Working in the engineering department gave Charles certain freedoms that others did not have. He could come and go as he pleased, using the pretext of checking on his various projects throughout the complex.
Natalie’s job was one that didn’t allow much, if any, freedom. She worked in the communications department. Her boss, Margaret Symons, was a tyrant, a slave driver, allowing Natalie little or no freedom. Her eight-hour day felt like solitary confinement.
“Don’t forget, we have that meeting with town council on Thursday night regarding the rezoning for the plant expansion, so you’ll be working late. I’ll need to have all the communication releases ready for the newspapers as well. You have a lot of prep work ahead of you before Thursday’s meeting, so I suggest you get on it.”
***
Charles and Natalie would try and see one another, without arousing Margaret’s suspicions.
He dialed the number. “Nat. What are you up to? Where’s the troll?”
“Not now Charles, I’m too busy. Margaret is in her office, as we speak,” she whispered.
“So I guess it’s not a good time to come over? I just wanted to see you and talk to you.”
“Not now. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, Nat. I’ll be here waiting to hear that lovely voice.”
“You’re the one with the sexy voice, Charles. Later.”
Natalie knew no clock, other than Margaret’s.
“From eight to four you are mine,” she once bellowed at Natalie.
Margaret Symons had never married and, upon visual inspection, it was quite evident why. Built like a matchstick, she had beady eyes, and sharp, chiseled features. She could put the fear of God into any man.
Charles Dumont had an apt description for Natalie’s boss. “She comes across as a bad science project. You know, where human tissues have been cloned with a rat.”
“Charles, you’re so mean.” said Natalie.
***
