I hate the way she looks at me now. Sitting there, sipping a fresh espresso with the corners of her lips curled upward ever so slightly. Like I’m some kind of joke that she’s trying not to laugh at. I don’t think – I know she believes herself superior. Not to say she’s wrong about that, she’s stunning and intelligent and I could go on, but of course it still infuriates me to no end.

And here we sit on the 47th floor, on the corner of Bloomfield and Vale. Inside her lavish office, the afternoon sun streams through the satin curtains to illuminate bookshelves and the glossy maple furniture, their tones like syrup in the warm light. Between us was her desk (a statement piece if I’ve ever seen), cleared of her belongings and embezzled with gold on its edges, the polished surface that could double as a mirror.

It had been minutes of us staring at each other, with only the low buzz of an AC unit to accompany the silence. We’d gone from being together fourteen years, to a ceasefire on communication. To gather one’s thoughts after so much has happened can be difficult, it was in that awkward period of time where it felt both long and short. At least she wasn’t awful to look at. Though, I’d have to leave that train of thought behind if I wanted to make it through this alive. Her blue eyes were as inquisitive as they always were, twitching as they studied my face and an occasional flicker to my chest. She had zero decency, that had never changed.

“You look gorgeous Amber,” she said.

“Thank you.”

She smirked and took another sip of coffee. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Not long enough.” I smiled back.

Her amusement only grew, her dimples showed through. “How’ve you been?”

“Doing my best I suppose.”

“You’re still writing?”

“To varying levels of success.”

She nodded slowly, then unfolded her legs and leaned forward, her elbows on the desk as she studied my face closer. “Money’s still tight then I imagine.”

I refused to speak of this with her. Did she want me to get on my knees and beg? “Is that what this is about? Like I told you last time, I don’t want your charity. I’m not taking any more donations.”

“Amber.” She purred. “You should think more highly of yourself. All I want is your help and, perhaps I’d like to spend some time with you. Of course, I’m willing to provide compensation for you if you’d let me. But really, think of it as time away.”

“And why would you need my help?”

“Because I can trust you.”

I scoffed. “You’re a riot.”

“Is that not fact?” She asked.

“It’s certainly something.”

She shook her head and stood, an expression of disappointment. Pacing around the desk, dragging her fingers for a moment against the wood until her leg grazed against mine and the rich scent of her floral perfume graced my nose. She leant on the desk and reached her hand to my chin, guiding my eyes to hers. It had been a while since I’d seen them so soft, so unassuming, like gentle pools of blue. This meeting was never going to go well.

“Belle,” I said quietly.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you. I didn’t respect you and for that I am sorry. I know you’re not stupid. You think I’m trying to use you, but I promise that is not the case. You know, that letter you sent me, I’ve spent the last year reading it over and over again. When I first read it, I was livid but I think I just missed you. You’re a great writer you know? Every time I read something you write I get filled with this overwhelming emotion, you invoke it well.” She sighed and looked away. “I won’t blame you if you turn me down here but, I’ve missed you. I really have.”

“Belle I just – I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t know if it’s healthy for me.”

She lead me by my chin to my feet so she could wrap her arms around me. The difference in our height had always been a strange attraction for me. With her heels on, I would find myself just level with her inviting cleavage. I miss laying with her, with my head nuzzled there as
my heartbeat slowed into a lulling relaxation. Despite my best effort, I
couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her waist and embrace her. Why was I so tragically susceptible to her?

“What if I give you an offer you can’t refuse?” Her voice hummed through her chest.

“I don’t know.” I whispered.

Her fingernail traced along my shoulder blade. “Five hundred thousand dollars and a week away with me.”

My heart was stuck in my throat. She peered down at me, her hands running through my hair. “Why?”

She smiled. “Because I can trust you.”

