Room 2D

Story from Blushes 47 modelled by the lovely young lady from the videos Dorset Cottage and The Swimming Pool . The fact that it was her own fault did not help one little bit. She had complained to Mr Summers that she thought it was the instrument itself that was wrong. That is why she was making such a hash of her lessons. The soft-eyed, hazel-haired young woman had often repeated that the violin itself did not lend to her ability and natural talent to play the fiddle. Then he had made that awful, unbelieving threat. Right here in this brown study of a room. When he had told her that she lacked a natural discipline, she had not understood. Then he had painstakingly told her that his idea of discipline was something of a personal nature, and had even gone on at some lengths regarding the lack of discipline in young people today. She had not considered herself one of the ‘young people’ because she was more than twenty years of age....

From Blushes 24, a follow-up to  Just the Ticket . Linda Marshall gasped. She could scarcely believe the evidence of her own eyes.  He  was standing there, right before her desk. That awful, awful man… the one who had said he had been a Special Ticket Inspector. Linda had often had her doubts about that since that terrible afternoon. When she allowed him to spank her on the train so as to be let off fare-dodging. Even now, three months later, she would still go hot and cold thinking about it. Now there he was again, right before her, smiling a little knowingly. ‘Well, well, this  is  a surprise,’ he said. The thought flashed through Linda’s mind that somehow he had deliberately contrived this. Followed her to find out where she worked. So that he could blackmail her. She was filled with a mixture of fury and fear. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded in a stage whisper, even though there was...

The first of two parts from Blushes 24 No wonder BR always seems to be running at a loss, thought Linda Marshall. There must be thousands like me — all fare dodging. She’d been doing it for months, because it was so simple when you got off at the station, like hers, where there was no ticket collector. All you needed to do was buy one return ticket a week and go on using it. Oh yes, so simple. A sweet smile at the collector on the gate at the terminal and he would only give your half-hidden ticket the merest glance. They were so thick, or inefficient, they deserved to lose money, she said to herself. Whereas she was saving herself over £25 a week. There’s private enterprise for you! Linda smiled. Even Mrs Thatcher might approve. Linda glanced at her watch. The train was late leaving. And how empty the carriage was. Then she remembered she had made some excuse and left the office early — so as to have plenty of time to get read...