MeatLocker

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

“Five million dollars. There goes our fat dividend checks for the next two years.” It was the director with the thinning hair.

“Maybe not,” Dr. McAllister said. “I’ve got another idea.”

“Besides going to the bank, you mean?”

“I’ve just authorized Mr. Sterling’s move to one of the suites on the third floor. I mean to sic Stella on him.”

There was a sharp rap on the boardroom door and Dr. Janson sat back in his chair. “That’ll be the coffee,” he said, clearly relieved for the change in direction. “Come!” he called out. A woman came through pushing a trolley.

God, where does Dr. McAllister find them, thought the man with the thinning hair as he admired the coffee-girl’s healthy stride. She wore a tightly fitting black shift and a white apron and smiled openly at the gentlemen as they descended on her cart: four-thousand dollar suits, gold Rolex’s, diamond pinky rings. Snag one of the directors and be set for life. The girl in the black skirt practically begged for them to touch her about the ass.

Dr. McAllister stood to stretch her back and rifled a file back into her open briefcase. “Sorry, Dr. McAllister. I don’t mean to be obstructive. It’s just that it’s a lot of money. No offense.”

Dr. McAllister glanced up. “None taken.”

His eyebrows lifted as he apologized, like two hairy caterpillars. Why was it that as soon as a man’s hair started to thin on top, it seemed to sprout lower down; his eyebrows and in his ears? “Edward, you know me well enough to know I’m not blaming you for asking questions.” She went on the schmooze.

“Just my job,” he concurred, slipping a hand inside her jacket, first squeezing her hip, then lifting his hand, his fingers coming to rest on her waist. “So who is this Stirling character you’re having bumped up to the third floor?”

“He’s the Sterling in Sterling and Shuster, ...a founding partner. Retired of course.”

Edward let out a low whistle. “He spends more than five million maintaining his yacht each year. You think Stella can squeeze him for that much?”

“I think Stella could squeeze the Pope for five million; if she could just get his home phone number.”

Edward chuckled, his hand moving further up under her jacket, fingers trickling over her ribs until he had tucked into her underarm. Her blouse was sleeveless and he perused the soft moist skin with his fingertips.

“Even if Stella can come up with half the money, I’ll vote that we move forward with your plan.”

A hand cupped her bottom, drifted toward the center and then down lower. “I’d vote ‘yes’ to a feasibility study.”

Dr. McAllister turned her chin over her left shoulder. “Thank you, Jack. That might get the ball rolling.” Jack smiled happily and gave her bottom an extra squeeze before moving off to secure another muffin from the lady in the black shift and white apron. She was leaning back against the wall; surrounded by business suits.

“Feasibility study?” She turned her attention back to Edward.

He scoffed. “A team of overpaid consultants,” he said, “come in and first thing they ask is how you want the final report to read. They spend six weeks conducting interviews and doing research and then skew their findings to exactly match your expectations. You’re so excited to find they agree with you, you sign off on their two-hundred thousand dollar fee without batting an eye. And the information is flawed. Worse than bogus.”

He took a breath and mentally stepped back for a moment; doing the math. When his eyes refocused, he slipped his hand across to cup her breast, his thumb searching out the heavy n****e.

Dr. McAllister was aware of the men around the coffee urn turning to watch intently, smiling, commenting in tight whispers. Each knew he would have his own opportunity to speak with her, privately. But there was such a thing as decorum. A pecking order. And the woman in the black shift and apron, who had been backed against the wall, was sweet. And quite willing.

“This is our swimming hole,” Emily said.

The swimming pool was inside a glass lean-to built onto the south side of the building. It was surrounded by a flagstone patio and decorated with miniature palms, bromides and ferns. The air was heavy with warm moisture: tropical.

“This is fabulous...” Jenny started, then caught the sight of the woman swimming laps.

“As you can see,” Emily smiled, “swimsuits are optional. Even frowned upon.”

Jenny had caught sight of the woman’s bare buttocks breaking the surface as she worked on her butterfly stroke.

“Jenny! Baby!” a voice called out.

Mr. Kline, her test patient sat in his wheelchair, enjoying the sun.

“Hell,” Jenny hissed under her breath and waved reluctantly. He waved back.

“You know Mr. Kline; our resident sleaze-ball?”

“Yes. I’ve had the dubious pleasure. When he asked me to check his catheter, he came in my hand.”

Emily chuckled lightly. “Lucky you. I was straightening up his bed-sheets and when I rolled him over, his erection almost hit me in the head. He pulled me down by the neck but before he could get it into my mouth, he popped his load. It shot across my face and down the front of my uniform.”

“What did you do?”

“Not much. If you want to work here, you laugh and ignore it.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Bear up. It’s not so bad. Most of the men respect the uniform. The others? ...well you just deal with them any way you can.” Jenny had more questions, but thought better of it. She wondered, instead, what she would do if Mr. Kline demanded her to perform oral. Would she be prepared to bend over his bed? For the money? For the sake of the job?

Emily had more stories; depraved stories. Jenny was sure of it. And she wanted to hear them. But she was afraid of what she might learn. Maybe it was better not to ask.

Jenny’s uniform arrived, as promised, Thursday morning; in a garment bag carried by the irrepressible, Matty.

Matty unzipped the garment bag with a flourish and hung the uniform on the back of the office door. Jenny liked it immediately; the style and cut seemed to scream: “Hey guys, check this out!” And she couldn’t wait to try it on.

