The Further Adventures of Claire Willison:

Tight Squeeze

by Samantha Miller




	The bus squealed to a halt, lurching forward just before it came to a rest.  The 
doors hissed open, and from the street a large shadow could be seen just inside, making 
its way past the driver as it prepared to exit.
	Claire cursed the narrow, tall steps and the tiny, little doorway, as she 
manoevered herself out of the vehicle.  Her body almost filled the width of the door, and 
she felt her side brush against one side of the door as she struggled down the treacherous 
steps.
	Once on the street, the bus driver (who, Claire suspected, wasn't fond of "big" 
people) wasted no time in closing the doors and tearing off to his next destination.  
Claire didn't blame him.  It took her a few minutes to climb into the bus, and she wasn't 
much faster at getting out.  It had probably made him late.  She didn't enjoy the hassle of 
public transit, but she couldn't afford a car on the money she made at the donut shop - 
even though Jen paid her more than was probably wise.  Affording a car was one thing, 
however, and fitting into one completely another!
	Fortunately the bus stop was just a short walk to the Italian restaurant where 
Claire was meeting a friend for lunch.  Christina was someone that Claire went to high 
school with, someone she'd lost touch with since graduating.  The call from Chris a few 
nights earlier was a complete surprise, and Claire agreed to the lunch date mostly 
because she couldn't think of an excuse not to go.  As Claire ambled toward the 
entrance, she wondered what kind of reaction Chris would have to her size - Claire 
certainly wasn't the size twelve she was the last time Chris had seen her.  Then again, 
maybe Chris had changed a lot as well?  It had been a long time, after all.
	Claire waddled in through the open doors, and glanced around the room, 
waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the restaurant.  The place was almost 
empty, and it was only a moment before she singled out the figure waving from a booth.  
Christina stood up to greet her old friend, and Claire immediately noticed that Chris had 
grown a fair bit larger as well.
	"How are you?" Chris called out, and embraced Claire, "It's so good to see 
you!"
	Chris wore baggy clothing to try and hide her size, Claire noticed, but Claire 
pegged her at around the two-hundred pound mark.  Not very big compared to Claire's 
considerable bulk (she didn't have access to a scale to weigh herself, but knew she had 
surpassed four hundred pounds some time ago), but still not an easy size to hide.
	"Let's have a seat and order, shall we?" Chris suggested, and sat back into her 
seat.
	Oh great, Claire thought, she picked a booth for us to sit in.  Booths, Claire had 
learned, were the enemy of the fat person.  Claire lined herself up with the side of her 
seat, and carfully lowered her rear end onto the edge of the cushion as gracefully as she 
could.  She continued to ease herself into the seat, stuggling to squeeze her prominent 
gut behind the table's edge.  With a few more shoves, Claire finally had herself 
positioned in her seat, with the flesh of her sizable breasts spilling out over the table top 
slightly.  She picked up a menu and awkwardly flipped through its pages.

	"This used to be a great place," Chris said, licking her lips as she scanned the 
menu.  "Great food.  And they have proper portions for us big gals," she said, and 
winked at Claire.
	Claire smiled weakly in return, still flushed from the act of squishing into the 
booth.
	The waitress came with glasses of water (Claire made quick work of hers).  
Then she returned to take their orders.  Chris ordered an appetizer of escargot, a plate of 
tortolini, some deep-fried cheese sticks, and some bread with butter and motzerella 
cheese.  Claire ordered a salade and some unbuttered bread.
	"Is that all you're going to eat?" Chris exclaimed.
	"I'm trying to eat a little healthier..." Claire began.
	"That's why I'm as big as I am - I just love food so much!"  Chris said with a 
laugh, and patted her sides with her hands.
	"Oh, me too," Claire said, feeling silly defending herself on such an obvious 
point, "it's just that I'm trying to eat better.  You see, I work in a donut shop, and-"
	"If I worked in a donut shop I'm sure I'd be twice the size of you!" Chris 
interrupted, punctuating her sentence with a flurry of laughter.
	Claire forced a smile.

