Send You Off Right

As she arrived at Miss Cochran's desk, she was unnerved by that cat-who-ate-the-canary grin that the little blonde had on her face. As she usually did, Miss Cochran's eyes went to Thirteen's tits, her hips, her legs, before coming back up to greet the naked mailgirl face-to-face.

"I'm here for a pick-up, Miss Cochran," Thirteen announced, taking her standing "Feet" position with her arms behind her back and her chest thrust out. Miss Cochran seemed to be waiting for her arrival; Thirteen wasn't sure why she'd opted to spend her chits to hold her here for the next ten minutes.

"Right this way," Miss Cochran replied sweetly. She stood, and at maybe just barely five feet tall, she was dwarfed by the tall, naked blonde mailgirl beside her desk. "It's in the conference room."

As Thirteen obediently followed behind, Miss Cochran led her through a rabbit's warren of cubicles to the far side of the building. It was late in the day, on a Friday, and these weren't traders or bankers; Thirteen guessed that more than half of the office drones who worked in Finance & Accounting had already slipped out for the weekend. Still, there were a few. And Miss Cochran, seemingly more for their benefit than for Thirteen's, said loudly, "It's a big one, so I called help. It might take the two of you a few minutes to figure out the best way to carry it."

Thirteen groaned to herself - not out loud, of course. She'd hoped to run out the last two hours of her shift with some easy back-and-forth deliveries, things like interoffice envelopes and electronic memos. It wasn't even all that rare late on a Friday afternoon for her to spend as much as thirty or forty minutes kneeling on a mailgirl mat waiting for her next summoning. But, she supposed she should stay positive; if she were to be asked to carry something heavy or awkward, at least she'd have company, apparently.

And the fact that that company turned out to be Mailgirl Number Seven, already waiting for her in the empty conference room, immediately turned her whole afternoon around. Thirteen couldn't hide the smile that stretched from one ear to the other, as she hadn't seen her friend since this morning.

Seven, too, smiled as Thirteen walked into the room. Her blonde hair was tied up in a bun that had begun to come apart, her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and her make-up looked a bit worse for the wear - all attesting to an afternoon that had likely been as challenging as Thirteen's own. She had an admittedly prominent nose, one that Master Hooper teased looked like a bird beak, but it complimented her face, and might even have gone unnoticed if she weren't surrounded by specimens as perfect and flawless as the other mailgirls. Her eyes were bright blue, and filled with life that even three months as a mailgirl hadn't been able to extinguish. And her smile, big and beaming, always made Thirteen melt inside.

Thirteen was little confused as to what Miss Cochran expected of the two of them. There were two big boxes of copier paper on the conference table, sure, but Thirteen likely would have been able to carry both on her own. The fact that the copier paper was here in the conference room seemed odd, like it was staged. Never mind that the girls typically made these sorts of supply runs early in the morning, and they mostly involved hauling such supplies up from the basement to the higher level floors - not from one higher level floor to another. And then there was Seven, who was not in any of the standard mailgirl positions - Feet, Knees, Toes - but rather leaning casually, expectantly, up against the conference table in the center of the room.

Whatever this was, Seven was in on it.

The two girls had shared a romance, briefly, earlier in the summer. They'd never been a full-fledged couple, like Two and Three, but they'd been monogamous all the same for the better part of two weeks. Seven knew Thirteen's real name, and Thirteen knew Seven's (Michelle), which was an intimacy of sorts among mailgirls - even if they still continued to use each other's names while alone, even while in the privacy of Thirteen's apartment. And it had hurt when Thirteen had cut the relationship short, and hurt again when Seven had moved on to other girls.

