Join the Dots…

From Blushes 30

‘It’s one of those old clothes horse things,’ Arabella had said. ‘You know, Victorian or something. To hang clothes on, for drying I suppose. Anyway that’s what he always uses.’ She had laughed, showing those small even white teeth. ‘And that, Suzie, is why it’s called a horsing.’

And here it was. In the big bare room, the Dancing Room they called it, though it was mostly used for gym. The room usually empty but now with a leather armchair placed out in front of the empty fireplace. With Major Greeley sitting in the armchair. And in front of Major Greeley, between him and the fireplace, was it. The horse. A varnished, wooden Victorian monstrosity.

Major Greeley looking up from the pad on his lap. The light for an instant catching his spectacles and shining back, making him eyeless. The eyeless man spoke:

‘Ah good, Miss Mellanby. Susan. Close the door. Stay right there. And get undressed.’

‘Everyone gets it,’ Monica had said. ‘It’s part of your training. At least that’s what he says.’ She had pinched Susan’s arm. ‘Make you a big girl, Suzie. What every big girl has to have. At this place at least.’

The horn-rimmed spectacles glanced at her, flashing light again. Major Greeley wrote something in his pad. Susan’s hands went behind her as she stepped out of her shoes. The waistband of her skirt. Control the panic. If everyone had it… But they would only giggle when she asked what exactly. Giggle and say those things:

‘Make Suzie a big girl.’

Eighteen-year-old Susan had of course pretended to take it as a joke. You couldn’t show them you were scared, panicky. That would make it ten times worse.

Biting her lip as she stepped out of the skirt. Her heart thudding at some fantastic rate. Don’t panic. Her blouse now. That just left… Glancing over at Major Greeley again. The glasses flashing. ‘Keep going.’

Her bra. Unfastening the strap and slipping it off. Dropping it down with the other things.

The eyeless spectacles again:

‘Stand up straight a moment. Arms behind your back.’

Not wanting to but making herself. Suspender belt and stockings and brief knickers. Her bare boobs pointing shyly at him. Vibrant young flesh. Pointing at the glasses that now showed keen male eyes.

‘Yes. Very good Now slip your knickers off. You’ll keep on the stockings and belt!’

Her knickers. Oh God. Though she had been told that much at least. Arabella’s voice hot in her ear: ‘It’s everything off except suspender belt and stockings, Suzie. For a horsing.’ Not sure whether to believe Arabella of course but it had been true. Knickers off.

Eyes that could not hide their fright darting over to the leather armchair. Her lips parted. Knees trembling. Trying to push out of her head those various heart-stopping possibilities that an active imagination can produce. Why wouldn’t they tell her. Anything was better than not knowing. Well almost anything.

Major Greeley looking up from his pad. Another dazzle. Susan now in suspender belt and stockings. Making herself stand still. Fighting the urge to cover the bare boobs. And now that bush of hair.

‘Good. That’s it. Come on then. Over to the horse.’ He was standing.

Walking. Somehow Stockinged feet padding on the worn carpet. Where four afternoons a week girls panted and strained. ‘Stretch it, Monica!’ ‘Wider, Juliet!’ None of that now. The Dancing Room empty. Except her and him. And the horse.

Major Greeley’s voice quiet, matter-of-fact. ‘Now then, Susan, this is how I want you.’ His hands. ‘Over the horse like so…’ His hands. ‘Legs nice and wide.’ His hands some more. And then your arms…’

The hands let go. Behind her Major Greeley was doing something. Deft movements…