hand with one of hers, and put the other over Lucy's mouth.

"She's dead, Lucy. Vicki's dead."

Lucy's eyes opened as wide as they would go. She almost shrieked, but Mary pressed her palm harder over her lips. When Lucy's eyes finally narrowed back to normal, Mary removed her hand. Lucy was breathing harder and her lower lip was trembling. As the realization of what this meant sank in, terror filled her mind.

"Oh my God," she whispered in disbelief. "OH my GOD...when I said I wished it, I didn't really mean it! Oh, blimey, Mare, I...I killed her! I wished her dead, and she's dead! I KILLED her!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Luce," replied Mary. "Of course you didn't. And stop saying that, someone'll hear you! Hush!"

Lucy took a moment to look around the room. It went without saying that there were a lot of stunned and alarmed faces, but no one looked exactly heartbroken or crestfallen by the event.

"How'd she die?" Lucy asked Mary.

"I think they said it was a gunshot wound," Mary said.

Lucy covered her own mouth. "Holy smokes!" she silently cried again. "Where's the body?"

"They've already wrapped it up...or they had to have. No one's seen her body since we got here."

"Good Heaven! Who did it??"

"Well, I think they're still working on that one, but—"

Almost as if responding to their conversation, one of the cops came out of the office. "Can I have your attention, everyone, please," he requested. "Now, we're certain that everybody's willing to cooperate with us, and that everyone understands that this being a crime scene, we cannot allow anyone to depart."