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 ï>¿Mailgirls On The Run by eltree

   Samantha Brooks was nearing the end of a normal working day, that is if
she was working a normal job.  Instead Mailgirl Twenty-two was kneeling on
a yoga mat next to the Admin's desk in Property Management wondering when
she would be sent to dinner.  Mailgirls who worked through the dinner hour
- and that was the norm Monday through Friday - ate dinner on their knees
in either the Employees Dining Room or the Executive Dining Room.  The
presence of naked women eating out of metal bowls in the middle of the
dining rooms ensured the profitability of Sloan Guarantee & Trust's
in-house food service at their Washington headquarters.  Her MMU chimed and
she looked to see whether it was another delivery or the dinner bell.  Her
destination was Human Capital.

   She rose to her feet and exited into the corridor and up one flight of
stairs arriving in front of Miss Bradley's desk with thirty seconds to
spare.  She took up position feet spread shoulder width, hands laced behind
her head, eyes looking down past her fear-stiffened nipples to the
immaculately clean desktop.  Miss Bradley leaned forward and said into her
intercom, "Mailgirl Twenty-two is here." Sam held position for several
minutes before she heard "Send her in."

   Ms Barnes looked up, pointed to the left and said "Knees."

   Sam took a step to the side and dropped to her knees on the mat by the
wall next to Mailgirl Twenty-three who looked a whole lot better than when
she left her in Megan's office.

   "You have courtyard duty from 11-2 the rest of the week.  Mailgirls do
what they are told, they do not take initiative.  IT will arrange for a
live feed to be displayed on your sister's computer so that she can
appreciate your misdeeds.

   "Take Twenty-three down to the dormitory and make sure that she eats. 
Do not stop in the locker room to clean up.  You can bring her out to
shower just before lights out.  She stays out of sight until she looks like
a mailgirl rather than a third world refugee.  Nurse Allen will make daily
visits until she's cleared for work.  Fill her in on life as an SG&T
mailgirl.  Now, go."

   Sam heard her MMU chime with a new destination as she rose gracefully to
her feet.  Her companion wobbled as she stood and Sam put out her hand to
balance the other woman.  "Follow me."

   Sam led the way out of Human Capital and into the nearest stairwell. 
"Damn, she shorted me on the time, not to mention that you're not up to
running down the stairs.  That will cost me a couple of demerits for sure
in addition to the courtyard."

   "What's courtyard duty?"

   "There is an array of bondage equipment in the courtyard next to the
Employee Dining Room.  I'm going to be hanging on a St Andrew's Cross or
worse during lunch the next three days.  And of course, once I get back up
to twenty-five demerits Mistress V will have me stretched out across the
horse for six or twelve strokes."

   "Who is Mistress V?"

   "You could call her our house mother.  She's a former mailgirl they
imported from Germany who keeps us in line and disciplines us.  She holds
inspection before we leave the locker room in the morning and officially
she is the only one allowed to use the paddle, crop, cane, whatever. 
Actually there are occasional evening special events in the Executive
Dining Room where senior executives or clients that they're wooing take a
go at us with Mistress V to supervise.  She steps in when one of the guest
floggers gets over-enthused."

   Sam's MMU pinged to indicate a late delivery before they left the
stairwell.  "Yep, screwed by Human Capital yet again." They walked down the
corridor to the Mailgirl Lounge where Twenty-two pressed her MMU against
the touch-pad and the door swung open.  "The door only opens to mailgirls,
Security, Human Capital, and Med Center personnel.  This is the locker
room. No lockers, but this is where we shower, use the toilet and bidet,
wash our faces, put on and take off make-up.  The outside walls are
mirrored from this side, but transparent from outside.  The tables along
the railing on the lobby above are crowded every morning with voyeurs
watching us while they drink their morning coffee.

   "Employees are not allowed to physically touch us, nor we them. 
Mailgirls are not supposed to have physical contact with each other except
we do wash each other in the shower.  Quite a few mailgirls, including me,
put on shows for the unseen spectators when showering in pairs.  As long as
what you do can be plausibly considered to help the other girl get clean,
you can get away with it."

   Sam pressed her MMU against the touch-pad by the door in the back wall
and said, "This is the dormitory" as they entered another chamber.  "And in
here anything goes.  Very few of us claim to be lesbians, but there is a
lot of girl-on-girl action in here.  Running around naked all day is a
major turn on for most of us and sometimes you need more than just your own
fingers.  Or sometimes you just need comfort after one of those days.  We
sleep in those niches in the back wall and the grilles slide to lock us in
for the night so make sure you take care of your business before lights
out. There are recharging points for your MMU in your niche; that's the
only time you take it off.  This is the only place where we can use our
hands to eat; no knives or forks, but fingers are better than sticking your
head into those stupid dog bowls.  That door over there opens to a tunnel
that goes out to the parking lot; it's our emergency exit and the local
fire department mandates quarterly drills.  There is always a circle of
firefighters watching us climb out.

