New Erotica 6

by Various

  Melissa exchanged looks with Marsha and again Judith had the feeling they knew something she wasn’t being told. All Liss said with a shrug was, ‘No use asking me. I was never given the big picture at all, just what I was doing.’

  Who do you think you’re kidding, thought Judith, with you swanning about their European branches?

  Gwen was clearly fascinated. ‘So you’re taking supplies of your actual implements –’ she stressed the word with relish ‘– to all the discipline freaks around the area? I like it, sister. I would say that’s a step on from just reading manuscripts.’

  Judith smiled at her enthusiasm, but, before she could press Melissa to spill more of the beans about the mysterious Eumenides company, a group of the university’s more orthodox feminists sat down at the next table. Marsha may have affected loathing of their company but it was clear the attraction of a bit of verbal fisticuffs outweighed it, especially when the beer was flowing.

  ‘Your recruits get younger every time, Marsha. You sure these are old enough to drink?’

  The lanky redhead meant them, and Judith felt Gwen stiffen beside her. She stood up and took the black girl’s arm.

  ‘Time to do your eyes, girl, and I’m bursting with all these beers. Come on.’ Inside the Ladies she said: ‘Marsha loves a barney, but I don’t want to get into it. I’m too confused in my own head to join a scrap. And you looked ready to deck Carrot-top.’

  ‘Too fucking right.’ Gwen leaned forward and examined herself in the mirror, her camouflage combat trousers tight across the prominent rump. ‘Actually, the make-up will do. But thanks for getting me out of there, honey. We don’t really wanna get barred from this hole.’ She straightened up and they looked at each other without speaking. Judith could feel that her own sexual attraction had returned.

  ‘Got to pee.’ She dived into a cubicle just as another woman came in to use the mirror. When she emerged they were alone again and Gwen said, ‘I think we know how we feel, right? Thing is, there’s a guy staying at my place next couple of weeks and I kinda said, well, I sorta promised …’ She broke off with a grimace. ‘To be honest, it’s a fucking mess and I’ll be glad when it’s all over. No chance will it work out. But I don’t wanna make you an offer when I ain’t properly free.’

  Judith was touched by this plain speaking and turned on more than ever. Following her out of the lavatory, she tried to keep her eyes off the firm protuberances of the girl’s behind and her thoughts away from what they would feel like under her hands. Shit. First Jeanie, now Gwen. Women were obviously becoming the business in her life.

  At the table the argument was raging, though Judith judged they were a few drinks away yet from the stage of gratuitous insults. The tape was lying by her bottle and she picked it up, raising her voice to explain that Gwen and she were going to leave them to it. Marsha winked lewdly and was straight back into the fray, but Liss leaned over and spoke.

  ‘I shouldn’t really stick my oar in, but I’d be careful if I were you, hen. You may think you know her nibs quite well, know just how she’s gonna take it when she gets this from you, but …’ She shrugged and emptied her glass of vodka. ‘Whatever. It’s not my funeral. Who’s for another?’

  The two young women walked side by side through the park before their ways diverged. By the pool they stood and kissed for a while then stopped as if by mutual decision.

  ‘I’m off work, Tuesday,’ said Gwen. ‘Any chance I could see your place?’

  ‘The boss is away all week. Hey, why don’t you come out delivering with me? There’s room on the back of the bike.’

  ‘Fuck, that’d be great. Will I get to see some of these imp-lem-ents?’ Gwen drew the word out.

  God, she is hooked on this topic, thought Judith. ‘It’s 16 Markham Street, top flat. Be there at 8.30 and we’ll walk over to St Mary’s. OK?’

  On the Tuesday at 9.15 Judith came back outside with three packages, two of which were metre-long tubes taped shut at the ends while the other was a smallish cardboard box. ‘Well, even I can guess what those two are,’ said Gwen, ‘but what’s the third one? Hey, it’s quite heavy. Go on, Jude, let’s have a look.’

  ‘No way.’ Judith shook her head firmly. ‘They’re very keen on things being properly sealed till they reach the customer. However, if you’re patient you may get to see what’s in the box.’ As they walked round to the garage she explained that it was to go to a model school out in the country and they were to wait while it was inspected in case it didn’t suit.

