Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ....
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Bulma Briefs looked into the rearview mirror of her small car, applying a quick coat of mascara. Blinking furiously, she gingerly tried to remove the flakes of mascara from her eye. Well, I guess that's what you get for sleeping in. A wounded eyeball and no coffee. She reapplied the mascara once more, a little more carefully.



Bulma yanked her hair back into a ponytail while sliding out of her car and shutting the door with her hip. She glanced at her watch, and broke into a run. 5 minutes late. On a Monday. Bulma had the sinking feeling that this was the bad start to an even worse week. Reaching the double glass doors, she whipped them open and bolted inside, not waiting for the automatic doors to open by themselves.



Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I know...I know...I'm late. Again. Bulma flushed under the scrutiny from the secretary at the front desk. I had a little trouble this morning.



The matronly woman didn't look appeased. She frowned as she took in Bulma's appearance. Blue nylon exercise pants and a white tanktop coupled with a pair of green running shoes. I can see that. Shaking her head, she sighed loudly. I like working with you, Bulma, I really do. But if you keep coming late like this, I don't know how much longer you will be here.



Debbie, will you please just give me my log? Bulma forced a smile through gritted teeth. Taking the booklet from the woman, she signed in. Have a nice morning! She grinned at Debbie, muttering under her breath, You unctuous bitch. How Bulma hated that woman. Ever since she had begun her job at the prestigious clinic, that she-devil had given her hell each morning, late or on time.



Bulma was quite good at her job. In fact, she enjoyed it. Most of the time, anyway. The majority of the people she treated were not too seriously injured. In the year and a half since she had graduated college, Bulma had been struck only twice. After the first time, she had become much more attuned to emotions. Wounded animals attacked when in pain. The same went for wounded people.



Walking through another set of double doors, Bulma took a deep breath and readied herself for her first patient of the day. Alan Marsters had had surgery to correct a deformity in both of his knees. It was Bulma's job to help him walk again. Generally, not to difficult a task. With anyone other than Alan Marsters. The man was as horny as a bull and seemed to have more arms than octopus. He was also married.



Turning down a corridor that led to the back side of the building, Bulma walked to the room that held the parallel bars and a compilation of other equipment... as well as Alan Marsters.



Resigned to the fact that procrastination, no matter how appealing it seemed, got you nowhere, Bulma opened the door and walked briskly in. She smiled politely at the slight man sitting in the wheelchair. Good morning, Mr. Marsters. Let's move to the parallel bars today. I think you are finally ready for them.



Marsters grinned lasciviously at Bulma. I told you to call me Alan, Bulma. I'm ready for the parallel bars anytime you are. Or anywhere else, for that matter.



Bulma stood by the bars, looking down at him, eyebrow raised. Must I remind you, Mr. Marsters, that ours is a professional relationship? Her other eyebrow rose to join the first.



Marsters sighed, trying to look disappointed and sensual at the same time, failing miserably.



Bulma watched as he hoisted himself up onto the bars, and went through the exercises she had instructed. Offering words of encouragement, carefully keeping them free of anything that could be misconstrued as affection, Bulma stood by his discarded wheelchair. Frowning slightly, she could hear excited voices coming down the hall. Good job, Mr. Marsters. Keep it up, I will be right back. She walked towards the door to see what the commotion was, but was stopped as two people came into the room.



Miss Briefs! There you are! Please, walk with me for a moment. A squat balding man in a suit, whom she recognized as Mr. William Anhurst, the owner of the clinic, gestured towards the hall.



What about my patient? Can't this wait another minute? We're nearly finished. Bulma looked perturbed. That cow Debbie couldn't be right, could she? Was she, Bulma Briefs, actually getting fired?



Veronica will take over for you, Miss Briefs. A tall dark haired woman walked over to the bars. Bulma felt a pang of anger. This was her job! Even if the patient was a pervert, she had invested too many hours and endured too much to let someone else take over. The man continued to talk, placing a hand on Bulma's elbow, steering her out the door. Last spring, you treated a man who suffered from a stroke. Am I right?



Bulma glanced at him sharply. Last spring I treated many men who suffered from strokes. It's part of my job. What was he getting at?



Anhurst chuckled. Yes, I am aware that that is part of your job, and that you take your work very seriously. That is why I am here with you now. He stopped, and turned to look at her. You are aware that this is the most prestigious, renowned clinic on the continent? When Bulma nodded, he continued. Last spring you treated the head of the most powerful family this civilized world has ever seen. A Mr. Vegeta no Ouji.



Bulma scowled, recalling the ornery and fiery older man who had tested her mental endurance beyond belief. No one in the clinic could get through to him. Before their first round of working with him had ended, they fled from the room. Bulma had been ready to run away screaming as well, but when he had thrown a glass of water at her, drenching her from head to toe, she had snapped. Maybe it was her display of inner fire, or that he saw she actually possessed a spine, she didn't know. He tolerated her. By the time she had succeeded in helping him gain back the power of speech and mobility, she was completely spent. It had taken a two week vacation, gifted by the clinic, in the Bahamas, to bring her back to normal. Yes. I remember him. Why? No way in hell was she working with him again, even for a two week vacation.



Well. The no Ouji's have a son.



What does that have to do with me? Bulma glared at him, already knowing what was coming.



As I was saying, the no Ouji's have a son, Vegeta. He was injured in repelling accident. He has lost the use of his legs, and some of the mobility in his arms.



Bulma looked him straight in the eye, arms folded. I'm not treating him. She almost laughed at the flabbergasted look on the stout man's face. If he's anything like his father, and I imagine he's probably worse, how the hell am I supposed to get through to him?



They are willing to pay you $20,000 a day, pay for your traveling expenses, a new wardrobe, and accommodations. He left out the fact that she would be living with them, and that she had no choice, really; they were sending escorts' the next morning who were taking her to the no Oujis, willing or no.



Bulma's mind worked figures. It took the elder no Ouji two months to recover. It would be at least that long for the son's recovery, most likely. If she went, that would earn her over a million dollars. She could retire. Never work again. AND a new wardrobe to boot. Where do the no Ouji's live? Her greed warred with her nerves. Say yes!!! Yes yes yes yes yes!!!!!! Her mind screamed at her to agree. Well, Bulma thought, who am I to disagree with myself?



The no Ouji's live all over the world, they have more mansions than there are countries. The one in which you will be working, has not yet been disclosed. Actually, it had, but Anhurst knew that if Bulma knew she was headed for the wilds of Canada, she would never consent.



Bulma eyed him, suspicious. Fine. I will go. But I am taking the rest of the day off to go shopping. She waited for him to refuse.



Anhurst smiled, handing her a card. Actually, I was going to suggest you do just that. This is a credit card, from the no Ouji's. There is a $750,000 limit on it. He grinned. Per store.



Well? What do you think? Please review and tell me, if you like it, if it stinks, whatever. I just want some feedback. Hmm...in the next chapter, Bulma meets Veggie...and Veggie meets his match. Get ready for a battle of the sexes! ^^ Thanks for reading! ^^