   "There are six computers on the floor over there with limited Internet
access.  On the weekends they turn on Skype and we can call home or whoever
as long as you've cleared the phone number with Human Capital.  We are not
allowed on that bench there, it's reserved for Mistress V to put us on it
and whip our asses.  However, it is traditional for a new mailgirl to spend
her first night strapped to that bench while the other twenty-three have
their way with you - I expect Ten will have us hold off on you until you
actually start working."

   "What do mailgirls do here?"

   "When not sleeping we mostly just hang out.  There isn't a lot to do in
the dormitory which explains a lot of the sex; it's better than staring at
the ceiling."

   "No, what do you do while 'working'?"

   "We deliver the mail.  Snail mail from the outside world, packages,
office supplies, internal documents that are in hard copy for some reason,
inter-office messaging - many of those could be sent electronically, but a
lot of employees prefer to order up a naked woman to deliver their message.
Why, what was it like where you worked."

   "Mohr Brothers is a small venture capital firm housed on a single floor
in a skyscraper.  There are a small number of employees and only five
mailgirls.  We were basically sex toys: kneeling under a desk sucking cock
while one of the men - they were all men - talked with someone on the phone
was business as usual.  There is a back room with a king size bed where we
were given to clients and investors.  The only girl-on-girl action was when
one of them wanted to watch."

   "Oh my god, that's awful.  How did they get away with it?"

   "As I told your sister, they recorded hours of video of each of us
begging for sex, to suck cock, to be beaten.  They also let us know they
were well connected and showed us a snuff film of a woman they said was a
previous mailgirl who had tried to go to the police.  I'm afraid if I
reported them the four women I left behind would just disappear."

   "What about mailgirls that completed their contracts?"

   "The four women I worked with all started within weeks of me and none of
us knew any other mailgirls.  I don't know if there were any before us, I
don't know why they let me go."

   "We'll talk to Ten tonight"

   "Ten?"

   "Mailgirl Ten.  She used to be in HR and is our unofficial channel
around Human Capital.  She does her best to take care of us."

   * * * *

   Megan was ushered into Ms Barnes' office early the next morning. 
"Brooks, this whole fiasco with Twenty-three is your fault.  We had a
perfectly good mailgirl and now we have a skinny, wounded thing that I
can't put out on the floor.  And now I've got both HR and Peavy on my
case."

   "Ms Barnes, I fail to see how any of this problem is either my fault or
my concern."

   "You inspired this whole crazy race idea.  HR is pressing me about
Twenty-three's background and Peavy wants to see her panties."

   "She's a mailgirl, we/they don't wear panties."

   "We don't have panties for her plaque.  Every mailgirl has a plaque up
on the wall with the panties she was wearing when she signed her contract -
yours is down in storage.  Actually no, Ms Aldridge took yours back to
Chicago with her last month."

   Megan flinched at that tidbit.  "What happened to her personal effects;
didn't her former employer send them along with her?

   "What we received was one skinny bitch in a crate and some shipping
documents."

   "Well, Human Capital needs to do due diligence and go back to Mohr
Brothers and/or DDE and arrange for her personal effects to be delivered.
And what about her finances; shouldn't her records and funds have been
transferred along with her?  If nothing else, you've got the IRS to worry
about in April.  That's a lever you should be able to use to pry something
out of the criminals she used to work for.  They can play fast and loose
with her lingerie, but taxes are serious.

   "From my personal experience the bank just took complete control of my
finances and all I did was sign forms once a year.  To SG&T's credit they
were both honest and thorough and I got a complete accounting along with my
clothes last year."

   "That's all handled by another department."

   "Well, it needs to be handled for Twenty-three now.  And then you can
worry about the plaque for Peavy.

   * * * *

   Megan was at her desk working on actual banking business when a window
popped up on her computer screen precisely at 11 a.m.  Mistress V was
kneeling down in front of the St Andrew's Cross in the courtyard drawing
tight the final strap holding Mailgirl Twenty-two spread-eagled against the
timbers.  She watched Mistress V then stand and coax the mailgirl's right
nipple into an aching spear - Megan put her hand to her breast in
remembrance -before screwing on a clamp.  Mistress V followed up with
Twenty-two's left nipple and Megan winced in sympathy.  Unable to help her
sister, she called the IT help desk to complain.

   "Sorry, Ms Brooks.  That pop-up window was ordered by Human Capital -
it's just for your computer.  The work order calls for it to stay up on
your screen until 2 and then again from 11-2 for the rest of the week.  You
can shrink it down some, but it will remain visible for the whole three
hours.  It's also your screen saver."

   Megan shrunk the image down to about 3"x2" and pushed it to the lower
left hand corner of her screen, then got back to work.  Her eyes kept
wandering back down to that image.  Samantha was strung up so that she
couldn't stand flat-footed, but at least she wasn't hanging from the
straps. No one else was visible in the tight close-up of the suffering
mailgirl and for the most part the only motion on screen evidenced her
shallow breaths.  Megan well remembered the dull ache of straining muscles
and throbbing nipples from her experience on that particular device.

