Senior Management Assessment

First part of a three-part story from Uniform Girls 21

The highly polished mahogany table top of the Senior Management Room reflects coffee cups, glasses, bottles of Malvern Spring Water; also jackets and ties, and the faces which top them. Male faces. There has never been a woman sitting at this table, except for the Managing Director’s secretary who sometimes takes notes at meetings. Never. Not of course that the company is in any way sexist, or that those round the table can in any way be accused of the sin of misogyny. Oh no. Or at least that is what they will all vehemently proclaim. It is just… well, there has never been a member of the fair sex who could in any real way be considered. No one with any sort of training or background. No one with that special ability to command. Not in all the company’s years.

Until now.

Elaine Simford.

Elaine Simford (Ms) is 27. She is a graduate of London University in Business Studies and has subsequently spent a year’s further training in the US. She has been in charge of the company’s Junior Toiletries section for two years during which time sales have increased 200 per cent. Elaine is generally acknowledged to be an extremely bright and capable young woman. On the personal side Elaine, 5’7”, is a most attractive blonde with stunning ash-blonde hair and a figure which the sensible outfits she wears to the office cannot conceal as being deliciously curved and femininely rounded in all the right places. An extremely decorative young lady in fact; but that surely cannot be held against her.

Elaine’s record in Junior Toiletries is certainly enough, in spite of her relatively tender age of 27, to gain her proper representation at this table, where her many excellent qualities can be put to full use by the company. Indeed this should be a mere formality. Except… there are those…

Harold Radlet for one.

‘Elaine’s a very charming girl, I’ll be the first to say so. And some ability, yes. But… ha-ha… we all know what a woman’s place is. Don’t we? In the kitchen and in bed. What’s she like in bed, George?’

George Alburt flushes slightly. George has been Elaine’s mentor, guiding her through her early days with the company and then continuing to advise her. He is of course the one promoting Elaine now and he has known he will probably get this sort of thing from Harold who is what you might call one of the old school — an old type chauvinist. And there’s not only Harold.

Nigel Stanford: ‘Come on, George. You must have humped her. Admit it. All those cosy chats, and showing her the ropes. We know you’ve shown her the ropes all right. Not that we blame you. I’m sure we’d all like to. Look, maybe that’s it: we all give her a good humping and then consider the matter properly in the light of her performance.’

George grits his teeth. He has expected this sort of thing, though perhaps not quite as nasty as Nigel’s little speech. It makes him see red to hear them talking like this for Elaine is a really nice, sweet person in spite of her ability and drive. He could easily have got into a personal relationship with her but that wouldn’t have been right. His feeling has been more fatherly — he is after all twice her age. George could easily get up and punch that dirty-minded Nigel. The others, though, are taking the idea up, and adding their own little bits. Even the Managing Director.

‘Well, I don’t know about the detail. The, er, humping that Nigel talks of. But the general idea is perhaps not a bad one. We each have her — and when I say have her, I don’t mean in the, er, biblical sense, not necessarily at any rate. But we each see her separately and, er, size her up. Make an individual assessment. In that way each of us can satisfy himself, that we’re not doing anything we may regret. I mean tradition does stand for something and we need to consider this matter. I’m sure you agree, George.’

George does not agree. Not at all. The idea of sweet Elaine being ‘individually assessed’ by the likes of Harold Radlet and Nigel Stanford — or indeed several others present — makes him shudder. And the way they are now talking…

‘No, I don’t really agree, Sidney. In fact I think it’s ridiculous. We all know Elaine’s record, what she’s accomplished in her two years here. It speaks for itself. If we were considering a bloke there’d be no question.’

‘Elaine’s not a bloke,’ interjects Roger Falworth. ‘No one could mistake her for a bloke. Not with that bottom wiggling about in those demure little skirts. Have you humped her, George?’

Amid braying sounds George says, ‘I had hoped we could keep this discussion… at a decent level.’

But clearly they cannot. ‘What’re the ground rules, Managing Director?’ someone asks. ‘I mean… ha-ha… in the biblical sense.’

The Managing Director says, ‘Well, I suppose… if she’s black-balled…’

‘Shouldn’t that be black-pussied, Sidney? Ha-ha…’

‘I say, Elaine’s not got a black pussy. Has she, George? I mean she’s a real live blonde, isn’t she?’

‘Well, we’re all going to find out. Ha-ha!’

‘Ha-ha-ha.’

George is feeling sick. Quite sick.

----//----

‘Assessed?’ Elaine’s big blue eyes register alarm. ‘What… does that mean?’

George is not able to say because there is no simple answer. Except that he can guess various people will be as unpleasant as possible. In the first instance to prevent Elaine from getting her promotion and in the second instance… well, simply as an excuse to have a bit of fun. Good old nasty male-chauvinist fun.

