Room 2D

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From Phoenix 2 It squatted in the corner, fat body perched upon splayed legs, half-concealed in the wintry afternoon’s gloom. It didn’t move, just sat there, waiting. Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Rubber-soled shoes squeaked on the polished floor and a voice, gruff and authoritative, told the newcomer to wait. In the gloom she waited, and every now and then dared a glance in the direction of the monstrosity which still crouched unmoving in the corner. Her eyes darted away each time, she fiddled with her hands, smoothed one dubiously over the seat of her little shorts, then had to look back at it again. A tiny, stifled sob sounded in the cavernous room and she put her hands to her eyes and brushed away what might have been tears. The little golden hairs on her bare legs stood up as she shivered and suddenly felt goose-pimply down her thighs. She held her breath. The heavy step returned along the corridor and the d...

From Uniform Girls 33. It's not spelled out, but I think pretty Charlene and Valerie are undergoing Domestic Training. ‘Ring Mr Pinfield for me,’ Mr Fosling says. ‘There’s a darling. He’s in my book.’ George Fosling is comfortably seated in his favourite armchair. He reaches out and squeezed a handful of soft bottom. ‘Yes Mr Fosling,’ the darling, owner of the soft bottom, says. She is in fact called Charlene. She waits until the hand has finished, then walks across the thick carpet in her shiny black high heels to the phone. ‘Don’t take all day,’ Mr Fosling adds mildly. Although he is sitting here in his comfortable armchair he is sportily dressed: white cricket sweater over a cream-coloured shirt; white flannels; trainers on his feet. He is fiftyish, not tall, bald, with horn-rimmed spectacles: not a particularly sporting figure. ‘Pinfield is under P,’ he adds helpfully. ‘Yes… I know… I’ve got it now.’ Charlene’...