As I inch down the hallway, I can feel my anxiety steadily increasing. With each shallow, shuffling step, my heart rate continues to climb. Part of me feels certain that every single coworker within the hallway can hear the thundering sound of my pulse, like a deep bass drum.
Each smile and polite nod that I see is simply another indication that I’ve been discovered. Why else would they be so nice; why would they be so disgustingly sweet? I’ve been found out, and they are all laughing behind my back. Even if they aren’t laughing, it’s simply because it isn’t funny… it’s deadly serious.
"How's it going, Ruth?" A coworker calls from behind me, but I don't dare turn. I pretend I didn't hear anything. I have to get to my boss' office, before the entire world crumbles around me.
Scandal, termination, imprisonment even… all these things are probably awaiting me, and it’s all my fault. If only I had been more careful, if only I had covered my bases better… within the recesses of my mind, another thought swirls: 'If only I had never done it in the first place.' The word embezzlement rings in my ears. When I started my… extracurricular activities… it seemed so harmless. I wasn't hurting anyone. But the amounts grew and grew. How could I have been so stupid?
Of course, all of these thoughts are pointless now. As soon as my indiscretions are made public, my entire life will be ruined. It'll be over before it ever truly started. In the beginning, when I first hired on to this job, I had the brightest future planned. I'm a hard worker, and I love ensuring that all of my responsibilities are handled both promptly and properly. I was good at my job; hell, I AM good at my job!
I run my fingers through my brunette hair, and draw in a ragged breath. With all the willpower I possess, I try to steady myself. They don't know anything! This is all my imagination. There's only one way they've discovered my wrong-doing, and if they had, security would already be here… or I'd already be in a jail cell.
No, my mind is running wild, but at the moment, I'm still safe. Well, not exactly safe… because of the one " i " that I've left undotted. But I can take care of that today.
Ever since I began… borrowing… funds from the company, I've been meticulous about covering my tracks, and I've done an excellent job of it. Unfortunately, that's what made it so easy to continue. It's what made it so difficult to stop. And now, after the funds acquired have reached felony levels, I discovered the one chink in my flawless plan.
My boss, Brent Smith, always has a physical copy of each week's reports printed every Friday. Of course, I knew that copies were made, but somehow, on the one day… the one fucking day… that I have to miss work, he has the papers printed on a Wednesday!
I went in and doctored the digital files as usual this morning, but at the moment, the company has a discrepancy between the computer files and the paper reports. I just know that if Mr Smith looks over those documents, he'll see the inconsistency. He's a bright, fiercely intelligent man, and I can't expect anything to slip past his sharp hazel eyes.
I didn't skim a huge amount this particular time, just over two hundred dollars, which is an utter pittance for a company as massive as this one… but a discrepancy will almost certainly warrant a small inquiry. And that will lead to an audit, which will lead to a full-scale investigation… which will lead me into a room with metal bars and a stylish orange jumpsuit.
I step up to Brent's solid oak door and tap lightly. My salvation or doom lies within this singular, neatly furnished office. The cabinet which contains all the weekly reports is just inside. Within my hands, I hold a copy of the doctored physical files. If I can make the swap without him noticing, then I am home free… if that happens, I swear that I am done taking money from the company. I'll never steal again, as long as I live.
From within the room, I hear a low, authoritative voice. "Come in." I search within the tone of those two simple words for a hint of either anger or frustration… but they are perfectly neutral.
I look down at my clothes. I've tried to keep my attire as average as possible. I don't need him looking at me anymore than usual… but I can't make it appear like I'm hoping he won't pay attention. Gah! My mind is running in overdrive, excessively analyzing every tiny, miniscule detail; if I have a solitary thread out of place, I feel as if it'll be the single domino that sets off a chain of events which will somehow lead to my ruin.
I inhale deeply, and try to only see myself as he will see me. He's my boss, an infinitely professional man. When he looks at me today, what will he see?
I'm wearing a soft, white button down blouse. It clings tightly to my attractive curves, naturally accenting my large breasts in a way that looks appealing, but not ostentatious. I have left a few buttons undone as usual, and only the faintest hint of cleavage is peeking out.
The shirt flows down naturally and tucks into my navy blue skirt. It's a stylish garment, professional and comfortable; I love the way it makes my hips look so curvy and full. Together with my dark pantyhose and stylish, practical pumps, I feel like I look the part of the perfect, honest, hard-working secretary.
Because that's what I am! That's all I am! I'm not dishonest! I have nothing to fear! I can't wait to see my boss!
