Sitting on the bus she surreptitiously looks again at the list Mr Birling has given her. Frowning slightly then putting it back in her bag. Three names and three addresses. Men’s names naturally. Just three names on the piece of paper but that is only for a start. To see how she gets on. The first on the list today, this sunny March afternoon: Mr Colway, Frobisher Drive which is close to the next bus stop. Then Mr Anthorp tomorrow. Mr Vaneway the next day. And after that…
She bites her lip, thinking what she has thought a hundred times: what if anyone found out? Her mother. Or Gary. The possibility doesn’t bear thinking about. She has told them it is a secretarial job. That was the job she went for, to the Acme Advertising Agency, only there wasn’t a job or not secretarial anyway. Instead there was this. Paying more than the secretarial job that had been advertised of course. Paying more than any secretarial job she could hope to get.
Frobisher Drive should be the next stop but she isn’t quite sure, she doesn’t know this part of the town. She could ask that man opposite, but she doesn’t want to, afraid that somehow he, or anyone else, could tell. Say you’re selling advertising space if you ever get a query, Mr Birling said, but why should you?
The man opposite glances across and happens to meet her eye. She quickly looks away, feeling herself flushing. What does he see? A pretty girl with corn-coloured shoulder-length blond hair who looks younger than her 19 years and the youthful appearance is perhaps emphasised by the white knee-socks. He also wants the shiny black strap-over shoes but she’s not wearing those, she has on brown walking shoes, the black shoes are in her bag. She doesn’t like looking young, she would much rather look older, 19 or more than that, but Mr Birling said looking younger was good, the clients would like it.
She certainly can’t ask the man now, not after that look. He can’t guess, there’s no way he can. She’s not happy wearing these socks but they’re not really odd. And he can’t see under her coat. The pink gingham blouse and little grey skirt, and the fact that she has no knickers on. She has knickers with her, little white ones, but they are in the bag too. That also is what this Mr Colway wants. He wants her to have no knickers on when she arrives. Just his little thing, Mr Birling said. They mostly have their little thing but it’s nothing to bother about is it? No problem under your coat. She is sure it is the next stop, it’s just that she’s so nervous and not really sure of anything. Because it’s her first time. The bus is slowing to a halt. She gets up. And the man gets up too! Oh God! He smiles at her as they stand waiting for the bus to come to a stop. He says, ‘It’s a nice day.’
‘Yes,’ she answers. Feeling herself flushing, feeling panic rising, What if he’s going the same way? What if he knows? What if she were to trip and fall over, her skirt flying up to show she has no knickers on? She fights to keep calm. He can’t know. She’s not going to trip over. She gets off and stands uncertainly at the stop. The man smiles again and walks off. Up the street. And that’s the direction of Frobisher Drive if she can remember the map correctly. What is she to do? She can’t be late, Mr Birling said you must never be late for a client. It is not professional, not business-like. And a girl has to be professional.
It is her first time with a client but she has had that session with Mr Birling. ‘We’ll have a little trial,’ he said. ‘That’s always a good idea. Then I can see how you’ll do. And you’ll get an idea of what’s needed. OK Alison?’
That was after he had told her. That although there wasn’t the secretarial vacancy there was this other position. Something else available, and being such a pretty girl with such a nice shape and especially being nice and young looking, she would be just right. It wasn’t a difficult job. It just involved seeing some of the firm’s clients. Being nice. And friendly. Public relations really.
She had had that sudden thought. Of what Mr Birling might be talking about. Mr Birling had seen, sensed, what she thought and quickly said no, it wasn’t that. The clients didn’t want that. What they wanted was…
Then he had shown her. When she had sort of half agreed because she really needed something and there didn’t seem to be any other job available. Certainly nowhere near the money she would get paid for this. He had shown her at his flat. In the bedroom. So she would know it wasn’t too bad, nothing to get excited about. Because as Mr Birling said there was no reason for a girl to get excited or bothered simply because she was letting a man take her over his lap and take her knickers down. And then spank her bare bottom.
