Growing into the Job, Post 561: Vulnerable

<JOIN VIDEOCHAT WITH USER: GIANNA ALBERTINI?>

Before I even knew what I was doing, again drawn as if by instinct, I clicked <YES> and…

A video chat window - some feature embedded in the EHR - sprang to life with a soft chime. Tinny speakers from within the hidden desktop minitower crackled as the image of a woman filled the screen, and a little red light blinked on my monitor - letting me know I was now on camera. My stomach tightened, a reflex I couldn’t quite shake. This was Gianna, wanting to chat.

Sitting here, alone in Melissa’s spacious new office at the child-sized workstation she’d tucked in the corner behind her massive desk, I was already half-on-edge from Cici’s email, and the events of the morning so far…and the night before that. And the day previous.

Gianna Albertini was yet another woman that caused me angst. Assigned by Evolution Pharmaceuticals as the Study Coordinator for the clinical trial of their Product, one that we had been conducting here before its frankly shocking approval by the FDA, I’d never met her in person. Our only communication - she as the study liaison, me as an investigator - had been through video chats, sort of like this one. To say that she had a casual approach to professional relations would be an understatement.

She appeared before me, leaning casually into the frame, smiling broadly, but it was hard to focus on anything other than how… noticeable she was. Her chest, in particular, was unmistakable, practically calling all the attention on the screen to it. The way she’d angled the camera was impossible to misunderstand. She knew exactly what she was doing, and - Urk! - seeing her like this immediately dropped my stomach out from under me. Our last expletive-laden (from her end), demeaning (on mine) videochat I remember ended with me staring at her knockers and her directing the Hungarian APRN Morgan to yank me from my pants.

I shuddered, calling that day back to mind, and immediately felt anxious. 

She was dressed casually in loose-fitting yet still suggestive deep-necked blouse, black with white polka-dots It draped just enough to tease, but not enough to hide curves that seemed to push the fabric to its limits. Her posture only accentuated the effect, as if she knew precisely where my eyes would go.

She spoke first. 

"So, Melissa’s not there, huh?" Her voice came through in a light, playful tone, one with - if I wasn’t misinterpreting it - an unmistakable sensuality. The words felt oddly familiar, like something a friendly colleague might say, but then again: how did she know Melissa wasn’t here? Gianna worked remotely, and she was chatting from her home, right? 

I had frozen, caught off guard. Before I could even gather myself enough to respond, Gianna reached out and adjusted her webcam again, deliberately shifting the angle. Now her cleavage took up nearly all of the screen, as if it could possibly dominate the entire frame even more than it already was.

Again - urk!

“What’s up?” she asked, “Cat’s got your tongue?”

Her confidence in this moment was palpable, and it made me feel - well, uncomfortable, honestly. I shifted in my seat, not sure if I should even say anything, but there she was, a force all her own. I couldn’t pull my eyes off of her tits - and, goddamn it, she knew it.

Finally, I was able to answer. I supplied my niceties and told her that, yes, Melissa was actually away.

“At Evolution for some testing, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah, um, she should be back soon,” I responded and - knowing most people saw Melissa as the authority around here rather than me - began to add, “if you needed to talk to her she should be back soo-”

“No, dude, it’s you I wanted to talk to,” Gianna grinned, shifting her bosom on the desk just enough to keep it animated. Her eyes were still onscreen, but just barely. “So, like, now that you’re not involved with the Product any more, you and I don’t have to have as…professional a relationship.”

‘Professional’? Our ‘relationship’, such that it was, had never been all that ‘professional’. I had been more or less the rubber-stamp for the charts of these women that had come through for the study, and the drug - whatever it was, I still barely understand it - was railroaded through. Gianna understood my part in it, and I felt mostly like I was more an amusement to her than anything else. So, now…what was she asking?

“What are you asking?”

“Well,” she grinned, pressing her elbows together to bloom her cleavage in a voluptuous swell into the camera, making my eyes goggle, “They don’t want me out in public yet but…wanna come over for dinner?”

“Urk.” Out loud, I said it that time.

“I mean, c’mon, why not?” she pressed - and pressed, on her tits, as if threatening to eat up the camera with them, “we can be friends now. I’ll make you some pasta, you can wear a mask and stare at my knockers all night.”

“G-Gianna wai-”

“Dr. J…???” came a voice - bright, musical, and unmistakably accented, from across the room, “Knock knock!!!”

