More days passed. The storm got worse.

Idiot! Look at all these mistakes!

Fergus, we’re five minutes behind schedule! Move those arms and legs faster!

Bleh! This coffee tastes like mud!

The last one had been difficult. Fergus had no idea people without heads could do spit-takes, but apparently, they could. There must be a special muscle for that. He had calmly and efficiently dried up the mess before making Karen a new mug. Her mood remained caustic. It seemed like every little thing about him would set her off, to the point where Fergus frankly expected to get fired any moment now. But he was a patient man, and the job was a set up in terms of wages; he could take a few angry texts if it meant another few K per month.

Besides, Karen was just so… interesting. Sometimes he would stand in the doorway and watch her, even as she sent him important messages as she went about her job reviewing documents and making all those important managerial choices. In those moments, she seemed so peaceful, so still. Now that he was more used to her unique biology, he could appreciate little things, like how in-shape she looked for someone with no real ability to move outside of some wiggling. She must do a lot of crunches, he had decided. Someone like Karen would have the drive and discipline for that sort of thing. She was probably in better shape than Fergus.

In fact, one day he could confirm that.

It had been business as usual, which meant lots of typing, reading and coffee. They had been busy, which meant that the mug he had been gently pouring down her throat every so often had gone cold. She had been ranting about the workforce, Simon in particular; Fergus had wondered if she was doing that just to needle him. When he had tried to feed Karen some more, she reacted poorly, squirming and moving around in her chair. As it happened, her chest had bumped the still half-full coffee mug nearly out of Fergus’s hands, sending lukewarm black liquid all down the front of Karen’s suit and skirt. She started jerking and squiggling like she had just received an electric shock.

“Well, that’s that.” Fergus had thought to himself. “Bye bye, job.” So sure was he of his imminent termination that he considered not even looking down at the buzzing phone on the desk, and just walking right out of the building, just like Wade before him. He didn’t, though.

Did you just douse me with coffee?

Karen’s body was surprisingly calm. Fergus nervously picked up the phone.

“it was an accident. My apologies, will clean right away.” He texted back, before rushing out to the bathroom to grab some paper towels. The phone buzzed again midway there.

Accident?

“Yes, I bumped the cup against your chest.” Really it had been Karen bumping into him, but he wasn’t going to just out and blame her for this. He waited for more texts as he gathered towels.

They didn’t come. Indeed, when he got back, she was still sitting there, her clothes now rather soaked looking but looking so eerily calm. Once again, the lack of any sort of face made reading her emotions difficult, but this seemed like a pretty huge under-reaction. That worried Fergus. He got his phone out again.

“I’m gonna clean you now OK?” he said, standing over her.

What he got back from her nearly floored him.

My clothes are all wet. Take them off.

“What” Said Fergus, taking advantage of Karen’s lack of sight to make a ridiculous expression of surprise, then biting his lip. Bzzzz, went the phone.

I’ll catch pneumonia, I’m being serious. Do it now.

Oh, that was a good point actually. He hurriedly slid the small form of his boss out of her suit jacket. Karen was wearing a plain, no-nonsense white shirt underneath. Well, formerly white. The coffee had done a number on it. Fergus hesitated. She’d say something it she didn’t want him to-oh yeah, there she went.

Yes, shirt too. Don’t be a baby.

He took a deep breath.

“This is fine and normal.” He said aloud, before unbuttoning the shirt and pulling it upwards. The process was much easier when the person you were undressing didn’t have a head, he thought to himself wryly, before putting it on the floor alongside her jacket. At least she was wearing a bra, one that showed off her perky, well formed-no, that wasn’t what this was about get it together Fergus. He was a a professional and definitely not a weirdo. He looked down; he had still to get that skirt off now. He put his hands down on her waists, and she shivered very slightly, giving him pause once more.

Bzzz

Come on, come on...

Almost immediately, there was another buzz.

I mean hurry up and get these off before I catch a cold, you tool! If I get sick I’m taking legal action!

“All right, all right, geez.” Muttered Fergus, pulling his bosses skirt down in her office: a sentence that was much less sexy than the reality of the situation. At least she hadn’t fired him yet, he thought. Yet.. He looked down at her tiny form, half-naked and vulnerable as it sat on the chair. Despite her condition, Fergus had learned to find the sight of Karen vaguely intimidating. But now it really struck him how fragile she was. Her stumps, while mostly healed, till showed signs of the scars of her surgery, white marks making X signs in the woman’s skin. He was thankful he couldn’t see what her neck looked like now at least…

It occurred to Fergus that he should do something more than just stare, so he got to work cleaning her up with the paper towels he had retrieved. He could see bumps on Karen’s skin pop up as he brushed down the wet parts of her torso, which was mostly her shoulders and chest. He pressed the paper down on her right breast, near where it met her ribs, before moving down around the side into her cleavage. There was a sharp, short breath from the woman’s throat hole, but other than that, she gave no readable reaction.

When she was no longer covered in coffee, Fergus popped his own jacket off and placed her inside of it: she fit inside the whole thing.

What’s this? She asked.

“Just my jacket, haha, so you don’t get cold. What should I do now?” he asked. Her reply was unusually late, as though Karen was thinking. Inside his jacket he could see her try to stand up in the chair, almost like she was attempting to shrug it off.

I don’t want to work like this, replied Karen eventually. I must look ridiculous in that cheap jacket of yours.

“I’m sorry.”

Hmmph. No good. Take me home.

“Should I phone your carer?”

Just take me home, Fergus. Before I get mad.

“OK”

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