	The meal came, and the two women caught up a little, although Chris did most 
of the talking.  It was hard for Claire to get a word in, although she didn't really mind.  
Chris had lived a pretty colorful life.  She'd graduated high school, got a business 
diploma in college and married young.  It wasn't long before she started to gain a little 
weight, something she thought was perfectly normal.  Relations with her husband started 
to get worse over time, however, although Chris wasn't clear if her weight gain 
contributed to this at all.  Eventually she and her husband divorced, and Chris started a 
successful security business, putting on even more weight in the process.  Being big 
didn't bother her much, and besides, her business was so demanding that she rarely had 
time to worry about little things like a little extra body padding.
	"Well it sounds like you're doing very well," Claire said.
	Chris shrugged.  "I guess so.  My personal life is a little dull, but business has 
been very good, so I guess I shouldn't complain.  I have security contracts for two-dozen 
businesses, including three banks, so it's pretty busy, but it pays well.
	"So," Chris continued, her mouth full of cheese-covered bread, "what did you 
do before you worked in a donut shop?"
	"Well," Claire began, not sure what to say.  She didn't know where to begin, or 
how much of her life she wanted to talk about.  "My last job was as an aerobics 
instructor."
	"Really?" Chris asked, her eyes wide.
	"Yes, well... I've put on some weight since then," Claire said quietly, suddenly 
aware of the table's pressure against her flesh.
	Chris shrugged and continued eatting.  "Frankly, I think the donut shop would 
be a better place to work."  She smiled, which Claire found contagious.
	"I probably wouldn't still be working there, except I really like my boss, the 
owner.  We get along really well."
	The ring of a phone broke into the conversation, and Chris dropped her fork to 
reach into the purse next to her.
	"Sorry, Claire, this will just take a moment," she said.
	Claire continued to eat her salade, making an effort not to listen into the 
conversation.  She knew her friend had a lot of responsibility, so she probably couldn't 
afford to miss urgent calls.  Claire read the blackboard with the specials on it to distract 
herself from Chris's voice, but she couldn't miss the tension and concern in her tone.  
Finally, Chris put the cell phone away with a heavy  sigh.
	"Bad news?" Claire asked, concerned.
	"Well, sort of," Chris said, suddenly seeming very tired.  "We're having trouble 
with a couple of staff, security guards at this office building that's now being used for 
storage, a sort of warehouse...  If you ask me, this place doesn't need a security guard, 
there's nothing really valuable stored there.  But there's been a couple of break-ins in the 
last few years, and the property manager is a high-profile client, so he insists there be a 
guard on duty every night.  It's ridiculous, but we have to do it."
	"So what's the problem?"
	"The staff.  There are these two characters that were hired to be the security 
guards there, but they've been nothing but trouble.  Just little things, but enough of a 
hassle to be annoying.  Anyway, today they both called in sick, and we can't get anyone 
to cover for them."
	Claire nodded, and went back to her meal.  When she looked back up at Chris, 
there was a big smile on Chris's face.
	"Claire, could I ask you for a favour?"
	"What?" Claire asked, slowly, suspiciously.
	"How would you like to try being a security guard for one night?" Chris asked.  
Claire's mouth opened but no sound came out.  Chris continued, "It'd be a big favour to 
me, and I'll make it up to you - I'll even pay you a thousand dollars for one night's 
work!"
	"I don't know," Claire said, her eyes on the plate in front of her, "that's really 
not the sort of thing that I'd be good at..."
	"Don't worry, Claire - all you have to do is pick up a uniform at the dispatch 
office, and hang around all night.  We just need to make sure someone is there in case 
the property manager inspects the place, to make sure security is there." 
	Claire looked across the table at Chris.  Claire frowned.  Chris looked at her 
expectantly, eyebrows raised and her mouth frozen in an overenthusiastic smile.
	"Please?" Chris added softly.
	"If you haven't noticed, I don't look much like a security guard," Claire said, 
her voice quiet and her gaze fixed on the portion of her chest that was resting on the the 
table top.
	"Doesn't matter," Chris said, "we just need a body.  Someone I can trust."
	It was Claire who sighed this time.  She didn't really want to do it, but nothing 
was stopping her - she was on a week-long vacation from the donut shop.  Her only 
other plans were to stay home, rent some old Katherine Hepburn movies and eat 
popcorn.
	"Alright, I'll do it," Claire finally replied.
	"Oh thank you," Chris gushed, and patted Claire on the hand.  "I really 
appreciate this.  I won't forget this."
	Claire just smiled a forced smile and nodded.
	"Listen, I have to go," Chris said, rummaging through her purse as she spoke, 
"but I'll give you a card with the address to go to - they'll set you up, give you your keys 
and tell you anything you need to know."  She threw $60 onto the table, way too much 
for their meal.  "If you need anything, you just give me or the office a call, okay?"
	Chris got up and stepped over to Claire's side of the table, then bent over to hug 
her.
	"Thanks again!" Chris called, and walked away, waving.
	Claire sighed again.  She picked up the card and looked it over.  "What have I 
got myself into?"

