Rosemarie Clark Stories

With the grace of a blind mouse and using her ass as a battering ram, a florist delivery driver clumsily tried to enter an office building carrying a bouquet of enormous ruby red roses. The stems were tall enough that the bouquet easily dwarfed the driver carrying them. It took a few tries, but the driver was able to wedge herself and the gigantic hedge she needed to deliver through the set of darkened glass doors. 

In the mildly cramped lobby, the sunlight was filtered through a shaded indoor forest and was filled with workers leaving for lunch. The driver made her way across the way to the receptionist desk. It was made difficult by her load, but she dodged a few office workers while her shoes squeaked on the black, gloss floor. 

The driver kept her head down and her face was obscured by the roses. Her hat sporting a generic logo for a florist was kept low on her brow. The awkwardness of her movements were bringing more attention to herself during this arduous task than she wanted. Slowing her steps, she sidestepped some more workers and she rounded the corner to the large, oak, receptionist desk that blocked the entrance to the rest of the building. 

“Oooh, I wish someone would send me flowers this beautiful,” crooned the receptionist. “Who are they for?” he inquired. 

“Not sure. There should be a card,” mumbled the driver. Avoiding eye contact with the receptionist and the security guard next to him. The security guard was busy watching the video monitors behind the desk. The driver handed the receptionist a delivery slip and pen and gave him a polite smile. 

While waiting for the receptionist to sign the slip, the driver rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, finding comfort in the sound her shoes made on the glassy floor. It was a nervous habit for her to fidget, especially in high tension situations. The receptionist studied the delivery slip before signing, not realizing that the inconspicuous delivery driver was holding her breath. Seemingly satisfied, the receptionist signed the slip and handed it back to the driver. 

Looking back at the bouquet, he remarked “I don’t see a card.” Shrugging her shoulders in dismissal, the driver started to make her way back towards the front doors. “Maybe they are for you?” replied the driver in a rushed tone. The receptionist gathered the flower buds in his hands and thrusted his face into the bouquet, inhaling deeply. Leaning back from the flowers, he began to feel a little lightheaded and gripped the edge of his desk as he returned to his seat. 

The florist delivery driver was making her way back around the corner to the front doors and back outside. She kept her hat far enough down that her face was hidden from the security cameras. The driver waited a moment for the last of the office workers leaving for lunch to vacate the doorway before making her way out of the building. 

What the receptionist didn’t notice was the white capsule dissolving rapidly in the roses’ water, releasing the toxic chemicals, starting a reaction. The resulting odorless gas bubbled within the glass vase and seeped into the air. The chemical reaction worked right on schedule as the receptionist and security guard slumped unconscious in their respective chairs.