Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Leather and Lace ❯ A Simple Request ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Full Summary:
Welcome to Erotika's, a place where all of your fantasies will be fulfilled in a night of passion, lust, and pain. A night where those aching to be submissive, or the ones yearning to be dominant, can live their dreams and be what they are meant to be. Masters and slaves.
But life is not perfect here. There have been murders, deaths of several clients. Double-murders focused solely on those who enjoy the feel of leather.
Ishida Yamato is the one searching for the killer, while at the same time, fulfilling his needs to be a Dom.
Tachikawa Mimi is a world-renown sex therapist, asked to create a psychological profile for the killer. All the while living a double life as an erotic Sub.
They meet in chaos, and fight for the search to the answers they seek. Together, using strength, power, and wit, they fight to find the criminal and make him serve the time. But will their passion get in the way of their duty? They have put everything on the line, including their hearts...
Chapter Summary: We introduce, Tachikawa Mimi, sex therapist extraodinaire. Ishida Yamato, Lieutenant with a bone to pick.
Both know nothing about one another, but when a third double-murder occurs, Matt takes matters into his own hands and searches for a psychological profile of the killer.
Could it be that Mimi is his choice?

Anime/Manga: Digimon Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Mystery / Police / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.03.2007 | Updated On: 05.05.2007 | Pages: 7 | Words: 8.3K | Visits: 795 | Status: Work In Progress

WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS A MIXTURE OF REFERENCES OF YAOI/YURI/RAPE AS WELL AS SCENES INVOLVING BONDAGE AND MURDER. IF ANY OF THESE THINGS OFFEND YOU, I SUGGEST YOU GO BACK NOW! DON'T COMPLAIN TO ME LATER ABOUT IT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Disclaimer: I do not own Toei/FoxKids/Digimon or anything relevant to Digimon.

Chapter 1

A Simple Request

The rhythm was fast, the music pounding loudly against their ears as the bodies shifted and moved, rubbed and arched on the floor, coated in layers of sweat, breath gasping from their lips as the pace increased. Arms waved, legs twisted, bodies turned and twined around one another in sensual poses, erotic caresses, sweat sluicing down the bodies as they exchanged touches, embraces and rubbed against one another in the quick rhythm.

Gasping cries, moaned out shouts were heard across the floor, just barely audible about the thumping music, material rubbing, friction decreasing as their bodies grew slicker from perspiration. The need to touch, the need to feel contact increased with time, the need growing into a aching, incessant desperation to be in contact with another, to feel them against their body, to make love without it being sexual.

Her body ached with that need, to rub up against someone and purr, to have someone, anyone, run their hands down her body and make her gasp with pleasure. Her hair stuck to her face, clinging to the back of her neck as she danced wildly, her gray eyes aglow with pleasure and want, darkening with need and yearning. She wanted to be touched; she needed to be shown just how pleasurable it could be to be taken by a stranger.

Gasping for air, her parched throat screamed at her for a drink, for a simple sip of something, anything to moisten her throat and enable her to moan as hands gently brushed against her bared flesh.

She didn't want to leave the throng, she didn't want to feel bare, exposed, and lonely, away from their roaming hands and gasping breaths, but she needed to hydrate or she would pass out soon.

Slipping through the groups, reveling in the feel of their bodies brushing hers, she fought back small moans of pleasure before arriving at the bar. Her body grew cold from the lack of touch, feeling lonely and apart from the rest, aching for their touch.

Gasping out her request to the bartender, she leaned back against the barstool beside her, watching as the crowd moved in one, thumping and dancing to the beat as though it were one entity that shifted with every change in sound.

That's when her eyes fell on him, the one she would take that night, the one who's hands would touch her bare body and bring her to a climax. He was tall, not one of the tallest men in the world, but his physique screamed sensuality.

Thanking the bartender for the drink, she carried it with her through the crowd, sipping as she moved and bobbed to the beat, sliding and slipping, making her way towards the object of her desires.