   Atypically Megan ate lunch in the employee dining room - if she was
going to be forced to watch her sister's pain she might as well do it in
person.  Upon returning to her desk Twenty-two's image filled the screen
until she logged back in.  A meeting request from Mr Fforde popped up.  "Oh
great, now I've got Fforde badgering me about Fourteen while Ms Barnes
blames me for Twenty-three.  I might as well find out what he wants."

   Twenty-two's torment still had a half-hour to go when Megan was ushered
into Mr Fforde's fifth floor office.

   "Thank you Ms Brooks, please take a seat."

   Megan sat in the comfortable arm chair he indicated.

   "Ms Cooper's issues have landed on my desk."

   "I thought Mr Smythe was the lawyer that handled mailgirls."

   "He would certainly like to be, but he's too junior to get away with
touching."

   Megan glared at him.

   "That was a joke, Ms Brooks.  His responsibility is limited to contracts
which is why he was present for both ends of your mailgirl sojourn. 
Problems get kicked up to me.  Mr Holt figures if I was interested enough
in mailgirls to personally recruit one, he could dump all twenty-four into
my lap.

   "It's still early on the West Coast, but I've sent a request to Mohr
Brothers for information about Ms Cooper's personal belongings and
financial information.  I cc'd both DDE and a colleague in our legal
department in the San Francisco office.  I believe we should straighten out
her property and financial concerns before we bring in the Sacramento
County Sheriff's Department.  Nurse Allen was very thorough in documenting
Ms Cooper's physical condition when she arrived.  The Med Center has rape
kits, previously they've only been used to investigate inappropriate
activity in-house.

   "If she has items in storage, we'll get them packed up and delivered
here.  We'll also take control of her financial assets using our power of
attorney, just as we did with you.  And as you pointed out to Ms Barnes we
need to be able to file her tax returns in April.  We take that
responsibility seriously; this is a bank after all."

   "Mr Fforde, why did you turn Fourteen, Maria, into a mailgirl?  Did this
allow her ex-husband to avoid paying alimony?"

   "Ms Brooks, I first met Maria Hyland as a college sophomore dating my
law school roommate.  She was a bubbly, ever enthusiastic young woman and
so in love with Frank that it was painful to watch.  She dropped out of
college to marry him and move halfway across the country.  When Frank was a
newly hired associate working typically insane hours, she worked a series
of secretarial jobs, more to get herself out of an empty apartment than any
great need for money.  As Frank grew more successful they bought a house
and eventually a veritable mansion Maria stopped working outside of the
home and played the role of corporate spouse.  What she really wanted to be
was wife and mother, but not as bad as Frank wanted a son.  After multiple
failed pregnancies she spiraled into depression.  Towards the end of her
marriage she was a black hole of self-loathing.  When Frank sought
consolation elsewhere and his girlfriend got pregnant he filed for divorce
which Maria didn't contest.  Just as an aside, the new Mrs Briggs is an
intelligent, charming woman and just a few years younger than Maria.  Maria
was lost after the split which is when I suggested to Frank that she would
do well as a mailgirl."

   "So you pushed her into a program that would systemically debase and
dehumanize her?"

   "Being a mailgirl gave her a focus and a new meaning for life.  You call
it a debased, dehumanizing experience, but it moved her out of wallowing in
what she saw as her failure back to being a functioning human being who was
appreciated for what she was and did.  Mailgirls are treated as sub-human,
but it was an ego boost that she could compete with women more than a
decade younger and placed her among a group of supportive women that she
could relate to rather than compete with.  I bullied her into taking the
college courses which showed her than she can succeed and this running gig
has just reinforced that.  Spending the next semester as a part -time
mailgirl, part-time student will help her ease back into the world."

   "So after ten, fifteen years of marriage she's moved on to working a
minimum wage job and life as a poor student?"

   "Frank made partner young and then invested his money wisely.  Maria got
a generous settlement and half of their investment in a real estate trust.
One reason we hid her away as a mailgirl was to protect her from vultures
preying on rich women.  There is a trust to manage Maria's assets.  She's
got three trustees, one of which is her mom, and her trust is audited by
the largest accounting firm in Texas.  I haven't been tracking Texas real
estate values lately, but I'd estimate she's worth three to five million,
plus her wages at SG&T."

   "So why am I having her bunk with Lin Chang?"

   "Professor Chang will be good for her and will get Maria help that
she'll accept.

   "I'll let you know what I hear back from the West Coast concerning Ms
Cooper's assets.  It's good that she has someone fighting for her - that's
not Ms Barnes' forte."

