'Call Temp Agency'
by Shuvcat (c) 2000
Why did the Mayor have that memo written in his to-do list in "Bad Girls"? What happened to the secretary Carol that he called seven episodes earlier in "Band Candy"? Do I obsess too much?? It's dark. Just read it. :)
A note: this story was written 3/17/00.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters, names, ect, belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. Storyline is copyright me. No infringement is intended by this work of fiction.
Carol Post, blonde, cute, twenty-five, had a
crush on her boss.
At her age, she was too old for a
schoolgirl's crush. It was nothing she would
ever ever act on. He had taken her to dinner
once, a business meal, and she had duly noted
the wedding band on his finger. So he was
married. Carol had never seen Mayor Wilkins'
wife, never even heard the Mayor mention her
name. But Carol was a good girl and a good
worker, and had long ago resolved never to
get involved with married men. She knew it
could only lead to trouble.
He was so kind to her. He paid her well, and
she had all sorts of benefits she could never
get at another job. He talked to her a lot,
laughed and joked. He was sweet. And he
recognized what a good worker she was. She
had already gotten her salary raised twice.
He called her his girl Friday. Couldn't ask
for better help, he said. He was older --
Carol wasn't sure how much older, but she
knew it was old enough -- but God, she
thought he was handsome. But he was, as she
constantly reminded herself, married. Lucky
girl, whoever she was.
So she kept right on running errands and
taking messages and delivering mail and
filing documents and shredding them -- she
spent an awful lot of time at the shredder,
actually -- and keeping the office clean. He
was very persistent on that point. The
office had to be neat all the time. There
was a janitor, of course, but Carol often
went in with a duster and neatened up things
herself when she had time.
It was during one of these dusting errands
that she happened across the cabinet.
The Mayor's liquor cabinet was always kept
tightly locked. She would run the duster
over its doors, wondering what was
inside...but a good secretary didn't snoop
and didn't ask questions. On this particular
evening, however, he had rushed out in a
hurry, and after some hours she had gone
about dusting like usual, and she entered his
office and found his cabinet unlocked.
Standing open, in fact.
Carol stared. The duster fell out of her
hand.
Her first thought was that all the gruesome
things inside had to be fake. Perhaps he
was a collector. These things looked like
props from movies. Horror movies. There was
a mummified skull -- several body parts, in
fact -- scrolls and amulets; an odd-shaped, peaked box; another shrunken head, hanks of hair, a
voodoo doll, a jar holding a small boy's heart, another jar with something that looked like a fetus......
"Working late, are we?"
Carol jumped, startled. She was aware her
breathing had become labored, and the smell
inside the cabinet was filling her lungs like
water. "Mr...your Honor..."
Mayor Wilkins was standing on the other side
of the open cabinet door. For the first time
Carol realized how tall he was. He seemed to
tower over her as he calmly shut first one
door and then the other, locking them
securely. He turned to her, and she was
only half relieved to see him smiling.
"I....I was dusting," she got out.
"Very industrious of you." He was standing
in front of her, between her and the office
door. "Carol, how long have you worked for
me?"
Carol swallowed, her mouth dry. "Th-three
years, sir."
"Ah." He nodded, eyeing her. "Have I ever
taken you to dinner?"
Carol blinked, confused. "Dinner? Uh, well,
yes....once."
He folded his arms, leaning against a
sidetable next to the cabinet. "Oh, but that
was just a business luncheon. I've never
really taken you out on the town, have I? I
don't think I have."
He was talking so calmly. Like she hadn't
just barged in and found something horrible
in his office. "Do you think," he went on,
"that if we went to dinner together -- just
the two of us, mind you -- that you could
find it in your heart to forget all about
what you saw here tonight?"
Carol didn't understand. "I....I--"
"Carol." The Mayor unfolded his arms, and
then he did something unexpected. He reached
out and took her hand. "I really, really
can't stress how important this is. Can you
imagine how it's going to look if word gets
out that I've got stolen movie props in my
office?" He looked up at her, and the look
in his eyes was almost pleading.
That snapped her out of her frozen stance.
"Stolen?"
He gave her a sheepish smile. "Ever see a
film called Nosferatu? Oh, I love
that movie....a classic. Can you believe the
studio was letting all this great stuff rot
in their basement? Golly, I tell you, when I
found out I was shocked. Shocked!" He
hadn't stopped holding her hand, and was
rubbing her fingers in a near caress. "I
offered to buy, but the fool wouldn't sell.
Can you imagine? So I hired a fellow to
steal them." He smiled beguilingly at her.
"Well, I couldn't just leave pieces of film
history rotting away, could I? History is a
grand thing. And I love that movie....well,
I guess I've said that already." He
chuckled. Carol loved his laugh. It was so
unbothered, so free. "So there you have it.