That was all they wanted. To take your knickers down and spank your bare bottom. Or maybe for instance they might want you to come with your knickers already off. Like this Mr Colway. But they didn’t want anything else. They didn’t want to bonk you. Or if they did you could certainly say no. Say no thanks I don’t do that, I only do spanking. Just keep friendly but say no if you wanted to. But almost all of them didn’t want that anyway. They were just nice respectable gentlemen who didn’t want to bonk, they simply wanted to spank a pretty girl’s bare bottom. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to do it. She wasn’t at all sure she could make herself do it, it came as such a shock, the whole idea. She had no idea that girls did that sort of thing but Mr Birling said they did, it wasn’t unusual. Of course people didn’t shout about it, they kept quiet, but it was just a public relations thing. Like bonking. Some clients did want to bonk girls and that went on too but equally people kept quiet, girls wanted to keep quiet, they wouldn’t want their husbands or boyfriends to know they were bonking clients. Did she have a boyfriend? Mr Birling asked at that stage.
She said yes. Thinking of Gary. Thinking that she was sure Gary didn’t know any of this sort of thing went on. Well that’s not a problem I’m sure, Mr Birling said. He won’t need to know, you just tell him you’ve got the secretarial job.
She hadn’t been sure. Not at all. It was still difficult to take it in. But she had agreed to go with Mr Birling to his flat. And then he had done it. In the bedroom. Just grabbing her when she said she couldn’t. Laughing and saying of course she could. Grabbing her, in a sort of jokey way, but grabbing her nonetheless. With his hand up her skirt grabbing her knickers down. And sitting on the bed getting her over his lap with her knickers down and her skirt up round her waist. Spanking her squirming bare bottom.
It had been awful. Taking her breath away. Struggling and jerking like an eel but Mr Birling had her held tightly round her waist with one hand and the other in spite of her struggles simply kept cracking hard down on the defenceless cheeks of her bottom. It was really awful and Mr Birling wouldn’t stop. At last he did though. Pushing her to her feet. Her bottom was burning. Her face was burning. She felt like she was burning all over. Mr Birling was laughing.
‘There, how was that? Not too bad?’
She had shaken her head, not really about to speak. Then he said she had to put the other outfit on. Take off her own thing and put on the pink gingham blouse and little plaid skirt. The white knee-socks and the black strap-over shoes. It was a popular outfit with a lot of the clients. He wanted her to put it on and then he was going to spank her bottom some more.
She weakly shook her head again. No, he couldn’t she didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to do any of this. She couldn’t. Mr Birling told her not to be silly, of course she wanted it. It was nothing to get excited about, it was only a game really.
She did it. Not really agreeing to but doing it anyway because Mr Birling made her. Putting that schoolgirl-sort of outfit on and then having to get over his lap again. More of the awful spanking — only this time it was worse. Because Mr Birling did the other thing as well this time. As well as spanking her bottom his hand sliding in between her legs. Taking hold of her there. Her pussy. His hand, fingers, working at her. And whether it was the spanking and being over his lap with her bottom bare, whatever the reason, she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help herself responding to the awful thing his hand was doing. His hand that was masturbating her. And she came. Rolling her hips about and thrusting back against the hand and making awful gasping sounds. She came.
Sixteen Frobisher Avenue. The man who spoke to her on the bus has disappeared and here it is. Mr Colway’s house. A big house like the others on this road, detached and set back. Mr Colway, her first client. Mr Colway who is going to do what Mr Birling did at his flat. Oh God! He won’t do that other will he? The spanking will be bad enough. The spanking for which she already has her knickers off: Mr Colway’s little thing. Don’t think about it. It’ll only be… how long? Well not long, maybe an hour and she’ll be back out here and her ordeal over. But with another one, Mr Anthorp, tomorrow. Oh God! Don’t think about any of it. Just walk up the drive, a girl who’s come to sell advertising space if anyone happens to be watching but there isn’t anyone. Walk naturally up the drive and ring the bell.
‘Alison? It is Alison isn’t it? The new girl. And so lovely. Mr Birling said you were nice but he didn’t say how nice. Mmmm…’
They are inside the house, in the hall, and Mr Colway is talking in an animated way and unbuttoning her coat at the same time. He is about Mr Birling’s age with a trimmed beard. His hands with her coat undone are having a quick feel at her boobs and then her coat is off. Mr Colway is admiring her. Saying admiring things and his hands admiring too. His hand slides up under the plaid skirt to her bare bottom.
