Working For Jeremy

  Working for Jeremy

  Jacqueline George

  Working for Jeremy

  Copyright © 2011 by J.E. George

  ISBN: 978-0-9805484-9-5

  Cover design by Jacqueline George

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by J.E. George

  Formatted and distributed in Australia.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Q~Press Publications

  - 1 -

  “I think he fancies you, Shirl.”

  Marilyn stood propped against the doorway of her office. They were both watching Mr Bradley-Smythe as he walked away down the corridor.

  “Yes, you could be on to a good thing there,” Marilyn continued. “Play your cards right and you could do very well.”

  Shirley cringed. Pleasing Mr Bradley-Smythe was a good thing, of course, especially for a new girl. On the other hand, she knew all about office romances. “No, you’re wrong,” she said. “I don’t think I’m his type.”

  Shirley did not think she was anyone’s type. Ordinary, that’s me, she would tell herself in her honest moments. Plain Jane, but that’s good enough. You don’t have to be glamorous to be happy.

  Marilyn looked at her critically and seemed to reach a decision. “You taken a break yet? Right, let’s go out for a sandwich.”

  Shirley followed Marilyn down the twisting stairs and onto Old Compton Street. Marilyn looked capable and strong, but far from business-like. Today she was wearing black leather trousers and a matching jacket. Her outfit was just a little too stylish for a motorcyclist. Shirley was not sure exactly what she did in the office but she was one of the mainstays of the business. As far as interviewing went, she specialised in senior IT personnel but would also look over anyone from Australia or New Zealand. She came from Queensland, and perhaps she knew when some-one from down there was spinning a line.

  They settled in a back corner of the sandwich bar and waited for their food. “So, Shirl. Liking it at the agency?”

  “Yes. It’s good. Nice people.” It was true. So far, Shirley was enjoying the agency. The work was interesting, the people dedicated and cheerful, and the little she had seen of the owner – Mr Jeremy Bradley-Smythe – left a good impression.

  “I guess you’re right. I only came as a temp, but I stayed. We’re a bit special. Especially Jeremy. He’s definitely special.”

  “He seems quite nice,” Shirley ventured.

  “Oh, he is, believe me. When he invites you for dinner, accept him every time. I do.”

  Shirley was intrigued. Marilyn was big and solid, with cropped blonde hair that barely reached her collar. She looked handsome rather than pretty, and Shirley guessed she was as tall as Mr Bradley-Smythe. Shirley could not imagine them together.

  “Really? He takes you to dinner?”

  “You’d be surprised. There’s more to our Jeremy than meets the eye, and I’m his favourite - from the office, at least.”

  Marilyn stopped talking while the waitress laid their plates on the table and went back for their water. “I like this place,” she said. “The food’s always fresh, and the girls are cheerful too.”

  Shirley did not care. She wanted to know more about Mr Bradley-Smythe. “You mean, you go out with Mr Bradley-Smythe, and some of the other girls do too?”

  “Sure. Janice goes quite often, and Lucy. I have a suspicion he’s taken Tim out a couple of times. That wouldn’t surprise me. He’s very broadminded about that sort of thing.

  “Freja used to be very popular, but she’s married now. When she was saving up for her honeymoon, she was fluttering her eyelashes at him like crazy. He must have enjoyed her, though, because he invited her nearly every week. I wonder what she was doing for him. More than she does for her husband, I bet. I never had the balls to ask her outright. I doubt she would tell me anyway.”

  She looked up at Shirley who had stopped with her fork on the way to her mouth, and grinned. “That’s shocked you, hasn’t it?”

  “Er – yes? I mean, you share him around the office?”

  “Not really. It’s more that when he feels like it, he hires one of us for the evening.”

  “Hires you? But that’s –“

  “It’s fine,” said Marilyn, cutting her off. “Just fine. It’s fun, and he’s very generous. I don’t know what the others get, but he always packs me off with a thousand. That’s good money.”

