All right, here’s a teaser for you all. I’ll post it here instead of in the story section, because the story has yet to be edited, and is therefore subject to revision. But I reckon it won’t hurt to give you a taste, even if slight changes are possible when the final gets posted.
Btw, this is NOT because (as was recently pointed out to me) I am outnumbered by brats 20-to-1. And it’s NOT because some of you are demanding enough to deserve a good trip to the woodshed either. It isn’t even because I’ve been tormented with gastronomic goodies that would seriously weaken a saint. No, this posting is because I’m such a nice person. 😆
More soon, restless horde!
Lizzie McFizzy and the Terrible, Horrible, Absolutely No Good Day
‘Twas the day before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Which was not a good thing, as that meant Fizzy had hit the snooze button on her alarm clock three times already, and she was going to be late for work.
It was all the internet’s fault, she decided, as she tried to wash away the grogginess with a quick shower. She had just gone online for a few minutes to check her email, and the next time she looked at the clock it was past midnight. Which meant no exercising at the gym before work, no time to make a healthy sandwich for lunch, and driving like a maniac during rush-hour traffic.
It didn’t help that in her sleep-deprived stupor she nearly brushed her teeth with moisturizer instead of toothpaste. She swore to herself as she rinsed off her toothbrush, and then remembered to check herself in the mirror. The last time she’d gotten dressed in a drowsy state she’d put her sweater on inside out, and hadn’t discovered it until she gotten to work. And then only became aware of it when a coworker had asked her if wearing tags on the outside was the new fashion.
She was further slowed down by the discovery that someone new was moving in next door, and he’d left his belongings piled in the walkway. In her hurry to catch the elevator, Fizzy banged into one of the boxes, bruising her knee and nearly falling on her face. Swearing loudly, she kicked the offending cardboard and glared at it angrily. Her new neighbor was nowhere to be seen. Muttering loudly about inconsiderate idiots, Fizzy shoved it out of the way and headed to the parking lot.
Not a good start to the day.
Unfortunately for Fizzy, things weren’t destined to get much better at work. “I want you to clear out the shelves in the warehouse,” her boss instructed her. “We have a lot of new material coming in next week.”
She bit back a groan at this news. Clearly this didn’t fall under her regular duties as a “Curriculum Specialist,” but she was still a junior member of the staff and didn’t have much choice….not if she wanted to be promoted, and she did. They had asked her if she could lift 50 pounds when she was hired for the job, but she had thought it was just a formality. Good thing she had not lied about that, she thought, grunting as she shifted the heavy box of technical manuals from the shelf to the hand-truck.
The “warehouse” was basically a big room in the basement, hot and dusty and poorly lit. Fizzy dropped a box on her foot by accident and swore loudly. It was fortunate no one could hear her.
“Tsk, tsk. A bit unprofessional, isn’t it? I thought you were going to try to eliminate the cursing at work?”
Fizzy whirled around, expecting to see her coworker Julie. What she saw instead caused her to swear yet again.
“Holy shit, who are you?” she asked the woman incredulously. “And aren’t you hot in that get-up??”
The dark-haired, dark-eyed woman looked down at her snug-fitting Santa’s costume and shrugged. “It’s a special weave,” she explained. “Cool in warm climates, warm in cold places. A necessity in my profession.”
“Your profession,” Fizzy echoed. “Which would be….?” she trailed off, frowning.
Very full red lips curved in a smile. “Just what you would expect for someone dressed like this, at this time of year,” the woman replied. “But one of my main tasks is addressing the behavior of naughty girls.” One eyebrow cocked meaningfully in Fizzy’s direction.
Despite the ridiculousness of that reply, Fizzy felt herself flushing. How was it possible that some stranger could guess exactly what buttons to push to make her squirm?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fizzy said shortly.
“Oh, I think you do,” the stranger said calmly.
“Look, Ms….whatever your name is, I don’t know how you got into a secured area, and I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m very busy and I don’t have time to stand here arguing with you.”
“You can call me Kris, and no, we’re not going to argue,” the woman replied. She stepped forward and took ahold of Fizzy’s wrist, pulling her without effort to a nearby table, and bending Fizzy over it.
“What are you doing?! Let go of me!” Fizzy’s loud protests were ignored as she felt the back of her skirt being flipped up.
“I should think it’s clear what I’m doing,” Kris said, patting Fizzy’s bottom through her tights. “I’m about to remind you of the importance of going to bed at a decent hour.”
“Are you nuts?! What the hell business is it of yours when I go to bed?!” Fizzy asked, outraged. Then a thought struck her, about the same time that Kris’s palm did. “How did you know—” *WHACK!* “Ow! Cut that out!”