‘And new to this too Alison? the PR business. Mr Birling said you hadn’t done any of it before, so really new. How lovely. Tell me have you got a boyfriend? Though I’m sure you have, such a lovely girl.’
She has intended to say no if she’s asked that. Not wanting to have to talk about Gary. Not wanting to think of Gary at all in connection with this. Then this can be like a dream, as if it’s not really happening. But her head is in such a whirl, Mr Colway all over her, his hand at her bare bottom, that somehow she says yes. And when he wants to know his name she can’t think of any other name and has to say it: Gary. And then Mr Colway’s hand is not only at her bottom. His other hand is round the front. At her pussy. She tries to struggle away from the hand but laughing Mr Colway won’t let her. Asking about Gary, and what they do. While both his hands…
She is close to tears by the time he finally lets go. ‘Just having a bit of fun,’ he says. ‘Anyway, now we’ll start properly. Naughty Alison has been sent round to me because of what she’s doing with her boyfriend. She’s letting him do it to her and she’s not supposed to, she’s supposed to be concentrating on her studies. And therefore she’s got to have a good spanking. That’s it isn’t it?’
Mr Colway says she has to put her knickers back on, and change into the black shoes. She would have come with her knickers on because having her go about the streets with no knickers on will only have encouraged her in her bad behaviour. So he wants her to go upstairs, to the little back bedroom, and wait for him like that. He’ll come up in a few minutes and then…
She is standing by the bed waiting, as he’s told her, when he comes in. Her heart is thumping from that business downstairs in the hall. She has her knickers on again, and the black shoes. Mr Colway comes close.
‘Right young lady. Have you got your knickers on?’
A mumbled ‘Yes.’
‘But you have them off often enough for that youth eh? That Gary. What have you got to say about that? Letting him put it up you all the time, most evenings I expect, when you’re supposed to be studying. Eh?’
She doesn’t know what to say. Shaking her head. Mr Colway tells her to take her skirt off, then stand at attention. She has to of course. This is what she is here for, for Mr Colway to do what he wants, more or less. Spanking. Groping her, her bottom and her pussy, as he did downstairs. Could she have said ‘No I don’t want that!’ But Mr Colway would only have laughed and done it anyway.
Standing at attention by the bed in the pink gingham blouse and her little white knickers and the knee-socks and black shoes. Mr Colway tells her to take the knickers down. Slip them down halfway to her knees. She has been a naughty girl. Neglecting her studies. Bonking. Letting Gary bonk her when she should be studying. And perhaps others too? Does she let anyone else bonk her? Mr Colway asks. He laughs. Mr Birling. She’s pretty certainly let Mr Birling bonk her.
‘No!’ she gasps. ‘No I. don’t. I haven’t.’ Mr Colway’s hand is fiddling with her bare bottom. Pinching and jiggling it.
‘Just Gary you say?’ His voice soft in her ear while his other hand feels her tits. ‘What about Gary then? How often with Gary. Did Gary have it up last night?’
She shakes her head. Her knees feel like they are going to collapse. She did do it with Gary last night, wanting it because of this impending visit today, to perhaps calm her nervousness. But she’s not going to tell Mr Colway that. She mumbles something. Mr Colway gives her bottom a sharp slap.
‘Come on, I’m going to have to give you a good spanking. Which hopefully may teach you the error of your ways Alison. Come on. Take your knickers down a bit further and get up on the bed. Get on the bed with your bottom sticking nicely up in the air.’
She pushes her knickers further down and climbs onto the bed, Mr Colway grabbing at her bottom as she does so. Kneeling on the yellow cover with her face down in it and her bare bottom up. Mr Colway pushes the pink blouse up so that as much as possible is exposed. Her soft pink flesh, pink against the deeper pink of the blouse and the pastel yellow of the bed cover. The white knee-socks and shiny black patent leather shoes completing the seductive setting to the softly swelling curves of her teenage bottom. Mr Colway’s hand slides over the swelling ripeness.
