From Blushes 75
It was Angela’s first job and she was naturally nervous about the interview, but her mother told her there was no need to be. All she had to do was act natural and make sure she was looking her best. Wear something pretty that also showed off her lovely figure. This was what counted when a girl went for a job: good looks and figure. Paper qualifications, GSE’s etc, weren’t really that important with most men employers.
This was reassuring, if true, because Angela didn’t have any GSE’s. She had left school a month ago at just 17 with no qualifications to her name the result of spending too much time in the last year with her boyfriend Dave when she should have been concentrating on school work. Of course at that time Angela’s mother had been telling her how essential it was to get qualifications, and she shouldn’t be wasting her time hanging around with Dave. But Miranda Renlow was just being a realist. It was nice to have qualifications but it was also true that many men recruiting a girl in the office were swayed by other qualities.
‘You want to look really nice,’ Miranda Renlow said. ‘Your pretty pink dress, and your white heels. And stockings and a suspender belt. Men do mostly go for proper stockings.’
Clearly what Angela’s mother meant by ‘really nice’ was sexy. Because apart from the stockings and her four-inch-high white heels the pink dress did show off Angela’s shapely figure to excellent advantage. It was tight-fitting at her slim waist and also over her firmly thrusting ripe melons, and had a full short skirt so that a good deal was revealed when the wearer was sitting even in a decorous manner.
No doubt Angela’s mother knew what she was talking about because she worked in an office herself and at 37 was still a very good-looking and shapely woman who wore very attractive clothes to work including, Angela knew, nylons and a suspender belt.
Anyway it did seem that what her mother had said was true. (What she was saying now, that appearance was most important, rather than earlier when it was GSEs which were essential.) With Angela now sitting with Mr Atkins in his office and doing her best not to look (or be) nervous though that wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. Mr Atkins had noted on Angela’s application form that she didn’t have any GSEs, but said this was not necessarily a major problem. ‘Not for a pretty girl, Angela. On-the-job training is most important anyway. And you look like a smart girl who can pick things up fast.’
Mr Atkins was the manager here at Acme Enterprises, who had put the advertisement in the paper for a girl to work in the office. He was wearing a smart dark suit and had a short-trimmed beard and looked to Angela to be about her father’s age, which she knew was 40. They were sitting in two easy chairs in the part of his quite big office where he received clients. The low easy chairs were almost opposite so that Mr Atkins had a good frontal view of Angela’s shapely legs, shown off as they were in that short full pink dress and her white high-heels.
Mr Atkins smiled reassuringly. ‘Is that right, Angela? A smart girl who can pick things up fast?’
Angela flushed slightly. ‘Yes. Well I’ll try.’ It came out a bit nervously. She crossed her legs. Doing it decorously but of course in her short full skirt and with Mr Atkins sitting opposite in his low chair it wasn’t possible for it to be completely decorous. And Mr Atkins was looking at her legs.
Michael Atkins had a glimpse of darker stocking tops and the slim straps of a white suspender belt. Plus the pale, softly-rounded thighs above the stocking tops.
He smiled again. ‘No need to be nervous, Angela. Are you nervous? There’s no need to be. When you’re such a pretty girl, and with such a lovely figure. Lovely legs. Are you wearing stockings?’
Angela modestly tried to push her skirt down further, embarrassed by his words and the question about stockings. She mumbled yes.
‘Good. That’s very nice. Proper stockings — nylons — are so nice on a pretty girl. So much better than tights.’
Michael Atkins could feel a surge of excitement. Her shyness made her even more delectable. Those shyly revealed thighs! He could imagine softly stroking them. This sweet shy girl’s soft thighs. And not only that… Seventeen, she had written in her application. And just left school. But nowadays of course they were already doing it at 17. Even the really shy seeming ones. With their boyfriends of course, not just everyone.
‘And you’ve just left school, Angela. So this will be your first job. Well, there will be a lot to learn of course. Yes.’ He gave her another of those smiles. ‘Tell me, have you got a boyfriend?’
Some embarrassment again it seemed, with another mumbled affirmative. Well, why not give her the chance for some proper embarrassment, Michael thought. Or presumably it would cause embarrassment. He leant forward.
‘I wonder if you could tell me something that is really quite private, Angela? I’m only asking it because I think I can give you the job. And therefore as your employer I shall feel I have some responsibility towards you, to give you guidance and all that. So I hope you won’t mind me asking. But… ah… do you do it with your boyfriend? Have sex I mean. Sexual intercourse. I know lots of girls your age nowadays do.
Yes, this was embarrassing. Clearly. It really threw Angela. She hadn’t been expecting anything like that. Not at all! She didn’t know what to say. Or where to look! Her pretty face certainly very prettily pink now. The truth was of course that Angela did. But certainly not all the time. Not agreeing to it half as much as Dave would like. Though he shouldn’t really be doing it at all. Not until they were engaged at least. But how did she answer this really awful question from Mr Atkins?
Angela made a not very intelligible stuttering reply. Hoping to avoid a proper answer. But Michael Atkins repeated his query. For whatever reason he was keen for a proper answer. And Angela, not very good at lying, even white lies, found herself, red-faced, stumbling out the truth.