  In the garage, Gwen was impressed by the shiny red Vespa. ‘Wow! These things are cool.’ Judith stashed the items in the paniers, the ones that could only be canes sticking up obtrusively. ‘We’ll get rid of those first,’ she said, before we head out of town. ‘Put this on.’ She handed over a helmet and thought it suited Gwen a treat, dressed as she was in a leather jacket, black stretch leggings and boots. Then they both climbed on and, with the feel of the black girl’s body pressing into her quickening the pulse, Judith started up and drove them out into the back lane.

  As they reached the main road Gwen yelled into Judith’s ear, ‘When you get your test, then?’

  ‘Don’t ask silly questions,’ Judith said over her shoulder and as she did a nifty right turn almost under the wheels of a double-decker bus she heard from the back a shout of ‘Fucking hell!’ and what sounded like: ‘Now she tells me.’

  The long packages were dropped off in suburban streets, the first to a shifty-looking man who looked even shiftier when he saw it was two young women who had brought his order. The second was taken by an older woman who was anything but embarrassed by their presence or by what they had brought. She opened the tube on the doorstep and swished the cane several times appreciatively, seemingly careless of what the neighbours might think. Gwen was goggling at the sight, but since the item seemed acceptable Judith grabbed her elbow and steered her out of the gate, claiming they had a busy schedule. Who knows what kind of trial the woman might want if they hung around.

  It took the best part of an hour to reach the final address after a wrong turn that petered out at a farm entrance, but eventually they swooped into a driveway past a sign reading MANNERLY MODELS. At the baronial entrance Judith rang the bell and the door opened almost at once.

  ‘Ah! The delivery from Eumenides. Entrez, entrez, mes chéries.’ He was a slim, well-muscled man in his forties with a shock of black hair and discreet, minimal make-up. In a silk shirt open to the waist and satin trousers that sheathed his thighs, he bubbled over with conversation as they followed him into the entrance hall.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not Mannerly. Courteous at all times, I hope, but not mannerly.’ His laugh had a manic edge. ‘Place is named after a distant ancestor of mine, an aristocrat, no less. Queer as a coot. Lovely man. Used to pick out a stable lad at the end of the day, leather his sit-upon then bugger him silly. They all adored Lord Mannerly, used to vie with each other for the privilege.’ Eyeing his somewhat startled audience, he let out a heavy sigh, as if in mourning for those paradisal days long past. ‘However, our girls are very lovely and I do get a little bottom-warming in now and then, if nothing else. Which is where you come in, darlings, so please follow me.’

  He led the way through a small gymnasium where three young women were exercising at the wall bars, past a dressing room where several others were sitting in front of mirrors, into a classroom that contained perhaps a dozen desks. Then he stuck his head back out of the door and called: ‘Ladies! When you’re ready, s’il vous plaît.’

  He took the package from Judith and began opening it on the table at the front of the room, talking all the while. ‘I should have said that my name is Boswell, but they all call me Bozzy, so please follow suit. That is Bozzy, not Bossy, though I’m sure I am at times. Mes jeunes filles can be so scatterbrained.’ Tittering, he took out the contents, which uncoiled into a strip of what looked like leather and weighed it in his hand.

  ‘I needed this because my pupil – ex-pupil,
I should say – Marlene cut my old one up into little pieces and threw it in my face. Took a kitchen knife to it as if it were some kind of vegetable to be chopped. Then she walked out.’ By this time the students had all appeared and Bozzy turned to them. ‘These young ladies have kindly brought me my new strap and I was just telling them about Marlene’s outrageous behaviour. Très, très folle, given all the opportunities of work your Bozzy is going to find for you. I mean it’s not as if I ever really hurt your sweet bottoms, do I, darlings?’

  His question was obviously rhetorical and the aspirant models pouted coyly to each other in a way that went straight to Judith’s loins. Meanwhile, the director had examined the strap minutely and spoke again. ‘They told me that this instrument has a rubber core under its leather surface and it certainly feels a little heavier. So I think we require a trial. After all, I can’t buy something that might be too painful for my dear pupils, can I?’ He appealed to the class who chorused, ‘No, you can’t, Bozzy,’ in what was clearly a well-practised response.