   Megan knew that Sarah really didn't want to be immersed the the world of
mailgirls, but she was a good friend and Megan needed someone that she
could talk to.  Sarah not only listened, but she understood.  Like Megan
she could feel the pain when Megan vented about Sam, Megan's Sam, on the
cross and the agony of Sam's clamped nipples.  "And Fforde claimed with a
straight face that he saw his friend's ex-wife's transformation into
Mailgirl Fourteen as therapy."

   "Well, she was virtually catatonic when she arrived in the locker room.
I know we all were completely freaked out when the grim reality of life as
a naked mailgirl broke upon us, but I remember her as the most withdrawn. I
always ascribed it as the shock of her greater fall from society wife to
mailgirl as opposed to we who had just gotten our feet on the ladder before
it was pulled out from under us, but I could believe that it was more than
that..  She became a lot more alive in the year that I knew her."

   "Oh, and Fforde says that she got a generous settlement in the divorce
and she's worth millions."

   "Do you think she would adopt me?"

   "He said that as a mailgirl she would be safe 'from vultures preying on
rich women.'"

   "A bit drastic, but better than having her declared mentally
incompetent. I wonder when Fforde will make his move."

   "Also, I checked on Felicia, the new Mailgirl Twenty-three, before I
left work today.  Ms Barnes is keeping her sequestered out of sight in the
dormitory while she recovers.  Ms Barnes did have Mistress V schedule
rotating shifts of mailgirls to stay with her during the day and while I
was there the B&G folks were installing a treadmill in the dormitory for
her to get some exercise.

   "Oh, and I have an appointment Friday to escort a rep from Marathon
Sports into the Mailgirls' Lounge to have the team members fitted for
running shoes."

   "Can you get the video of that for me?  It should be a lot more fun
viewing than you getting caned."

   Thursday, Mailgirl Twenty-three spent the hours from 11-2 with her arms
being pulled up behind her in a leather sheath.  This forced her to bend
forward to take some of the pressure off her shoulders and of course she
was standing on a freshly raked bed of gravel.

   Megan talked to Brendan that evening and agreed to meet him at a cross
country race that the Striders were holding in a local park Saturday
morning.  She avoided any mention of mailgirls while talking to him - a
normal conversation between two slightly nerdy runners of the opposite sex.

   Friday, Twenty-three was astride the horse, a thin rail between two
supports.  The board was rounded off rather than the more sadistic version
with a sharp edge pressing into the sufferer's crotch; still, it hurt a lot
and just got progressively worse over a long three hours.  Megan expected
that Samantha wasn't going to be engaging in any girl-on-girl action this
weekend.

   Megan finished up her current project about an hour after her sister had
been helped off the horse and had then of course immediately been pinged to
make a delivery which she was sure to be late for and likely be assessed
enough demerits to put her over twenty-five which would put her over the
bar to be paddled.  Mailgirls were always screwed, though at SG&T not
literally.  That gave her time to ponder on what do do about Fourteen and
Twenty-Three and Ms Aldridge.  She saw that she was going to be seeing a
lot of Mr Fforde in her near future.

   Kylie Brenner pulled into a Visitor Parking Space outside the SG&T
building and wondered again why she was delivering a load of running shoes
to a bank.  Her manager at Marathon Sports had positively smirked at her
when he gave her the assignment and the boys out on the floor had been
grinning foolishly as she loaded up two large boxes of shoe boxes onto a
hand truck and wheeled them out to her car.  Her instructions were to meet
Ms Brooks at the security desk at the front entrance and she would explain.

   As she approached the entrance a door to the side was pushed open by an
attractive blonde wearing a dark blue pencil skirt topped with a crisp
white blouse.  "You can wheel it through here unless you prefer navigating
the revolving door."

   Kylie pushed her hand truck into the building as the woman said "I'm
Megan Brooks.  You're bringing us shoes to try on?"

   "Yes, I'm Kylie from Marathon Sports.  Where do you want these?"

   "We'll take them down to the locker room so that you can fit the ladies.
If you let Mailgirls Four and Twelve take the boxes, we can leave your hand
truck with the Security Desk and then walk downstairs to meet the rest of
the team."

   Kylie's mouth dropped open as two naked woman stepped forward to pick up
the boxes and start across the lobby.

   "I take it no one told you that you'd be working with mailgirls."

   "Those women are naked."

   "Yes, mailgirls work in the nude.  We had to get special dispensation
from the Board to allow them to wear shoes for training." Megan thanked
Harry at the desk and turned to lead Kylie to the locker room.

   As they started down the stairs Kylie burst out, "You can see right into
that locker room and there are more naked women standing there and another
one taking a shower."

   "Welcome to the world of mailgirls.  How is it that you didn't know that
SG&T employs mailgirls?"

   "Oh, I remember reading about that, but I just didn't relate ancient
news with I'm taking a load of running shoes to a bank.  I've been away at
college the last three years and not paying much attention to what's been
going on at home."