I try to pump myself up with these internal lies, but I can almost feel them having the opposite effect. Glancing into a framed office painting next to the door, I look at my reflection in the smooth glass.
My face looks as attractive as always. I've elected to wear minimal makeup today, which is not unusual for me. My plump lips don't require much more than a bit of lip gloss in order to stand out, and my subtle mascara and eyeliner only magnify the beauty of my deep brown eyes. I fluff my brunette locks just a bit. I need to look as natural as possible…
"Come in?!" the voice inside repeats, louder this time. I shake myself from my revelry. Gripping the folder in my hand, I relax my shoulders and step boldly into the room. I try to keep my stroll natural and confident, although in this moment, I feel anything but…
The room is wide and spacious; I've been inside it a million times. From the 14th floor, a reasonable view of the city sprawls out in front of me through the large office windows. The room is lit both from the ambient outdoor lighting and the soft glow of the office lamps. Bookshelves line the walls, along with several filing cabinets, and an assortment of tasteful office plants.
The general pleasantness of the room's aesthetic seems to be having a calming effect on my nerves. This is not a prison, and everyone within this entire office building trusts me completely. As far as any of them know, I've never done anything deceitful. I am a reliable, punctual secretary, and I've never given anyone a reason to question that idea.
As soon as my eyes fall upon my boss, however, my entire internal demeanor changes. He is watching me with those brilliant, keen hazel eyes of his. I can feel him boring into my soul… he knows why I'm here! He knows! He definitely knows!
Fuck! I feel so cowardly and meek under the weight of his powerful stare! The very idea of making eye contact with him terrifies me to my core, but I have no choice! I turn my gaze up to him, and we lock eyes.
The masculine shape of his impeccably smooth jawline, rising up towards his stylish brown hair, the constant confidence which he exudes from the small, wry smile spread across his face… all these tiny details work to unnerve me in a way which I cannot bear. I'm about to run screaming from this office… my knees are about to buckle and begin shaking like a newborn fawn… I know it! I can sense it!
"Did you have something for me, Ruth?" His voice is warm and pleasant, entirely devoid of any malice or suspicion. "I have a meeting in 15, but if you need to go over anything beforehand, you know I'm always here."
I swallow hard. He doesn't suspect me. Of course not. He hasn't found anything yet. And he never will, as soon as I swap these files. I just need to calm down, and everything will be perfectly fine! There's no way that I can get caught, if I just keep a cool head.
"I have some files that need to be added into the O'Malley account, sir. They were queued on the printer yesterday, I believe, but they didn't print until today, apparently."
"Oh! Thank you, Ruth! The file cabinet is unlocked. Help yourself."
I breathe a sigh of relief, and my pulse begins to steady and decelerate, sounding more like a heart rate again, instead of a wild raucous drum solo.
Mr Smith looks down at his laptop, clacking away. Already, it seems as if he has forgotten I'm here. Again, I can feel my nerves beginning to calm. I'm almost home free. As naturally as possible, I walk over to the filing cabinet in question. My back will be turned to him while I attempt to make the swap, but that will also place my body in his sightline. I don't think he'll be able to tell what I'm doing. FUCK! I really hope he can't see.
Kneeling over, I gingerly open the cabinet. I casually glance back at Brent, but he's still lost in his typing. It strikes me as funny that he has never preferred to use a PC, rather all of his work is done with his laptop. At this precise moment, I'd give anything to have a giant computer monitor blocking his view. But if wishes were horses…
I try my best to position my body directly between him and the cabinet. Slowly, but not too slowly, but not too fast… but not too slowly… Gahhhh! I draw out the replacement files. It is only three sheets. Three white pieces of paper that will save my life… or destroy it entirely. I slip them into place, as I seamlessly remove the incriminating documents. I place them back into my manilla folder.
Now is the moment of truth. I have to be as convincing as any actress has ever been before, if I hope to stand any chance of success. I stand quickly and turn around, calling out in a confident, annoyed tone. "Well that was a waste! The O'Malley folder has already been filed! I guess these documents which got queued up were duplicates. Ugh… I'll just go shred them."
To my absolute elation, Brent is still looking at his laptop, typing intently. "Sounds good, Ms Ruth." He doesn't even bother glancing up. I start to walk towards the door when he finally stops typing and smiles. "Here, Ruth. Just hand them to me. I'll put them in my shredder."
My heart is pounding again. Brent has a small shredder beneath his desk. It is industrial grade, and it will obliterate these papers, entirely beyond recognition. But he's asking me to hand it to him first. What if he cracks it open? What if he sees?!
