way that the woman was touching Harriet’s arm made Charlotte feel irrationally jealous.
After a while, Harriet went to the bar for another drink. Charlotte gulped the rest of her drink and followed. The room was crowded and noisy, giving her an excuse to stand close to Harriet.
“Thirsty?” Harriet calmly asked.
Charlotte didn’t answer the question. Instead she said, “I can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been ignoring me. On purpose.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Harriet replied. The bartender walked over, took Harriet’s order, and disappeared.
“Did I say or do something wrong? You’ve hardly said one word to me. You hardly even look at me.” Her cheeks began to burn. Was it all in her head or was Harriet playing with her?
Harriet turned and faced her. She tucked a loose strand of Charlotte’s hair behind her ear, and gently, briefly, stroked the side of her neck with the tips of her fingers. “I’m looking at you now, am I not?”
Charlotte felt breathless and out of her depth, distracted by the feel of Harriet’s fingers and the glistening of her eyes. “I want to see you sometime,” she blurted.
Harriet didn’t look the least bit surprised by her confession. She leaned in closer and replied, “You want to be alone with me. Perhaps somewhere private. Is that what you mean?”
The bartender returned with Harriet’s drink. Harriet swiped her digicard and took the drink, looking at Charlotte with a hint of amusement playing on her features.
“Yes,” Charlotte finally admitted.
“Next time, just say that then,” Harriet replied, smiling and walking back to the table. Charlotte watched her hips sway, and sighed.
Chapter Twelve
“How’s your work coming along, Parker?” Supervisor Collins asked, his hands clasped behind his back.
Charlotte was seated at her shiny black workstation with the water fern project specifications pulled up. When she first started reading projected, three-dimensional text, she thought she would never get used to it. After a few short weeks, she had trained her eyes to see the text and to filter out the background. Supervisors in labs like Beta Lab praised projected text; it added transparency to the work, both literally and figuratively, since supervisors could easily observe what their workers were doing.
She cleared her throat and replied, “Fine, sir. I’ve been hammering out the details for a way to reduce the phosphorous requirement by six percent.”
“Excellent, Parker. Keep me apprised.”
“Absolutely,” she replied. Collins remained standing there, his hazel eyes fixed on her projected screen. “Was there something else, sir?”
Collins cleared his throat and said, “You’re doing well, Parker. Keep up the good work. That’s all.”
“Thank you, sir,” Charlotte said, although Collins had already begun to leave.
Before she had time to reflect on the somewhat strange interaction with Collins, she was alerted by her diginote icon lighting up to signal a new message had arrived. She opened the inbox to see a tiny headshot of Harriet appearing beside the new message. She reduced the font size to make the message illegible to anyone standing more than a foot behind her.
The message read simply, “37 Slaidburn Steet. 0800 hours.”
She closed the message, feeling inexplicably exposed. She called up a street map of London and quickly located the residential address. Was this Harriet and Thomas’s address? If not, what else could it be?
She would spend the remainder of her shift distracted by that brief diginote and speculating as to why Harriet contacted her. It had been nearly a week since she had talked to Harriet at the Red Door. She had agonized over how she had behaved with Harriet and whether Harriet thought she was some kind of impetuous child. Yet, Harriet’s reaction that night made Charlotte wonder whether Harriet hadn’t been expecting the
After a while, Harriet went to the bar for another drink. Charlotte gulped the rest of her drink and followed. The room was crowded and noisy, giving her an excuse to stand close to Harriet.
“Thirsty?” Harriet calmly asked.
Charlotte didn’t answer the question. Instead she said, “I can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been ignoring me. On purpose.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Harriet replied. The bartender walked over, took Harriet’s order, and disappeared.
“Did I say or do something wrong? You’ve hardly said one word to me. You hardly even look at me.” Her cheeks began to burn. Was it all in her head or was Harriet playing with her?
Harriet turned and faced her. She tucked a loose strand of Charlotte’s hair behind her ear, and gently, briefly, stroked the side of her neck with the tips of her fingers. “I’m looking at you now, am I not?”
Charlotte felt breathless and out of her depth, distracted by the feel of Harriet’s fingers and the glistening of her eyes. “I want to see you sometime,” she blurted.
Harriet didn’t look the least bit surprised by her confession. She leaned in closer and replied, “You want to be alone with me. Perhaps somewhere private. Is that what you mean?”
The bartender returned with Harriet’s drink. Harriet swiped her digicard and took the drink, looking at Charlotte with a hint of amusement playing on her features.
“Yes,” Charlotte finally admitted.
“Next time, just say that then,” Harriet replied, smiling and walking back to the table. Charlotte watched her hips sway, and sighed.
Chapter Twelve
“How’s your work coming along, Parker?” Supervisor Collins asked, his hands clasped behind his back.
Charlotte was seated at her shiny black workstation with the water fern project specifications pulled up. When she first started reading projected, three-dimensional text, she thought she would never get used to it. After a few short weeks, she had trained her eyes to see the text and to filter out the background. Supervisors in labs like Beta Lab praised projected text; it added transparency to the work, both literally and figuratively, since supervisors could easily observe what their workers were doing.
She cleared her throat and replied, “Fine, sir. I’ve been hammering out the details for a way to reduce the phosphorous requirement by six percent.”
“Excellent, Parker. Keep me apprised.”
“Absolutely,” she replied. Collins remained standing there, his hazel eyes fixed on her projected screen. “Was there something else, sir?”
Collins cleared his throat and said, “You’re doing well, Parker. Keep up the good work. That’s all.”
“Thank you, sir,” Charlotte said, although Collins had already begun to leave.
Before she had time to reflect on the somewhat strange interaction with Collins, she was alerted by her diginote icon lighting up to signal a new message had arrived. She opened the inbox to see a tiny headshot of Harriet appearing beside the new message. She reduced the font size to make the message illegible to anyone standing more than a foot behind her.
The message read simply, “37 Slaidburn Steet. 0800 hours.”
She closed the message, feeling inexplicably exposed. She called up a street map of London and quickly located the residential address. Was this Harriet and Thomas’s address? If not, what else could it be?
She would spend the remainder of her shift distracted by that brief diginote and speculating as to why Harriet contacted her. It had been nearly a week since she had talked to Harriet at the Red Door. She had agonized over how she had behaved with Harriet and whether Harriet thought she was some kind of impetuous child. Yet, Harriet’s reaction that night made Charlotte wonder whether Harriet hadn’t been expecting the
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