***

That was two weeks ago, Isabelle had filled me in on some of the logistics since then, it was more of a research project than a romantic getaway. Not that I was complaining. I laid on my mattress mulling over the offer, dust hovered through the evening light peeking past my blinds, crickets ignited the neighbourhood in chorus and the bustle of the busy streets transitioned into its nightly tradition, with the distant yelling and honking as white noise. My comfort vinyl softly played, Heaven or Las Vegas by Cocteau Twins, and I had traced every line along my ceiling for the hundredth time. I felt like I was about to relapse, I promised myself I couldn’t keep going on with the rollercoaster that was Isabelle (Not like that was a rare occurrence, but I meant it this time). Yet, after another taste, here I was with my phone in hand, building up the courage to dial her number and say yes. I chuckled to myself, it was funny how fast I succumbed to her, even though I walked in convinced I hated her. As soon as she touched the side of my face I was done for, I forgot how much I missed her. And even though I knew this would end how it always did, I let myself picture her.

Her premium blonde hair and striking blue eyes, a smile that hid her scheming. Her body, so toned and sure of itself. Her pert breasts and long legs. My hand snaked into my panties and I sighed. I held my phone above my face and stared at the green dial button. By waiting I was only prolonging the process. I hit dial. The phone rang four times before she answered.

“Hello, Amber?” Isabelle’s voice said from the receiver.

“Hey Belle.”

“Oh it’s so good to hear from you. I was just thinking about you.”

“Good thoughts I hope.”

She laughed. “Only the best.”

My fingers worked like clockwork, her silky voice enough for me at this moment. “I’ve been thinking about your offer. I’d like to accept.”

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?” She teased.

“That’s a loaded question.” I said to mask a whimper.

Her laughter filled my ear. “Well, either or, I’m glad you’ve made up your mind. I’m already on site so I’ll send my assistant to pick you up first thing tomorrow. I’m sure you two will get along.”

I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be travelling with Isabelle. “Right, well. That’s great.”

“You’ll just need clothes for the week. And bring your notebook, I’d like to read what you’ve been working on,” she said and continued on with other details, pickup time, where we were staying, what to expect, she made it sound like if I had turned down this opportunity, I would have missed out on being a part of history. But even then, she was very vague about it all, there was more to come apparently. “Oh, and one more thing Amber. Think about me when you finish.” And with that, she hung up.

That was enough for me and I clamped my legs together, savouring the pulsing pleasure shooting through my legs. I was thinking about her, the whole time really. Picturing her lips moving with her words, the little head shake she does when she laughs. I was totally hopeless. For the rest of the night, I drank wine and smoked, cycling through my albums. I listened to a lot of albums about love. I went to sleep that night dreaming of a summer we spent together.

In the morning I shook myself out of bed and packed my bag. Isabelle had insisted on a 7 a.m. pickup. After a shower, I stood in front of the mirror and gripped the sink. I shouldn’t do this. But I would do this. Because, truth be told, I had weak willpower and I really did need the money. I hadn’t finished a script in four years. In my tiny living room, my roommate, Lindsay, was passed out on the couch. It was Sunday morning after all. I grabbed a pen and wrote a quick note that said: Water the plants. I’ll be back in a week. Love u xoxo. And left it on the coffee table. The front door closed shut behind me, my stomach was turning from nausea.

I waited on the steps of our townhouse taking deep breaths, spring had just sprung and the trees were turning pink, their flowers littered the ground. A fresh breeze rustled the leaves, it helped me calm down. The wind had some leftover chill to it, enough so that it warranted a jacket to be thrown over my summer dress. After some minutes of people and car watching, a matte black SUV pulled up. The number plate matched what Isabelle had told me, so I grabbed my bag and opened the back passenger door.

“Morning,” said the driver, a black-haired woman with black makeup and a black suit.

I raised my hand, “Hi, Amber.”

“Is that so? Well, it's a pleasure to meet you,” she looked at me through the rear-view mirror. “I’m Gwen.” The engine roared as she switched into drive and took off down the street. “So, I hear you’re a friend of Isabelle’s.”

“Do you?”

“Along the grape vine.”

“It’s nice to know I’m being talked about.”

She smiled into the mirror. “I can see why you were such urgent cargo.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“You’re very pretty Amber.”

“Thank you.” I looked out the window. Urgent cargo? We drove through the Melbourne streets, into the outer suburbs.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know Isabelle?”

“We’ve known each other a while. Why the intrigue?”

