Chapter 2: The Contract

Ingrid stood there for another ten seconds. The fluorescent lights continued their endless buzzing. Her reflection looked back at her from the mirror, showing everything she'd spent years trying to conceal. The blouse hung open between the three straining buttons. The skirt sat crooked on her hips, unzipped because physics simply wouldn't allow it to close.

She reached for the top button. Her fingers fumbled with it for a moment before she managed to work it free. Then the second button. Then the third. The blouse fell open completely, and she slid it off her shoulders with more force than necessary. The fabric whispered against her skin as it came away.

The skirt required wiggling to get it back down over her hips. She had to tug at the waistband several times, working it past the point where it had gotten stuck. When it finally slid down her thighs, she stepped out of it quickly and picked it up from the floor.

She folded both pieces carefully despite wanting to throw them against the wall. The fabric felt slippery between her fingers as she creased the edges and stacked them on the chair where Jessica had originally placed them. Her black t-shirt lay crumpled beside her bag. She grabbed it and pulled it over her head, relishing how the loose cotton settled over her body without constraint. The cardigan came next. She wrapped it around herself and pulled the edges closed, overlapping them by several inches.

Her bag sat in the orientation room where she'd left it. She pushed through the changing room door and crossed the hallway, entering the other room just long enough to grab the bag from the chair. Her phone was still inside. No missed calls. No messages. The time showed 9:47 AM. She'd been in this building for less than an hour.

The hallway stretched ahead of her. Those same framed advertisements lined the walls, showcasing products she barely registered now. Her shoes clicked against the marble floor as she walked. Each step echoed in the empty corridor. She kept her pace quick but controlled, fighting the urge to break into a run.

The photographs in the frames showed women with perfect makeup and flawless hair selling watches and perfume. All of them wore tight clothing. All of them smiled with teeth that looked professionally whitened. Ingrid passed them without making eye contact with any of the frozen faces.

The lobby appeared ahead. She could see the revolving door through the archway. Morning sunlight streamed through the glass panels, creating bright rectangles on the marble floor. Twenty more feet. Fifteen. Ten.

A figure stepped out from a side corridor just as Ingrid reached the lobby entrance. Jessica materialized directly in her path, moving with deliberate precision. Her heels clicked once against the floor as she positioned herself between Ingrid and the exit. She held a black leather portfolio in both hands.

"Leaving so soon?" Jessica's expression remained neutral. She didn't smile.

Ingrid stopped walking. Her momentum carried her forward another half step before she caught herself. "I can't do this."

"That's unfortunate." Jessica opened the portfolio with practiced movements. Inside sat a stack of papers protected by clear plastic sleeves. She flipped through several pages, her finger tracing down the margins until she found whatever she was looking for. "I need you to review something before you go."

She rotated the portfolio so Ingrid could see the document. The text was dense. Legal language filled the page in single-spaced paragraphs. Jessica's finger pointed to a section highlighted in yellow about halfway down.

"Clause seven, subsection three." Jessica's voice took on the same rehearsed quality from the orientation room. "Regarding breach of contract and associated penalties."

Ingrid leaned forward slightly to read the highlighted text. The words took a moment to process because they seemed completely disconnected from reality. Mandatory completion of six-month internship term. Failure to complete shall result in financial penalty. Compensation for training resources allocated. Total sum payable within thirty days of termination.

The number at the bottom of the clause was forty-seven thousand dollars.

"I didn't sign anything." Ingrid looked up from the page. "I haven't agreed to any contract."

"Your acceptance of the internship position constituted agreement to all terms outlined in the employment packet sent to your university advisor." Jessica turned the portfolio back toward herself and flipped to a different page. "You confirmed receipt of said packet via email on March fifteenth at two-thirty-seven PM Stockholm time. The confirmation included digital signature authorization for all associated documentation."

She showed Ingrid another page. This one had a scanned image of an email. Ingrid recognized her own email address in the header. The message body was short. Just two lines confirming she'd received the internship materials and looked forward to starting her position. Below that sat a digital signature that matched her name exactly.

"I didn't know what I was signing." Ingrid's voice came out higher than she intended.

"Ignorance of contract terms doesn't nullify legal obligation." Jessica closed the portfolio with a soft thud. "The penalty clause exists to protect company investment in employee training and integration. We've allocated significant resources to your onboarding process. Terminating your employment at this stage creates measurable financial impact."

Ingrid's hands were shaking again. She gripped her bag tighter, trying to make it stop through sheer force of will. "I can't pay forty-seven thousand dollars."

"That seems like a personal problem." Jessica's tone remained flat. She held the portfolio against her chest with one arm, leaving her other hand free. "Though I imagine it would create difficulties for your family as well. Student loans, I assume? Plus whatever additional debt this penalty would generate?"

The embassy application sat in a filing cabinet somewhere back in Sweden. Ingrid's mother had helped her fill out the paperwork. Her father had driven her to Stockholm for the interview. They'd celebrated when the internship acceptance letter arrived because opportunities like this didn't come to small-town Swedish girls very often. Her mother had cried. Her father had opened a bottle of wine at lunch.

Forty-seven thousand dollars would destroy them.