	It was another twenty minutes before Claire finished her meal, and was done 
pecking away at some of the food Chris had left behind, unfinished.  Her mind was still 
swimming with all the activity of the day.  Finally she decided she should be on her way 
to the dispatch office, to find out what she needed to do as a security guard for one 
night.
	Claire braced her hands against the table's edge and pushed against it, trying to 
slide herself out of the booth.  She couldn't budge.  She pushed again, but nothing 
happened.  She wiggled her torso as much as she could, but she didn't have much space.  
She could feel the padding of her rear crammed solidly into the seat.  Using her hands, 
she tried to lift the flesh of her breasts over the table top.  Wiggling and pulling, she 
finally managed it despite the tight confines of her already tightly-stretched bra.  Now 
her breasts were sitting directly on the table top, but the flesh of her bulging stomach 
was still pressing into the table.
	She heaved herself to one side again, and budged slightly.  She tried it again, 
and budged once more, but a little less.  Third try, she was stuck again.  The table was 
squeezing into her belly flesh.  Claire heaved against the table a couple more times, but 
to no avail.  Now she was breathing heavily, sweating lightly, and could feel her the 
redness in her face.
	A waitress walked by.  "Is there a problem, ma'am?" she asked.
	"Um, I'm a little stuck here and could use some help getting out of my seat," 
Claire whispered, and her face turned a deeper shade of red.
	"Oh," the waitress said.  She looked surprised and confused.  She looked over 
the situation for a moment, then offered a hand to Claire.  "Let me see if I can help you."
	Claire grasped the waitress's thin, seemingly dainty hand in her own thick, 
fleshy palm, and together they pushed and pulled in unison.  Claire budged slightly 
again, and let out an involuntary grunt.  She still wasn't free of the booth's grasp, 
however.  The commotion attracted the attention of another waiter, however, who stood 
beside the waitress as she tugged on Claire's arm.
	"Is there a problem?" he asked.
	Claire was too breathless to respond, but the waitress whispered something to 
him.  His face immediately showed the same shock that had been seen on the waitress a 
few moments earlier.
	The waiter muttered something that was hardly audible, and then joined in with 
trying to pry Claire free.  The three of them struggled together for a few seconds until, at 
last, Claire was released from her prison, nearly falling onto the floor in the process.  
Thoughts of crushing the restaurant staff flash through her mind, but she regained her 
balance, and quickly thanked her two rescuers before making a hasty exit from the 
establishment.  Once outside she massaged the flesh below her breasts, which was sore 
from being crushed against the table.


	An hour and a half later Claire arrived at the dispatch office, fully recovered 
from the incident at the restaurant.  There was only one woman working in the dispatch 
office, Sheryl, who greeted Claire warmly.  Sheryl was very glad to have someone cover 
this seemingly important assignment.
	"Here are your keys, your cell phone and a flashlight," Sheryl said, and passed 
the items to Claire.  "A couple of the keys are labelled, the others you probably won't 
need.  Now all you'll need is a uniform."
	"Do I really need a uniform?" Claire asked wearily.
	"Well, it's kind of important right now.  We're expecting someone to inspect 
the place anytime now, so we really need to have someone who looks the part."
	"Should I mention that I don't really know anything about being a security 
guard?"
	"Oh, don't worry.  On a job like this the hardest thing will be staying awake.  
And if anything at all does happen, just press the auto-dial button on the phone and we'll 
take care of everything."
	Claire still looked worried. Sheryl offered a comforting smile.
	"Now, let's find you a uniform," Sheryl said.

	Claire sat on a bench outside what appeared to be a storeroom.  Sheryl had 
dissappeared into the room fifteen minutes earlier and could be heard rummaging about 
and muttering to herself.  It had been a long time since Claire had felt this conscious of 
her size all in one day.  She could feel the edges of the bench, where her voluminous 
butt and thighs hung over it, enveloping the furniture almost completely.  Her hands 
were resting on the crest of her huge belly, just below the impressive bulge of her chest. 
She was absent-mindedly rubbing the flesh that was still tender from the restaurant.  
Claire knew that Sheryl was struggling to find a uniform large enough to fit Claire's 
uncommon figure.  
	"I think I found one that might fit," Sheryl said, then appeared around the 
corner.  "You'll have to wear your own pants, and you might want to keep your T-shirt 
on underneath."
	Claire accepted the plastic-wrapped, button-up, uniform shirt and looked at the 
label, which read XXL.  Then Sheryl handed her a hat.  Claire looked up at Sheryl, and 
all Sheryl could do was shrug as though to say, "I don't make the rules..."
	Several minutes later, Claire stepped out of a changing room wearing the 
uniform.  It was more than a little tight, and her top wouldn't have been completely 
covered if it weren't for her own T-shirt underneath.  Sheryl smiled and nodded 
approvingly.  Claire just felt stupid.
	"Don't forget the hat," Sheryl added, and nodded the hat that Claire had left on 
a chair in hopes of "forgetting" about it.