  ‘So what we need now is a volunteer to undergo the crucial test.’ He scanned the occupants of the desks but each one had acquired an interest in a fingernail or the cuff of a sleeve; in fact, anything at all that would keep her from meeting his gaze. ‘Now, I wonder …’ he said, and turned to look directly at Judith. She was not aware of reacting strongly, but something about her face must have given him pause for he passed quickly on to Gwen. ‘I think I have the solution. What if our second delivery girl here – such a lovely young woman of colour – were to offer herself so that we can conclude the purchase, wouldn’t that just be so appropriate?’

  There was a full second’s silence and Judith could see Gwen trying to decide. Then she straightened up and said: ‘OK. Right. So what is it I’m in for?’

  ‘Oh, well done, darling. C’est bien, n’est-ce pas, mes filles? Just a little six of the best with our new friend here. Nothing to it. Of course, to simulate the conditions of its normal use, you will have to take your trousers down.’ Gwen pursed her lips but did not demur. ‘If that’s agreed, then, just come over here with me.’

  At the front of the room beside the large table was a tall teacher’s desk. It stood on its own without an accompanying chair and as the purpose of it became clear Judith recalled in a rush the time she had seen its twin at Nemesis with Helen bent over it for a dose of Miss James’s strap. That seemed an age ago, yet it was little more than a month. Then she had been horrified and bewildered. Now, observing Gwen being prepared for similar treatment, she was more excited than scared. When the black leggings were lowered to the top of her boots, Judith’s pulse quickened some more. The bad girl’s got no knickers on again, she thought, as Bozzy began to enthuse about what he had uncovered.

  ‘Oh, I say. What a treat we have in store, girls! We have such a lovely bottom here for a demonstration of our new instrument. Now, ma chérie,’ he carried on, running his hands over Gwen’s posterior, ‘spread your legs just a little more and go right forwards. That’s it. Wonderful. Exactly as it should be – a charmingly full rear presentation.’ It was indeed quite a sight, the rich rounds split by a dark furrow that ended in the black-frizzed fig of exposed cunt, and Judith felt proud that the behind which had so taken her fancy was the object of such unqualified admiration.

  ‘Very good. Now you, darling –’ here he turned to Judith ‘– if you’d be so good to come round the back – c’est ça – you can lean over and hold your young associate’s waist. Not to restrain her, you understand, I’m sure she means to co-operate fully with us, but to give her the reassurance of your touch. A little moral support. Parfait. Now I think we can begin.’

  As Judith watched, heart in mouth, the man took the broad, two-tailed tawse and brought it down across the whole breadth of the target. As the buttocks bounced she felt the body tense under her hands and there was a semi-stifled ‘Fuck!’ from beneath her. At the second stroke the hips jerked and the vocal response this time was loud and clear: ‘Oh, fuck!’

  Bozzy laid down the strap on the table, looking very angry. ‘Now, I must insist, such language simply will not do. It is the one thing I cannot countenance, especially that word you used. I am going to start again from the beginning and this time I expect more self-control. Qu’est-ce que tu dis à ça?’

  Later Judith wondered why they didn’t just get up and walk out. However, at the time it seemed quite appropriate that Gwen should say, in an uncharacteristically small voice, ‘I’m sorry,’ and that the leathering should continue. Towards the end of what had become eight strokes, her legs kicked and she cried out, but there was no more swearing. When it was over, Gwen leaped up and clapped her hands to the injured parts but once again Bozzy was not impressed.

  ‘Stop that and pull up your clothes!’ he said sharply. ‘We don’t allow any rubbing, do we, girls?’ The prompt reply was in unison and this time almost gleeful.

  ‘No, Bozzy, we don’t!’ The would-be models’ flushed faces and bright eyes made it clear that while none of them were keen to be strapped, they all found the spectacle rather pleasing. Seeing, too, the bulge in the director’s satin pants, Judith wondered whether he was quite as queer as he made himself out to be. Perhaps, at least, there would be willing hands, or a mouth even, to bring about his detumescence.