  “A thousand pounds!” said Shirley, and then thought again. “But you’re doing it for money. I don’t think I could do that.” This was a new world. Normal people never mixed sex and money. She shook her head to rid herself of the thought. “Doing it for money. It’s not – well – not, I don’t know. Right?”

  “Yeah. Know how you mean. Still, they say every man has his price, and this girl certainly has hers. I’m not even sure if I like men anymore, but Jeremy’s different. Fun, and generous.

  “You know, I used to work as a bouncer for a cathouse in Melbourne a few years ago. Perhaps that made it easier. Met all sorts working there. University students, house wives, newly divorced mums. Makes it hard to be prim when an opportunity like this comes along.”

  “A thousand pounds. That’s a fortune.”

  “Sure is. And it’s tax free. If he invites me out a couple of times in a month, I’ve virtually doubled my salary. And that’s not all. I wouldn’t say I fucked my way into the job I have now, but it certainly made life easier. Jeremy’s very fair like that. The sex is just a little business on the side”

  They ate their sandwiches, Shirley scarcely tasting hers. Her brain was whirling.

  Marilyn smiled at her confusion. “So, Shirl, shall I put in a word for you?”

  “No! Definitely not.” Then, worried she might have hurt Marilyn’s feelings, “Well, not now, anyway. I mean, it’s a surprise. I had no idea.”

  “Never mind. Take your time. If you change your mind, drop me hint and I’ll explain exactly how it goes. It’s really good fun, he’s the perfect gentleman, and a thousand pounds makes a big difference to the rent, believe me.”

  Next day was Saturday and Shirley did not go into the office. Instead, she explored Camberwell and looked for second hand furniture for her new flat. In her quiet moments she tried to imagine Marilyn and Mr Bradley-Smythe together, but the picture was far from convincing.

  That evening she ate her dinner on her lap, sitting on a bean bag and staring at her television. It was on the floor, balanced on a pile of books. Even second hand furniture is expensive in London.

  Marilyn did not appear in the office on Monday, although Shirley looked for her. She was back on Wednesday, but too busy for lunch. Instead, they made a date to go shopping on Saturday.

  Shirley finally caught up with her in The Gladstone Arms in Southwark, Marilyn’s local. Marilyn was lounging on a sofa with a pint of beer in front of her, listening to a very clever guitarist playing soft sambas. The Gladstone was everything a London pub should be, comfortable, friendly, cultured in a relaxed, homely way. It wrapped Shirley into its arms immediately, and she felt as if she belonged.

  “Hi Shirl. What’ll you have?”

  “Um – I don’t know. The same as you? But a half, please.”

  “Grab a seat. I’ll get another for me, too.”

  “Now,” said Marilyn, once she was comfortable again, “What will we do this afternoon? Have you had lunch? They do a good steak and kidney here. Then we could go sh
opping at the Elephant and Castle. Or you could be all imperialist and visit the War Museum. For left-wing trendies we have a Soviet T-34 tank on Mandela Way. Then there’s all the other museums around here, or we could just walk along the river, although I don’t fancy that on a day like this.’

  “Er – shopping? I’ve still got a pile of things I need for the flat. The museums will have to wait.”

  They arrived back at Marilyn’s terrace house tired, overloaded and damp. Marilyn made tea and they slumped into her sofa.

  “Your credit card must suffering, Shirl. I’m going to have to introduce you to Jeremy. He furnished this place, more or less. I’d still be sitting on orange boxes if it wasn’t for his cash.”

  The money no longer shocked Shirley, but sex was always intriguing. “What does it feel like, Marilyn? I mean, doing it to order?”

  “Oh well, it’s Jeremy, so that’s no problem. You know, he takes you out, you chat and laugh, so going home is almost natural. I’d do it without the money most days, but it’s still always welcome. Jeremy’s a very special person, and he likes special things that he can’t find everywhere.”

  If Shirley’s ears could have stood up, they would be doing it now. “Special things?”