	Claire placed the goofy-looking hat on her head and sighed.  Sheryl gave a 
final, definative nod, and marched out of the changing area.  Claire followed slowly 
behind, dragging her feet.
	In the small office, Sheryl flipped through some paperwork on a clipboard.  
She then handed it to her newest deputee.  "A cab is waiting outside to take you to the 
warehouse.  If you have any concerns, just give a ring."
	With that inspiring send-off, Claire fought the urge to salute, and merely 
waddled out of the office in her super-tight shirt and silly hat, and out into the street. It 
was still light out, but the sun was already starting its descent.  She opened the cab door 
and carefully manoevered her large frame into it.  As soon as she was sitting the thought 
occurred to her that she didn't know what directions to give to the driver, but this was 
unecessary, it appeared, because he was on his way before Claire could utter a word.

	The sun was nearly down by the time the cab reached its destination.  Claire 
kicked open the door and struggled for a full minute trying to lever herself out of the 
confined space of the backseat.  She worried that the driver would get out and try to 
help, only making the situation that much more embarrassing, but he apparently had no 
intention of doing that.  She finally freed herself, red faced and breathing heavily.  
Before she could even thank the driver, he had started to pull away.  Claire threw the 
door shut while she still had the chance.
	Turning to the old, tall, grim building with no markings other than its address 
numbers in tarnished chrome, Claire felt yet another sigh coming on.  
	"I have to spend the night in this dump?" she asked no one in particular, then 
made her way to the door.
	The deadbolt withdrew with a heavy clank, and the door creaked open with all 
the menace of a haunted house.  Stepping inside, Claire instinctively felt around for a 
lightswitch.  Feeling it with her fingers, she gave it a flick but nothing happened.  No 
power.  That was why they gave her the flashlight, apparently.  This was going to be a 
long night.

	It took Claire an hour to leisurely walk about and examine the whole main floor 
of the place.  It had five floors, but of course the elevators had no power.  She tried to 
convince herself that going to any of the other floors was unnecessary, but when she 
thought about how much time she had to kill she started up he the staircase, figuring at 
least a wander around the second floor would kill some time.
	"Hello?" Claire called as she neared the top of the stairs.  Already she was out 
of breath, and it seemed as if her uniform was shrinking around her, strangling her.  The 
only sound came from Claire's heavy footsteps echoing throughout the cavernous 
hallways.
	The second floor was as uninteresting as the first.  Claire passed rooms full of 
boxes stacked twenty feet in the air.  The building itself lookd like it was quite nice at 
one time, but had long since fallen in to disrepair.  She didn't want to wander too far 
away from the staircase, afraid she'd get lost and not find her way back if anyone came 
to inspect her work.
	Another hour passed and Claire grew tired of wandering aimlessly about.  Her 
feet hurt terribly, too.  She didn't even spend this much time on her feet at the donut 
shop anymore.  One room she came across had a row of boxes that weren't stacked, and 
would be just the right height for sitting on.  She slowly lowered her rear onto them, 
very careful to see if they would support her substantial weight.  It was no problem, 
though, and a wave of relief flowed over her body when she sat, taking the weight off 
her feet.  She kicked off her shoes, allowing her toes to wriggle freely, the ache slowly 
fading from them.  She unbuttoned the restrictive uniform, allowing her stomach to 
expand out, free of its confines.  Claire sat there for some time, leaning back on her 
arms, enjoying the slight, additional comfort she had gained.
	Relaxed now, but growing bored, she pulled the cell phone out of her pocket 
and glanced at the time.  She still had nine hours to go.  Something inside her sank.  She 
shone the flashlight's beam around the room, checking for anything threatening, or even 
interesting.  There were just more small piles of boxes.  Looking around her, Claire 
wondered how comfortable these boxes would be if she lied down on them.  She pulled 
her legs up onto them, lay back gently, half expecting the boxes to collapse under her.  
They didn't, and Claire discovered that even though her choice of furniture was certainly 
less than ideal, her additional physical padding made it much more comfortable than she 
would have expected.
	She clicked off the flashlight, then let her eyelids slowly close.  Within three 
minutes she had fallen asleep.