  These speculations were supported by the haste with which they were now escorted from the building, not in fact unwelcome since Judith was in the grip of needs of her own. ‘Get on – quick,’ she said, starting up the Vespa and with Gwen clinging very tightly to her body they careered down the drive out into the country lane. At the first gate they came to Judith pulled right off the road and stopped. Inside the field she removed her friend’s belt, tugged the leggings down and kneeled behind her to kiss the hot cheeks. But when she moved to part them for a more intimate investigation with her tongue, she was rebuffed.

  ‘Hey, I told you I’m not free,’ said Gwen, pulling her up. ‘Not yet, any road. Let’s just do this for now.’ And opening Judith’s waistband and zip she pushed her fingers in under the matted pubic hair.

  Half an hour later they emerged and, as she wheeled the machine back on to the tarmac, Judith was thinking it was as well there had been no passing traffic. Who knows what a driver might have done, eyes fixed on the sight of two young women, bare-arsed and kissing passionately, each with a hand between the other’s legs. As she started up and Gwen climbed on at her back, she said over her shoulder, ‘Well, girl, d’you remember you were dead keen at the weekend to see some imp-lem-ents? I’d say you found out a lot about one of them.’

  ‘Too fucking right!’ was the answer in her ear and, laughing, they sped off between the high hedgerows.

  Judith opened her eyes and peered at the clock. 8.05; loads of time. She stretched luxuriously, wisps of a dream still clinging to her consciousness. Gwen was in it again, just as she’d featured every night since their adventure as delivery girls, though they had agreed not to meet in the flesh for another week yet. Judith snuggled into the bedding and tried to recover the image: there was a long T-shirt that she was trying to lift up, but each time Judith got close to exposing her delectable bum the girl twisted away with that laugh …

  Oh, shit! She sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake. Horribly awake. It was Monday morning and today was the day. After vacillating all week, on Friday afternoon she had written a note to Ms Morris and sealed it in a large envelope along with the video of the janny and his helper in flagrante delicto. The word Melissa had used for him brought her warning to mind: that the boss wasn’t going to like it. And if the mysterious Liss, who swanned round Europe for Eumenides and was plainly an intimate of Ms Morris, told Judith to be careful, she should have listened. Fuck, what had she done?

  The clothes she had put out the night before were on the bedside chair and Judith got out of bed with a heavy heart and began to dress. The crisp white blouse and black skirt that wasn’t, for once, too short or too tight gave her image in the mirror a conventio
nal smartness she normally eschewed, but this time it seemed appropriate. The condemned girl ate a hearty breakfast, she said to herself, buttering a piece of toast and stirring a strong mug of coffee, while thoughts of Mary Queen of Scots and the executioner’s block floated into her head. Judith gulped down the steaming liquid looking at the clock and shook herself, almost angrily. Jee-sus girl, get a grip! The worst that can happen is that you’ll be out of a job for the second time this summer. Big fucking deal!

  Walking in, Judith’s spirits lifted a bit. Maybe she had gone out on a limb, but something had to be done about that bastard Jennings. When he discovered she’d taken Gwen out last Tuesday he berated her for letting an outsider get information about the corporation’s activities. He’d cornered her in the garage putting the bike away and threatened to tell the boss unless she’d accept correction from him there and then. He’d had the nerve to produce a cane and suggest that if she stretched across the bonnet of the van beside them and took a dozen of the best he would forget about the whole thing. Judith picked up a heavy spanner from the bench and told him that if he came a step nearer she’d lay him out cold. He’d fucked off pretty sharpish after that, but she regretted the action before he was out of the door. He’d never been well-disposed towards her, but now she had made a real enemy.

  It was that incident that had really decided her to leave the tape for Ms Morris on the Friday night with a note that complained about Mr Jennings’ other lapse of decorum in groping her behind at every opportunity that presented itself. As Judith crossed the quad, it occurred to her that maybe she was still deciding what to do and they wouldn’t discuss it at all until later in the week. Then, climbing the stairs, she wondered if perhaps the boss hadn’t even had a chance to see the tape yet. However, once she was through the outer door of the director’s office, voices sounded clearly from within, and in a gut-wrenching instant she knew her thoughts for the idle wish-fulfilments they were. It was Mr Jennings and Mrs Butler, here in advance, and together with Ms Morris they formed a reception committee that was waiting just for her.