He came with a Tampon
'Life is good.' Carson mused in satisfaction as he pulled his locker open and brought his old nameplate inside.
He may be the tardiest amongst his workmates due to his house's location, but he managed to save their company from bankrupcy with his 'creative' and 'efficient' business strategy. After that faithful incident, his dad promoted him as the new head of their department.
Yes. His dad is the owner of Hotel Del Russo in Toronto, and yet his job position does not fit his image as the son of a CEO. His old man thinks that Carson needs to learn how to work hard for everything he wants. That includes his job title. You can't describe his career journey as a 'pleasant walk in the park'. He started as an intern, then he became a hotel porter. He can still remember those customers who tried to harrass him... He cringed at the memory.
And now, he got promoted as the general manager of the hotel after 3 long years.
"Congrats." His co worker grinned, leaning his weight beside Carson's locker. "I never thought you could actually think of something that will save our company. Look at that nameplate, though!" Jonathan attempted to grab hold of the glimmering, flat piece of metal pinned on the left side of Carson's chest, who managed to slap his hand away before Jonathan could even touch it. "Come on, just let me look at it. I'm jealous." Jonathan pleaded as he followed the new manager.
"Then work hard for it." Carson replied with an eyeroll, snatching his lunchbox seating from his swivel chair.
Jonathan snorted, grabbing his own from his cubicle on the far side of the office. "The tardy talks." He grumbled as he approached him.
Carson snorted back, slinging the bag around his shoulders as he prepared for their break. His phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket making him pause in his tracks. "Go on, I'll follow you in a sec." He mumbled, double-checking the message to check if he had read it right.
:09978918180: It reads. Carson's definitely sure the number is not on his contact list, nor did he actually gave his number to a stranger outside the company. And the next thing he found surprising is the message itself.
:Eira, I need you right now. Could you bring me some sanitary napkins? I'm having a bit of trouble today. I had a leak on my skirt. I'm here at the ground floor comfort room of Hamilton Hotel.:
And he's sure as hell his name is not Eira, or does his nickname. Carson pressed his chatbox ever so slowly, thinking of the best and kindest reply he could say to the poor girl having a bad day.
:Sorry, you got a wrong number.:
But then he erased it as soon as he finished it.
:Sure.:
Message Sent!
Carson grinned as he rounded on his desk, readying himself for the long journey he is about to take from Toronto to Oakville. Taking a key out of his pocket he then shut his door close and locked the knob with a soft click.
"Woah, Carson. I didn't know you were talking about 6000 seconds back there." Jonathan mocked.
"I won't be joining you. I'll be eating outside."
"What? I'm not invited on your mini celebration? Is that how it is?"
"I'm not celebrating my promotion, Jonathan. Someone just called me."
"What? You're taking your break up better than I imagined." Jonathan chuckled. "Didn't you just broke up with-"
"Stop naggin' me. And don't mention that woman."
"Woah, no need to be so harsh." Jonathan raised his hands, trying to calm him. "So where are you really going, then?"
"Hamilton."
"Are you serious? That's 45 minutes away from our building!"
"I am, and I know."
oOo
"Where is she?" She moaned slightly from her toilet seat, dumping another tissue in the trash can with a snort. "It's been 10 minutes already! It's not like taking an elevator ride from the top of this building down to the ground would take that long." She complained.
•Pik Pok•
:I will be there in 20 minutes.:
What the actual fudge? Ryleigh stared at the message for a good long minute before writing a reply.
:Where in the Earth are you?! Don't you fool me, Eira. I'm serious! People are waiting outside and it's starting to smell!:
:I'm serious. I'm in Toronto by the time you messaged me.:
:Just how on Earth did you ended up there?!:
"Oh God, please. Tell me I'm dreaming." Ryleigh groaned, tapping her foot hard against the cold tiles of the comfort room. Another flush were heard from the background, and Ryleigh found herself cringing in embarassment.
"Excuse me. Is this cubicle broken or not?"
"Gosh, why does it stinks around here?"
The sound of her phone distracted her from listening to the complaints. She quickly fumbled to her phone and opened her inbox.
:Just visited Hotel del Russo.:
:You're kidding, right? We're competing with the owner of that hotel.:
:No.:
Digging her nails on her right thigh, Ryleigh let out a muffled scream.
'Now what?' She fumed.
:I'm at the convenience store in front of the building. Please meet me outside.:
'Now, that's not Eira.' Ryleigh thought in suspicion. It's not her when she uses 'Please' in a normal conversation, especially when you're the one who needs something from her.
