Room 2D

Photo-story from Janus 89 & 90, a prequel to Elixir of Life . Not much of a story, to be honest, but a nice photo-set of Jenny Close. If you call yourself ‘Chelsea’, in the accent of a region no SW3 estate agent would dream of dealing with, you’ve got to expect a bit of trouble now and then. Particularly when you run into someone like Madam, a very meticulous lady whose tragic past experiences have conditioned her to react with fury to any sign of falseness or pretension — real or imagined. This gaffe with her name alarmingly triggers just that kind of sarcasm which Chelsea has never been able to cope with. Giving way is the only way she knows how to handle a sour, critical, supercilious bitch of Madam’s calibre, and angry men who tell her she should have her bottom spanked or her selfish, oblivious misbehaviour. When she needs to keep in with people, Chelsea has learned that it can be better to pay with a de...

Another AI enhanced repost of a favourite story. Here is After the Match from Uniform Girls 2. ‘Your girls were rather over-matched, wouldn’t you say, Henry? Eh?’ ‘Perhaps,’ said Henry, who didn’t much care about tennis tournaments and inter-school rivalry. He took the visiting school’s headmaster into the pavilion, where they were offered strawberries and cream by a shy, wide-eyed girl who seemed somewhat overawed to be in the presence of two headmasters; Sally, who found being in the presence of just one headmaster, Henry, sufficiently intimidating in the normal way. Henry thanked her and pictured her chubby young bottom in its navy blue knickers as she walked away self-consciously, skirt swinging neatly from her hips. ‘Have to have your revenge when you come to us, later in the term.’ ‘I dare say we shall,’ said Henry, still engrossed in his recollection of the strawberry-bringer’s plump and bouncy buttocks as she’d squirm...

From Uniform Girls 23. A lengthy and entertaining exploration of a woo-woo “science” cult in seven parts, illustrated with pictures of two lovely girls. JOURNEY IN THE DARK The big car sped along the fast lane of the motorway, considerably in excess of the legal speed limit but with no sound of effort from its powerful motor. It was dark outside apart from the passing lights of other vehicles, a cool November evening; inside it was dark too, in the rear seat certainly, but snug and warm. Behind the black-suited shoulders and peaked cap of the driver the big middle-aged man turned to his scarcely visible companion. ‘What did you think, Michelle? Did that go all right?’ Mr Barnard was referring to his lecture, delivered in a hall in the suburbs of Birmingham a little earlier. Delivered to an audience of Organisation members, though not of its elite, inner circle of initiates. He knew it had gone well and he knew his young comp...