  “Oh yes.” Marilyn looked smug as she explained. “Jeremy likes a little spice with his sex. He’ll try anything, but the thing that really turns him on is being tied up.”

  Shirley’s state of shock returned. “Being tied up?”

  “That’s right. Once he’s relaxed and things are moving along nicely, I strip him off and tie him to the corners of his bed. Well, mostly to his bed. And once he’s helpless, I play the big, bad bitch all over him.”

  “Wow. I can’t imagine. Why would he like that?” The whole idea lay so far beyond anything Shirley had experienced, she could not see the fun in it.

  “Oh, he likes it alright. Who wouldn’t? Or are you just being rude about me doing it?”

  Shirley felt her face redden. “Oh, no, Marilyn. I’m sure... You do it, I mean, you’re wonderful. You’d turn anyone’s head, but why does he like to be tied up?”

  Marilyn grinned at her. “You like to try it? Come upstairs – I bet you’ll be surprised.”

  “Me?”

  “Why not? Try it. It’s only me, and we’re friends, aren’t we?”

  Partly because she was curious and partly because it would be churlish to refuse, Shirley decided to accept. “But I’m not stripping off. I mean, I don’t mind trying, but not for sex.”

  “Of course not. You just want an idea of what it would feel like. It’s a whole new world, believe me.”

  Marilyn’s room was small and plain. The double bed took up most of the space. Marilyn steered her towards it and she settled on her back.

  “Now then, move down just a little, and I’ll get the pillow out for you.” She pulled a pillow out from under the covers and tucked in under Shirley’s head. “Hang on a minute.” She rummaged in her bedside drawer and came back with some black webbing straps. They had short chrome chains attached.

  “Now, let’s suit you up. Give me your hand.” Marilyn wound one of the straps around her wrist and secured its Velcro fastening. “And the other one.” Soon Shirley had cuffs on ankles and wrists.

  “Now for the clever bit,” said Marilyn. She fumbled under the head of the bed and produced one end of a black webbing strap with a snap link. “Jeremy came to visit one day, and I bought these for him. I keep them handy, just in case. They’re really good.” She pulled out the adjustment of the strap and clipped it into one wrist. She went to the other side of the bed to do the same.

  Shirley had loose straps tying her to the four corners of the bed. She raised herself on her elbows to look at her feet. The cuffs seemed strange and military.

  “Now it gets interesting,” said Marilyn, starting to tighten the straps to her ankles, one after the other, a little at a time. Shirley did not resist as her legs were drawn indecently apart.

  “That’s far enough,” said Marilyn. “Now your wrists.” Shirley’s arms were pulled wide, almost reaching the bedposts. She could no longer move, except to lift her head. Marilyn arranged her pillow more comfortably. “How does that feel?”

  It felt strange. Not like lying on her own bed at all. She felt unnaturally stretched. She could not move and her helplessness impressed her.

  Marilyn was walking around the bed and smiling at her. “Good, eh? You look very pretty like that. All served up for the big bitch, and the bitch can do what she likes to you.” A frisson of terror ran through Shirley and she tried pulling against the straps. There was no movement in them. Marilyn no longer seemed so friendly.

  “See – you can’t get away. Now try this.” She lifted Shirley’s head and wound a blindfold over her eyes.

  Shirley sank into her own world. Nothing else mattered, just the tension at her wrists and ankles, and the slight sounds of Marilyn beside her. Suddenly she was conscious of her openness and wished to draw her legs together.

  “Marilyn-“

  “Shush-“ Marilyn put a finger to her lips. “Don’t say anything, or I’ll have to gag you. You don’t want that do you?”

  Shirley shook her head. She did not want to be gagged.

  “Now, I’ve got a surprise for you. Feel this.” Something soft and feathery brushed against her hand. “Nice? Nod your head.” Shirley nodded, and the sensation moved up her arm. Although she could not feel much through her blouse, the feeling on her ears and cheeks took her breath away.