His back was to her, the bare shoulder blades covered in colourful tattoos, his hair long and dark, sticking to the back of his neck as hers was doing.

Finishing off her drink, she managed to put it onto a nearby table before running her hands down his back and firmly grasping his buttocks.

He spun around, green eyes aglow with amusement and pleasure, and his lips curled into a teasing smile as he caught sight of the small vixen standing before him. Growling with consent, he caught onto the look in her eyes before lowering his lips to hers.

In what felt like seconds, her body was being slammed up against a wall as his lips tore furiously from hers, dragging them down her body, biting at her throat, bruising her olive-toned flesh. Standing upright, he pulled away, growling with pleasure before raising her arms roughly above her head, cinching the shackles tightly shut around her thin wrists.

Leaning forward, he groaned out dark promises and carnal delights, causing her body to tighten further with need, moisture pooling at the juncture of her thighs. His hand slipped right in that spot, finding the pool of pleasure-induced liquid and he cupped the moist heat, reveling in the feel of her hot and ready against him.

The taunting was rough, his touch hard and powerful against her body, his hands bruising. The ball gag only made it more pleasurable, and she gasped each time the paddle hit her buttocks. It was what she had wanted all night, to find a man strong enough, and willing enough to teach her a lesson, to treat her like the sub she was.

This man, with his ragged breathing and forceful touch sent her careening over the edge of pleasure, making her mind spin with need each time he just breathed on her exposed, heated flesh.

The hours went by as minutes, the time flying as their need increased, until he finally took her, protected and safe, making her cry and weep with pleasure as his touch grew rougher, harder, and he forced her down hard against the bed. He took her until he was spent and satiated, and only then did he pull away, gasping for air as quickly as she did, before leaning forward to unsnap the shackles and free her from their binding.

As they lay there, spent and pleased, their bodies lax and permeable from the rough sex, they did not notice the sound of the door unlocking, nor did they feel the prickling sensation that should have gone down their spines.

Only when the shadow loomed over them did they glance and cry out.

********************************

It was 4 AM, dark outside, cold, and raining, and he was not happy one bit. Not only did he not get one sip of coffee, but also he was horny as hell, having been woken up from a pleasurable dream just twenty minutes before. Furthermore, he was infuriated, irritated as fuck, because of the two bodies that lay before him.

Cursing under his breath, Ishida Yamato, otherwise known as Matt, squatted before the female's body, lying prone and dead on the floor of the gazebo in the park. Her body was positioned so that she sat, and he scowled deeply at the cuts marks that marred her flesh.

Blood had pooled around her body, much of which came from between her legs, which called for a further inspection, and questioned what kind of rape had been involved. Her blonde hair was matted together from the blood, and he cursed anew as he examined her face and throat, noting that her throat had been slit, and that a blunt object had been rammed against the back of her head.

Beneath the blood were bruises, but he knew that those were formed well before the first attack on her body; the lover beside her proved it true.

The man's hair was dark, masking any sight of blood that might be in it, but it shone in spots where the liquid had been present and dried. His mouth was slack, hanging slightly open, as though he had been in mid-cry when the final blow had taken place.

He, too, had his throat slit open, and a blunt object had also hit the back of his head. Unfortunately for Matt, blood seeped through the crotch of the boxers the man wore, and he knew that all the men, including himself, in the force would be gripping their own crotches at the sight that waited underneath the thin, blue material.

Sighing heavily, he continued to look over the bruised, murdered forms, cranky as hell, wanting to be anywhere except for her, be heading to the duty that surrounded his very life.

This had been the third double murder this month, and, fortunately, he didn't know these two either. The woman had probably been new to the scene, made obvious by the simple collar she wore just below the slit. It was soft, of a silky material, and was now glued to her skin, saturated in blood.