‘Well that’s quite alright,’ Mr Atkins assured her. Repeating that he was aware a lot of girls did nowadays. There was no problem — although perhaps some employers might wish to be strict about such matters. No, he had no problem. But he would like to know if Angela… ah… used any protection. Yes, he definitely thought she should. Perhaps Angela should see her doctor? Yes, maybe he would speak to her mother about that.
‘No!’ Angela was getting to her feet.
‘Well we’ll see. Let me have another look at you, Angela. Stand up please.’
Angela hurried to comply. He had said she’d got the job, hadn’t he? That was really great. And maybe the interview was over now. She hoped it was so that there would be an end to these really embarrassing questions.
‘Lovely. Stand up straight. Yes, you are lovely! You’ll be a real addition to the office, Angela. No doubt really turning my clients’ heads, eh! Mmm… Turn round.’
Mr Atkins was behind her. Close behind her. And his hands came round…
‘Can I just check? These lovely big, firm things…’
Angela yelped. As Mr Atkins’ hands slid round and cupped her boobs. One nice firm big one in each hand. She yelped again. Stumbling on her high heels — but of course Mr Atkins had a firm hold of her. His hands squeezing Angela’s sensitive tits through the thin dress with just her lightweight bra underneath.
‘Oh yes, it’s all you in here. Isn’t it, my dear? All lovely Angela! Mmmm aren’t they lovely. I bet that boyfriend can’t keep his hands off them!’
Mr Atkins’s hands were squeezing and hefting Angela’s big firm tits in a way that was taking her breath away. It was awful and she wanted desperately to struggle away but couldn’t. The shock if it had sort of paralysed her. And anyway it was of course Mr Atkins doing it, who was going to give her this job. It wasn’t as if it was just some boy (other than Dave) trying it on and she could just tell him sharply to cut it out!
Mr Atkins did finally let go. Angela was quite breathless and red in the face. But she had got the job. And also the interview was now at and end. It seemed that Mr Atkins had an appointment with a client. However… he was going to have some more free time this afternoon. And he would like Angela to come back then. They could have some more in-depth discussion about the job and what would be required of Angela.
Angela’s mother was naturally over the moon to hear she had got the job, and wanted to hear all about it. But Angela didn’t want to tell her all about it. Especially not about her return visit in the afternoon. Angela knew she should have refused to let him do that. And she did try — but it simply hadn’t got her anywhere. Mr Atkins had simply gone ahead and done it. It was difficult to believe it had really happened. But it had alright. It had! That hand on her bare bottom! Taking her breath away. Just caressing and stroking at first. And then whacking hard down!
No, she should have refused to let him. And if she hadn’t been able to refuse, and Angela hadn’t, she should have gone straight out the door when he finally stopped it and let her get up off his lap. Saying she couldn’t take the job. Because of course Mr Atkins was going to want to do it again! He had said that. If her work wasn’t up to scratch that was what would happen. Her bare bottom smacked again.
But she hadn’t said no thanks and strode haughtily out afterwards. No, Angela had just abjectly scrambled her knickers back up under her skirt. and just stood there like a silly schoolgirl not knowing where to look. and then Mr Atkins had said about the clients. Maybe one or two of his special clients… She had tried to close her ears to that.
So how could she say any of this to her mother? Angela’s mother worked in an office, but she could not possibly have ever experienced anything like this. Angela didn’t really want to say anything at all. But maybe Miranda Renlow had some inkling of what job interviews could be like for pretty girls. Well, wasn’t she one (though slightly older perhaps) herself?
‘Did Mr Atkins want to… ah… touch you, darling?’ Smiling. ‘I mean knowing what men are like.’
Angela’s mind was blank for a moment — or rather thinking only of the spanking, which certainly was touching alright. And then remembering earlier. His two hands cupping her boobs in that no-nonsense fashion. Yes, she could tell that. Because after the bare-bottom spanking it didn’t seem half as bad. Angela could never tell about the spanking, but…’
‘Y… Yes. He… got his hands on m… my boobs.’
Miranda laughed. ‘Well that wasn’t such a big problem I imagine? I mean men are like that, aren’t they. And I hope you were sensible, Angela. But you must have been, because you got the job. And that was all, darling?’
What was her mother after: a confession that Mr Atkins had screwed her or something? She had let him screw her to get the job? Was that what her mother had experienced in going for jobs? Angela nodded; to say the boob-feeling was all. Because her mother couldn’t have any idea about the other. That men could insist on spanking a girl’s bare bottom.
Angela started on the Monday. On Wednesday, in the morning, Mr Atkins said one of the special clients would be coming that afternoon. Mr Calport. He had told Mr Calport on the phone about his extremely attractive new girl. So naturally Mr Calport was very keen to see her.
Mr Atkins laughed. ‘I daresay he’ll want to see quite a lot of you, Angela! But I’m sure you’ll be cooperative. If we want to have a little fun, eh? I mean it’s all part of the job, isn’t it?’