“Oh, you know. It’s just strange. Isabelle barges into my room last night and all of a sudden I’m being sent off to collect some kind of secret benefactor for her. I don’t mind of course, I enjoy travelling alone. But I am interested in why you’re suddenly coming along for the ride and exactly who you are. It's funny, now that I know your name, I have even more questions, you're clearly very important to her. So, assuming you know Isabelle well, I’m sure you know how secretive she can be.” We stared at each other as Gwen pulled up to a red light, I wasn’t really sure what to say. “But you don’t even know what you’re walking into, do you?”

“She told me you’d fill me in on the details.”

“She did! But it might be fun to surprise you.”

“I don’t mind, I like surprises,” I said.

“And this is some surprise.”

 The drive continued. With the suburbs behind, Gwen drove us through the countryside. Rows and rows and rows and rows of trees rushed by. They were all planted in perfectly even fashion, every few seconds they would line up as the view from the car hit the perfect angle. There was kilometres left of this two-lane road, kilometres until we reached Bowman Co’s private airstrip, I knew that much at least. For the next couple hours we chatted back and forth about travelling and music. We spoke of New Zealand, which is where we were headed, but I could tell Gwen was withholding information. I needed to know more.

“So, tell me, what is this secret project all about then?”

“If I tell you, will you tell me about you and Isabelle.”

“If that’s what you’d really like. I don’t understand why.”

“She's very hush hush about her private life. Plus, I have a feeling it’s an interesting story.”

“Gosh, isn't it ever. But, I suppose that’s fair enough.” I nodded. “Go on then.”

“You’ve heard about the overpopulation crisis?”

“Not really.”

“So the groundwork was laid about five years ago during a crucially important United Nations meeting. Japan brought it to the attention of the world that by 2034, with our current population growth rate, we would be facing, if you’d believe it, accelerated climate change and a critical lack of resources. A chocolate bar would be worth $100. Do you know what I mean? The world can’t support that many people, there’s too much demand with too little supply. It’s like the earth’s a cup that’s almost full. Anyway, so every country in the UN starts selectively sourcing solutions and our friend Miss Isabelle Bowman and Bowman Co, the leading research and pharmaceutical giant, are contracted to be a part of that solution.”

“It’s happening that fast?”

“It’s exponential.”

“Right. You’ve developed some kind of medicine then? Does it make people not eat or something, so we can save resources?” I offered.

Gwen flashed me a grin. “It shrinks people.”

“What?”

“Yep. It shrinks ‘em to about yay high,” she held up her fingers only an inch apart. “Or smaller, for future proof’s sake. But think about it. Instead of trying to combat overpopulation, why don’t we use it to our advantage? How massive could our population get? Think about the brilliance of 12 billion humans. Imagine what 100 billion could do. Imagine what one trillion could do.”

Huh. “That’s certainly an interesting concept.”

“Concept? Ha, we’ve had working prototypes for months. Come on. Think about it. Suddenly, we’d have an over-abundance of resources, suddenly we’re too small to even touch the ozone layer. The cost of goods would be less, the cost of everything would be less. Imagine all the cultures and wonders that would sprout up all over the world with so many people. You can’t tell me that isn’t a bright future, can you?”

“It just sounds like a lot. What about everything we’ve built until now?”

“Imagine how awe-inspiring the Eifel tower would be if you were an inch tall.”

I gave that a moment. “At some point, a structure like that would appear too large, no? And even then, I feel as if most people are against being the size of a bug.”

“True.” Gwen nodded. “But it doesn’t have to be everyone.”

“Now that sounds like a logistical nightmare.”

We drove in silence for a little while, Gwen took a right turn at some point. The road was growing thin, the bitumen replaced by gravel. Rolling hills rose and fell on either side of us and the sun was glowing brighter. We must have been getting close.

“Picture this,” she started. “Five thousand people, all small enough to fit into a cardboard box. The seat size of a large business, but they only take up the size of a seat. Work could be outsourced in the blink of an eye.”

“Jesus. Who is supposed to work in these tiny sweatshops?”

“People who have no other choice. It’s a real issue Amber, if population growth continues in the way that it has, there won’t be a habitable earth for us to even live on. The world can’t support everyone equally.”

“So it's essentially white-collar slavery.”

She scoffed. “They wouldn’t be locked up. They’d have their own private sanctuaries, natural wonders that someone larger couldn’t even fathom.”

“I think you might be telling me some heavy stuff here.”

“Is that a problem?” Gwen took a left between two trees. “I was told I could trust you.”