Jessica's free hand moved to Ingrid's elbow. Her fingers wrapped around the joint with firm pressure, not painful but absolutely controlling. "Let's return to the changing room."

She began walking back down the hallway without waiting for a response. Her grip on Ingrid's elbow pulled her along, giving her no choice but to follow or resist physically. Ingrid stumbled slightly, her shoes scraping against the marble as she matched Jessica's pace.

They passed the orientation room. Then the changing room door appeared ahead. Jessica pushed it open with her shoulder, maintaining her grip on Ingrid's arm the entire time. The fluorescent lights inside were still buzzing. The mirror still covered the wall. The uniform still sat folded on the chair exactly where Ingrid had left it.

Jessica released Ingrid's elbow and set her portfolio down on the floor beside the chair. She picked up the white blouse, shaking it out so the fabric hung properly. Then she held it open with both hands extended, positioning it like she was about to help a child get dressed.

"Arms up." Jessica waited. "Remove your cardigan and shirt first."

Ingrid didn't move. Her bag hung from her shoulder. Her cardigan was wrapped tight around her torso. The changing room felt smaller now with both of them inside it. Jessica stood between her and the door.

"We can do this cooperatively, or I can call security to assist." Jessica's arms remained extended, holding the blouse open. "Either way, you're putting on this uniform."

Ingrid's fingers found the edge of her cardigan. She pulled it open slowly, then slid it off her shoulders and down her arms. The air conditioning raised goosebumps on her skin immediately. She folded the cardigan without thinking about it, draping it over her bag.

Her t-shirt came next. She grabbed the hem and pulled it up over her head, feeling the fabric catch briefly in her hair before coming free. She held it in both hands for a moment, then set it on top of the cardigan.

The mirror showed her standing there in just her jeans and bra. The beige fabric of the bra looked dingy under the fluorescent lights. The straps cut into her shoulders from years of supporting weight they weren't properly engineered to handle. Her breasts looked enormous in the reflection. They always did.

Jessica stepped forward with the blouse. She guided Ingrid's right arm into the sleeve, then her left, sliding the fabric up past her elbows and over her shoulders with efficient movements. The material felt cold against her skin. When Jessica pulled it closed in front, the fabric stretched tight across Ingrid's chest immediately.

"This is what proper showcase looks like." Jessica began fastening the bottom button. Her fingers worked quickly, moving up to the next button despite how the fabric pulled between each one. "Your proportions create natural emphasis. Fighting against that with oversized clothing defeats the entire purpose of professional presentation."

She managed to close three buttons total. The top four wouldn't reach their corresponding holes no matter how hard she pulled the fabric. Between each closed button, the blouse gaped open. Ingrid's bra showed clearly through the gaps. The valley of her cleavage was completely exposed.

Jessica's fingers brushed against the visible edge of Ingrid's bra as she adjusted where the fabric sat. The touch was deliberate and lingering. "See how the undergarment creates such clear definition? This demonstrates exactly why sizing matters. The uniform should work with your natural shape, not against it."

She picked up the skirt next. "Step into this."

Ingrid stepped into the circle of fabric. Jessica yanked the skirt up over her hips with forceful tugs that made Ingrid grab the edge of the chair for balance. The material cut into her thighs as Jessica hauled it higher. When it finally reached Ingrid's waist, Jessica tried the zipper. It got about halfway up before the teeth separated from the strain.

"Close enough." Jessica left the zipper partially open. "Your body will adjust to the proportions with time. We find that most new employees lose weight during their first month due to the physical demands of maintaining presentation standards."

She adjusted the skirt's waistband, tugging it lower on Ingrid's hips so the zipper wasn't quite so stressed. This made the hem ride up several inches, ending well above mid-thigh. Then she returned to the blouse, running her fingers along the gaps between buttons where Ingrid's bra showed through.

"This visible element actually works to our advantage." Jessica's fingernail traced the edge of the bra cup through one of the gaps. "It creates a sense of... accessibility. Like something wasn't quite contained properly. Very effective for client presentations."

Ingrid stared at herself in the mirror. The uniform made her look exactly how she'd always feared looking. The blouse strained across her chest, gaping open to show her underwear. The skirt clung to her hips, unzipped, barely covering anything. Her face was flushed red. Her hair was disheveled from pulling the tight blouse over her head.

Jessica stepped back to examine the full effect. She circled around Ingrid slowly, viewing her from different angles like she was evaluating a sculpture. When she completed the circuit, she nodded once.

"Much better." She walked to the changing room door and pulled it open. "Let's introduce you to the rest of the team."

Her hand returned to Ingrid's lower back. The pressure was gentle but absolutely insistent, steering Ingrid out into the hallway. Ingrid's legs moved automatically, carrying her forward even though her brain was screaming at her to run. The marble floor felt cold through the thin soles of her shoes.

They walked past the orientation room again. Past the changing room. Past all those framed advertisements with their frozen smiling faces. The hallway extended further than Ingrid remembered. At the far end sat a set of double doors she hadn't noticed during her first trip through. Voices filtered through the gap beneath the doors. The sound of keyboards clicking. Someone laughed. Normal office sounds that seemed completely wrong given everything that had just happened.

Jessica's hand remained on Ingrid's lower back, guiding her forward. The double doors grew larger as they approached.