Standing, he pulled out his notebook, jotting notes down as he jerked his head for the CSI crew to begin taking pictures and collecting evidence. As the crew moved forward, he moved further away before standing beside his partner, Detective Yagami Taichi.

Tall, with short brown hair and matching hazel eyes, Tai was the immediate image on had when thinking about a slacker, with messy hair, and clothes that were constantly clashing or wrinkled, Tai was always the butt of the jokes involving style. But the cheerful, 27-year-old took the jokes with absolute joy, relishing in the fact that many of the force thought his style to be unique to him.

According to him, there was just something wrong with him; it was the way he was born and couldn't do anything about it.

“Nice picture, eh?” Tai asked, turning to Matt as the two men stood under the tarp, protecting the workers from the rain and the majority of the feeble wind. It had been quite fortunate that the bodies had been dumped in a gazebo surrounded by trees; it was protected from the rain, and not a drop had fallen into the white structure.

“Oh, definitely. I just love seeing two people lying dead on the sidewalk.” He turned to his partner. “I'm willing to bet that they met up at one of the clubs last night, too.”

“Which one do you think it is?” Tai glanced down at the list of BDSM oriented clubs; all of the victims had met up at local BDSM clubs, had sexual intercourse, and had died the very night they had met. The last couple they had found had come from Dungeon, a local role-playing BDSM club where people dressed up, met, and later performed carnal acts, either at home or in the private rooms inside the club.

Matt shrugged. “So far, they've hit Cruella and Dungeon, the only other two clubs in that ring are Erotika and Whiplash. So, we won't know until we check them for I.D., check their homes, and find the passes for whichever club they were at.” He sighed. “I really hope that we get a lead on this, and soon; I'm sick and tired of being called so fucking early in the morning to find another scene like this.”

Tai chuckled in response. “I definitely agree with you on that one. Third one in the past month, and it's not looking good for us. The Commander is going to start giving us a time limit, soon, or he'll hand the case over to another squad.” He glanced at his partner. “And that would suck.”

“It would suck giant balls, that's what it would suck. So what we have to do is find a lead on this case, somebody sees a strange man or woman, somebody is seen slipping something into their drinks, anything to give us a slight lead as to who's behind this. All we know is that the person responsible is only focused on the BDSM community, most likely because of a thorn in his side concerning the community, or something along those lines. He definitely does not like people who practice that.”

Tai gestured to the couple, which was being photographed. “Obviously.” He glanced at his own notebook, which held little information pertaining this particular murder; more information would come once the CSI team processed the crime scene. “Okay, anything new on this scene?”

Matt swallowed thickly at the question, noting in his mind the answer and fighting the urge to cup himself. “Yeah, obvious sexual abuse on the male, and a definite harming of his penis. His boxers are covered in blood, so we can only guess as to what the perpetrator did.”

Tai shuddered at that, actually cupping himself tightly, fighting back the sudden onslaught of images that involved castration, or worse. “Ugh, please, let's not talk about his defiled manhood, thanks. Okay, anything else? Please, anything else, anything other than information involving what's left inside the man's boxers.”

“Not really. Except for the fact that the woman was raped with an object; the last two did not bleed so much, so we can only come to think that the killer most likely used an object, something large, something that would cut her up badly enough.” He grimaced, turning to Tai. “Miyako's not going to like that thought, eh?” he added, mentioning one of the cops working on the case with them.

“No, I'm pretty sure she'll be grabbing herself, too. To be honest, I think the girl definitely had it worse; the guy just gets it torn off or whatever, she had to feel every little thing.” The brunet shuddered in revulsion. “Ugh. Okay, let's think about something else. The dumping spot is different, but the same. Still a very public location, and the bodies are wearing obvious BDSM clothing. They're handcuffed together, like the other couples, and he has the whip around his neck, again, like the others. Anything else that's different other than the sexual abuse?”

Matt tilted his head, looking at the crime scene, looking at the bruised, bloodied faces of the victims. He frowned slightly, and stepped closer, slipping on a pair of foot covers before stepping into the gazebo and kneeling before the woman. His eyes lit in sudden realization and recognition.

“Tai! Get your ass over here! I know this woman!”

***********************************

“In latest news, just last night, another couple was found dead in a pubic area, this time a park. Like the other two, the couple was wearing typical BDSM clothing, which consists of leather outfits, and sadomasochistic tools used during sexual intercourse.”

A loud snort sounded as the volume was raised on the television screen, a long, slender hand holding the remote, pressing the button with a finger that was finely manicured and painting a dark, purplish burgundy.

“Yeah, all right, I love how repulsed you sound, lady. Just keep giving us the report, and try not to sound too disgusted. Thanks.”

“Iori, whose last name we are not permitted to announce, and Setsuna Hiragusawa were found at approximately 3:45AM last night, in the local park. Iori was well known throughout the BDSM community, but still a beginner, while Hiragusawa Setsuna was the daughter of Hiragusawa Junpei, a prominent lawyer and banker. Details on the investigation are still unknown, as well as details pertaining to the death.”

The woman arched a neatly plucked brow at the names, scowling faintly as the tried to remember the male. Iori, she had known as few people named Iori, but none of which were new to the community. The reporter was probably trying to make him sound more prominent than he actually was. Well, there was nothing wrong with that.

“The police as issuing a warning to all those who practice BDSM and are participators in the BDSM community to be careful, report anything you deem to be strange, and to be cautious when traveling at night. The police state that if you must walk at night, to walk in a group larger than two. More details will follow.”

Running a hand through her long, ebony hair, the woman sat back on her bed, no longer focused on painting her toenails to match her fingernails. This had been the third murder she has heard this month, and the third time she has worried incessantly about whether or not it would be one of her friends. She had already been to one funeral this month, and she wasn't planning on going to another one.

Sighing heavily, she leaned forward and restarted the process she had interrupted, focusing all of her attention on painting her toenails perfectly. Her whiskey eyes glowed with concentration as she tried not to think about the threat that was being posed upon her community.

At 25, she was proud to say that she had been part of the community for the past four years, and was not thinking about quitting anytime soon. The thought of a man's rough touch against her skin, the feel of a whip cracking against her bare flesh, the ragged, rough sound of his voice rasping out commands to her made her skin tingle with pleasure. She would never, ever be able to have sex any other way.

Tachikawa Mimi was a submissive, and planned on being one for the rest of her life; it was the best way to have sex, in her opinion. To simply let him dominate, to be tied down and screwed until she could no longer feel, to do exactly what her Dom wanted her to do until she was numb with pleasure.

That was the life she wanted to live.

But first, she had to go to work.

Blowing on her toes, she waited a few minutes while the polish dried, before getting up and walking around, rummaging through her drawers for a knee-length, pencil skirt, and a simple, white blouse. Before yanking on the skirt, she tugged on a pair of mid-thigh high stockings, which had vertical stripes of dark sheer material, and flesh coloured material. She felt like a naughty librarian in them. She had a meeting today, and had to look her best; she was hoping for a pay raise.

A knock sounded on her door, and she replied loudly to admit the person on the other end, slipping the pants on her long, lean legs as the door opened.

Her roommate and best friend for over ten years, Takenouchi Sora, stuck her head into the room, glancing at the ebony-haired woman.

“Mimi, you're running late.” The woman's hazel eyes glowed with concern.

“I know I am. It's not my fault I needed to paint my nails.” She bent over, picking up the blouse and sliding it on. “The last guy I was with told me that painted toenails are sexy, so I figured, why not.”

Laughing, Sora stepped into the room, helping Mimi by handing her the hairbrush when requested, or her make-up. She always wondered how a woman could have hair as long as Mimi did; her own auburn hair was cut into an ear-length, wavy bob that accented her sharp features.

Mimi ran the brush through her waist-length hair, watching her friend pick up nail polish, or containers of eye shadow, and she knew that the tanned woman was examining them, trying to figure out which one she would ask to use that night before they went out.

Sora was the absolute opposite of Mimi, at least in some ways; Mimi was pale, while Sora was faintly tanned, Mimi was more focused on music, while Sora enjoyed sports and being active, Sora was tall and lean, while Mimi was shorter and willowy, and Mimi was a straight Sub, while Sora was a bisexual Domme. It made things a bit awkward at first, when Mimi had learnt of Sora's true orientation, but after many promises made by the brunette, Mimi finally acknowledged the fact that Sora would never, ever try to sleep with her or make any moves on her. It's a promise that had been kept for nearly eight years.

“What time do you finish work at today?”

“What? Oh! I'm supposed to finish at around five, so we'll have time to eat before going out.” Mimi turned to face her friend, gathering her hair up and tying it into a long, high ponytail. “Where do you want to go tonight?”

“How about we just stick to the usual?” She handed Mimi a bobby pin to keep a section of her hair flat. “We'll go by Erotika's; Tai said that he was going to be there, anyways.”

“Yeah, but he's there every night. The only other place he'll go to is Cruella's, but that's only if you're there.”

Sora laughed at that. “Well, that is because he's my Sub, and nobody else's. Jeez, Mimi, haven't you learnt anything in the past four years?”

She sat on her bed, pulling a pair of high heels over her small feet, tightening the straps around her ankles. “Okay, sure, and you've only been in the scene for one year more than me.”

“Yeah, but that one year counts. Don't forget your notes.”

“I won't, I won't, I can't forget them; all of my information is in there, and I really want to do good so that I can get the pay raise.”

Sora laughed, following Mimi out of the bedroom down to the kitchen of their two-story duplex, listening to the constant clack of the high heels on the wooden floors. Although it was not tradition to wear shoes inside the home, Mimi was in a rush, and needed to leave as soon as she could to catch the train.

“Mimi, you're going to grab something to eat before you leave, right?”

Spinning around, she nearly fell over in the entranceway at the sound of Sora's semi-scolding voice. Her eyes widened in confusion that lasted only a moment before she smiled brightly at her roommate. “Depends. Are you going to toss me an apple or something?”

“Maybe.” There was a teasing lilt to her voice as Sora went into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for a water bottle and apple for the young therapist. Tossing the objects in her direction, she laughed as the flustered woman dropped the bottle and just barely caught the apple in her hands.

Watching as the woman picked up the bottle, Sora laughed loudly. “You know, you have to catch what I throw at you, or there's no point to me tossing it at you in the first place.”

“I know, I know.” Sighing, she stood. “You're so mean sometimes.” She opened the door, managing to grab a leather jacket hanging from the coat rack. “I'll see you later!”

“Bye. Have fun with your psycho patients!”

Sora turned away, laughing to herself, before sitting down at the kitchen table, relaxing on her day off. She sent out a silent prayer for her friend, hoping that she would get the pay raise. She then picked up the phone lying beside her, dialing Tai's number as she wondered if her good old, Sub cop was free for a few hours.

**********************************************

The Itashi Institute was a towering, glass building, standing on the corner of a block in downtown Odaiba. It was a tower of brilliant, tinted glass that shone in the light in shades of green and navy, reaching up and touching the puffy, white clouds that dotted the cerulean sky.

The dark car pulled up and into the underground parking lot, pedestrians dodging the vehicle as it moved forward, people chattering loudly at they littered the streets. Cars honked as kids rushed into the street, yearning to be on time for their classes, cursing the alarm clocks that had decided not to go off in time.

Silence swallowed the car as I went into the humid, yet modernized underground lot, blocking out the loud, vibrant sounds from outside. Cool air filled the lot, and, as the driver rolled down his window to pay for access, the air swept into the heated vehicle, soothing the passengers.