While the other girls in Thirteen's cohort, the girls who'd begun their contracts in June, had been assigned more experienced mailgirls to shadow, Thirteen had been given over to Mailgirl Number Seven - who had only become a mailgirl herself that last week of June. The previous Mailgirl Number Seven had managed to stick it out for three weeks, before running home to somewhere in upstate and refusing to return to the Plaza. Michelle Mayer, then still a rising corporate attorney within USF's Legal Department, was approached first thing that Monday morning; she found her supervisor, along with Will Barrow and Mistress Zero, waiting for her in her office. She knew what the meeting was before anyone had spoken a word. She knew that Human Capital had been sniffing around and she suspected she likely would have been recruited for the June class anyways. She'd been a part of the team that had drafted USF's version of the standard mailgirl contract earlier that spring, and knew full-well how ironclad and penalty-laden that contract truly was, that the Power of Attorney privileges the girls signed away made them one step short of being slavegirls instead of mailgirls. She also knew that being recruited was little more than a show - her choices were to sign away two years of her life, or pack up her things and seek employment elsewhere. There were plenty of times she'd regretted not choosing that latter option. But on that particular morning she had talked herself into it; she'd use her role as a mailgirl as a cash-grab to pay off her debts from law school, and to extract the promise of an unprecedented promotion on the other side of the contract. In May, two years from now, Seven would be the youngest Associate General Counsel at US Financial, a promotion she would earn by streaking through the halls and delivering the mail.

And so Seven had been stripped and collared the Monday before Thirteen had arrived for the summer, and had taken her place among the other eleven mailgirls at that time - all before nine o'clock in the morning. When Thirteen had joined the team that next week, Mistress Zero believed that Seven was now experienced enough to show one of the new girls the ropes. Thirteen wondered if she might have felt as close a bond with whomever she'd been assigned to that first day - be it One, or Ten, or even Eight. But there was a spark between Thirteen and Seven that was difficult to deny, even three months later.

Neither girl had even been with a woman before, though, and so that spark took a couple of weeks to truly catch fire.

As mailgirls, they were all strictly forbidden from fraternizing with other USF employees, both in and out of the office. And it was difficult to maintain a real relationship with a boyfriend, given the sexual nature of what the girls were asked to on a daily basis. Or chose to do, such as masturbating in the locker room. Some of the girls continued to date, but it was mostly losers and perverts they never would have considered before. Or they strung together one night stands to scratch the itch their new life had brought out in them. The truth of it was, however, that the only other people who truly understood what it was like to be a mailgirl were other mailgirls themselves, and so it was pretty common for a girl's heterosexuality to be challenged over the course of her contract. There were a few happy and monogamous lesbian couples, like Two and Three. More common were the more short-term pairings-off in which one girl used another for a bit of cunnilingus or a quick finger-bang, and then was expected to return the favor.

But there was also a middle-ground - not exactly full-on lesbian relationships, but more like friends with benefits. This is what Eleven had enjoyed with Eighteen before things soured, and this is how Thirteen would have characterized what she'd shared with Mailgirl Number Seven. They'd gone back to Thirteen's for drinks on a Wednesday after they'd been on Evening Shift together; two girls were selected every day, mostly at random, to wash the silver dog dishes, scrub the toilets, and clean and mop the locker room itself. On that particular Wednesday, neither Seven nor Thirteen had wanted to go home alone, and both knew full well what Thirteen's invitation back to her apartment really meant. They'd met eyes in the shower, while both attending to their own, respective sex drives, and that look had been enough to affirm a contract between the two of them that night - that they'd try something new, that they'd give this a whirl.

For Thirteen, it was the best sex she'd ever had. Seven confessed the same. Both agreed that their heightened sexual state, owing from their exhibition and submission in their current, chosen occupation, most likely had something to do with the level of their arousal, the intensity of their respective climaxes, and the deep satisfaction that followed. But that didn't take away from the fact that sex was still good, still great. Or that both felt, with a little practice, it could get even better.

Over the next couple of weeks, Thirteen went home by herself just once. More often than not, it was back to her sublet on the Upper West, but she made the trip out Seven's apartment in Brooklyn a few times - showing up back at the Plaza still dressed in the clothes she'd gone home in (but which she'd really only worn for the trips back and forth to the Plaza). Seven had joined her for her long, intense treadmill session in her building's basement on one of the Saturday mornings they were both off. And, on a Sunday afternoon, she'd even waited patiently - naked, in Thirteen's bed - as Thirteen worked on her research notes and had her weekly check-in call with her advisor, Gillian Schang.