   "SG&T opened at this location just three years ago and we are still the
only in business in Maryland employing mailgirls.  The next closest is in
northern New Jersey.  Unlike some businesses with mailgirls ours live on
site and are unclothed 24/7 for the length of their two year contracts."

   "Oh my God, that's crazy."

   "I won't disagree."

   Megan swiped her ID badge at the entrance to the locker room and ushered
Kylie in.  Four and Twelve had placed the boxes next to a bench where
mailgirls normally sat to do personal grooming tasks that were awkward or
difficult to accomplish while standing or kneeling.  Two other naked women
were standing by them.  "Where's Twenty-two?  And we'll have to bring
Twenty-three out here to try on shoes."

   "Twenty-two's in the dorm lying down trying not to move.  When is Human
Capital going to install a hot tub for post-discipline therapy.  This place
is only getting one star from me."

   Kylie heard the door open behind her and suddenly the mailgirls all
stood up straight with their hands locked behind their heads and their eyes
to the ground.  She looked around and saw a black-haired woman wearing a
leather skirt and a brocade bustier strutting forward in serious black
heels with what looked like a riding crop hanging from her hip.

   "Ms Brooks, I have a meeting with Ms Barnes.  You are responsible for
seeing that these mailgirls behave correctly.  Improper behavior will be
dealt with." The woman in fetish garb then spun on her vertiginous heel and
exited through the door she had just entered.

   Megan spoke up, "Okay, let's move this into the dorm.  Four and Twelve,
bring the boxes." Megan then led the way through a door in the back wall,
Kylie following behind the four mailgirls.  Kylie entered into a large room
with solid walls, well except for the niches in the back wall, with more
naked women lounging about on the floor.  Besides the wall niches the room
contained a bench, a treadmill, and at one end a line of computers some of
which had more naked women sitting in front of them.

   "What is this place?"

   "This is the Mailgirls' Dormitory, where they sleep and spend their time
when off duty.  The advantage of this room is that it is not visible
outside.  Security cameras monitor the room, but the video is only
accessible in the Security Office and they won't hassle us about behavior -
they're mostly men and happy to have naked women on view.

   "Now as to why you're here.  SG&T is hosting the Corporate Challenge 10k
in October and Management has said that we will do well.  Last year our
women's team was at the back of the pack and some bright soul suggested
that we have a pool of very fit women that didn't run last year and those
women would do better."

   A slim brunette interjected "and our fastest runner was a former
mailgirl, the person now standing in front of you."

   Kylie gasped, "You're a mailgirl?"

   "I was.  It's a two year contract and I had been back at my desk in the
Investment Group for about six weeks at the time of last year's Corporate
Challenge.  Let's get on with trying on shoes."

   "I just brought Vibram toe shoes.  That's what I was told to bring. 
These type of shoes don't work for everyone."

   "Kylie, these women haven't worn shoes since they became mailgirls. 
They walk/run between offices delivering messages and packages.  For three
consecutive weekends they ran time trials so that we could select a team
from the twenty-four mailgirls at SG&T; again, barefoot.  Bob Starnes and I
thought this was the best way to provide some protection for their feet
without changing the way they run.  They all ran 10k in just over forty
minutes without any training in the Maryland summer heat, barefoot.  And
before you ask, we managed to get permission for them to wear bras while
running, though they won't be like any sports bra you've ever imagined."

   Kylie said, "Oh, okay, who's first?"

   The woman who spoke up earlier suggested, "Numerical order, of course.
I'm Mailgirl Three, what's your name?"

   "I'm Kylie.  Just Mailgirl Three, don't you have a real name?"

   A stocky blonde chimed in, "Per Human Capital Directive Mailgirls can
only respond when addressed by our mailgirl designator.  We get disciplined
for using or answering to any name except Mailgirl Three or Fifteen or
whatever your number is.  You can ask Ms Brooks how many paddlings she
received for calling her sister by name."

   "You were a mailgirl?  Your sister is a mailgirl?"

   "Yes, Mailgirl Twenty-two over there" gesturing to a tall blonde
standing with her legs apart.

   "How did you become a mailgirl?"

   "I was a junior analyst working for SG&T and was coerced into signing a
contract; my sister applied for the job."

   Kylie's eyes opened wide at the thought.

   Fifteen added, "You might meet the criteria, the money's probably better
than selling running shoes.  What are your prospects?"

   "I'm a college senior, I go back to school in a few weeks."

   "You and Fourteen," she gestured to an older brunette.  "You start back
to school, what in two weeks?"

   The older woman responded, "Orientation begins two weeks from
yesterday."

   Fifteen continued, "What's your major?"

   "Art History."

   "Yes, a career as a mailgirl could be in your future.  We'd have to see
you with your clothes off to see if you make the grade."

   Megan broke in, "Fifteen, stop teasing her.  IT upgraded my permissions
in the Mailgirls App when I was handed this job and set my privileges to
that of a senior executive; I could hand out a whole lot of demerits right
now."

