S.H.E (Seduce, Hypnotise, Enslave) Ch. 06.5 - The Registrar

There wasn't much to say about what went on at the Registry for Births, Marriages and Deaths. It was more or less what you'd expect. Someone was born, there had to be paperwork. Someone got married, there had to be paperwork. Someone died, you felt for the family, but there still had to be paperwork.

You took your entertainment where you could in a job like this. There wasn't much to go around. Which, I suppose, was why this forthcoming interview was occupying my mind so much. It was a perplexing case, and one that would normally have been flatly rejected further down the chain, yet somehow it had found its way onto my desk as an interview request.

Legal name changes require a great many things, not least your current identity documents, and a suitable name that evokes neither Adolf Hitler nor Princess Diana--and believe me, I have dealt with both--but first and foremost you need a convincing reason to do it, not just a whim. Which was why this Stephanie Meacham, 23 year old female, was such a baffling case. She wanted a legal name change--but only for her surname. No, it wasn't because she was getting married. No, it wasn't because she had family of a different surname. Just a different last name, which may as well have been completely at random. Well, it was out of the question! There were just no grounds for such a change, and I would have to use this time to set her mind right. It's the unfortunate nature of bureaucracy: you cannot simply do whatever you want, "just because."

A buzz on the intercom let me know that Miss Meacham had arrived. I strode over to the door, and opened it, ushering her in. As I strode back to my desk, I noticed that she hadn't moved further into my office, but was taking a minute to survey the room. Her eyes lingered on a space behind my head where I knew the security camera was, and she winked at it, giving it a fluttering wave of her fingers.

I tried very hard not to sigh. 23 years old, not even mature enough to have outgrown such childish impulses as "Look, mum, I'm on TV," and now she'd got it into her head to change her name? Dear me.

"Come in, come in," I waved impatiently, shuffling my papers together, "and sit down."

When I asked her to sit down, I certainly wasn't expecting her to sit on my lap, nor was I expecting her to kiss me with soft, sensual lips.

**********

I blinked, and shook my head to clear the cobwebs. Had I fallen asleep during the day? Better not make a habit of it. Luckily there was very little that required my attention, only this application in front of me.

Ah yes, Stephanie Meacham. Well, Meacham for the moment, at least, since she was applying to change her surname to Thorpe. She had been a charming woman in person, and presented her case for the name change very convincingly. I... couldn't quite remember the details, but the important thing was that she'd been convincing, even authoritative. And when I really thought about it, a convincing reason was all you needed to change your name. It made perfect sense! All the application needed now was my approval.

I signed it without hesitation, and just like that, Stephanie Meacham became Stephanie Thorpe. Passports, ID cards and other reissues of important documents would follow.

It was late when I finished my work for the day. I had tried to be immaculately detailed in my processing of Stephanie M-er, Stephanie Thorpe's case. Nothing out of place that would catch someone's attention. That was my mantra, wasn't it? Well it was a good one. Paperwork always benefitted from extra attention to detail.

I had finally finished everything for the day when George, my head of security, poked his head around my door.

"Hey, boss. Building's closing up for the day," he called.

"Is it that time already?" I exclaimed. "I'd better get going."

"No trouble," George replied, holding my door wide for me as I packed my things.

I shuffled past him into the reception.

"Seeya, boss," George said.

"Goodnight!" I replied. "Oh, George-"

"Yeah?"

"You might want to tidy yourself up before you go. There's a little something on your face." It looked like a lipstick print to my eyes, but I certainly wasn't going to pry.

He raised a hand to his cheek as I turned and headed for the exit.

"Huh. So I do..." he mumbled.

**********

The next time we were officially audited, I would learn that somehow, all evidence of Stephanie Thorpe's appointment with me had been painstakingly removed from our security tapes.

It would be several years before I realised how, and why.