:Why can't you just go in and save me from humilation?: She replied, slamming the send button with irritation.
:Because I can't.:
She could just buy a pad from a vending machine without waiting for 30 whole minutes and giving the other occupants of the room the wrong idea, and there you go, problem solved. The thing is, this building has none at the moment. Her temporary depression intensified as she clutched her abdomen in agony. "Stupid, pesty dismenorrhea." As the pain subsided she pulled her skirt and her blood smeared panties up, grabbed her leather bag and made her way outside the cubicle.
Everyone else stared at her in awe as if some creature had just been summoned from the cubicle. Trying her best to cover her mess with her leather bag, Ryleigh marched outside the room only to be stopped by a woman complaining about her not flushing the toilet bowl. Ryleigh pivoted on her heels to see a woman crumpling her face in disgust.
"I'm sorry." Ryleigh re-entered the cubicle she had vacated not quite awhile ago, scrunching her nose as she took a scent of her own blood in disgust. As the women watched her blood being sucked by the toilet and a new batch of fresh water sprung from it, Ryleigh's face grew hot in embarassment.
Catching a peek of how pale she looks both from embarassment and blood loss from the mirror, she made her grand exit away from the comfort room, traumatized. 'This humilation is too much.' Ryleigh fumed, marching away from the building in shame from herself.
oOo
"Hamilton Station." The announcement drew Carson out of his peaceful nap. He's been searching some things about menstruation and dozed off without knowing.
Stepping out of the train, Carson started studying the skyline with difficulty for the earlier rain had caused slight fog that covers the highlights of the buildings. Catching a glimpse of a high-rise building with a sign that reads 'Hamilton Hotel', Carson hailed a cab from the exit. 'Not much from what I expected.'
It took them a seven minute drive before they reached his destination. Carson opened the car and guided himself out. He straightened his coat and fixed his slightly toussled hair.
Looking up from his spot, he studied the Hamilton Hotel that stood gloriously in front of him. It's precisely built from the curves of the glass that decorated the building itself and the indoor gardens that could be seen behind the windows. A limo parked in front of the main entrance, and the guests gave their baggages to the bellboy who's patiently waiting by the entrance in his dark green velvet uniform. If he remembered it correctly, the Hamilton Hotel has forty floors and five hundred rooms. Not bad for a newly established hotel.
'So, this is who we are competing with.' Carson whistled in amusement. :I will be there in 20 minutes:. He informed with a grin before he spun around and headed towards the convenience store.
"Good afternoon." A fat, balding man greeted behind the counter before he went back to his calculations for this month's profit.
Ranma went to explore the small store in search for... sanitary napkins, much to his dismay and shame.
A sales clerk appeared on the aisle wherehe had been standing. She then plopped down on the floor with a large box and started arranging the new deliveries that have arrived earlier, which happened to be the thing of his search.
The woman eyed him carefully from where she is crouching before she finally asked the young man who's having trouble on his toes.
"May I help you?"
Carson flinched, looking over the woman crouching beside him. "Uhh... are these things are already out of..." He trailed off, unsure whether to finish his statement.
The woman finally smiled. Slowly she stood up from the floor with a slight groan, dusting her back from the possible dusts that may have gathered to her pants. "You're lucky the delivery just arrived earlier. These babies were out of stock for five days straight. Women from the Hamilton are already complaining."
'That explains it.' Carson thought.
"Did your girlfriend asked you to buy her one?" The older woman cackled, tossing some of the packed pads in his direction.
Carson blushed even more but nodded, he couldn't say it's for him or for no one, she would think of him as a pervert if he were to say that, or a weirdo if he were to say someone he doesn't know just texted him saying she needed some pads. Carson frowned even more. 'I shouldn't have come here in the first place.'
"Is she regular?" The woman asked him, taking him unguarded.
Carson stuttered from where he was standing. He only hears the word 'regular' on fast food chains, and he often upgrade his meals... So why the heck is he hearing this now?
"W-well, that is... I don't have any idea about these stuffs, you see." He scratched his cheek in utter embarassment, fumbling at the loads he's carrying in his hands.
"Is that so?" The woman frowned.
"Well... is that a big of a problem?" Carson asked, panic started to rise in his gut.
The woman stared at him, and back to the shelf before grabbing two more packs from the shelf and tossing them in his direction which he caught with ease. "That green one is a panty liner, used if her period is about to go away. That blue one is for a common period. The darker has wings. On your right hand is a thing for heavy flow or for women suffering hormonal imbalance, that's pretty unpredictable if you'll ask me. The darker violet has wings. The pink one is ultra thin, used when you're wearing skirts. Some of these are scented since blood stinks like hell, but some women are allergic to scented pads. That one is a tampon. And that one is a menstrual cup. That's pretty convenient and it helps the mother earth!" The clerk explained, looking very enthusiastic about the topic. "What would you consider buying, then?" She finally asked.