   "Uh, Mailgirl Three, could you sit down on this bench so that I can put
this shoe on your foot?"

   "Mailgirls are not allowed on the furniture."

   "Three, Fifteen; that's one of the reasons I moved this operation into
the dorm.  Sit down and stick your foot out.  I briefed Security, they
won't rat you out to Ms Bratz."

   By concentrating on their feet Kylie managed to fit the first five
mailgirls, Megan telling them to go out of the dorm and run down the hall
to see how the shoes felt.  They all returned reporting no problems - Kylie
knew her job.  She looked up at Mailgirl Twenty-two, Ms Brooks' sister. 
"Are you okay, you're moving very stiffly."

   "I just spent three hours straddling a rail.  My cunt hurts, my reward
for taking initiative."

   Fifteen was out of the dorm trying out her shoes so Four put in,
"Mailgirls do what they are told.  Mailgirls do not question orders and
Mailgirls do not make suggestions."

   Twenty-two grimaced, "Ms Barnes was very upset with me.  Usually she
just hands out some number of demerits.  This time three days strung up in
the courtyard."

   Kylie gasped and went back to concentrating on feet.  The first six
women that she had dealt with were all beautiful, well-endowed women who
looked to be in perfect health apart from Twenty-two's stiffness.  Mailgirl
Twenty-three was noticeably thinner and lacked the vibrancy the other women
exuded.

   Twenty-three looked up, "When I was delivered Mailgirl Twenty-two
decided that I was ...  unwell ...  and took me to Ms Brooks instead of
escorting me here.  Ms Brooks called the Med Center to take care of me and
then she and Nurse Allen told Ms Barnes I was not leaving the Med Center
until Nurse Allen cleared me medically."

   "How long ago was that?"

   "I was delivered Monday morning.  Nurse Allen released me from the Med
Center Tuesday afternoon and I've been here since.  The treadmill arrived
this morning."

   "How long have you been a Mailgirl?"

   "I spent six weeks training, then sixteen months at Mohr Brothers.  My
new two year contract began on Monday.  Two years here looks to be a good
trade for eight more months in that hellhole."

   Twenty-three stood and Megan said, "Three, take her down the hall and
back.  Felicity, you know the drill with new shoes; come back and let Kylie
know yea or nay.

   "Okay, Kylie, assuming that Felicity is happy with her shoes we'll take
those six pair and another pair for each."

   "Just initial here.  We'll have to send you two more pairs of size
Sevens.  My boss said that he was told to bill the bank.  Why do you call
her Felicity and not Mailgirl Twenty-three?"

   "Because I'm not a mailgirl anymore.  Out there she will be trained to
respond only to Mailgirl Twenty-three and mostly that's how she'll be
addressed here, but I don't have to, and won't, play by those rules away
from the office.  The women I met as mailgirls I tend to call by their
number since that's the only way I knew them.

   "Now do you want me to have a mailgirl carry the extra shoes back up to
the lobby?"

   "No, I'm okay.  We were supplied with a list of sizes and they ran
pretty true so I don't have a lot of extras.  I would like to ask you some
more questions if I could."

   "We can talk on the way out."

   Megan's cell rang as she was turning the key to get into her condo. 
Just a number, so not anyone on her contact list, but a 410 area code, so
Baltimore, and decided to answer.  "Hello, what can I do for you?"

   "Are you Ms Brooks?"

   "Yes, I am.  And you are?"

   "I'm Mrs Flowers."

   "I don't believe we've met."

   "I'm Heather's mom.  Heather, who you talked into taking her clothes
off."

   "I beg your pardon, I don't know what you're talking about."

   "Heather's friend Bonnie is a naked mailgirl at your bank and you talked
her into signing up to join Bonnie."

   "Mrs, Flower, Heather talked to me briefly about becoming a mailgirl and
I discouraged her.  She then talked to Professor Chang about being a
mailgirl and Professor Chang advised against it.  We've both seen that life
and do not recommend it for anyone.  I gave Heather my number and told her
she could call me if she wanted to discuss it further, but I heard nothing
from her, so my only contact with her was that one brief conversation after
the race."

   "Well, Heather signed a contract with your bank and she's flying to San
Francisco tonight to start training.  I called the police, but they said
that since she's 18 she is free to make her own decisions."

   "I'm sorry Mrs Flowers, but she is old enough to make her own decisions,
even ones that you and I disapprove of."

   "You have to send her back home."

   "Mrs Flower, I'm a financial analyst, I have nothing to do with
mailgirls.  You need to talk to Human Capital, they manage the Mailgirl
Program.  You can look up their number or I can look it up for you."

   "Heather is so excited.  Your bank is flying her first class to San
Francisco - she tells me that's how much they want her."

