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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Sci-fi · #1912424
Read the sign before opening the door.
"Crap!" I whispered glancing at the time on my cell phone. I was five minutes late for the interview, so I didn't have time to stop at the restroom and check my makeup. I rushed past the first door to my left and turned right at the next corridor. Turning the knob on the first door to my left, I rushed into the room, without looking at the sign on the door. Alarms clanged followed by a mechanical voice shouting "UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY". I stopped, turned around, and watched the door close. Reaching out my right hand, I tried to open the door, but it was locked.

"Hands up," said a deep male voice from behind me.

"I'm sorry," I said raising my hands above my head. "I must have entered the wrong room by mistake."

"Can't you read," he opened the door and pointed to a sign that read For Authorized Personnel only.

I looked into the gray eyes of a burly blond security guard. "The temp office just sent me over and said I should see a Mr. Crabapple." I smiled my sweetest smile, "Can you direct me to the right room?"

"No!" He closed the door, then pulled my hands behind my back, and put handcuffs on my wrist.

Crap, I thought, screwed up again. He guided me toward the wall opposite the door, which slid open to reveal an elevator. He pushed me into the elevator and then pressed the button that read basement.

"Another intruder, Joe," a red haired woman ask as the security guard handed her my purse. "Where's this one from?"

"The temp agency," he grinned. "She's supposed to see Mr. Crabapple."

"I'll take her," she placed her hand on my arm. "You call Crabapple and tell him to contact the temp agency for another replacement." She guided me to a desk, then she dumped my purse and removed my driver's license. "Ms Beverly Lewis, why did you attempt to break into this facility?"

"I didn't break in," I sighed. "I entered the wrong room by mistake."

"Couldn't you read the sign?"

"Yes, but... May have my ID and credit cards back?"

"Ms Lewis," she grinned. "You won't need them where you're going."

"May I call my lawyer," I glanced at her name tag. "Ms Jones."

"You won't need a lawyer where you're going either," she laughed and guided me to a metal door behind the desk. She opened the door, pushed me into a small room, removed the handcuffs, and closed the door.
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