Who?!?

Before even spinning in my chair to see who was entering, I fumbled for the mouse - trying to avoid being caught with the giant bosom of Gianna Albertini filling my screen. “Uh, Gianna, I -  I’ve gotta-” Without ceremony, I hastily clicked the red “X” and before she could say another word her image froze, then disappeared. The sudden silence from the speakers made my ears ring.

I turned and there she was - Katarina - at first framed in the doorway like she’d stepped out of a poster for young working moms. Her blond hair fell straight and shining to the thin shoulders of her black blazer, beneath which a tight, red, scoopneck top was stretched over her top-heavy torso. A narrow pencil skirt hugged her shapely hips and long legs. She carried a nylon satchel slung over one shoulder, and when she closed the office door behind her, I caught the faint scent of something sweet - licorice? Anise? Fennel? - joining the other lingering perfumes of the room.

“Good morning!” she sang as she strode into the room, with a heavy Polish lilt that somehow made every word sound both friendly and faintly mocking. Her heels clicked on the marble, deliberate, the sound echoing in the bright white space. “Melissa, she is away today, yes?”

Popular bit of information around here, I guess. I nodded, still reeling. “Uh… yeah. She has, uh, testing, over at…Evolution.” My words hung stupidly in the air as my eyes, despite myself, went instinctively to her chest. I goggled at how with each step, her large breasts jiggled at the scooped neckline of her fitted top. I fought to make eye contact with her, and not let myself leer too obviously. “Sh-she’s been there since…yesterday.”

“Ahh, yes, I have heard so.” Katarina crossed the room as though she owned it. By the time she reached my little desk, the light from the window framed her like a halo - or maybe a spotlight.

She bent over at the waist, peering at my computer screen, the EHR software, and thankfully no Gianna. “You are busy?”

Her posture made it impossible not to notice her chest, and rather than stare down her neckline, I turned to face my monitor. In it, I was faced with the faint reflection of her cleavage and my eyes were helpless to go anywhere else. My mouth felt dry, knowing that as a nursing mother - was it twins? - her breasts were likely full of milk. “Just, uh… getting settled.

”She smiled knowingly, with a familiarly unreadable expression that unnerved me, as it had since she’d joined the clinic. “Good, good.”

Then she started rummaging in her satchel. The sound of zippers and clinking glass filled the silence. “I bring something for you. You did not eat breakfast, I think?”

Oh no. I blinked. “N-n-no, um, I haven’t,” I agreed, “But h-how did you?”

She didn’t answer, just produced a small thermos of brushed chrome and set it on the desk in front of me. Condensation beaded on its surface, faintly cloudy, and I felt her hand come to rest on my shoulder.

“For energy,” she said, tapping the lid with a perfectly manicured nail, and with a new twist to her smile. “Very good for focus. Natural ingredients only. You will like.”

My throat tightened. I wanted to say no thank you - knowing full well what this must be. I had been - just last week, was it? - unknowingly bottle-fed Katarina’s breastmilk by Melissa. The idea brought of flush of embarrassments to my face. But the refusal snagged on my tongue. Instead, all that came out was another “Urk.”

Katarina smiled, unbothered, as if she’d been expecting exactly that response. She straightened up again behind me and the hand on my shoulder abruptly - urk! - turned me in my desk chair to face her. I gazed up at her towering over me with bosoms that all but eclipsed her face. What I could see of her expression was soft and odd, both maternal and…not.

“Drink when you are ready,” she said. A hand came back to my shoulder - her grip warm and steady, my body cold and trembling - and I shivered under it as she leaned back in towards me. This time, there was no escaping the gravitational pull of her full, pale chest and the view I had of it. She inched in another fraction, as if testing how much of my space she could claim. “It will help with nerves, yes?” she said, watching me. Was she talking about the contents of the thermos, or the view? “It is okay to be little nervous when Melissa not here.”

I tried to smile back, but my hands were trembling, my face in rictus. I couldn’t tell if it was from hunger - I was hungry, suddenly - or fear. Possibly something deeper - something instinctive, warning me that though this may look like kindness, it came with other intentions. 

Seeing my hesitation, Katarina tilted her head, the faintest crease forming between her brows. “You are not sure? If you want my gift?” she said, her tone brightening with a knowing patience, “Then maybe I pour for you, yes?”