He makes a face. ‘You know what some of them are like. Harold Radlet and Nigel Stanford; and the MD too. Well, he’s more or less given them carte blanche to… you know.’

‘What?’ The big eyes are even bigger.

‘Be unpleasant. Nasty. Humiliation, I daresay. If you can take it — OK. If not — well, that means you’re not suitable material.’

‘Christ! What… sort of things?’

George doesn’t want to think. ‘I don’t know. It’s up to each person. But unpleasant stuff, with some of them I’m sure.’

‘Can’t I refuse?’

‘Oh yes. That’s what some of them want. Then you’re seen as unsuitable. Can’t take the heat.’

Elaine slowly shakes her head. ‘They won’t… be that bad, will they? I mean I don’t think they’re that bad really.’ Elaine is clearly saying this to try to convince herself. George for his part can vividly remember the raucous laughter, the remarks as they egged each other on, like schoolboys with the prospect of some simple, cruel pleasure.

‘Aren’t they?’ he asks.

----//----

Harold Radlet. Suddenly in close. His hand… ‘I’m first, Elaine dear.’

‘Get off!’ she yelps, gasping in reaction to his hand. Which has without warning reached round behind her and is grabbing at her bottom. ‘Stop that!’

He is still in close though, pressing up against her, pressing her back against the edge of her desk. His hands, both of them, are now at Elaine’s blouse front. Her tits…

‘Get off!’

He grabs her struggling arms. ‘Don’t be silly, Elaine. I’m first. Your assessment. Senior Management.’ Harold Radlet’s face is mere inches away. ‘Ooooh, you’re so yummy. And you’ve got to do everything I say. You do know that, don’t you?’

‘Stop it,’ Elaine repeats weakly. She does know. Or at least there has been what George and then the Managing Director have told her, the latter somewhat apologetically in his office. ‘Elaine, I don’t know if you know… Maybe George has told you. But it was decided… A number of people thought that the best thing would be…’

He was saying more or less what George had said. ‘What… exactly?’ Elaine had asked, red faced. And Mr Wilbury, Managing Director, had been non-committal. ‘Well, it was thought… Leave it to people’s own discretion. They have after all to satisfy themselves.’

‘They can’t… nothing that’s…’ She had tried to get something concrete, to pin him down. Mr Wilbury couldn’t, or wouldn’t. That bland smile which he used when he didn’t want to make a decision, or provide a firm statement.

‘They’ve made a… a sort of roster. And I think it’s Mr Radlet first.’

‘You’ve got to co-operate, Elaine,’ Harold Radlet says, gripping her upper arms. ‘Be nice and co-operative and you’ll get through with flying colours. With me at any rate. OK?’

Elaine is shaking but she stops struggling. She wants that promotion, is really desperate for it. It is humiliating for her to be Head of her section and not sit in on Senior Management meetings. She had never dreamt they would try anything like this, but… maybe it is just Harold Radlet, she has told herself. He has always been a bit snide and chauvinistic. The others won’t be so bad. If she can just get by Harold Radlet…

He has carefully let go of her arms. ‘That’s a good girl.’ His hands slide gently up to her tits again. She tries to back away but is up against her desk. Harold Radlet, his voice soft, says, ‘Just keep nice and still. That’s it…’

----//----

Harold Radlet’s house. A large, imposing place set in its own grounds. Inside there is oak panelling everywhere but Elaine is not admiring the house and its fitments. She is standing on the broad, brightly-lit stairway with a sick feeling in her stomach. Elaine is holding a tray on which is a glass of water. It is 2.05 p.m. She has been here, in his house, for 20 minutes. Elaine is wearing a maid’s uniform.

Harold Radlet’s grinning face greeting her as she got out of her car. ‘Excellent, Elaine. Right on time. But that only bears out what they all say, eh? So efficient. Punctual.’ Grinning still his hand had gone up her skirt. And there was no point trying to stop it: not after she had agreed to come here. For Mr Radlet’s assessment. The hand up her skirt pawing at her bottom. Then when he was ready Mr Radlet taking her into the room and showing her. The uniform.

An ultra-short black silk dress, full-skirted and with a low, gathered neck. A tiny white pinafore. Black nylons. Black suspender belt and bra and miniscule bikini knickers. A little white waist petticoat. Black stiletto heels.

Mr Radlet holding up the miniscule black nylon knickers on one finger. ‘These knickers, Elaine. What do you think? It is my belief that maids don’t always wear knickers when going about their household duties. Without them of course the maid is immediately ready and available for whatever her master’s pleasure may be. Instantly available, Elaine. Eh? What d’you think? Do you agree she should be instantly available?’

