Panoptic

Panoptic - Chapter 04

 Belle Stakker thrust the files aside and started up from her chair, the stuffed leather sighing as she moved. She paused, and her thick lips fell open as she caught sight of her hand. Even as she'd been poring over the yellowing papers, running her right index finger along each printed line, her left hand had betrayed her. It had crept down out of sight, acting on an impulse that emanated from deep within her psyche. Ignoring, defying her conscious will, it had snuck down to the drawer, slid it open, and pulled out the garish pink packet.

"By my eyes," she said. "By my eyes."

She bent to put the packet away, but the sight of it, the feel of the wrapper as it crinkled against her skin, the gentle waft of sugar, the scent of artificial preservatives, of synthetic strawberry cream, the total sensory impact of the packet arrested her motion.

"Why not," she breathed.

She tore open the packet, and called for her secretary, Roe Dorrens.

When Roe, a slim, perky redhead given to wearing white brocade blouses, skirts and stockings, appeared, Belle imagined the sight she must present: a squat, stubby creature, her grey eyes bulging from their sockets, her short blonde hair poking out of her scalp, her distended gut pushing at the material of her pinstripe suit. A toad, she thought. A pregnant toad, stuffed into human clothes, that's what she sees.

She brushed crumbs from her lips, and proffered the packet of strawberry creams to Roe. "Have a cookie," she said.

Roe gave her a pretty smile, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Miss Stakker," she said. "I'm on a diet."

You would be, thought Belle. You, who need it least, can do it with ease.

"Have one," she said.

Roe's smile died on her face. It didn't go away; it remained in place, and decayed, like fallen, unloved corpse. "You're a generous employer," she said, taking the snack. She nibbled at it.

Belle felt a void within her, a hunger that neither her cookies nor her play of authority could satisfy. She'd thought to win some pleasure from dominating Roe, and instead she felt less sated than ever.

She dropped down into her chair, but regretted it. She'd thought that comfort and ease would salve her feelings; instead she found that she had to tilt her head to look up at Roe, and the awkward position reminded her of her stubby, ugly form. It reminded her of the disparity between them.

Roe seemed to sense her displeasure, and she turned her eyes away, resting them on the scale model panopticon that took up most of Belle's large mahogany desk. "It's really very impressive, your project," she said.

She had a way of making the most blatant flattery sound warm and genuine. A good thing, Belle reflected. She'd hate to have an honest underling.

"My project is more, much more than just one building," she said.

"Of course, Miss Stakker."

"And it calls for more than the meagre assemblage of low-rent talent you've provided."

"I'll send a memo to the scouts this minute," said Roe.

Belle began to feel heat and tension in her gut. Roe had a way of agreeing with her that, instead of placating her, left her more frustrated.

"I think we need more than that."

"I'm at your service, Miss Stakker."

"If you're at my service, then give me the man I want."

Roe pursed her lips, and flicked her eyes at the floor. "He's...unavailable."

"He doesn't want to be available."