Room 2D

Story from Februs 25 by Colin Weaver When the Birley Institute was built in 1830, the wealthy businessmen who were financing it out of civic pride and the hope of a mention in the Honours List could not agree about its purpose. Should it be a museum, an art gallery or a library? The local firm of architects and builders who had got the contract under The Old Pals Act tried to please everyone, and the result was a queer, undecided mongrel of a building, like an oversized Nonconformist chapel on the outside, and with an interior which was such a maze of galleries and stairways and rooms and passages that a stranger should not enter without a native guide. At least, that is what Mr Mytton told Lucinda. After a month in Birley, the sardonic, middle-aged curator of the Institute was one of the few people she was on easy conversational terms with. The other teachers at St Jude’s were civil enough, but they were obviously suspendin...

From Blushes 47 ‘How’s that Mr Southfield?’ Bob asks. Jane says a quick and dismissive ‘OK.’ She doesn’t want to talk about Mr Southfield and at once changes the subject. Emma at work. Can Bob guess what Emma said? But as Jane recounts this she is half thinking about Mr Southfield. Mr Southfield is her new landlord. Jane was really lucky to get the flat of course, for what she is paying. Twenty pounds a week is extremely cheap but at the same time it is really all she could afford. Looking at the prices that were being asked it had seemed impossible. She wasn’t going to find anything except perhaps some dreadful little bedsit room. And then when she was feeling really low, rock bottom, with all the hopeless trudging around, there had been Mr Southfield. With his lovely flat. I can never afford this she had told herself, there was no point even asking him the price. But… ‘What can you afford, Miss Nashley? Twenty pounds?’ It was ...

Let’s revisit that delightful double act of Jane Williams and Louise Wilshire in Trained with the Horse and the Cane from Uniform Girls 44. Mr Stangate softly stroking Sophie’s bottom. As she stood leaning against the vaulting horse in his large, airy exercise room. Mr Stangate’s hand stroking the bare cheeks. Sophie is wearing a brief body-stocking in a colourful abstract pattern plus gym shoes, and the pretty body-stocking leaves most of her bottom bare. Mr Stangate’s fingers slide under and inside to the sensitive flesh at the very top of Sophie’s inner thigh. She shivered. ‘Donna, wasn’t that her name?’ Mr Stangate asked evenly. Sophie uttered a sibilant Yes. Mr Stangate meant the pretty blonde girl who with her parents had just moved into the house which had been for sale in the next street to Sophie. Donna Sinclair her name was, very pretty and with a lovely figure. Though in neither respect any more striking than Sophie ...