Ultimately, though, it was Gillian who pointed out the precarious position that Thirteen had put herself in with Seven. Thirteen's contract with USF would be up twenty-one months prior to Seven's; at some point, that was likely to become an issue for the other girl, likely to be a source of resentment. And, more importantly, Thirteen couldn't forget why she was running packages naked through the halls of USF Plaza in the first place - she was there to study the lives of the other mailgirls. Seven was a research subject, and Thirteen was in danger of losing her objectivity.

Thirteen had sniffed at this last point; the entire reason she was in this situation was because Gillian had suggested she needed to experience the life of a mailgirl firsthand - subjectively. And, becoming a "letter-carrying lesbian" was a part of that life. But she conceded the argument, and understood where her professor was coming from. And so the following evening, over a late night dinner post-shift downtown, Thirteen bowed out of their so-called relationship as gracefully as she could.

Seven was understanding. And, if she'd been hurt, she did a better job hiding it than Thirteen might have been capable of. It was Seven who, true to form, kept assuring Thirteen that she'd be okay, that they'd both be okay. And Thirteen had, in fact, been hurt when Seven moved on to Mailgirl Number Ten so soon thereafter, and then hurt again and feeling excluded when Seven and Ten's relationship morphed into something else that included Mailgirl Number Nineteen. And Mailgirl Number Seventeen that one time. And the new Mailgirl Number Twenty-Three, in only her first Friday night out the rest of the girls. Seven seemed to be signaling that it was the sex that was important to her. The Mother Hen role she played in the locker room allowed her the opportunity to connect with more than a few of the other girls.

And, yet, here she was, on Thirteen's last day, waiting for her in an empty conference room on a half-empty floor. Whatever this was, whatever Miss Cochran's involvement happened to be, Thirteen knew instantly that it was Seven who'd arranged it.

"Hi," Seven smiled at her friend.

"Hi," Thirteen said back.

Thirteen hesitated, and so it was Seven who spoke up again. "We've only got ten minutes. One of my old colleagues was willing to lend Miss Cochran a few chits on our behalf."

Thirteen, of course, knew exactly what Seven meant. But she was still unsure of herself, and scared witless over being caught.

Seven sensed that fear, and assured her, "Miss Cochran is going to play lookout." She stepped closer to Thirteen, and took her hands in her own. Behind Thirteen, the diminutive accountant closed the conference room door almost all the way, and took up position there, still inside the room. It occurred to Thirteen that, in exchange for Miss Cochran's confidence, she'd be performing in front of an audience.

Thirteen shrugged the thought off. It didn't matter. She'd performed in front of larger audiences, on her own, in the locker room.

Instead, she leaned in, and kissed the other naked blonde.

Their bare skin touched, and Thirteen felt a spark of electricity as her nipple rubbed up against Seven's own bare breast. Seven's hands found a hold of Thirteen's left hip. Then the back of her head, and pulled her closer. Thirteen's own hands didn't waste any more time, and moved to embrace the other girl.

"Why?" Thirteen panted between kisses. Why was she doing this? Why was she risking Mistress Zero's wrath?

"Because," Seven answered, her own breathing labored, as well, "I wanted to send you off right."

Seven pushed Thirteen back, and turned her, so that now it was Thirteen's bare behind that was leaning up against the conference table. Over Seven's shoulder, Thirteen saw that Miss Cochran was watching intensely from her vantage point by the door. But Thirteen chose to ignore her - this wasn't about her.

"But, we still have tonight," Thirteen said a few moments later, coming up for air once more.

Seven pushed her backwards, so that Thirteen was now seated on the table, her legs dangling and spread around Seven's own naked body. "You're still welcome to come up to the room with us tonight," she answered, and the "us" was enough to spur on Thirteen's curiosity and libido. "And after what I'm about to do for you, I expect to you to."

And with that, Seven's head was between Thirteen's legs.