“Right.”

“But lighten up! That’s all just talk. Just theories and examples of applications in the real world. There’s big money behind this, it’s all about innovation.” The side road finally came out of the clearing onto a long and empty stretch of land, a runway made of packed dirt and a private jet ready to fly. This was all very standard procedure with Isabelle. Take a look at all my money and look at how mysterious I can be. Gwen parked away from the plane, there was already a man dressed in a black suit walking toward the car.

“Bay fifteen.” Gwen said and handed him the keys. He nodded and motioned for me to get out. With a cloud of dust the SUV took off down the runway, two other men dressed in black came by to grab our bags and guided us toward the jet. My hair whipped across my face as we approached the plane, its engines roared above it all, from the door protruded a staircase. Our bags entered first, Gwen not far behind. With all due respect, I watched her ass swing back and forth, hugged by those black slacks. She smiled back at me as we entered the lush interior. There were luxurious seats along the aisle and polished wooden finishes all over. We took a seat opposite each other by the window.

“Wine?” She asked.

“Of course,” I said.

Gwen placed two chute glasses on the marble table, filling them with chardonnay. “So, Amber. I’ve fulfilled my half of the deal. Get talking. Who are you to Isabelle?”

“She’d probably consider me some kind of muse.”

“A muse you say.” She seemed to think on that for a second. “Not that I don’t believe you, she just never struck me as one to have a muse.”

“Whatever that means. How much do you even know about her?”

“Hey, hold on. I’m the one asking the questions.”

I took a sip and motioned her to continue.

“When did you two meet?”

“In the eleventh grade. We went to the same school. St. Bernadette’s.”

Gwen leaned back with her glass, in thought. “That’s the private one on Cavill?”

“You got it.”

“How naughty. Two Christian girls.”

“Lord forgive us.” We laughed.

The plane had trundled into position, an increase in speed and the outside world zoomed past until the landscape began to drift from view. Our conversation eased as we appreciated the shrinking scenery. But I could tell Gwen was eager to get back into it, I didn’t mind, I found her quite pleasant.

“So you used to make out in the school bathroom. What else? Did you study together?” She asked.

“No, no. I’m no STEM graduate. I studied theatre at UM.”

“Huh, really? You’re not a scientist?”

“Far from it. Why?”

“I just assumed you’d be working with us.”

“You don’t know my role?”

She rubbed her chin. “Isabelle said she wanted to tell you. She never told me, I assumed it was a research position of some kind.”

“To be completely honest with you Gwen. I thought this was going to be some kind of elaborate apology,” I said.

“An apology?”

“I’ll spare you the details. We split up last year.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.” She looked into her glass. “Sorry to pry then.”

I waved my hand. “Please. It’s the usual with her.” We sat in silence, sipping our wine for a while after that, my reveal seemed to dampen Gwen’s spirits. I was slightly disappointed, I didn’t mind talking about Isabelle, at least the good stuff. My mind wandered to the early days of our relationship. After school, we remained dressed in our uniforms (I can still recall how itchy those boxy skirts and sweaters were) and made our way to Isabelle’s apartment in the city, her parents lived abroad. I miss those afternoons, they were simple. Isabelle would study on the planted balcony, surrounded by greenery and overlooking the bustling Melbourne streets and I usually sat across from her, reading plays and books, anything from before the 80s. Later, we’d watch the sunset and all of its lavender tinged glory, my head in her lap as I recited my favourite quotes to her. She could play with my hair for hours while I rambled about Virginia Woolf. Her love was quiet, but deep.

The rest of the flight went smoothly, it only took a few hours to fly from Melbourne to Auckland. Gwen and I resumed our chat, much less personal now as we discussed our careers, though I was getting a bit tipsy. She had been working as Isabelle’s assistant for the last five years, she wrote her thesis on the various species of mushrooms that had sprouted in Chernobyl, she told me all about the effects of radiation to fungi. I could understand why Isabelle was interested in her, she had always been big into mycology.

As Auckland passed below us, I felt a knot of anxiety in my gut. There was still so much mystery around this upcoming week and I had thrown myself right into it, I was blinded by Isabelle’s sudden reintroduction to my life. But also, I had been in a rut myself, drinking more often, my nasty  nicotine addiction came back, I was delaying the inevitable. A trip away to gather some inspiration might be exactly what I needed. What was I going to witness on that little private island? I couldn’t even begin to fathom it.