  Marilyn took her time stroking Shirley’s face and arms. The sensation built on itself, becoming more and more electric as the stroking spread around her neck and across her breasts. She knew her nipples had tightened, and she felt a familiar sinking sensation in her stomach.

  Abruptly, Marilyn left her and moved to the foot of the bed. Shirley heard her mutter, “This is no good. Let’s just-” and she felt Marilyn’s fingers at her knees, taking the hem of her skirt and lifting it up to uncover her. Shirley remained in her own world, and did not mind.

  “That’s better,” said Marilyn. “Pretty little panties. Now, try this.” The stroking started again, first one ankle and then the other. Her tights did little to shield her as the feathery brush worked over her feet and toes.

  It could not last. Shirley knew it could not, and welcomed the stroking as it extended in long sweeps up the insides of her legs. She began to tremble as it washed over her inner thighs, and she silently begged for more. Her pussy’s desire for attention filled her mind.

  “Marilyn...” she whispered, but Marilyn’s stroking had moved back to her feet, one at a time, one after the other, over and over. Her trembling stopped and she lay in the darkness, absorbed in sensations and desires.

  Later – how much later? – Marilyn’s stroking extended up her legs again. Immediately Shirley’s trembling returned. Out of control, she was turning her head from side to side, begging for more, lifting her hips and begging Marilyn to finish her off, to give her relief.

  But Marilyn stopped. She stopped dead and said “I think it’s time for another sort of treat. Wait a minute...”

  - 2 –

  Shirley was alone in a cocoon of dark. She was not lonely. She was conscious only of her body, of her outstretched limbs, of the sensitivity of her inner thighs where Marilyn had stroked her again and again with a feather duster. Above all, her pussy filled her mind with its swollen, heavy hunger.

  When she listened, she could hear Marilyn downstairs, making kitchen noises. She heard Marilyn’s steps mounting the stairs, and coming into the bedroom. She steeled herself to say nothing.

  There was a click followed by an intense buzzing. “Now, what will you think of this, I wonder.” The noise increased in volume and Shirley felt something hard, smooth and plastic rest against her cheek. Its vibrations ran through her face and she tried to escape.

  “Ah-ha! That hit the spot. Now let’s see what else happens.” Shirley felt the vibrations trail down her neck to her
breasts. Marilyn was teasing her breasts, buzzing her nipples. The feeling was intense and Shirley groaned.

  “Good,” said Marilyn. “It works, and there is so much more it can do.” Shirley’s torment was back with surges of vibration coursing up her thighs in wave after wave, gliding from her knees almost up to her pussy. Her excitement mounted and she was ready to come. She lifted her pussy up to Marilyn, but she refused. Instead, the vibrator traced the edges of her panties. Across her tummy, and diving into her groin, first one side and then the other. Each time the vibrator dipped between her pussy and her thigh, the ripples ran deep.

  She wanted more, but this would be enough to make her come. “Ah....” she gasped. Marilyn took pity on her and pressed the length of the vibrator directly against her pussy. Shirley cried out in frantic orgasm.

  “Stop, please stop – ah!” The vibrator disappeared and Marilyn’s hand cupped her pussy, holding her firmly while the waves broke and receded. Half consciously, she felt Marilyn unclipping her restraints with one hand, releasing her and allowing her to roll onto her side, still trembling.

  “Wow, Shirl. That was something to remember.” Marilyn bent to kiss her cheek and untie the blindfold. “Come down when you’re ready. I’ll put the tea on.”

  Shirley felt sheepish as she came into the kitchen. Marilyn pushed a cup of tea over to her. “I was afraid I would have to come up and fetch you. Recovered?”

  “What? Oh yes, I’m fine. That was... That was quite an experience.”

  Marilyn chuckled. “Yes, I could see. Being tied up and blindfolded adds a whole new dimension, doesn’t it? What did you think about?”

  Shirley tried to organise her thoughts. “It’s so, sort of, so private. No, that’s not the right word. You feel all alone with – with whatever is happening. Especially because you were not talking to me. I was surprised I got so excited. I didn’t think that would happen.”