	"What was that?" Claire yelled, suddenly stirred from her slumber.
	She awkquardly, but quickly levered  herself into a sitting position.  She flicked 
the switch on the flashlight and used it to quickly scan the empty room.
	"Hello?" she called out loudly, "Anyone there?"
	Silence.  Claire looked at the cellphone.  She'd been asleep for two hours.  
Maybe the property manager had come by to check the place out?
	Claire struggled into her shoes and waddled out to the stairs, still stiff from the 
position she'd been lying in.
	"Hello?" Claire called down the staircase, hoping she wouldn't have to walk it 
again.  Maybe, if someone was in the building, they would come upstairs?
	Something moved in the room at the end of the hall.  There was a sound, like 
something brushing against a cardboard box.  Claire whirled around to point the 
flashlight in that direction?
	Did something move, Claire wondered, or was it just a trick of the light?  
Suddenly more curious than afraid.  She stepped cautiously toward the door, trying to be 
perfectly quiet, but her pantlegs rubbing together made a swishing sound that she 
couldn't silence.  She approached the door from one side, and shouldered up to the door 
jamb.  Leaning forward, she swept the room with the flashlight beam - just more boxes.  
The light came to rest on another, smaller door at the back of the room.  Claire blinked 
her eyes - she could have sworn something just moved back there.
	Claire stepped into the room, cautious and alert.  Just for peace of mind she 
quickly scanned the piles of boxes with her flashlight.  As she strode toward the 
doorway at the back of the room, blackened by shadows, she entertained the thought of 
calling in on the cell phone and asking for help.  Then again, maybe it was nothing.  
Maybe Claire was just growing paranoid?  In that case she'd just look foolish calling  for 
help.  It would be better to have something to report, she rationalized.  She slowly grew 
nearer to the door.
	It wasn't until she was standing right there in front of it that Claire realized how 
small the doorway was.  It looked more like an old-fashioned closet door, only there was 
no door to speak of, just an opening into another room.  Claire peered inside, shining the 
light about.  There were a couple of small piles of boxes, like in all the other storage 
rooms, but these ones were small, and most of them haphazzardly covered by plastic 
sheets.  It looked as though the room had begun some sort of renovation that was called 
off midway through.  The flootboards were visisble on the unfinished floor, and hardly 
any of the walls had been properly plastered.  There was another doorway at the far side 
of this room as well.  If anyone had come in through this door then they had to have 
gone out that way.  Claire decided she'd continue her search, then examined the 
doorway once more.   It was pretty narrow.
	Stepping forward, putting one foot through the doorway, Claire realized just 
how tiny the doorway was.  She was going to have to squeeze through, it was obvious.  
She turned sideways, hoping it would be an easier fit if she didn't have to deal with the 
width of her hips.  But the spread of her buttocks and the bulge of her belly quickly 
filled the doorway, pressing on either side.  She turned one way and then the other, 
trying to figure out which way she could squeeze through, moving gradually forward all 
the while.  The press of the edges of the door into her flesh became increasingly 
uncomfortable, and it wasn't long before she couldn't force her flesh any further.
	Claire paused, realizing for the first time that she was out of breath.  Breathing 
heavily put more pressure on the flab pressed against the door jamb, though.  She had to 
figure a way out of this, and quickly.  Taking stock of the situation, Claire noticed that 
she had worked through one entire butt cheek, but her belly wasn't quite half through the 
door.  It was tough to judge, though, as the generous flesh of one of her breasts was 
pushed up high enough that it blocked out much of her field of vision.  Figuring it was a 
bad idea to try progressing any further, she braced herself as best she could with her 
hands against the doorway's edges and tried to force herself back the way she came.
	"Ow!" Claire cried.  The flesh she'd already squeezed through the diminuitive 
passage was sore and tender. Trying to push it back through again was torturous, it felt 
like the skin was going to be torn off.  Could fat become swollen? Claire wondered.  She 
didn't know the answer to this, but she knew she wouldn't be able to squeeze out the way 
she had come in.  Calling for help wasn't an option - it would be too embarrassing, 
especially after what Claire had gone through at the restaurant that afternoon.  She had 
to force herself further.