The island in question was part of an archipelago called The Mercury Islands. They were a group of tropical islands with crystal clear water surrounding them, made up of stark cliff faces and healthy forests. They passed below us, growing closer as our altitude dropped. We landed on the largest island on a private runway, two black-suited men escorted us down to a pier with a pristine white yacht. I sniffed the sea salt as we walked to the end of the boardwalk, there were no clouds in the vast sky. The sky above the water, like a mirrored sea of blue.

“It really was a pleasure to meet you by the way,” Gwen said.

“Likewise.” I smiled.

“If you ever want to spill any more of Isabelle’s secrets, I’m always available.”

I eyed her up, she filled that suit out nicely. “Might have to take you up on that offer.”

“Oh stop it,” she laughed.

On the yacht’s deck was Isabelle, clad in a navy-blue dress, she raised her hand in greeting. I felt my heart rate flutter, she looked amazing. After thanking the escorts, we took our bags and boarded the ship, the floor now rising and falling with the sea. The cabin was expectedly magnificent, every bit of furniture as shiny as the day they were varnished. Gwen plunked onto one of the couches, her form sunk into the plushness. On the ceiling was a mirror that I admired for a second.

“It’s so good to have you two here,” Isabelle said as she entered, Gwen gave a wave from the couch. “Save travels I presume?”

“Of course, Gwen was great company.”

“I hope she didn’t tell you everything. I want you to experience it firsthand.”

“She knows the gist of it,” Gwen said. “And I have to say, you have taste Isabelle.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” she did that little conniving smirk and Gwen flashed me a look. I’m not normally one to blush, but I did anyway. This was going to be a long week. “But before we get into all of that.” Her arm wrapped itself around my shoulders and she presented an expensive bottle of Riesling. “I thought we should celebrate your arrival.” And for the rest of the afternoon we drank on the yacht. Chatting away with the waves and the sunset as our company.

***

I always forget how beautiful the night sky can be when you’re out of the city. The stars litter the darkness, glowing so bright in such an expansive beyond. I followed a drunken Isabelle with an even drunker Gwen behind me. We trekked along a rocky path, illuminated every few steps by an orange light. A shadowed structure loomed before us, a modern-looking mansion jutting out of a seaside cliff. Along the rocky face, there was a staircase leading to the front door. There was something so nostalgic about tonight. We giggled as we stumbled up the stairs.

Isabelle entered a code onto a number pad and the huge wooden door clicked open. Inside, the foyer was shrouded in shadow until Gwen hit the lights and revealed an assortment of minimalist furniture, carefully designed to look like they suspended gravity. She, on the other hand, looked miserable, swaying and struggling to stay awake. Her blouse had been unbuttoned to reveal a healthy line of cleavage.

“Honey, you need to go to bed.” Isabelle laughed.

“Nah.” She hiccupped. “Nah. I’m good.”

“She looks fine to me,” I said.

Isabelle had to catch her as she lost balance and said more seriously this time. “Gwen, we have work tomorrow.”

“You’re right. You’re right.” She straightened up and tightly hugged Isabelle and then me. “Okay, I’m going.” She stumbled through the foyer to what I assume was toward her room. “Night night gorgeous girls!” She called back.

“Every day, this is what I have to deal with.” Isabelle shook her head in mock annoyance.

“She’s lovely.”

“Isn’t she?”

We walked to the dining room. Which was an open plan style room, windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling circled the long dining table in the middle. There was a viewing sofa to sit on and gaze at the waves crashing into the crags below. We both fell with a sigh onto the red leather. I leaned my head against her shoulder.

Her fingers brushed my hair. “I’m so glad you’re here Amber.”

“Me too,” I said. It was true, I was glad to be cuddled up next to her like this, but I was confused. “Why am I here though?”

“Do you want to see?”

I looked up at her. “Obviously.”

Belle smirked and pulled me to my feet. “Another drink first.”

“Since when are you an alcoholic?”

“Since I haven’t seen you in a year.” She enwrapped her fingers in mine and lead me to the kitchen. While she poured us a glass each, I stared at her ass and calves, pumped up by her heels. I wanted her so badly. “How much did Gwen tell you?”

