A/N: A huge thanks to Alf, Haleigh.l, Bluzie and Boy-o for editing and support.

xx Not mine, not making any money xx

. . . .

Cubicle Wars

pro·fes·sion·al\prə-ˈfe-shə-nəl\ 1. exhibiting a courteous, conscientious, and generally businesslike manner in the workplace. 2. participating for gain or livelihood in an activity or field of endeavour often engaged in by amateurs.

. . . .

Chapter One

God, I lived for moments like this…any second now….wait for it…in five, four, three, two, one…a-a-and cue Merry Men.

"STEPHANIE!" Angry men in black shouted in unison as they stood up peering over the tops of their cubicle dividers glaring in my direction.

Taking a deep breath I pinched my arm until I was certain I had curbed the uncontrollable desire to burst out laughing. Ouch, frick that hurt! Donning a straight face—the picture of innocence—I stood up from my chair.

"Hey guys, what's up?" My voice was so sickeningly sweet you could've poured it over pancakes. Mmmmm, pancakes…damn it. Focus, Steph, focus!

"Okay, I don't know what you did to our computers, but you are going to fix it….NOW!" Lester, the designated spokesman, said deepening his voice in an obvious, and might I add, unsuccessful attempt to be threatening.

"Why whatever do you mean?" I feigned bewilderment. "I'm going to go make some tea. Excuse me while I go turn—on—the—faucet—in—the—Break—Room." The last words were forced out through gritted teeth.

Bobby stepped forward with his hands held up in a conciliatory manner. "Look Bombshell…Steph…we said we were sorry. It was a harmless prank. Can't you take a little joke?" Clearly Bobby was the Good Cop to Lester's Bad Cop shtick. Pfft, like I've never watched Law and Order. Amateurs.

"Steph, this was just a little initiation into the RangeMan family, so to speak." Bobby wore what I assumed was supposed to be an apologetic smile. I snorted in disbelief. His remorseful act might have worked except for the fact that a few days ago I found a bunch of them, Bobby included, in the Control Room watching a replay of my little water mishap and laughing their asses off.

"Oh sure Bobby, I can take a joke." My voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Taping down the lever on the hand sprayer in the Break Room so when I turned on the faucet I got soaked, was freaking hilarious. Need I remind you that I had on a white t-shirt at the time, while I was waiting for Ella to bring me my new uniforms."

His eyes glazed over and his voice was reduced to what sounded like a reverent whisper. "Bombshell, you in that black, lace, unlined, demi bra from Victoria Secret's Intimissimi collection is an image that's been burned into my brain for eternity." He licked his lips. "For purely academic reasons if you don't mind my asking, were you also wearing the matching 'lacy and smooth' panties?" As he waited for my answer, he looked like a kid at Christmas dying to open a present.

I squinted my eyes and leaned closer to get a better look at his face. Was that…drool coming out of the side of his mouth?

"Grrrr, men!" I stomped off to the Break Room to grab a muffin before some chucklehead decided to sabotage them as well. This office prank war was soooo on!

It all started a few weeks ago when 'someone' thought it would be funny to tamper with my office supplies. For an entire week—every single day—I was the victim of so called 'harmless office fun'. My stapler had no staples, my paper clips were linked in one huge chain, the tape in my tape dispenser had been cut through in several places so I couldn't get a decent sized piece of tape. These were only some of the indignities that I took in my stride. I tried to be professional about everything…I was, after all, the new kid on the block since I'd added computer searches to the other odd jobs I now did at RangeMan. I conducted myself in a courteous and business-like manner while at the office and even laughed along with the guys about these 'little jokes' at my expense until...that day.

On that day, I was running late for a RangeMan meeting so when I arrived at the Conference Room everyone had already been seated and Ranger was in the middle of a case briefing. Some big wig F.B.I. reps were there, as this case overlapped with one of their investigations. I tip-toed into the room with my cup of coffee in hand, sending Ranger an apologetic smile and took the last seat which just so happened to be beside Ranger. All eyes followed me as I walked the length of the Conference Room to take my seat, just a tad self-conscious. Of course me sitting down occurred during a lull in conversation which brought my impending mortification to everyone's attention. If I ever find out who put that whoopee cushion on my seat well…I…I..I don't know what I'll do…but it'll be really, really bad!

Did I mention that when I jumped up out of my chair, I spilt my coffee all over Ranger's lap? Yeah, and well of course I couldn't leave my utter humiliation there…noooo…I had to take it a step further. As Ranger stood up, without thinking, I tried to wipe his pants—well his crotch really—with my hands…in front of everyone! Did I also mention that my very pert and visible nipples were the first body part to actually realize that I was basically stroking Ranger's…well, stroking Ranger? It took my brain a good thirty seconds to catch up with my hands. God, if there were ever 'do over' days in life that would be mine.

That day was when I began my own version of office 'payback's a bitch'. I started with small things like replacing the sugar in the dispenser with salt, taking all of the toilet paper out of the bathrooms and signing up the guys for gay porn sites. But my favourite was the day I brought Grandma Mazur in to work with me. Talk about quality footage for the next RangeMan Christmas party! Yeah, I was playing dirty, but they started it.

I knew that after this last little prank involving their computers, I'd have to be on high alert, constantly aware of my surroundings. Ranger would be proud, well of the 'aware of my surroundings' part at least. To thwart future retribution for my latest assault—hehe, I was starting to sound like Ranger—I needed a plan…and I needed a snitch, an insider, a stool pidgeon, a lackey. The question was who? Back at my desk, I tapped my pen on the pad of paper in front of me, while I went through a list of possible suckers—I mean, informants. To be successful, I needed to find the weakest link in the Merry Man chain.

Hmmm…Hector's name was crossed off the list immediately; being gay meant my feminine wiles wouldn't have an effect on him. Tank and the rest of upper management would be on to me too. Damn. I crossed three more names off the list. I looked down thoughtfully at the remainder of the names and began crossing off more people. It was safe to assume that I should probably stick to only the newer hires who didn't know me very well; they would be much easier to dupe. And that left, I played a drum roll on the edge of my desk…Binkie!

Yes! Even I was amazed at the sheer genius of this choice. Binkie had recently suffered some temporary damage to his vocal cords from a take-down gone wrong. A grease fire erupted in a skirmish with an uncooperative skip which resulted in Binkie inhaling large quantities of smoke. This meant he was on straight desk duty and, on Doctor's orders, couldn't talk. Hehe… Binkie couldn't tell anyone what I was up to. I put my pinky finger up to the corner of my lips and gave my best sinister laugh. Where was a hairless cat you could stroke when you needed one?

I got ready to pay my future informant a visit. Bending over at the waist in my chair, I hoisted up my boobs to make the most of my push-up bra. Reaching in my purse, I got out a bottle of Visine and put a couple of drops into each eye allowing the clear liquid to run down my cheeks before heading out on my recon mission.

Snickering to myself, I walked past cubicles filled with frustrated Merry Men trying to get their computer mouses, erm, mice?—or would it be meases—to work. I glanced inside Hector's cubicle as I walked by…he actually had his computer in pieces! Not one of the brainiacs thought to look under the bottom of the mouse. With a package of small post-it notes I had simply and effectively rendered all of the computers on the fifth floor at RangeMan useless. The paper stuck to the bottom of the computer mouse, made the track ball ineffective. I wondered how long it would take them to figure out my little joke and I was sure they were already planning some dastardly evil reprisal.

Well, that didn't matter right now…I kept my eye on the target while I crept closer. Binkie, the poor bastard, was trying to get his computer mouse to work when I came up behind him. I leaned over so that my breasts brushed against his arm as I grabbed a couple of tissues and sat down in the chair beside him. I could see his whole body tense and I watched him shift uncomfortably in his seat. I felt sorry for him…almost. Hey, he was also one of the jokers laughing at me in the Com Room. And I'm sure I saw money change hands.

"Hi, Binkie." I sniffed and took a few stuttered breaths. He looked up at me, concern etched in his face.

"Everyone hates me now don't they?" I began sobbing into my tissue in earnest. "Binkie, you're a great guy. I know you didn't have anything to do with those stupid pranks the guys have been pulling." Yeah….and Grandma Mazur has naturally pink senior's hair! "I feel t-t-terrible about what I did to the computers. Here let me fix yours." I lifted up his mouse and took off the small post-it note stuck to the bottom.

I sat up straight and gave a big, chest heaving sigh…and then another one for good measure. "I'm worried about what the other guys are going to do to me Binkie. Do you think you could text me if you hear anything?" I batted my eyelashes and leaned forward to pick off some imaginary lint from my pant leg, giving Binkie a clear view down my scoop neck top. He reluctantly nodded his head and I jumped up and hugged him.

"Thanks Binkie, I knew I could count on you."

. . . .

I woke up to my cell phone vibrating with a text message on the bedside table. Glancing at the clock, I groaned and flipped open my phone. Who the hell was leaving a message at five o'clock in the morning? A smile broke across my face as I read the message. Good old Binkie! Now to plan my counterattack…

To be continued…

. . . .

Thanks for reading, I would love it if you left a review!