	Gently, slowly, Claire started to force more of her excess mass through the 
tight opening.  Inch by inch she squeezed her massive collection blubber through the 
opening.  It was taking forever, and Claire knew that if she actually was on the trail of 
an intruder, that intruder was likely long gone by now.  That didn't matter, though.  She 
only needed to get unstuck.  She continued to feed her huge belly flesh through the 
doorway, using her pudgy, tired fingers to push and pull the flesh from either side of the 
wall.  If only she could get her enormous gut through, she knew her other bottom cheek 
would pop through comparitively easily.
	It seemed to Claire as if she'd been kneading and pushing her soft blubber 
through that little doorway forever, and she didn't even know if she was making 
progress or just getting herself more stuck.  Every few minutes she would give a great 
heave to one side, to see if her large body would come loose all at once, but to no avail.  
So she would continue to try and squish her flesh into the new room, a little bit at a time.
	Eventually one of her attempts to push herself through made it feel as though 
she'd budged a little bit.  Claire's eyes openned wide with hope - maybe she could do it?  
She braced her self against either side of the doorway and gave another heave, and then 
another.  A whole foot of belly flesh burst through the doorway!  It was painful, 
scratching across the wooden doorjamb, but it was progress.  She heaved again, and 
again, and again, until -
	Claire burst out of the doorway!  The force of her last heave sent her to one 
side awkwardly, and she tummbled forward off balance.  She crashed to the floor on her 
right side, hitting it with a loud thud.  After a moment, prying open her eyes, Claire 
looked back to the doorway, smiling, free after what seemed like forever.  She started to 
right herself, turning to one side, then let out a cry of pain.  Her right knee was in agony.
	"Must have landed on it in the fall," she muttered to herself.  Claire rolled 
slightly, resting largely on the flesh of her belly, trying to take some of her weight off of 
the leg so she could stand.  It wouldn't be easy, she knew manoevering her body at its 
present size was a tough job at the best of times, and with a bad leg it would be 
excrutiating.  Reaching forward, trying to get some leverage with her arms,  Claire felt a 
silent vibration travel through her.
	"That couldn't be..." Claire began, but she did get a chance to finish her 
sentence.  In an instant, the world spun around her - it took a full moment for her to 
realize the floor had fallen through, and she was falling straight downward!
	A blur of debris followed by another thud -  This time Claire absorbed the 
impact through her generously padded backside.
	Claire slowly opened her eyes, which were squinted tighly shut.  Half 
expecting to see blood all around her, she was slightly relieved at the sight of  the hole 
in the ceiling above her.  Pushing aside what appeared to be pieces of broken cardboard, 
she scanned her surroundings.  She couldn't see much past the horizon of her chest and 
belly.  Wriggling a little, she could tell she was almost in a lying position, although she 
couldn't see much of the darkened room about her.
	Eventually, with considerable effort,  Claire managed to right herself onto her 
feet.  She had landed on what amounted to a bed of cardboard boxes.  What was in them 
she didn't know, but judging by the impression 
her body left in the ones she'd landed on, and by the lack of pain she thought she ought 
to be experiencing after such a fall, she knew it wasn't too ridgid or breakable.  Claire 
looked up to the ceiling, at the hole she'd fallen through.  It had to be at least twenty 
feet.  Her eyes wide, Claire just shook her head and limped out of the room.

	A taxi arrived as the sun was starting to come up.  Claire was exhausted and 
wanted nothing more than to limp into bed.  No sooner had she lowered herself into the 
cab and closed the door behind her, when the cell phone rang.  It was Sheryl's voice on 
the phone.
	"So how did it go?" Sheryl asked.
	"Nothing too eventful," Claire replied, pride preventing her from telling the 
truth.
	"Were you inspected?"
	"I didn't notice anyone.  There was one odd thing, though," Claire said, her 
voice trailing off absent-mindedly.
	"What was that?"
	"It looked like a bit of the ceiling had caved in, just in one of the storage 
rooms..." Claire's voiced trailed off again.
	"Oh," Sheryl said, confused.  "That's new.  It's an old building though.  Just the 
same, I'll send soemone to check it out.  Thanks for all your help, Claire!"
	The phone clicked off.  Claire set it on the seat, and pulled her T-shirt halfway 
up her belly.  She gently massaged the sore, tender aching section that had been pressed 
so roughly through that little doorway.  She would need a full-length mirror to see it, but 
she could tell it was red and raw just by the way it felt.
	Claire was just glad the night was over.  She hoped she could stay awake until 
the cab reached her home.  She was tired, sore and hungry, and very happy that her 
career as a security guard was over.





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