‘Yes, you’ve been a naughty girl Alison. And naughty girls have to learn their lesson. Get it up just a little more. To make a really nice target. That’s it. Now then…’
Mr Colway’s hand cracking hard down on her upthrust buttocks. A muffled yelp into the bed cover. Another as the hand cracks in again. Think of something else, she tells herself, bottom quivering, clenching. And anyway it won’t be for long, Mr Birling said perhaps an hour, that was how long clients normally had girls. The hand has cracked in for a couple more resounding SPLATTs. So it won’t be for long… and then she’ll be back outside again. Back on the bus. Seeing Gary tonight. Gary who will ask if she’s had a good day. Ah she’ll say… No she doesn’t want to think about that, about having to tell Gary the lies. Because she can’t possibly tell him she’s in this. This PR work. No way. If Gary ever found out…
Mr Colway keeps on — SPLATT… SPLATT… SPLATT… — at her bright pink bottom as she kneels with her head down in the yellow cover. Then he wants another position. For some more spanking. He wants her on her back with her legs lifted up in the air. Up over her head so that the undercheeks of her bottom are up, fully exposed. And something else too is up and fully exposed. Her pussy. On full display in this position between the upturned cheeks of her bottom and the upraised undersides of her thighs. Alison’s pussy.
Mr Colway with one hand holding her legs up and back fondles her thrust-out pussy. ‘This is it eh Miss? This is your little problem. A girl should be keeping the boys away from it but instead of that it’s freely available. Whenever he wants it. And the others too I expect. Mr Birling I expect…’
His hand fondling her between her legs as she groans and squirms. Getting aroused, hot, although she doesn’t want to, as she did when Mr Birling did the same thing. And then when she is hot, liking it in spite of herself… he stops. And begins spanking again. SPLATT… SPLATT… SPLATT… SPLATT… Keeping going. SPLATT… SPLATT… SPLATT… While she squeals and yelps and squirms and jerks.
Mr Colway keeps on and on.
At last he stops. Letting her legs fall back down on the bed cover. Mr Colway tells her to take her knickers off. Whimpering she struggles them down and off over the black shoes. He is sitting on the side of the bed. He tells her to open her legs. Wide. Lie still and open her legs wide. She does it. Feeling exhausted, all hot and drained from the spanking. Mr Colway’s hand is at her pussy.
‘Yes a naughty girl Alison.’ His voice soft, caressing as his fingers fondle her hot pussy. And maybe it is the spanking or his playing with her earlier but she is wet. ‘And we know what she likes doing now,’ his fingers in her pussy, at her throbbing clitoris. Mr Birling said you didn’t have to bonk ‘Just say no I don’t do that’. Mr Birling said that… but then he bonked her. After the spanking and bringing her off with his hand. He bonked her on the bed… and she didn’t really protest because she felt so weak, all her strength spent. As she does now.
Mr Colway is standing up, his hands at the belt of his trousers. ‘No…’ she says weakly. ‘No… I don’t…’ But she is just lying there with her legs open. Mr Colway grinning. ‘Yes you do Alison. You’re a very naughty girl who likes doing it.’
Outside. Her first visit is over. Outside in the fresh March sun with her coat on again and her sensible brown shoes. And her knickers too, she has her knickers on. How does she feel? She doesn’t really know how she feels. No feeling except her legs feel funny, weak, crunching on the gravel of Mr Colway’s drive, then out into Frobisher Drive.
Halfway along Frobisher Drive there is suddenly the man on the bus. Suddenly appearing from nowhere at her side. She has completely forgotten about him but now from out of the blue…
‘Hello,’ he says. ‘Had a nice afternoon?’
She is struck dumb. In total shock. He laughs softly. ‘I know where you’ve been. I’ve seen you girls. But you’re a new one aren’t you?’
She feels like she’s going to collapse. ‘We’ll go and have a nice cup of tea at my place,’ he says. She tries to protest, with semi-incoherent words. ‘Oh yes we will,’ he tells her. ‘I’m sure you want your business kept nice and quiet. And I can keep a secret. If I want to.’
So she has no choice.