The car found a spot in a dark, shadowed corner, and the three passengers climbed out of the vehicle at once, clad in black trousers, white shirts, and matching, black jackets, which were undone on all three. Ishida Yamato turned to his partners, Yagami Taichi and tall, dark-haired Ichijouji Ken, whose blue eyes shone brilliantly in the faint light.

“All right, the only thing we're here for is for the top sex therapist so that he can analyze and, possibly, help us figure out who's next. Got it? No, `good cop, bad cop' stuff, and remember, we're not here to question, but to add to our team. Got it?”

Tai and Ken nodded at their superior, and began the short walk from the car to the elevator that led them upstairs.

“Oh, wait, hold on a second, okay?” Tai paused mid-step as his phone began to vibrate. He loudly cursed. “This is the third time she's called me today! Hold on just a second while I tell her I have a job.” Turning away, Tai answered the phone, a grimace painted to his face.

“Hey babe.” His voice rose with a false happiness. “How are you? Oh, that's good. I'm good, too. I'm also at work.” He sighed. “Yes, I told you I might be taking my break at this hour, but note the word might. I know, I know, you wanted me to call you and all, but it's not my fault if this is the only time we can do this.” He muttered a low curse. “Do what? Oh, just something pertaining to an on-going investigation. Yes, yes. Look, I'll talk to you later. Don't call me; I'll call you, got it? Good. I love you too. Bye.”

Snapping the phone shut, Tai cursed anew, rejoining his comrades as they stood, watching him with amusement glittering in their eyes.

“Sora?” Matt posed the question; him and Tai had been friends for several years, and he had known about Tai's relationship with Sora since the two had begun dating a year before.

“Yeah. She's always calling me.”

Ken pressed the button to the elevator, and the trio waited patiently.

“Why does she call you so much?” This came from Ken.

“To be honest, I don't know. She just calls me a lot. I think she's most likely insecure.” They climbed into the elevator, pressing the button for the main floor, where they would speak with the secretary.

Matt and Ken laughed aloud at that. They had seen Tai with Sora before, and knew of her dominating tendencies; Tai was always the perfect, little sub for her, while she was anything but insecure. However, they did know just how much they loved one another, and that Sora constantly called because she just wanted to make sure that Tai was all right.

Several minutes later, they were walking down the green, carpeted hallway leading them to the offices of the top sex therapists in the Itashi building. Although the Itashi Institute was more known for its sex therapists, it was also quite well known for other therapists of various kinds, such as those used for patients with depression, or someone dealing with severe grief. Thus, the need for a minimum of 15 floors; each floor was designated for a certain type of therapist, and the higher the floor, the more a therapist made, and the more renown her or she had.

At the end of the short hallway, they reached a large, open waiting area, where a secretary sat behind an oak desk, answering phone calls, making appointments with patients who requested for psychological aid.

The thin, short woman brushed back a strand of her frizzy, blonde hair before her blue eyes caught sight of the three men in the doorway. Matt stepped forward, flashing his badge to the secretary, before leaning forward.

“Hello,” he leaned forward to see her nametag, “Isuzu, My partners and I called earlier about the need for a sex therapist for a case. I was wondering where I could find her.”

“Oh, oh dear.” She woman shuffled through the papers, obviously flustered at the sight of the powerful, sexual men before her. All three of them had bodies to die for, and her heart fluttered wildly at the sheer sight of them. “Oh, yes, Lieutenant Ishida, you can find her just down the hallway, third door on the left. She's currently in a meeting right now with the head of the Institute. They should be getting out in just a few minutes.”

Matt nodded as he returned the identification badge to his inside breast pocket, before thanking the woman and turning away. Gesturing to his men, the two followed him out of the waiting area, leading them down the hallway until they found the door they were searching for.