I smile, dipping my eyes closed to hide the terror which must be clearly visible. "That's fine, sir! You're busy! I'll just…"
"Don't be silly, Ruth! I'm not gonna make you walk all the way down to the copy room, when I have a shredder right here!" He extends his arm for the file.
"Y…yes sir," I say, and the hitch in my voice thunders within my ears. Did he hear it? He must have! If so, his bright, warm smile didn't falter.
I hand him the file, and he stuffs it in the shredder without so much as a second glance. He looks back at his computer, and then at his watch. "Oof. This project is gonna have to wait until after my meeting." He turns and looks back at me. "Do you have any fun plans for this weekend, Ruth?"
My soul is currently soaring on Cloud 9! I've done it! I'll never cheat, steal, or lie ever again as long as I live… but I've gotten away with it this time, scot-free! When he took that file, I was certain it was the end, but now my life is forever changed for the better, and I'll never look back!
Plans for this weekend?! My plan is to celebrate tonight and take a week off of work to bask in the fact that I'm avoiding prison!
"Ummm… nothing in particular, sir, " I say, and the smile on my face is entirely genuine.
"I understand. Just need to crash, huh? Yeah, I know that feeling. Well, thanks again for your help, Ruth. You're a real champ!" His words might be generic and patronizing, but in the moment, they ring entirely true. I am the champ! Nothing can bring me down.
"Thank you, sir!" I reply, and I turn to open the door. The moment my hand touches the nob, I hear Brent roll his chair away from his desk.
"Oh! Before you go, Ruth. I did have a quick question…"
I turn, still smiling. "Sir?"
"How long have you been stealing from the company, exactly?"
My heart drops. It seems to stop pumping entirely and tumble downward, filling my stomach.
"S…Sir? I don't… I don… ahh…"
His eyes are still bright and almost cheerful, but his smile is increasingly predatory. "I haven't had time to determine exactly how much you've stolen, so it'd be a big help if you could tell me when you started. I'd ask you 'how much,' but from the looks of things, that'd be an awfully large figure to remember. So if you'll just tell me when you started, I can easily calculate up the rest."
"I… uhhh… I… I have…" My syllables are refusing to fuse together into coherent words.
Brent doesn't seem fazed. He draws out three papers from his desk drawer, and then gently shoves a giant box out from behind his desk, grunting lightly at the effort required to move such a ponderous weight with one foot. "These three sheets were your undoing, of course. I have copies… well, I had copies made, before we shredded them. But I still have the originals here…" He shakes the three papers. "...and of course, this box is full of all the evidence we need to file a formal complaint and press charges for embezzlement."
"I…" My voice is so soft, so terrified, so meek. I can't help it. "I'm sorry… I…"
"No, I'M sorry, Ruth. I'm a sorry, pathetic businessman for not catching this sooner."
"Well… I…"
"I mean the sheer volume of funds you stole, Ruth! It's mind-blowing! I mean it!" He points to his head. "Mind?" He pantomimes a miniature explosion, which originates at the side of his temple. "Blown!"
All the words I had planned to say if I ever got caught... all the possible excuses I might give; they all evaporate into nothing, and I am left shaking, pathetic and afraid.
Brent shrugs, picking up his office phone. "Well, I suppose all that's left to do now is contact security."
I cannot think of a single thing to say. Nothing could have possibly prepared me for this moment, and now that I'm in it I feel as if my brain is entirely dead. Tears are forming at the edges of my eyes, and I desperately want to take a running leap and smash through the glass window, to plummet to my death. A small voice within me reminds me how stupid that is. The glass is reinforced.
"Well, I suppose there is one other option…" Brent holds the phone in his hand thoughtfully, his fingers hovering over the buttons.
I can feel a tiny sense of hope rising. I can't imagine what he could want. My mind is completely exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions it's been trapped on. All intelligent thoughts seem like foreign concepts to me. A single notion touches my mind, and I grasp onto it.
"Could… could I pay it back…?" The words are stupid, I know, but my face is begging… pleading for this man to consider them.
He laughs, and there is so much authority in it. He is a judge, chuckling at the murderer who has requested a sentence of community service. "Pay it… back? Ruth, how do you intend to manage that? Are you going to pay to work here? I realize that the theft which got you caught was pretty small… but some of your bigger scores?" He whistles, as if impressed.
Again, my heart seems to drop lower, leaving my stomach and worming its way down into my intestines. "Then what… what could I possibly…?"
"Your panties." He says evenly. There is not a hint of humor or even lecherous desire in the words. It is as if the same judge as before has passed down his unbiased sentencing… 'Death from shame.'