What did all that mean? Could it mean something unpleasant? Angela had the feeling it definitely could. She could feel that scary, empty sensation in her stomach. She wanted to tell Mr Atkins she wasn’t feeling well — and could she please go home. But she couldn’t really do that, when she had only been in the job two days. With this Mr Calport expecting to meet her.
Another thing of course was yesterday afternoon… Mr Atkins had repeated what he had done on that very first day. He had spanked Angela’s bare bottom. Because of an error in a letter she had typed. Well it hadn’t actually been Angela’s first mistake and he had warned her he was going to do it. And he had. In spite of her pleading. Over his lap again. Her skirt up and then tugging her knickers down. And then… that feeling that could make a girl think she was going to faint. His big male hand on her bare bum.
That was yesterday afternoon. Still fresh in Angela’s mind. And somehow this business with Mr Calport… Somehow Angela had the scary sensation — a sixth sense that something very similar was going to happen. Something similar to those bare-bottom spankings. ‘A little fun…’
Yes she definitely wanted to go home and not have to meet this important client.
Mr Calport came after lunch and Angela’s feeling of apprehension was now tempered with a sort of fuzzy feeling — which was the result of Mr Atkins taking her to the pub at lunchtime. Maybe he thought it would put Angela in an amiable frame of mind for the afternoon. Or maybe he simply wanted to do that other stuff. Which was in a secluded corner of the pub to feel Angela’s boobs and also get his hand up her skirt.
She tried to stop him of course but Mr Atkins didn’t want to be stopped. Angela was sure someone would see… but he just told her not to be silly and to drink her drink. Gin-and-tonic. As he opened her light coat and got his hand on her boobs. And then… up her skirt. Getting his hand up above Angela’s stocking tops. At the front of her thighs… and then pushing in between them.
It was pretty awful and of course there was still that Mr Calport to think about. In between trying to control the hand Angela was trying to ask Mr Atkins about the afternoon visit. What was she going to have to do?
Mr Atkins wouldn’t say, nothing serious at least. At least Angela hoped it wasn’t serious.
‘This,’ he said. ‘He’ll want to do this. Get his hand in here. Feel your pussy.’
In desperation — trying to stop Mr Atkins’s hand from getting too close to her pussy (or actually on it!) — or maybe not too sure what she was doing, Angela was taking some hefty swigs at the gin-and-tonic. Mr Atkins went to get her another one — which was a relief — but then resumed where he had left off.
Anyway that was lunchtime; pretty awful and not leaving Angela in the best state for the afternoon. When Mr Calport arrived and she got up from her desk to be presented, Angela had the feeling of not being too sure her feet were on the floor. Two gin-and-tonics and not much to eat.
‘Oh yes! Isn’t she lovely!’ Mr Calport said. He was Mr Atkins’s age but without the beard; another businessman in a dark suit.
‘What about her figure!’ Mr Atkins said. ‘Isn’t it fantastic! Although I suppose we should make her take her blouse and skirt off in order to really appreciate it.’
The room seemed to Angela to be swaying gently. Mr Atkins and Mr Calport were both laughing. Was she laughing?
‘What d’you think, Angela dear?’ Mr Atkins asked. ‘You wouldn’t mind, would you? To show our friend Mr Calport what a lovely shape you’ve got.’
He was joking of course. They were laughing. Angela tried to laugh as well. And then Mr Atkins told about the spanking. That he spanked Angela. When her work wasn’t up to scratch. He said it was the proper way to deal with young girls who were just learning a job. A young girl straight from school.
Angela was standing with her hand on her desk to stop that swaying feeling. Not knowing whether to try to laugh or not. She shouldn’t have drunk those two drinks.
Mr Calport was saying… something about… a cane… Angela’s mind didn’t want to focus. With an effort it did. Yes.
‘What about the cane? Does she get the cane? A girl should get the cane, that’s what she needs. You should get her on the table. With her knickers down of course. Spread out on the table.’
Yes that was what Mr Calport was saying. And then, ‘Why don’t we do it? Make her take her things off. Her blouse and skirt. And then up on the table. With her knickers down.’
And then… it was happening. She was yelping. Protesting. Not able to believe it. Angela’s mind with the gin having trouble grasping it. But the effect of the gin was clearing now… As she struggled weakly with them. Mr Atkins and Mr Calport. Both of them laughing. As they took her things off. Her blouse and skirt. Leaving her in just bra and knickers and suspender belt and stockings. And then pulling the knickers down to her stocking tops. And getting her up on the table.
Spread out on her front. Stretched out. And Mr Atkins from somewhere… now had a cane. A thin switchy cane. Mr Calport was holding her hands. Stretched out. The cane was patting her bare bottom… And then.
Angela let out a wild, frenzied howl.
She couldn’t tell her mother of course. About Mr Calport. About the cane. Those red stripes that were still on her bottom. Oh she certainly couldn’t tell her mother.Angela’s mother anyway had something else to tell her. Mr Atkins had called her. To mention that other thing. And her mother agreed. She had arranged an appointment with the doctor. To get Angela something. Get her fixed up. Angela’s mother agreed with Mr Atkins. It was a sensible thing to do. For a girl who had left school and had a job. Who was grown up. Well, she didn’t want to get pregnant. By her boyfriend. Or of course her boss.