   "Mrs Flower, as I said before I have nothing to do with mailgirls, but I
can tell you what's going on now.  Heather is flying to San Francisco for a
four week training program.  At the end of that program she can decide that
being a mailgirl is not for her, or the bank can decide that they don't
want to sign her to a contract.  She is being paid minimum wage for the
training period.  If she doesn't become a mailgirl then she owes the bank
for the cost of the flights which were paid for with a personal loan from
the bank.  I don't know what the cost of a business class fare to San
Francisco is, but I'm sure that it's more than her four weeks' wages.  If
she signs a mailgirl contract with SG&T or some other firm, that loan will
be paid off by her signing bonus.  If she breaks her two year contract
sometime in the future, then she forfeits her signing bonus and she's back
to owing the money for the loan plus accrued interest, plus food and
housing costs for however long she's been a mailgirl, less her wages as a
mailgirl.  It's very expensive to quit being a mailgirl."

   "But, she'll be naked."

   "Not to mention the beatings, the cold showers, and eating mailgirl chow
from a dog dish." Megan murmured.

   Mrs Flowers continued her tirade, "She's supposed to be going to
college."

   "Think of it as a gap year.  Yes, she'll be a naked mailgirl, but after
two years she'll have earned enough to give her a good start on college
expenses.  It's not a decision that I would make, but we have to respect
her right to make that decision.  Hopefully, if she decides to become a
mailgirl after the training, SG&T will pick her up because this a a better
place to be a mailgirl than some other firms and you'd be able to visit on
family weekends."

   "I'm going to write my Congressman and the Governor."

   "That is your privilege, but I can tell you it won't do any good."

   "You will all burn in hell!"

   * * * *

   Megan found the park that the race was being held in and saw Brendan at
the end of the parking lot waiting for her.

   "Hey, you found it."

   "Well, navigation is simpler outside of Columbia: fewer cul-de-sacs and
route numbers instead of cutesie street names.  Do we have time to look at
the course?"

   "It's only a 5k race and it's two laps so we can just do an easy jog
around the loop.  Don't be afraid to tell me to slow down; I have a habit
of unconsciously picking it up until I'm nearly at race pace.

   "Okay, we start here and head for that end of the field, then we'll hang
a left and follow along the edge of the road down to the bottom of the hill
and then left again." After about a quarter mile of easy striding Brendan
asked, "How is your coaching going?"

   "We're holding off on starting training until the bras arrive. 
Mailgirls tend to be on the more well endowed side so support is important.
But we had a classic encounter yesterday.  Marathon Sports sent over a
young woman with two boxes of shoes to fit the team members and no one had
warned her about what to expect.  She handled it pretty well, but then some
of the women started in on teasing her about becoming a mailgirl - she's an
Art History major.  I shut them down, but then had to explain the whole
mailgirl setup to her on the walk out and gave her my number if she had any
more questions."

   "Did you encourage her?"

   "No, definitely not.  But I did admit to the financial benefits.  Then
again, she's on the slim side so she may not meet SG&T's criteria.  Ms
Barnes told me that she got grief from some of the executives about the
size of my breasts during my time as a mailgirl."

   Brendan gallantly responded, "You don't have anything to apologize for."

   "I'm comfortable with my body now.  My ticket into being a mailgirl was
a vengeful boss, not my curvaceous figure."

   "Now we shoot for that path through the trees." and they continued
around the loop.

   "Well, I should be able to remember that and it's not like I'll be
leading anyway."

   As they were jogging companionably towards the finish Brendan asked,
"Are you okay if I just run with you in the race?  It's well under my best
distance and I was always surprisingly bad at cross country."

   Megan looked at him and said, "I'd like that.  But don't try to pull me
out too fast; I don't do well with a quick early pace."

   "I'll just run alongside and enjoy the view."

   Megan and Brendan were standing towards the back of a mixed group
ranging in age from pre-teens to a number of gray-haired and very fit
looking runners in mis-matched shorts and shirts.  She didn't see anyone
wearing minimalist shoes.

   Brendan gestured towards the front, "The high schoolers will take this
seriously and the college kids won't want to lose to them.  Any other
serious runners are pointing towards longer fall races and just run these
to mix up their training.  I expect your mailgirls will be racing only at
the Corporate Challenge."

   "Could you imagine the reaction if I showed up at a Montgomery Striders
race with a dozen naked women?"

   "You'd have to pick a race where they use chip timing, no place to pin a
number." Brendan noted.

   The race started and the crowd surged forward.  Megan ran easily through
the first lap, Brendan a half step behind.  After passing through the start
line to begin the second lap she opened up her stride and the two of them
steadily worked their way through the field.  She could see runners
stretched out before her the entire length of the straight along the road.
Rounding the final bend towards the finish Megan could see a younger woman
- high school, maybe college - just plodding in, obviously having started
too quickly.  Megan flashed by her and ran through the finish line, Brendan
a half step to the rear.

   He reached over and drew her in for a brief hug.  "Great race, let's get
some water."

   They were companionably re-hydrating when Megan noticed an older woman
standing by the girl she had passed on the run-in.  She looked familiar,
but Megan couldn't place her; then she looked up and saw Megan and
approached.