Before I could object, she reached past me, her sleeve brushing my shoulder as she leaned in toward the desk, reaching for something behind me. Her blazer shifted as she stretched forward, and suddenly she was close - very, very close, her cleavage inches from my nose. The air between us seemed to vanish, replaced with a dizzying cloud of something like honeyed anise, warmed by her body. The "accidental" view she’d given me was down her top, down into the deep cleavage between her pale, swollen breasts. Faint traces of blue veins snaked under the surface of soft, thin skin.

“Sorry, just…” she apologized, inching just a bit closer to reach what she was going for behind me - and "inadvertently" providing me with a face full of her chest,  “..getting this for you.”

urk! I’d quickly turned my head, but my cheek was plastered with her soft boob, the skin of which was velvety and surprisingly cool. “Kk-kadrrinuhh..!” I exclaimed, forced to feel her softness, and how firmly full she felt. 

Though undisturbed by our sudden intimacy, Katarina did apologize with a giggle and then back away the few inches she needed to peel her tit away from my face. Her sleeve brushed my shoulder again as she backed up further. She’d reached for the old World’s Best Boss mug that someone had found and put here for me, and showed it to me. “Want it from this?” she asked, a small smile curving her lips as she was still “innocently” showing me the gravid, bosomy display of her neckline, impossible to ignore the implications, “Or, if you prefer…I could feed to you. I have bottle in my bag?”

The words hung there - Joke? Threat? Promise? - and my throat went dry. I tried to laugh it off, to summon some shred of authority, but what came out instead was a shaky whisper. “N-no, thank you.” It sounded pitiful even to my own ears.

“Oh, but Doctor,” she pouted, “You have let Melissa feed you, feed you my milk, from bottle…”  Her voice was light, kind even, but her proximity made it feel invasive. Her eyes searched my face, assessing me. “...and Jewel Montgomery use it to make cookies for you. Here, hold this…” 

She handed me the empty mug. She reached with her right hand to the thermos she’d placed on the desk, and unscrewed the lid with a soft <hiss>.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My heart thudded unevenly, and I couldn’t tell what unsettled me more: the strange intimacy of this exchange or the way, despite everything, part of me felt drawn toward it. Cici’s message, Gianna’s videocall, now Katarina’s hovering presence - all these women circling closer, in their own ways.

Katarina, meanwhile, now had a hand lightly behind my neck, holding my head to keep it exactly where it was, my eyes right where she wanted them. Gently, she caressed my nape as I stared at her breasts. “I know, Doktor, you have been stressed out recently. I can make it so you are sooooo relaxed. Just like my little babies. They love when mamusia feeds them. They get so…” She drew a deep breath, to burgeon the upper swells of her breasts up out of her neckline. “....yes, relaxed.”

“N-no, K-K-Katarina..!” I whined, refusing again, “I’m…I’m…!”

What was I to say? That ‘I’m an adult, a grown man!’?? Could I say that with any confidence, any validity? I wasn’t able to find the words, so instead I stared up at her, my mouth and jaw working like a trout’s, starved of oxygen. 

Katarina smiled - a slow, almost pitying smile - and set the thermos down without pouring. She watched me for a beat longer, her expression unreadable - something between amusement and curiosity - then she spoke again. 

“I know what you are,” she said, as she took the lapels of her blazer in hand and began to shrug the garment from her shoulders. Immediately the full size and shape of her frankly massive bosom was revealed, pushing forward in her tight red top. “And I know how you want your breakfast, your mleko matki, mama’s milk…”

“K-K-Kuh--!” I tried, but again my voice failed me as the words died. What is she doing?!?

“Right from source, I can make you want it, chłopcze,” she continued, dutifully, as though humoring a child. The fabric of her jacket slipped down her arms with a whispered rustle, the weight of it shifting in her hands until it was an afterthought, tossed to the desk beside us. “I could make you crave it until you could not think of any other thing,” she posed, as one hand went to the shoulder of her skintight, red, scoop-necked t-shirt, “Wouldn’t that be so nice? So simple?

The silence that followed seemed to vibrate. I could hear the faint hum of the computer, the ticking of some wall clock, the sound of my own pulse in my ears.

And I bolted.

Something in me had snapped. I pushed up from my chair so fast it skidded backward, slamming into the desk. “I-I should go-!” I stammered, already slipping past her and ducking under the arm she put out to stop me before she could answer. She reached out to grab me but I was so small-

Sometimes being 4’1” can be a help.