“About your shrinking pills?”

She chuckled. “It’s more of a powder.”

“Well.” I took the wine from her. “You’re using it to fight overpopulation. And maybe some mention of, how would I describe it? Shrunken slaves?”

Isabelle’s grin grew wide. “You wouldn’t believe how successful our trials have been.”

“I’ve heard enough about it. Show me.”

“Come on then.”

We walked down a long concrete hallway to an elevator built into the wall. I sipped my wine, my eyes prowling on Isabelle’s body whenever she looked away. My head felt fuzzy. With a ding, the doors closed and we descended into the earth. Another ding and the doors slid open.

Woah.

The very sight of the place woke me out of my daze. We were in a gigantic room, illumed by a massive floodlight on the ceiling, making it feel like day. Tables upon tables filled with city blocks the size of shoeboxes and buildings the size of matchboxes spanned the space, their architecture was reminiscent of a tight-knit European town. Some raised higher than others, but none were even close to my height let alone Isabelle’s towering stature. The city continued on the floor too, the buildings down there barely reached halfway up my shin. Compared to Isabelle's confident strut, I tried to tread carefully, I didn't want to cause an earthquake, my loafers were the size of a mega yacht. The longer I stared, the more alive it became. What really got my attention was the cars driving down the miniaturised streets and the tiny little people going about their day.

“This is totally surreal,” I said, my mouth agape.

“Have a closer look,” Isabelle leaned against one of the tables, the curvature of her ass rounded over a few nearby roofs.

I came up next to her, my shadow covering a stretch of residential area. I must have appeared like some kind of monster to them. Like Godzilla towering over their buildings. There were hundreds maybe thousands of tiny people, like insects working as a hivemind, streaming between buildings, waiting at street crossings, playing in the park, all their actions looked so monotonous and scripted when viewed from such a perspective. The people could’ve been no larger than my fingernail. They were cute in a way.

In my enwrapped awe I failed to notice my chest steamroll over the cities outskirts. I flinched when I felt something sharp poke into my left breast. There were two large covering an industrial district and debris falling from my top. “Shit. Sorry.” I apologised.

“It’s nothing,” Isabelle said.

I took a deep breath, this was like something out of a dream. “I feel like a giant.” Like I was thousands of feet tall.

“When you’re down here, that’s exactly what you are. It’s a rush, right?”

It felt exhibitionist in a way, being so much larger than the tiny people below. I examined the damage my chest had made, the concrete foundations hadn’t stood a chance, they crumbled like sandstone as I prodded them further. There was a crowd forming on the streets below.

“What are they looking at?”

“What do you think?” Her eyes flicked down.

“Oh, I see.” A set of tits bigger than a building was sure to draw attention. If only for my simple pleasure, I shook my chest. The crowd raised their hands and I giggled, Isabelle was shaking her head with a smirk. “You’ve got some of your own admirers.” I pointed out a crowd of tiny people gathered on the rooftops beneath her ass. “What are they doing?”

“Do you remember my obsession with mushrooms?”

“Sure I do.”

“They’ve been the cornerstone of my research for as long as I’ve had the reigns.” She turned her head to regard the overflowing roof. “And most recently, we acquired this fungi that grows in the alpine pastures of the Himalayas.” Her finger dragged through the crowd. “It’s a type of cordyceps. It boosts exercise performance and has anti-aging qualities, it gives a shrunken person a much sturdier body. The drug we created makes prominent use of them.” She smothered a group of the tiny people into her ass. “But it’s also a highly valued aphrodisiac, colloquially known as ‘Himalayan Viagra’. The little guys down here go nuts when I’m around. They breed like fucking crazy.”

I got down for a closer look. She wasn’t wrong, they were reaching out from the rooftop edge to touch her, some on their knees, others with their pants around their ankles. There were even some engaged in intercourse. Were they running some kind of human breeding facility here? It was hard to think straight, I was too drunk. I had questions but I couldn’t ask them. My vision was starting to spot and fade.  

“Belle,” I said. “Why am I here?”

She brushed my hair behind my ears and held my neck. She leaned down and kissed me. “Amber, baby,” she whispered. “I need you back.”