Not only is the Mayor of Sunnydale a thief,
he's a scary movie buff as well. Stop the
presses! Of course that's not such a bad
thing to people like us--" he was still
massaging her hand "--but to the voters, some
of whom are extremely right-wing, well, that
might be a bad thing. So I've got to keep it
under wraps." He looked up at her with a
quasi-furtive gaze.
Carol was having a hard time thinking --
mostly because of what he was doing to her
hand -- but also because she had, actually,
seen the silent horror classic herself, more
than once. She swallowed hard.
"Mayor--"
"Call me Richard." He grinned at her.
Carol surrended a nervous smile. "Oh, I
couldn't! I mean...that is..."
The Mayor laughed. "Gave you a start, didn't
I? Your hand is as cold as a cucumber!" He
was still rubbing her fingers as if to warm
them up. His wedding band glinted in the
light.
Carol wished he would stop....and wished even
more that he wouldn't. "Oh, it's only....I
like movies too.... I've never seen real
movie props before," she blurted out, letting
relief flood her. Props -- they had to be,
of course, just like she'd first suspected.
She had heard such strange rumors about the
man she worked for, and had admitted such
bizarre people in to see him at times -- and
some of the messages he'd asked her to
deliver were of the near-cryptic quality --
but of course, none of it had really
registered with her until she'd seen all that
stuff. Seeing it had given her the creeps,
particularly that jar with the fetus....it
looked so real....and she didn't remember any
pickled fetus in Nosferatu......
"Oh, really?" The Mayor straightened,
finally let her hand go. Carol was almost
sorry. He unlocked the cabinet again and
opened the doors wide. "A fellow movie buff,
huh? Would you like to see? There's a funny
story behind every one of these old relics."
He reached in and brought out the mummified
skull. "This for example....my
mother-in-law."
Carol burst out in a short laugh. The Mayor
grinned. "Just kidding. A generic skull,
they were strewn all over in the film. But
here's a piece of the beast himself." He
touched a threadbare, withered arm that had a
skeletal hand attached. "Nosferatu's
remains. All that is left of him after he
meets his demise in the sunlight. Here's a
lock of hair from the fair, doomed Ellen.
Here's the Book of Vampires itself." He
motioned to an ancient-looking leatherbound
volume way in the back, the title long since
worn off the binding. Carol caught sight of
a small brass frame, containing what looked
like a tintype photograph of a woman in an
old-fashioned, dark colored frilly dress.
The woman's black hair was in thick locks
around her slender neck, and she gazed into
the camera with something just above and
beyond the usual deadpan expression typical
of most old-time photographs. Her eyes were
large, black...and slightly mad.
"What's that?" Carol dared to ask.
The way he gazed at that photograph gave her
fresh chills. "A still," he said after a
time, as if prompted. "A movie still of Miss
Greta Schroeder. Marvelous actress." His
voice had changed, it was suddenly lower, so
different from his usual cheerful tone.
Carol was suddenly very apprehensive again
and couldn't put her finger on why. Part of
it was because she really liked how his voice
had dropped through the floor just now.....
she forced herself to think of his wife. She
dared herself to look again to that jar, with
the tiny human-shaped form floating in
liquid. "What...what part of the film is
that from?" she ventured in a tiny, quavering
voice.
The Mayor turned his head and looked at her
for a good long time. His expression was
contemplative....almost calculating. All at
once he smiled -- a sweet surprise of a
smile. "You're a strikingly lovely woman,"
he said.
Carol shivered. "What?"
"I hope that's all right with you." He'd
reached out and touched her hand again. His
hand was uncommonly warm. "My telling you
that. You're not going to sue me for sexual
harrassment or anything like that, are you?"
Carol shook her head unconsciously as his
hand closed around hers. "Because I can't,
for the life of me, understand why a smart,
pretty young woman such as yourself doesn't
have more important things to do with your
nights than dust my office. You don't, do
you?" He looked almost sympathetically at
her. "Don't you have a family to go home to?
Isn't there some young buck missing your
attentions?"
"No, sir," she whispered. It was true -- all
her family was back in Seattle, and her work
didn't leave much time for socializing. "I
don't -- there's no one. I'm not seeing
anybody right now." She didn't mean it to
sound like a come-on -- and a pathetic one at
that -- it just came out.
"What a shame." The Mayor shook his head
mournfully. "Such a pretty face. Prime of
your life. With all your considerable
assets. Heck of a typist too. You would have
made someone such a good wife." He was
massaging her hand again, and this time there
was no mistake about it, he knew what he was
doing to her. His voice had softened and his
thumbs traced the lines of her palm gently,
and Carol felt a warm flush coming over her
face. "At the absolute least....you deserve
a dinner." He looked at her, and his intent
was clear in his eyes.
