Room 2D

Story from Blushes 6 Three ducks in echelon angle their stiff-winged flight up a chimney breast; a silver framed photograph looks blankly and obliquely across a small suburban sitting room; a television newscaster delivers his uninspiring account of the days happenings — silently, because the sound knob on the television has been turned down — and he smiles a half-convincing goodnight into two million homes. Ignored by these silent witnesses, a frantically sobbing girl blubbers pathetic pleas for ‘n-n-no more, please —  please , Uncle — ooogh!’ In a fender-guarded hearth, a knight in brazen armour watches po-faced and clutches his fire-tending implements, unmoved by the tearful girl’s plight as she tosses her head back an instant after a solid-sounding slap rings loud in the curtained room. Blonde hair dashes across flaming cheeks which have been heated as much by breathlessness and humiliation as by proximity to the hearth ...

At Wimbledon, final preparations are being made…

Story by R.T. Mason from Janus 21 It was raining — cold bleak November rain — and she took a taxi because in any case she didn’t trust her limited knowledge of the London Underground. The afternoon seen through the taxi’s rain-smeared windows was an all too appropriate backdrop to her own feelings — her mood of bleak dread. She felt an irrational wish that perhaps the taxi-driver would not be able to find it but he drove without hesitation through the rain-slicked streets. Only too soon he was saying, ‘Here we are, Miss. That’ll be £2.20.’ She got out and paid him and there it was: the expensive-looking apartment block overlooking the river. Riverside Court. On trembling legs she went in. The uniformed attendant looked curiously at her and for some reason she became suddenly conscious of the fact that under her skirt, under the rain-spotted coat, she was wearing nylons and a suspender belt. Because of course she did not normally w...

This is the second of the Cheek-to-Cheek Dance School films.

From Blushes Supplement 35,  continuing on from  Games in a Playsuit and Games in a Playsuit (continued) . Poor Linda continues to suffer at the hands of Mr Ranbourne. Surely he wouldn’t get her sent to a Rehabilitation Centre after all, would he? I’m afraid this story is missing a section due to a misprint in the magazine. ‘Hello, Gregory?’ It is 7 o’clock. At least Mr Ranbourne didn’t keep her any longer. All night. He was saying perhaps he would keep her for the night and would she like that. A night in that lovely comfortable bed. She had finally managed to persuade him to let her go. ‘It’s that boyfriend I suppose. What did you say his name was? Gregory? You’re due to see your dear Gregory. And of course there’s your dear mother too. I suppose she’ll be wondering where you are. Or whom you’re with if it’s not that Gregory.’ Mr Ranbourne’s mocking laugh. ‘You’ll have to tell her, Linda. That a very nice gentleman ...