Room 2D

Story from Blushes 58 Mr Minley’s car crunched up the leaf-strewn gravel drive between trees and shrubs resplendent in their autumn reds and browns and golds. The house came into sight against the crisp blue sky. It looked as big as Mr Minley’s own house but more shabby, dilapidated. And the lawn at the side was uncut, resembling a meadow almost and also liberally covered with more fallen leaves. Quite unlike Mr Minley’s immaculate sward. This place is probably falling apart,’ he observed as he pulled up before the house. ‘And that fellow doesn’t seem to be here yet. Anyway let’s have a look.’ His hand squeezed Susan’s thigh. Susan followed him out. On this warm September morning the delectable Susan was wearing a white sleeveless top and full, calf-length pink skirt with large white buttons down the front, plus white high heels. She had nothing underneath, no underwear. On Mr Minley’s instruction of course. Sometimes she was ...

Short and sweet, from Whispers 3 She should, of course, have known better, having been wheeled into one of Sam’s political fund-raising ideas last Easter, but saying definitely ‘No’ when her job and her flat and her Renault Five very much depended on her knowing when to say ‘yes’, wasn’t easy. Not out here in the shires, where everyone knew everybody else and jobs, flats etc were few and very far between. ‘Well what exactly do I have to do, Sam?’ ‘Not a lot really, sweetheart. It’s a sort of auction you see, and you get a few balloons with prices on and people are allowed to buy them. Then we give you some more balloons and people buy them again, and so on.’ ‘And that’s all there is to it?’ ‘Er — more or less. Except there are forfeits as well, depending on the colour of the balloon.’ ‘Who has to pay these forfeits?’ ‘Well, you do, my sweet. Red balloons are a smacked bottom, green ones mean a stroke with a cane — and ...

My favourite kind of R.T. Mason story (I’m making an assumption here as it’s uncredited) — a small English town, seething with outwardly respectable dirty old men, a pretty girl helpless to resist them but also stimulated by their attentions, the worsening of an already bad situation for her, and some rather lovely pictures to match the story. From Blushes Supplement 18. A pleasantly warm June evening. The quiet hamlet of Dimbledown drowsy after a day of sun — though some would say it was equally drowsy when there was no sun to be seen. The weatherman had said it would stay this way for the weekend. The seaside would be nice, Angela thought. At the weekend. Weymouth or Bournemouth, for instance. Lying on the hot sand getting a tan and no doubt being admired. Mr Marjoram perhaps might take her, if she sort of suggested it. Or Mr Hosking. Maybe even her own Mr Lovage. Lovage the Chemists: Our Own Herbal Remedies . Though they would al...