“Dr. J..!” Katarina called, plaintive now, echoing after me as I fled, “You are not well-! So hungry-!”

But I was already nearly to the door, my pulse hammering. The handle was cold beneath my hand, the sound of my own breathing louder than anything else. I pulled it open and stumbled out into the corridor.

The light there was harsh, sterile. I shut the door behind me. I leaned against the wall for a second, dizzy, thankfully alone. My hands, indeed my entire body was shaking. The silence of the hallway felt safer - but only barely. I could still feel Katarina’s eyes on my back, even though the door had closed.

I need to get out of here, I thought to myself, and then I also thought: Melissa.

Where was she? Why hadn’t she come back yet??

Without her here, I was exposed. Alone. Unsafe. I could feel it in my bones. The realization hit me harder than I expected: I was afraid to be without her.

What is happening to me?!?

I wanted to start walking, running, sprinting - anywhere, just away, and quickly.  Maybe get outside for a few minutes? Ugh, fresh air. For some reason even the thought of that turned my stomach. I should run, I knew, and try to ignore the feeling that the walls themselves were watching. My legs, though, weren’t cooperating; was I having a panic attack? I could barely walk. I was able to stumble, though, part way down the hall to a drinking fountain. Something old, something familiar. I knew that I was feeling vulnerable right now, and that - in the midst of this kind of vulnerability - it was easy for my mind to start spiraling and catastrophizing everything. So I got myself a drink of water - blech, it tasted stale, but maybe it would steady my nerves. I wanted to get out of here but knew that I needed to try and push on, at least until Melissa got back. I closed my eyes, leaned into the fountain and the stream of water  - at my stature, it wasn’t a long way - and took good, long drink.

 But I was no longer alone. 

“You’re lookin’ fine today, doc!” “Gettin’ a drink, huh?” 

Sing-song, teasing. Was this about me??

“Oooo look at that butt in those cute little scrubs. Your mom know you’d be so yummy when she dressed you up like that?”

I looked up. The corridor was too bright. My eyes stung as they adjusted, and before they could, and before I could even take a full breath, I heard them laughing. Laughter - sharp, overlapping, female. A ripple that carried words on it.

“What’s a fine man like you doing out here all alone, huh?” “Yeah, you get lost?” “Oh, yeah, I think he’s lost. Do you need help, honey?”

My stomach clenched. The sound had hit some reflex I didn’t even know I had - it wasn’t just embarrassment: it was exposure. Like the words themselves were peeling something off me, whatever skin I had.

“Where you headed, baby?” “Need a hand?” “Yeah, I’ll carry you if you get tired.”

I turned to the voices as I stood, already knowing what I’d see: a cluster of them. Statuesque, composed, gorgeous and built like AI porn stars, all in identical gray-blue scrubs that fit like fembot uniforms. Three at least, others coming down the hall - movement blurred, merging, separating, shifting shapes made of laughter and perfume. Blonde, brunette, red hair short and long, but all so, so tall.

These were Coronado girls, new employees sent from the West Coast to fill ranks after Far Horizons’ expansion. They’d been here less than a week and acted like they owned the place.

“Uhhh…” I tried to manage iin greeting. Fail.

The corridor seemed to shrink with every step they took towards me - and they were closing in. My pulse thrudded into my throat, a trapped rhythm. Their laughter wasn’t just sound; it felt like breath on the back of my neck.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Not happy to see us?” “C’mon, give me that smile.” “Yeah I told you yesterday, you should smile more.”

As much as I could, I tried to compose myself. I was the doctor here, these were assistants, nurses, secretaries. But I felt like a weakling, I felt so out of sorts, and what happened on my face was-

“Yeah, that’s it! Smile for me!”

This had happened to me yesterday, at the Vendare Center, in the department store: catcalls, an onslaught of gender role-reversal: not construction guys harassing pretty girls walking past but just the opposite. Women reveling in their new confidence, taking their place in the new society. From down here this group looked less like coworkers and more like a hunting party. Every movement came with a rustle of hair, a flash of teeth - she-wolves circling a smaller animal that had wandered too far from cover.

I opened my mouth to say something again - anything - but my voice came out too thin, too high, cracking like a middle-schooler’s. I hated the way it trembled, how it made me sound. The heat rising up my neck wasn’t anger; it was shame, bright and pulsing.

“Uh, you nervous, doc?” “Yeah we making you nervous?” “Omigod Sara you make him look tiny standing there.”