The knock was loud and sharp, echoing throughout the silent hall as though it were the sound of impending doom. The voices on the other end ceased, pausing in mid-sentence at the sound of the loud rap. There was a sharp, commanding whisper, before the door was flung open by a confused, tall man.

His face was formed into a scowl, and his dark eyes glittered with discontent at the idea of the meeting being interrupted.

Matt did not wait for any special introductions, getting straight to the point by flashing his identification badge. “Lieutenant Ishida Yamato, and these are my partners, Detective Yagami Taichi, and Detective Ichijouji Ken. We called earlier to inform you about an interview with a potential outside aid in an on-going investigation. The appointment was set for this time.”

The man's scowl deepened at the words, and his eyes darkened in leashed irritation. “Well, Lieutenant, you are going to have to wait for a while; we are not done our meeting, and would like to finish it.”

Nodding, Matt stepped back slightly, noting the furious glare the man gave them; he obviously disliked police, most likely for personal reasons.

“That's all right. I understand. We have meetings, too. We'll just wait outside for the time being and let you finish up. I'm certain that it should not take too long.”

Waiting until the man had shut and locked the door, Matt turned to the other two men, his lips curled downwards into a frown. “I guess we're going to have a few problems getting him to agree to this.”

“Obviously,” Tai added. “I don't think he likes cops very much.”

Ken leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Amazing observation, Tai, really, I can see why you became a cop.” The sarcasm in his voice was thick but expected of him when someone made an obvious statement. “But I do agree with Matt, this man is going to make it very difficult, which is, obviously, not a good thing concerning the case. We need easy access to the therapist, and having him in the way will definitely not help.”

Sighing heavily, Matt followed Ken's actions, taking a spot against the wall, leaning comfortably against the painted, pale blue surface. “I don't like him. He's done something in the past, something to deserve to have been in shit with the law before, and he doesn't like it. He's going to try as hard as he can to ensure that we don't get a therapist from here. But he can't make all the decisions, there is something known as free will.”

************************************

Mimi sat as the long, rectangular table, twirling a piece of loose hair around her finger as her boss, Itashi Kyou, paced back to his seat at the front of the table. His forehead was creased with lines as he grimaced, obviously irritated as fuck. Leaning back in her seat, she looked over her notes, patiently waiting as the man made his final, brief speech, debriefing them from their meeting.

As the men and women gathered up their papers and notes, he cleared his throat loudly, making all ten of the people pause mid-motion, staring up at the older man in confusion.

“Tachikawa-san, I would like for you to stay a little longer afterwards; we need to discuss something.”

All eyes fell upon the young woman, and she swallowed thickly, apprehension and excitement filling her body. Maybe she was going to get her pay raise. She could only pray to Kami-sama that this was the reason behind the man's actions and words. But, what if she had done something wrong? What if he actually wanted to fire her? That was not good, not good at all.

Her stomach twisted in apprehensive fear as she thought of the variety of possibilities.

Nodding, she forced a smile to her lips. “Hai, Itashi-shacho. I'll wait, it's all right.”

Standing, a tall, blonde woman frowned down at the brunette. Her blue eyes glittered in the same apprehension that was currently taking hold of Mimi's body. “Are you sure you'll be all right, Mimi-san?”

Mimi smiled up at her friend and coworker. “Yes, I'm sure Izumi-san. I mean, it's not like it's going to be anything that bad.” She laughed. “Go off and deal with your grieving patients. I hope you don't get another one crying `cause her frog died or something.”

Laughing aloud, Izumi Orimoto tossed her hair over her shoulder, before gathering her notes and exiting the room.

Just moments after the door shut, Mimi watched as Kyou went over to the door, poked his head out, and muttered a few words to whomever was on the other side. He turned and faced her, a grim look on his face, and he flung open the door.

Note: I have this set up for all fics. I refuse to post a second chapter until I get at least two-three reviews. It isn't much to ask for. So please review. Thanks.

Ciao.