Four more people had a drink from the spiked water fountain before Mary decided she needed to GET Issac. Not just get him...GET him. Make him hurt, make him squeel, make HIM be the one writhing in embarisment, shame and diresion. Make HIM feel like he's the one naked, the one with all HIS secreats blowing in the winds around the Water Fountain.
Mary had never told a soul...nor admitted to herself...but she had heard so many of her secrets tossed around like so much candy that she dreaded hearing Issac's voice. Do you know what happened when...have you heard about...you know her, you know him, you know they are both together, but do you know...Oh, baby, did you know? And the endless fact that Mary had no secrets here. She had given that up the first time she sat down on her boss's desk, hands already at the top of her skirt, trying to find some way to keep him from firing her for the fifteenth late, unfinished or untouched report. The events behind the locked door of his office were now being cat-called from the top of the office watering hole. Yip-dee-do, and nobody cares about Mary, that slut Mary, who makes all the other office girls look bad.
Mary had done brownies, she had done doughnuts. She had doctored candy, she had spiked the water fountain. If she listened hard enough, she could hear a low moaning sound coming from a cubicle three "doors" down. None of these silly tricks would work on Issac...she had to think of something new.
She grabbed a vial at random and looked at it. It was the same amber color as all the rest, and if she held her nose near enough to the stopper, she smelled the same alcohol and rootbeer smell. It tasted exactly like it smelled.
Alcohol...
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Issac was a bit suprised to see Marianne Banker walk over to the water fountain. It was a pleasant one. A lazy bum like himself, who traded stories for stories and...illegal substances...to get out of work, he might spread stories about her actions, but he wouldn't mind it if a little of that blonde bomb-shell's "action" came his way. She was H.A.W.T., no matter how you looked at her...unless you wore a chastity belt like Lark or were a damned eunich like that Harper fellow, downstairs at the desk.
And here she was, walking up to him, not with her usual half-hurt, half sexy mask on, but with a smile. An INVITING smile. Issac smiled a bit more. "Hey, Banker." He said. After all...don't want it on too personal a footing.
"Hey." She said...that voice could have calmed--or turned on--a tiger. "You got any good stories."
"Yeah." He said. And most of them are about you, but let's not go there.
"Here." She held out...oh, my dear sweet...was that a SHOT-GLASS!!!??? No. It was a test-tube vial, but to Issac's jaded eye, it might as well have been a shot-glass. He'd had many a shot of alcoholic beverages out of glasses like that.
"You can have...oh, say half. I got it for a quick tote at work. But...I can't get caught with it and I can't get drunk at work. Half won't get me drunk."
Issac took it and downed a little less than half in an instant. And half HIS mind was working on how he could spread this little tale--Marianne Banker, getting drunk on the clock--without getting her finally fired or getting any of the heat on him.
Mary sat back down just as Issac felt the first tingle. Only then did she take her thumb off the vial lable. And smiled.