Their laughter rolled through the corridor, loud, overlapping, like gulls over a washed-up carcass. Every time I thought I had an idea how many there were, another seemed to step forward - faces blending, eyes catching the light. Their movements were fluid and unhurried; they were enjoying this. They were coming from the break-room doorway up ahead, they were coming from behind me. They multiplied the more I looked.

“You got socials, doc? Instagram? GirlToob? I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you HOME.”

“You look so good, I could just bite it. I could growl at you. RRrrrr! Ruff! Ruff!”

Their laughter swelled again, surrounding me. It was as if they were branding me with it - something invisible but permanent, burned into skin and bone. The more I tried not to react, the more I felt it spreading, a flush of red, a mark that made me theirs.

One leaned closer, a big blonde, her shadow falling across me. I felt my own body tense, muscles drawing in, the body’s dumb reaction to proximity and power. Another mindless reaction grew, too, and I felt it swelling against my leg. I despised it. I despised myself for feeling it.

“What’s wrong, doc? Cat got your tongue?” “I think he’s getting a boner. Are you getting a boner for us, little guy?”

Despite the drink I’d just had from the fountain, my throat was dry again. I tried to shake my head, deny, to mumble some apology, but the words didn’t come out right. I looked for an escape, through them, a small gap. “Uh - excuse me,” I said, trying to push-

“Excuse you? Oh, you’re excused, sweetheart.” The small gap, between two sets of shapely hips, closed. 

“Hey, don’t run off yet - we’re just being friendly!” A hand to my chest. Their shadows were all over me. They were all smiling - too widely.

The tallest one, the big blonde - - was this Sara? - stepped closer. I had to crane my neck to look up at her. “Yeah, doc. We’re just saying hi.”

“Uhh…”

This wasn’t just ‘hi’. 

The blonde again. “Don’t you want to be friends?”

The air between us crackled with something that wasn’t friendliness.

Another voice from behind her, this one lower, almost a growl: “RRRrrrr…Ruff Ruff! RAWR!”

Then giggles.

“You look like the type that gets more ass than a toilet seat.”

The laughter again - louder, sharper this time. I caught the antiseptic in the air, mixed with floral perfumes, and underneath that, something warm, human, female from between their thighs. They shifted closer. I took a step back. The wall met me before I realized how little space I had. They closed in, surrounding me.

“C’mon, doc,” the blonde said, bending a little, peering down into my face. “You got a phone number? I want to call you.”

“Sara you make him look so small you should call him your stepson.” 

“Yeah doc you look so good I’d blow your dad just to get a taste of the batter.”

Layered, overlapping laughter again, building until it didn’t sound quite human anymore. It was like being surrounded by the sea - each wave hitting before I could recover from the last. I could feel the blood in my face, my hands trembled. My pulse was hammering again, as loud as their voices.

Back against the wall, I tried to sidestep, but one of them mirrored the movement. Another tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Aw, look. You really are shy.”

“P-please,” I said. “I just need to-”

A hand to my chest knocked the words out of me.

For a moment, no one spoke. I could hear the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the pounding in my ears. I saw a flash of white in the corner of my vision - the crisp edge of a lab coat parted by a darker blue beneath it. The sharp click-click of heels announced the stride of someone heavy at my right side.

Then, softly, someone murmured, right beside my right ear: “You shouldn’t wander off without your keeper, bokke. It’s dangerous out here.”

Urk.

Jewel.

“Okay, ladies, enough, eh? Let’s give Dr. J some space,” she said, her voice cutting through the laughter like the crack of a whip cloaked in velvet. 

And it stopped them cold. The overlapping giggles wilted into murmurs, then into silence. A few of the women exchanged smirking glances before stepping back, their eyes flicking between her and me. The ones that had crowded me against the wall allowed me some space. 

Jewel stood, to her full outlandish height, dwarfing even the tallest of the other women. Her white lab coat hung open, revealing a navy wrap blouse that gleamed with subtle, shimmery sparkles under the fluorescents, its folds drawing across her magnificent chest and cinching at her waist. A dark pencil skirt traced the long lines of her hips and thighs. Darkly sheer stockings caught the light with each deliberate step as she put herself in front of me, positioning herself between me and them. She had taken the space, the personal space of mine that they had relinquished, and made it hers.

“Go on,” she said, smiling with that enormous, brilliantly giant grin of hers. She was talking to the women, her subordinates, but those huge eyes were locked on me. Looking down on me. “The doctor’s had a long morning. Let’s let him breathe.”