"What?" Carson asked, returning her question back. 'Jesus, I didn't understand a thing.'
"I'll take all of them, I guess." Carson mumbled, tossing the packs in the basket sitting beside him.
Grabbing the handle of his basket, Carson proceeded to search for snacks.
As he gathered everything that he thinks she might need, Carson went to the counter.
His shame returned in full force as he handed his basket filled with women's necessities to the old man sitting behind the counter. He waited in a long, torturing and awkward silence as the man sluggishly scanned the prices.
"That's 118 dollars for you, sir."
Taking the paper bag and his change, Carson marched out of the store.
He begab to look for a spot to stay at as he waited for the girl. Seeing a blank spot at the parking, he stood there and texted her.
:Where are you?:
Carson tossed his phone inside his pocket and opened his umbrella as he waited. Idling in a suspicious manner, Carson eyed each women going out from the said building in search for a suspicious girl which he could presume as a suspicious looking, lousy woman trying her best to stay normal to everyone's eye but saw none so far.
Some women noticed his lingering eyes. A group of girls batted their eyes towards his direction, giggling girlishly. He rolled his eyes in boredom and diverted them away from the group.
"Oi, boy. Only my customers could stand outside my store, unless you'll buy something inside." The owner tapped his foot rapidly on the pavement with a frown, waiting for him to go away.
"But I just bought something from ya." Carson defended.
"Then you are no longer my customer." The owner hurled back.
"Fine." Carson tried his best to stop the urge to add any more comments. Grumbling, he waited for the lights to traffic light to turn red.
"Go away." The owner barked.
"It's still green."
"I know. Go away."
Carson growled under his breath in annoyance. As the traffic lights turned red he walked across the pedestrian lane.
As he strided across the lines, he spotted a woman resembling Snow White: From her blue business coat, yellow pencil skirt, a red bow clipped on her ash blonde wavy hair, flat shoes and her oh-so pale skin. But the last description doesn't look so usual and natural at all. It seems...
Unhealthy.
"That's right." Carson muttered, quickening his pace towards the woman waiting outside the entrance.
She's holding her phone at one hand and the other behind her back, typing furiously as tick formed on her brows. A wind blew hard on their direction, sprinkling some water on her face.
"You'll be paying me this time, Eira." The woman growled dangerously, which he found kind of cute. Carson gulped down a bubble of laughter as he take his place beside the woman.
As soon as she flung her phone at her chestpocket an unfamiliar ringtone beeped beside her and the rain that sprays on her face perpetually was surprisingly gone, making her switch her head to see the object of her stunner.
A young man, about the age of 20, stood there holding an umbrella, shading her on purpose.
He's much taller than her, about 7 inches or more, with a dark black hair fixed in an ideal prom-looking hairdo. He has a perfect chisled jawline and an aqualine nose. His thick eyebrows were full, and his left one is attractively scarred. His greenish gray deepset eyes gleamed as he stared across the street, feigning ignorance. He's dressed in a casual looking suit that somehow hugs his form, complementing the body beneath the fabric. His chiseled arm is laden with two paper bags filled to its opening with things, whistling casually.
The man's genuine action got him a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes. As if he began to notice the look she's giving on his way, the man fully turned his face towards her and returned her stare.
Ryleigh tried to shrug it off. In this situation, she must first get herself away from the scene. She's starting to smell like blood and she needs to find a bench where she could sit and rest her pounding head. 'Stupid blood loss.'
"Now, where's Eira?" Ryleigh tried to move away from the guy and from the obvious embarassment she'll undergo if she stayed any longer, although some part of her mind has been dying to know what's his name.
Keeping her bag firmly against her back, Ryleigh slowly stepped a foot to her side, before sprinting off away from the scene.
However, much to her dismay, the man followed her. Increasing her speed, Ryleigh took a turn to a corner, trying to lose the man, but the man had managed to catch up with her pace, the umbrella still hovering over her head.
"Miss, I come in peace." The man shouted after her.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Misantrophic
Misantrophic Hey there! This is just your usual rottening cheese on your library. I have to cut you short because this chapter is too long. The chapter 2 will be posted later. I promise. Leave a comment or like, I don't care. If you don't, I still don't care. Bye! Love you XOXO
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone