Appointments

Summary: As primary secretary for the top floor offices at Luthor Corp, Georgia is the last defense before meeting with any of the top dogs. But can Lois Lane weasel her way in without an appointment?

Clack. Thud. Smoosh. Squeak. Squelsh. Clip. Tick. Thump.

Georgia Payne could always tell what kind of appointment 'the boss' had by the sound of the visitor's shoes. Not that she faced many surprises; it was her duty to keep a complete schedule of appointments. The massive calendar laid out on her desk before her was 'old-school' for sure—with all the paperless systems she had access to. Call her quirky; but Georgia loved physically writing in names and dates, highlighting meetings, and crossing off cancelations—not that many cancelled on her boss.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

It was a little game she played with herself, to match the purpose of the guest with the sound their shoes made crossing the marble floor from the elevator, over to her desk. As of late however, the major players had certainly shuffled a bit. Transferring from the offices in Star City to Metropolis a few months prior had provided her with not only a new city, but a refreshingly new level of difficulty to her "game." Sometimes a secretary to the powerful needed more than office supplies and the daily minutia to entertain herself.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The heavy tread of businessmen's shoes slapping against the lobby floor announced the majority of her boss' appointments. Shareholders constantly wanted to monopolize the young mogul's time—from both Luthor Corp and Queen Industries. As head secretary, Georgia had to keep track of who her boss actually 'liked' and who to tactfully deny admittance. With a huff of pride, Georgia smiled to herself at just how good she was at her job.

Squish. Squish. Squish.

Occasionally, scientists walked off the elevator with squeaky soles and fast paces—intent on selling their latest projects or advancements. Of course, the lab coats and bow ties manifested the hours they spent cooped up in labs. Often, they lacked personal skills and bumbled about as they waited for their meetings. Georgia always found herself amused at how smoothly her boss handled those greetings, displaying far more patience than she—which was saying something considering her job description.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moderate tones of a low pair of heels announced some professional type of woman. Typically, the older share-holders preferred these non-descript shoes. Georgia also noticed how they often walked much faster than their male counterparts—as if to try and do twice as much during the course of the day. Business women, in their conservative "grandma" heels, amused Georgia. Most of them attempted to "dress for success" but did not always dress to flatter themselves. She always wondered why there could not be a better balance.

Clip. Clip. Clip.

The high pitched clack of stilettos announced one of two types of visitors. Ms. Mercer, co-CEO of the Luthor Corp holdings, often preferred the hazardous shoes. Georgia could not but help envy the red-headed corporate titan, as she strode across the lobby with such ease. Tess Mercer was the picture of grace and elegance in Georgia's mind. The woman could make a potato sack look like haute couture. Of course, standing at a mere five-foot-two, Georgia could only look on with envy at the taller-woman's ability to tower above the most powerful businessmen. As a 'ginger' herself, Georgia admitted guiltily that she loved seeing others like her take charge!

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Now, the second type of stiletto wearing-women who visited her boss, tended to be there for more, personal business. On these occasions, Georgia cringed at her duty to keep anyone from intruding on, "the boss." She was no fool, the skanky visitors were there for one specific purpose. But of late, Georgia mused, these visitors had been scarce. In fact, these visits had decreased, while the visits of another strong-minded woman increased.

Chloe Sullivan was increasingly becoming a familiar face. While initially thought as a personal friend, Georgia was not oblivious to the fact that her boss had another set of keys made to his office, nor to the way that she was instructed to allow Ms. Sullivan admittance at any hour of the day. Georgia had met Ms. Sullivan not long after her transfer to Metropolis, and had nothing but thoughts of approval for the woman. Spunk went a long way in Georgia's book, especially from one petite woman to another.

Another of the boss' friends never failed to send shivers up Georgia's spine. The Daily Planet reporter, Clark Kent, was Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome personified—not that her boss did not fall into an Adonis category of his own—but the reporter was delicious. Georgia sensed a particular innocence about him and always sent large smile his way. The dark hair, blue eyes, and muscular build contrasted so many of the chunky businessmen who frequently passed through. She could not help but enjoy a guy who took care of himself.

But Clark Kent was peculiar. Georgia began to notice a pattern to his visits early on—always unannounced and typically leading to the boss' hasty departure afterwards. Mr. Kent also had a knack for sneaking past her desk unnoticed. And it bothered her to an extent! Quite frequently, she would miss his entrance, only to see him leave. While peculiar, Georgia increasingly found herself trying to catch him enter. There was no doubt about it, Clark Kent was an enigma to Georgia.

Ding.

Georgia perked up at the chime of the elevator. She straightened slightly in her chair to peer over the desk front toward the elevator. It was late in the day, and nearly time for her to leave. And, as she glanced down at her master planner, there were no appointments left for the day. Her ears picked up on the distinct clack of four inch heels—two inches too tall for typical 'professional dress.'

Following the brown heels up to take in the rest of the woman's appearance, Georgia noted the tailored suit jacket and matching pencil skirt. The outfit was certainly professional, as was the press pass attached to her collar. She begrudgingly admitted to herself that the heels worked, and did not necessarily indicate "skank" in this instance. But with the revised appraisal of the woman, Georgia would certainly pay to see the woman chase down leads in those pumps.

The tall brunette bypassed her desk completely and did not break stride until she reached the door behind her. When the handle failed to turn, she let out an unflattering grunt. Slowing backtracking to the peer down at Georgia, over the desk front, the mystery woman put on a false-smile and faux-cheery voice.

"Excuse me, but I need to see Oliver right now," she announced as if she expected to be admitted 'no questions asked.'

But Georgia did not find herself fooled in the slightest. Warily taking in the 'Daily Planet' name tag, she was puzzled that this woman would be on first name terms with her boss. Being difficult, she mock-squinted at the name as she replied, "Well Ms…"

"Lane, Lois Lane," the woman interjected boldly with a glare, "Look you must be new."

Recognition dawned in the back of her brain. She had never met the woman before, but this 'Lois Lane' was an ex-girlfriend. And well, usually those were personas non grata. Typically the front desk staff kept too much drama from making it up to the top floor, but mistakes did happen. Keeping her impatience at bay, Georgia replied as tactfully as she could. "Ms. Lane—you either need an appointment or to be pre-approved to see Mr. Queen."

"I need an appointment?" Lois spat back with one eye-brow raised, appalled at the notion, "Look, you just pick up your little phone, and dial the big blond bossman, and tell him that his girlfriend's cousin is here to see him—and SHE WILL NOT HESITATE TO LAY THE SMACK-DOWN….."

Georgia attempted to block out the angry tirade and shook her head at the gall of the woman before her. Georgia reached for her phone, with the intention to call security. Just because Ms. Lane made it past the front desk was no excuse for the brash and rude behavior. Georgia Payne was not a secretary to be trifled with!

-"I understand his ego is SO inflated…."-

But just as she grasped the phone handle, it rang, "Mr. Queen's Office."

"Georgia, is that Lois' dulcet tones I hear?"

-"I HAVE TO BE ON AN APPROVED GUEST LIST NOW?"-

Snorting, Georgia knew she liked her boss for more than just his attractive features, "Yes, Ms. Lane is demanding to be let in."

-"Just because I broke up with him, suddenly I am the bad guy?"-

"I presumed as much. Send her back."

-"It's not like I am going to try and cause him physical harm. Well, not much anyway."-

Shaking her head, Georgia bit back a smile at the amusement in her boss' voice, "She's all yours."

Returning the phone to its cradle with exaggerated slowness, she tried her best to keep her face straight as the reporter's tirade ended-finally. But somehow, Lois Lane had a sixth sense about her and a Cheshire-like grin spread across her face.

"Let me guess? I can go in to see the great and powerful Oz now?" Lois quipped smugly.

Rolling her eyes, Georgia pressed the button under the desk to unlock the door. Glad for the departure of the pit-bull, she mentally wished that Mr. Queen was better equipped to handle his next "appointment."

"You may head in Ms. Lane."

Once she had the room to herself again, Georgia pulled out her list of "approved" guests of the boss and penciled in "Lois Lane." –Just for future reference.