Room 2D

From Uniform Girls 19 ‘That haircut’ His mother’s voice low, disapproving. ‘Really!’ He was sitting with his back to the door of the dining room and didn’t turn to look but it had to be her. The tall girl with the cropped blonde hair. A couple of years older than himself perhaps? Nineteen? All right then, three. He saw her again on the beach. Yesterday. That pale blue one-piece swimsuit. Her shape in it — and the parts that weren’t in it — had made his mouth go dry. Not big boobs but her bottom… he had almost had a heart attack when, 20 yards away, she had bent over like that. The stunning long legs kept quite straight at the knees. The tremendous reach of the backs of her thighs. And at the top… with that old man of course. Or oldish. Fifty? Her guardian, his mother said. He kept his head down, as if his soup was of surpassing interest, but saw nonetheless it was the girl. And him. Mr Guildford his name was. Was that her name? ...

From Blushes 39 Brrrinnnggg. Brrinnnnggg. The phone. Again. Stanley Cardew mutters an expletive under his breath. He has only just replaced the receiver. With an anguished expression he picks it up again. It is a good job he is not an excitable man. ‘Hello. Cardew Partners.’ Forcing his voice into polite, sympathetic tones. He listens. Rolling his eyes. He has heard it before, so many times. The basic problem is that demand greatly exceeds supply. One might imagine in broadly economic terms that for a supplier this would be an ideal situation. But it is not. It simply creates unending hassle, agitation, aggravation. ‘I’m very sorry.’ The tones are kept meek and apologetic. ‘I’m afraid we simply do not have anyone. At the moment.’ There follows the usual response. No one will accept this answer. They all assume there is at least one who must be free. One who is being kept for an especially favoured client. And why should she b...

Story from Uniform Girls 16. Pretty model, I'm not sure I've seen her in anything else. A large substantial house, The Big House as it was known to the locals, Alwood Hall in fact, sitting imposingly in its grounds above the village of Little Alwood on this fine sunny July morning. A four-square early Victorian edifice dominating the local landscape as indeed its owner-occupier also tended to dominate the local inhabitants. Mr Henry Hollings standing now in his front reception room… Henry Hollings, lord of the manor, was in his fifties and of an upright, military bearing although he had not in fact served queen and country. He had spent some years in the east, though, on family tea plantations and out there a gentleman planter could conduct himself in the same lordly fashion as lords of the manor had in England in bygone days. So that Henry Hollings did still now act that way back in England and Little Alwood’s inhabitan...