Reluctantly, they dispersed, a tide retreating. Giggles tittered  away, feet padded on the floors. The echo of their laughter followed them down the hall until it was swallowed by the sterile hum of the lights. The air still hummed with their amusement but soon, as if dismissed by their queen, it was only Jewel and me in the corridor.

For a heartbeat, I actually felt relief. She was a familiar face, a solid presence, someone from the staff I at least knew. But that feeling didn’t last. When I looked up again, I remembered just how gigantic she was. The corridor’s fluorescent lights seemed to bend around her, tracing the sharp angles of her shoulders, the powerful length of her legs.

“You look like you just stepped out of a storm, eh?” she said, the accent lilting through her words. She crouched slightly, bringing her gaze down to mine. Her eyes were huge, steady, assessing. Bright. The soft fabric of her sparkly dress tightened across her shoulders; the neckline dipped, giving me a view down her top: urk. I hadn’t seen her cleavage before, and even just this hint of it was remarkable. Her coat had flared but now fell back into place, and the echo of her heels seemed to seal the space around us.“They giving you trouble?” she asked, sharing with me a private smile.

“I…I guess,” I managed, marveling at the dimples carving her cheeks. “I didn’t know - there were s-so many…” God this woman was beautiful.

Her laugh was soft, almost sympathetic, but something about it made me feel smaller. “They’re new, eh? Full of energy. Like cubs who don’t know how big they’re getting.”

Her hand came to rest lightly on my arm, just enough to steady me, but the size and weight of it reminded me how little force she’d need to move me anywhere she wanted. “You shouldn’t wander the halls alone, bokke,” she said. “May not ‘til you know the new rhythm here.”

“I was just trying to get a drink,” I said. My voice sounded thin, even to me. “I thought it might…I dunno.” My thought petered away. “Help?”

“Mm.” She tilted her head, studying me again. “And did it? Help?”

I wanted to say something, to sound composed, but the words caught in my throat. The fluorescent lights buzzed. Somewhere down the hall a door clicked shut. Jewel’s new presence seemed to swallow every other sound.

“Oh, bokke, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said softly, her vowels drawn out in that smooth South African lilt. Her hand - huge, warm, sure - lightly took my elbow. “C’mon, you can breathe now, eh? Let’s get you out of the hallway. Too many ears here.”

She stood, straightening to her full height.

“Come,” she said finally, “Let’s get you somewhere quieter.”

She gestured down a side corridor, and though I hesitated, my legs carried me alongside her. There was a calmness to her voice, a warmth even - but underneath it, something else, something watchful. As we walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the Coronado women hadn’t retreated so much as yielded to their alpha, and that I’d just been passed from one kind of control to another.

She was steering me gently down the hall, my elbow still in her hands, her steps slow enough so that my much shorter stride only had to double to keep up. I felt her presence aside me, the rhythm of her heels echoing through the tile. Then a door opened, a light click, and I found myself ushered into one of the unused treatment rooms.

Why was I letting her do this??

The fluorescent lights hummed on overhead. I turned as the door closed with a quiet <snick>. She had followed me in and when the latch clicked shut behind her, the air changed. I felt it in my gut first - like pressure before a storm. The room wasn’t smaller, not really, but her presence warped it to feel that way. 

She watched me for a moment, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights filling the pause. Then, with a sigh that sounded almost theatrical, she took the edge of her white lab coat and began to ease it from her shoulders.

The coat slid down her arms with a soft hiss of fabric, and she folded it once before draping it across the nearby counter. The motion was casual, but it drew my eyes in spite of myself - there was such strength in the way her shoulders rolled, deliberate as a dancer’s, every shift of muscle contained and certain. Without the coat, she seemed to expand to fill the small room: the sparkles of her blouse catching light along the curves of her massive breasts. Her waist was narrow, tiny even, and the flare of her strong back was apparent. The smooth caramel length of her now bare arms was revealed, gorgeous and feminine, but obviously powerful with muscle.

She smiled, faintly amused at my silence. “There now, bokke,” she murmured, as if finishing a performance. “Better, hm?”

I couldn’t answer. The air felt heavier, and she - without the uniform barrier of that coat - looked like a different person. A stronger person. A woman.