But Matty was in no hurry. “We’re all friends here,” she said and reached for the buttons on the front of Jenny’s blouse. Jenny stood limply and let herself be undressed under Dr. McAllister’s steady gaze. Jenny could only closed her eyes and reeled in the sensation of Matty’s fingers, slipping the buttons and easing the zipper down. Jenny thrilled to the feeling of having her blouse pulled from her shoulders. And then her skirt had tumbled about her ankles.

“You see,” Matty pointed out to Dr. McAllister. “She’s perfectly proportioned. I could tell she would be; by her measurements. Even her breasts are the same size. A perfect ‘C’. Matty stepped forward to study Jenny’s skin; looking for imperfections, running her hand over the firm flanks, and the softer curves. She found nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. Jenny’s body was well muscled, but everywhere, she was covered by a thin layer of girlish-soft, giving her the look of ripe fullness.

Matty was mesmerized. She took a turn around the girl, her hands never leaving Jenny’s skin. Matty felt the shimmer, the s****l tension, the willingness. Jenny was in ecstasy under the woman’s hands. That feeling of control gave Matty a wanton lust that she was only keeping under control because Dr. McAllister was watching.

Matty slipped behind Jenny and ran her fingers down the girl’s spine from neck to the elastic of her pantyhose. She eased the elastic aside. Then lower, between Jenny’s buttocks, she scraped a fingernail across her anus. Jenny’s knees buckled.

“Matty! Leave the poor girl alone, you old lezbo,” Dr. McAllister scolded.

Matty withdrew her hand. Made a humph sound.

Jenny returned to her room the next morning after working the double shift. The sun was just breaking the horizon and she was ready for eight hours between the sheets. Little Stacy was already on station, sitting against the railing and watching for wayward birds. They returned smiles as Jenny stepped over the girl’s extended legs.

Jenny had to wonder... it was only natural, after speaking with Emily and learning about the hospital’s darker side. All these men? And a pretty young girl?

Curiosity got to her. She dropped her bag in her room and tossed her new uniform across the bed. The uncomfortable under-wire bra that Dr. McAllister insisted she wear, was next. Jenny pulled on shirt and jeans. She filled two glasses with orange juice; put a shot of vodka in hers and walked back out.

“Hey Stacy, want some orange juice?”

“Yes, please,” the girl said simply and reached out for the glass.

Jenny slipped in beside her, back against the railing and legs thrust out in front. “Your birds doing okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. But I like to watch.”

“You’ve worked here a long time, haven’t you, Stacy?”

“Yes, ma’am. Since forever.”

“And there are lots of men here. You know they like pretty young girls? Do they ever say anything to you? Touch you inappropriately; you know, where they shouldn’t?”

Stacy’s eyes clouded and the vertical crease between her eyebrows marred her otherwise smooth forehead as she tried to piece together Jenny’s question. It was the word, inappropriately; she hesitated; wasn’t sure.

Jenny read the signs of confusion. “Touch you on your bum,” she tried. “Or here...” Jenny lightly rested her fingertips alongside of the girl’s breast.

Stacy didn’t flinch.

“No ma’am,” she smiled now, a sense of understanding smoothing her brow and bring new light to her eyes. “None of the men touches me, but someone liked to watch me, once.”

Jenny felt a little chill. “Liked to watch you? In the hospital, you mean; while you worked?”

“Oh no, ma’am. He liked my pajamas. I think he liked the rabbits.”

“The rabbits?”

“Yes. There were rabbits on my pajamas and every couple of nights, he would stand at the top of the stairs and watch me through the window; while I put on my pajamas.”

“And you let him watch?”

Stacy shrugged. “Yes. It was okay. But it would make me feel all watery down in my tummy, sometimes.”

“And does he still come around? To look at your rabbits?”

“No. I told Dr. McAllister and the man never came back. She changed my window. Now it has snowflakes.”

“Snowflakes are nice.”

“Yes,” Stacy agreed. “Thank you for the orange juice. It tasted good.”

“You can have some more, if you like.”

“No thank you. I’m glad you are living here with me. Sometimes I’m afraid, but not since you are here.”

“That’s sweet,” Jenny said, and placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“Do you want to see something?”

“Sure,” Jenny said.

“C’mon. I’ll show you...” The girl pushed up off the carpet and Jenny followed her into her apartment. Jenny was surprised at how neat and orderly everything was. Little Stacy kept house with military precision; everything precisely in place, squared up and in line. She followed Stacy into the kitchenette.

“Here,” Stacy said, looking down into a cardboard box next to the sink.

The case of the missing shoes quickly became apparent. Inside the box were two tennis sneakers and each contained a fuzzy head. “Oh, where did you get them,” Jenny gushed, reaching down to scratch the ears of the piebald kitten that lifted its head. It cried appreciatively.

“From the ditch,” Stacy said. “Someone put them in a bag and threw them in the ditch. Can you believe that?” She was wide-eyed.

“No,” Jenny said, shifting her attentions to the other kitten. “They are lucky little babies, to have you as a mother.”

Stacy beamed. “I have to feed them baby formula,” she said, seriously. “Don’t tell Dr. McAllister, okay?”

“Dr. McAllister?”

“Yes. She doesn’t like kittens.”

“Okay, sweetie,” Jenny said, a little bewildered. “They’re lovely. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” Stacy whispered. “I couldn’t bear to lose them. Are you my friend?” Stacy asked shyly.

“Of course I’m your friend.”

“Forever?”

“Forever!”

“Really?” Stacy picked up Jenny’s hand and pulled her up and laughing, propelled her toward the sofa.

Jenny sat with the girl. “Really! And forever!”

“Oh thank you... that makes me feel special.” Stacy seemed to practically burst. “I want you to feel special, too.” Stacy beamed and Jenny froze as the girl dipped and nuzzled her face into her left breast.