   "I believe we've met before when you weren't so formally attired.  At
the Juniper Resort, one, no two, years ago.  We had dinner together on your
last night there.  And how is your friend doing?"

   Megan's pulse shot back up higher than it had been during the race. 
"Sarah left the bank, she's starting a new job as a government lawyer and
she's engaged to Sam, the man she met at the resort.  Is this your
daughter?"

   "Why yes, she'll be a senior this year and has decided to switch from
field hockey to cross country.  Cynthia, this is ...  what is your name,
dear?"

   "Megan, Megan Brooks.  And this is Brendan, he works with Sarah's
fiance."

   "Cynthia, Ms Brooks and I met when your father took me along on that
business trip the year before last."

   "Was that the trip with the naked women?"

   "Yes dear, and a lovely pool and spa as well."

   "I know where Daddy keeps the posters he brought back from that trip.  I
think that's disgusting - what did you think about them Ms Brooks?"

   "It's not a position I would apply for I was part of the team that
evaluated the proposal to build that resort and we recommended that the
bank invest in the project.  Their prospectus did not mention naked women.

   "It was lovely to see you again Mrs ...?"

   "Mrs Rivers, dear."

   "Good to meet you Cynthia.  Now Brendan and I are off to jog a cool-down
and then on to brunch I was very happy with the brunch at the resort - it
started that week off so well.

   "Brendan, let's go..." and they started an easy jog backwards on the
course.  A quarter mile later Megan exclaimed, "Why can't I escape
mailgirls?"

   Later that afternoon Megan was in her condo, behind a triply locked door
with the shades drawn when her cell phone rang.  She answered assuming that
it was Sarah returning her call when she heard, "Ms Brooks, this is Colin
Fforde."

   "Oh, Mr Fforde, did you hear back about Felicia's money?"

   "No, I'm giving them a week, then, I'm sicking Rhimes in the San
Francisco office on them.  Unlike me , he doesn't play nice.  If they try
to stonewall him Ms Cooper will wind up owning Mohr Brothers.  I'd like to
know if you have any plans for tomorrow."

   Megan stammered, "No."

   "Well could you help me with these boxes that Fed Ex just dropped off on
my doorstep?"

   "Boxes?"

   "Ms Hyland's mother send three large boxes of Maria's belongings.  SG&T
provides storage for most mailgirls' personal possessions as I'm sure you
remember.  Ms Hyland however, just came to us with the clothes she was
wearing and she'll need more than that when she starts college on Thursday.
I called Professor Chang and she suggested that you help me sort through
what I have here and accompany me when I deliver these things to her
apartment tomorrow."

   "Yes, I can do that.  I was planning on getting in a run tomorrow
morning, but..."

   "Great, then I'll expect you about ten, say, after your run?"

   Megan looked at her phone the next time that it rang and this time it
was Sarah.  "Do I have to talk you down off the bridge again?  What's up
with "The Days of our Mailgirls?"

   "It would have been less stressful to sign another two year contract
like Three and Ten or return home like Eleven.  Well, to lead with the good
news I had a good run this morning and then a lovely brunch with Brendan.
But then I couldn't hold it together any longer and just headed home and
locked the door."

   "What was the tipping point?"

   "Brendan and I were standing near the finish line after the race when I
saw a woman who looked vaguely familiar.  She did recognize me - it was Mrs
Rivers from the Juniper Resort.  She was a guest there, no on staff; she's
the one who fed me dinner that last night when Sam was feeding you in the
dining room.  She was at the race to cheer on her daughter who I passed in
the last hundred yards.  And no, she did not out me as a mailgirl."

   "That doesn't sound awful, actually."

   "It wasn't; it's just the growing certainty that I'll never to be able
to escape being a mailgirl."

   "So, how did the shoe fitting go?"

   "The person from Marathon Sports was a female college student that had
not been warned about mailgirls.  Kylie's jaw dropped when Four and Twelve
showed up to carry the boxes down to the locker room.  She very carefully
looked at feet while fitting shoes.  Someone asked her what her major was
and when she responded Art History, Fifteen suggested that she could apply
as a mailgirl when that didn't pan out.  I had to answer a million
questions when I walked her back out to her car.

   "And I don't remember if I told you about the old Twenty-three's friend
Heather who came to watch one of the races.  I got a call from her mother
telling me that Heather was on a plane to the West Coast to begin mailgirl
training and we would all burn in hell."

   "I think I like the Kylie story better."

   "And Fforde just called and talked me into helping him sort through the
boxes of Fourteen's stuff that her mother just sent and deliver most of it
to Lin in Frederick since that's where Fourteen will be wearing clothing."

   "You should stick to Brendan and brunch.  You know, I should be working
by the time of the Corporate Challenge and Sam says I could run on the
Agency team.  Whatever, it's definitely on my calendar."