He was simply trying to break her, to humiliate her, Elaine told herself. She bit her lip and didn’t answer. Mr Radlet said, ‘Yes. Well I think you can put them on for the moment, Elaine. It may alternatively be the practice to wear them so that the master of the household has the pleasure of taking them off. Yes, we’ll have them on, Elaine. For the moment.’

He can’t do this, she told herself. But Mr Radlet could, can. The Managing Director hasn’t set any rules. There is no rule which says Mr Radlet can’t dress her up in a maid’s uniform with miniscule little knickers underneath that he is going to take off. There is nothing to prevent Mr Radlet being just as horrible as he likes.

‘You want promotion, Elaine, and we all want you to get it. But we have to be sure you can handle it, haven’t we? So what I want…’

Standing on the stairs with her tray. In this awful, humiliating outfit. Thinking especially of those little knickers that Mr Radlet has said… The master of the house is in his study on the first floor. He will ring the bell when he wants her. And Elaine will immediately respond, as a proper, dutiful, well-trained maid does. Up the stairs. Knocking circumspectly on the door. Entering. To go and stand subserviently at his side: a pretty maid in her sexy outfit. The hem of the dress does not reach as far as the taut stocking tops…

2.14. Suddenly after what seems- like an age of waiting the bell is ringing. Brrriiinng! Elaine starts, almost tripping in the heels on the polished wood of the stairs. Stumbling upright. This is it. Up and into his room. Why doesn’t she say, ‘Look, I’m not going to do this. I can’t take this humiliation. I’m getting dressed, going home.’ But Elaine can’t. She knows what will happen. Personality unsuitable for Senior Management will be written on her report. She must grit her teeth, close her mind. He won’t really…

2.38. Elaine is stumbling back down the stairs. Down to halfway on the lower flight which is where she has been told to wait. ‘Do exactly as I say, Elaine. OK?’

Stumbling because of what has taken place in Mr Radlet’s room and also more specifically because those miniscule black nylon knickers are now around Elaine’s thighs at about the level of her stocking tops. The knickers being there restrict her movement but also the fact of them being there, that Mr Radlet has taken them down and then those things he did when he had the knickers down, all of that contributes to the feeling of having very little or no control over her legs. In addition Elaine still has to balance the tray with its glass, now only half filled with water. The remainder of the water…

‘Have you ever tried drinking from a glass standing on your head, Elaine? It’s a tricky little thing but not impossible. Let’s see. It will make a rather more interesting trick if you do it with your knickers down. Or as it will be in that position up. Yes, let’s try that…’

Not only are Elaine’s knickers down, in a narrow, taut band around her thighs, but the top of her dress has been pulled down too. That of course doesn’t directly affect or inhibit her movements although the rest of it, in connection with that top being pulled down, certainly contributes to this sensation that her knees are made of rubber. But she has anyway now managed to negotiate the stairs to the extent of reaching the prescribed point. Where she must await any further summons from the bell. Elaine can at least now pull up her knickers and adjust the top of her dress.

Mr Radlet has said that is allowed, once she is standing in position on the mid-point of the lower flight of stairs. It is 2.40…

2.41. Brriiinnnggg! The hellish sound again. No time to rest or think. But maybe anyway thinking is not a good idea. Up the stairs again. Back into that room where impossible Mr Radlet…

2.55. Descending. The maid is looking very much the worse for wear. Looking indeed as if she may quite possibly have been ravished during this second period of attendance on her master. The little black dress is now gone and so are those briefest-of-brief knickers. Elaine is in only bra and suspender belt and the little white petticoat, plus her nylons and heels. One cup of the bra is pulled down to expose a firm bare breast. Also gone are the tray and glass so that at least Elaine does not have to worry about that as she stumbles once more down the stairs. Half-hysterical little sobs whimper from her lips. She is desperately trying to shut her mind to these last ten minutes but the avid scenes in her head refuse to disappear. There is also the thought that Mr Radlet is by no means finished; his assessment he says is nowhere near complete. If Elaine knew at the outset… she would never have contemplated coming here. Given the chance she would certainly stop right now, give up, but grinning Mr Radlet says she can’t, not now she has started. She has to complete the assessment tests.

2.59. The dreadful Brriiinnnng! again. Go back up. Force herself. Up again to awful Harold Radlet. He’ll have to stop soon…

3.14. The petticoat is gone now as she stumbles out. Only bra and the belt and nylons. Hot tears in her eyes. How can he… do these things… And his parting words this time. ‘You’re not weakening, are you, Elaine? Not wilting? I hope not. We’re not half-way through yet. You need determination and stamina for top management you know.’