The duo shook hands and Betty headed out. Before exiting she hesitated for a moment, then turned and asked him. "Did you know you have ink all over your face?"
"What?" Then he remembered the exploding pen and looked sheepish.
She exited saying. "I just didn't want you to be embarrassed by someone else out there."
Betty was juggling a lot of roles in her life. Keeping the characters straight wasn’t as hard as managing her time and getting enough sleep. She had to reshape her routine to accommodate another new identity.
As Jewel, the receptionist, she continued working for Carson five days a week until she finished her bank heist. As Betty, the nurse, she switched her schedule at the hospital to work the weekends. As Raven, the playful sadist, she decreased her visits to Razzles although some nights she took appointments from very special, high paying clients. It was a good way to burn off steam. The combined income from all three of her roles was building her farm fund back up. And, as Witness X, she worked with the Professor to trap a monster.
After collecting some burglary supplies she returned to her role as Jewel, the platinum blonde receptionist outside Carson's office. She wanted the day to pass more quickly but it seemed to drag. She seemed distant to Carson and he asked her two times if she was feeling all right. She distracted him by flirting away any suspicion he may have had. Once she even brushed up against the bulge in his pants with her bottom in a staged accident as she schooched past him to get the mail. She acted embarrassed, but she never seemed to blush. Carson took it as a sign that she was secretly filled with as much lust as he was, but her need for marital purity was in the way. Still, he enjoyed the chase and stole a kiss from her between meetings.
After the day was over and everyone was finally gone, she emerged from her hiding spot with a leather carrying bag. She took off her heels and dress and hung up her work costume. A naked Jean Harlow stood in the bank. A mischievous pleasure overtook her. She smiled and twirled. A gentle draft slid between her warm thighs. The chill tickled and she giggled. She examined the vacant space. She was alone, in the buff, in the most power financial institution in the Citadel, possibly the country. Alone she was free to do anything she wanted.
She was giddy and laughed and said. “I’m definitely in violation of the dress code.”
She resisted the temptation to frolic through the entire bank like an untamed nymph loose in the modern world. She debated committing that evening’s heist in the nude, but decided she didn't want to get herself all dusty crawling around in the bank's catacombs.
She redressed in blue coveralls, gloves, and thick socks that she retrieved from her leather satchel. She thought of this outfit as her burglar uniform. She tied a headscarf to protect her platinum hair and she was ready.
Empowered by the Professor's notes, Betty returned to her late night undercover work. There were files stashed all over the building, but she knew where to start. She opened the elevator cage, entered and turned the operators lever to down. She stopped between the first and basement floors. During her early reconnaissance of the bank, she found a file room in the basement. That was where the good stuff was hidden, but it was locked up. While exploring, she discovered a way into the room through the elevator shaft.
She climbed out and crawled under the elevator car with her satchel. An old acrid smell invaded her nose as she progressed through decades of dust and grease from the wheels and cables. She reached the machinery at the back of the shaft. She inched through a narrow gap and wiggled round the stalled gears. She knew they would chew up her flesh and shatter her bones if they were activated while she was stuck in there. She imagined what her x-rays would look like if she got caught in them.
It was a tight spot and she got through. A man wouldn't have fit. Finally, she forced all the air out of her lungs and squeezed through a narrow wall grate. Then she popped out through a service panel and into the file room. She was filthy from the journey.
The basement file room was stone, cold and musty like a dungeon. It was filled with rows and rows of file cabinets. They looked like black subway trains parked in the station for the night. She wondered what crimes were lurking in the Citadel Bank history. She pulled her notepad from the thin leather satchel and began exploring file drawers. With the Professor’s primer, she discovered an organizational method that would have made a German efficiency expert proud. She removed a camera from her bag, unfolded the case and adjusted the lens baffle. She gathered files and removed pages and papers, then photographed them one by one. She alternated between shuffling papers, writing down file names, advancing film and replacing flash bulbs.