Carol's knees went weak. She couldn't
believe this. He was asking her out! "What
about -- what about your wife?" she whispered
straight out.
A huge and somewhat subversive smile spread
over his face. "My wife," he nodded as he
shut the cabinet door with his other hand.
"This is one time....I don't think she would
mind one bit."
*****************
"Want to drive us, Al?" the Mayor asked one
of the men who were constantly hanging around
his office. "C'mon, son...there's a free
meal in it for you." He grinned at the young
man in the trenchcoat.
Brightening, the newly appointed driver
followed along behind as the Mayor and Carol
exited City Hall.
They were driven to one of the nicer, quaint
restaurants in the city's upper crust
district. He urged her to order anything she
wanted. He had wine and candlelight brought
and paid the violinist to play her favorite
songs. He was sweet and flattering and acted
nothing like a man who was about to cheat on
his wife. Carol drank just enough wine to
relax, to get her mind off what she was
doing. The restaurant, nice as it was, was
near deserted at this late hour, so no one
would see them together.
After some time he finally called for the
check, and they left, getting into the
limosine he regularly rode in. Carol had
been in it once before, on that other
business luncheon trip, but it had been
filled with city officials then. It seemed
huge and empty now. The Mayor seated himself
and looked at her, hesitating out on the
walk. "Well?" He offered his hand, smiling
genially. "Come on."
She really liked his smile. Letting her last
bit of inhibition go, she climbed in with him
and the driver shut the door. They took off,
driving along the dark city street.
Carol wondered where they would head now; to
a hotel, or to wherever his home was. She
had never been to the Mayor's house, wasn't
even quite sure where he lived. She looked
across at him, and caught him staring at her.
He beamed. "Have some more wine?" he
offered politely.
The bit she'd had in the restaurant wasn't
nearly enough. "Yes, thank you," she
answered.
He produced a bottle from a small wet bar
installed in the back. "What the hey," he
said. "1979. The very best. You've been a
good secretary, Carol. A great help to me
and to this city. You shouldn't feel
ashamed at all to have at least one special
night." He grinned at her as he poured her a
glass.
Carol took it gratefully, swallowing it down.
It was near midnight, she was used to
working late hours, but not to eating so
much...and not to drinking so much either.
She hid her face with the glass as she
stifled a yawn.
The Mayor seemed to notice. "Why don't you
sit over here?" he asked, motioning to the
seat next to him.
Carol had been waiting for him to ask. With
what she hoped was a coy smile she got up --
almost fell over, the car was moving so much
-- and sat down beside him with a thump. "Oh--" she giggled. "I think....I may have had
too much to drink," she confided.
She had ended up closer to him than she'd
intended, and his arm was already around her.
"Do you feel sick?" he asked. His voice was
so nice. He was really concerned about her.
Carol shook her head. "Nope. I feel...."
She giggled. "I feel really evil,
actually."
That got a grin from him. "Nothing wrong
with that. I deal with evil people every
day. Have some more wine."
She did. The added alcohol made her head
light, she felt so warm and
comfortable....and absolutely no qualms about
resting her head on the Mayor's shoulder.
She looked down and realized he was holding
her hand again, the one that wasn't clutching
a wine glass, and he was massaging it just
like before. She felt very safe; her whole
body felt amazingly warm and
fuzzy....especially her skull. He was
stroking her hair. "That's nice," she
murmured. God, she hoped she didn't fall
asleep on him before....
The car drove on and on. It passed block
after block and finally neared the edge of
the beach outside town. The car came to a
stop at the water's edge, and the engine
stopped. The headlights went out.
Carol only barely registered the ceasing of
motion. She moved her head against him,
mumbling. Were they here? She was so
sleepy....it was so dark.....
The Mayor kept stroking her soft blonde hair,
gazing at her face to make sure she was
asleep. "Al," he called quietly to the
driver.
The front door opened, then slammed shut.
Sand crunched as the driver walked around to
the back of the car, opening the door.
The Mayor looked out at his driver, whose
young boyish features were now twisted in the
scowl of a hungering vampire.
"Careful," he
cautioned as the vamp climbed in next to the
near-unconscious girl. "That's it....don't
hurt her too much, now." With the hand that
was caressing her hair the Mayor gently
tilted the girl's chin back, exposing her
soft, tanned neck.
The young secretary stiffened in his arms as
the vampire bit her throat and began to
drink. Her arm jumped in reflex, and she
uttered a soft moan.
Mayor Wilkins held her twitching hand still,
calmly rubbing her limpening fingers. "I
really hate to do this," he said softly.
"She's such a good secretary." His fingers
moved down to her thin wrist, lingering over
her pulse as it grew fainter and fainter.
.
End
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