Every breath I took now felt rationed. The space seemed to shrink around her, skirt stretched across the powerful thighs of her long legs. Her shimmery blouse clung to her outlandish torso, the neckline dipping low enough that when she leaned closer - just a little - to brush imaginary dust from my shoulder, the fall of fabric again framed an expanse of bosomy skin that made my throat tighten. The scent of her perfume - a mix of orchids and ozone - rose in the heat between us, dizzying.

“You’re jumpy, eh?” she said, head tilted, a smile curving her lips. “All these new women around, and you think they’ll eat you alive?”

“I-I just needed air,” I managed.

She laughed, low and rich. “Oh, doctor, you do crack me up.” Then, lowering her voice: “But really - you shouldn’t wander alone. Not without someone looking after you.”

She took a step closer. Once again, a wall met my back before I’d realized I’d even moved. The scent of her perfume - something heavy and floral - coiled around me. She was big - really big. Her hips - basically at my eye level, stretching her pencil skirt tautly - seemed twice my width.

“You look tired. Pale,” she said, with what sounded like earnest solicitude, “Melissa’s absence really rattles your calibration, eh? That’s no good for your data.”

For a second I wasn’t sure if she was joking. “Calibration”? “Data”? The words sounded clinical, but the tone didn’t. It sounded… proprietary. I blinked up at her, obviously confused. “Data?”

Her eyes gleamed, glittered. She leaned down, bent at the hip, to bring our faces closer. I resisted glancing down her top again, which seemed to make the dimples in her cheeks carve deeper. “Your rhythms, your emotional metrics… all that lovely neurological chemistry you’ve got. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. Keep you steady.”

Her hand drifted to my chest, huge palm flat just above my heart, the whole thing spanning my entire ribcage, nearly to my shoulders. “It’s racing,” she murmured, “You feel that?” She was measuring my pulse.

“I’m…I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” She tilted her head, as if coming to a decision on something. “You need someone dependable, bokke. Maybe not someone who keeps…disappearing.” Her free hand came to cup my face, gently, sending shivers down my spine. The muscles of the arm that kept me pinned flexed just enough to remind me how little effort it would take for her to keep me right where I was.

I flinched. “That’s not fair-” I spoke up, resisting the urge to melt my face into her palm, “Sh-she’s in for some tests…”

“Shh.” The sound was gentle, but it silenced me all the same. “You’re too valuable to be left unattended, doctor. And some people…they get possessive with their projects.”

Her eyes held mine. The air between us felt charged, thick. I could hear the faint creak of the building, the buzz of the lights, her slow, measured breathing.

“Relax,” she said, voice a purr now as something in her eyes flashed. “I don’t bite.”

I didn’t believe her. 

I tried to step sideways, but her hand still resting against my chest pushed me back to the wall, the one on my face gripped me tighter. Every instinct screamed at me to move, to break the contact. I could duck down, maybe bat her arms away, maybe-

Then-

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

AGH! Alarm!!

A shrill, rising wail filled the air, red strobes flashing to life across the sterile walls of the procedure room. Jewel blinked, sighed in irritation, but didn’t move to stand just yet.

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

It was not a friendly sound but a harsh, synthetic scream designed for emergencies.

“Ah, for goodness’ sake,” she muttered, raising her voice just a bit, to be heard over the new din, “Always when it’s getting interesting. Let me check on this.”

She let go of my face - still, pointedly, holding me against the wall - and tapped at the earpiece she wore in her left ear. She was calling someone.

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

It was an assault on the eardrums, a metallic shriek that left almost no room for thought. The lights of the room strobed red-white-red, carving her silhouette into fragments—Jewel, not-Jewel, Jewel again, too close. My body couldn’t decide whether to freeze or run.

“Yeah, eh? What’s this about?” She blinked, listening to someone speaking to her, obviously about the cause of the alarm. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. “A what?”

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

The sound was a grating, synthesized pulse that didn't stop; it just kept coming in three sharp bursts, over and over. 

“Okay, thanks,” she finished, having gathered herself quickly, tapping her earpiece again, ending the call.

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

The alarm created a dizzying and disorienting atmosphere as the sound bounced and reverberated, and as my hands went to my ears her eyes met mine.

“We need to leave, bokke,” she said, her voice staying calm, almost amused, as if she was about to tell me about a change in the weather.

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

“Let’s go…” she finally said, finally starting to stand, taking her hand from my chest to instead take my hand from my ear, to hold it in hers. 

It wasn’t the weather.

“There’s a bomb in the building.”

=========================