"Bugger, bugger, bugger, bollocks!"
Just turned nineteen, Louise Craven sat back in her seat in the tall office building on Fenchurch Street and swore under her breath. She looked at the message on her PC again and again.
"Report to Mrs. Wintergreen's office at eleven precisely."
Trevor looked over her shoulder and burst out laughing. He summoned Rachel and Billy to join in the fun.
"What's so bloody funny?"
"Guys. Louise has to see Mrs. Wintergreen! What a hoot!"
The attractive blonde turned in her three-wheeled roller seat and narrowed her eyes.
"So? It's just my first-year probation review, and she is the head of the department. No problem."
"Mr. Williams normally deals with those. If you have to go see HER, it must mean trub."
Billy put his hand over his mouth to suppress more giggles.
"Trub?"
"Trouble. That woman is a real bitch. Hates everyone."
"Yeah," agreed Trevor. "She's a tyrant."
"No, she's not." Rachel held up her hand. "She's a sadistic tyrant!"
"Right. I don't even know if she has teeth. Never seen her smile yet."
The other workers left the young secretary to ponder her fate as she slowly watched the clock tick away the minutes.
Louise needed this job. She had been fortunate to land the position and it had meant she and her boyfriend could afford to rent their first studio flat. If she were fired, it would probably mean she would have to move back in with her parents.
"Sod that. I'll just charm this Mrs. Wintergreen right out of her shoes."
x
At 10.55, Louise stood in the lady's room and checked her makeup. She fluffed up her buttery blonde wavy hair and smiled to herself. Luckily on this morning, she had chosen to wear her grey top that fit close to the body and had extra long sleeves. Also, her short-length high waist black skirt ended at the upper hip area. On her feet were her brand new nude heeled sandals with straps that wound around her lower calves and Achilles tendon.
"Hello?"
She opened the door of Mrs. Wintergreen's large office and peeked around the empty room. The reception area was small with a desk and sofa on the opposite side. A table separated the two and various outdated copies of Vogue and Cosmopolitan were strewn around on it. She sat on the sofa crossed her shapely pins and looked at her watch. Eleven o'clock. She was dead on time.
"Where is everybody?" she wondered as she sat in the odd silence.
Impatient and slightly bored, Louise went to the office and pushed the half-open door.
"Mrs. Wintergreen? Are you in here?"
The modest-sized room was sparsely furnished and had one big desk and a tall lamp by the very large window. Pictures of various cities adorned the wall and she studied each one in turn. She admired the view from the window and looked down on Fenchurch Street and watched the traffic. At that moment, her eyes were drawn to a half-open drawer in the desk.
"Oh, my!"
Something curious peeked out of the corner and she thought she recognised a horse riding crop. Her eyes went to the open door and saw no one so she pulled the top drawer out and reeled back in surprise. There, Louise found all types of erotic toys, vibrators, anal plugs, fur-lined handcuffs, and a black riding crop. Amid these outrageous devices, there were also several pairs of silk underwear and a pheasant feather. But it was the crop that caught her eye and she cautiously picked it up. It was an expensive, probably a hundred quid, black fleck crop of woven nylon and was about sixteen inches in length. The handle had wrapped leather and sported a big braided cap with a dimpled button. The keeper was also leather and was two inches wide.
"Oh my gosh. Mrs. Wintergreen seems to have some fetish interests."
"Is that so?"
Louise gasped and came out of her reverie as she was interrupted by a classy woman with flowing auburn hair. Dressed in a business-like manner she had a three-quarter length slim pencil fit dress in blue and white check, and a waist-high top with one button fastened just below the bust. Her navy bra was visible in the deep V of the low-cut look.
"Oh, shit! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm Louise by the way. Are you Mrs. Wintergreen?"
Without a word, the forty-one-year-old woman stared at her as she walked around and around the desk. She casually picked up the handcuffs and toyed with them as she paced the room. Louise ate humble pie as she demurred and hopped from one shoe to the other.
"This is not a good start Miss Craven. Snooping through private property, perhaps you lack discipline? Did you go to school? Do you know right from wrong?"
"Of course."
"Indeed. Maybe you need to be punished. Taught a lesson in fact."
We're not at school now, thought Louise who wondered where all this was leading. She found her eyes glued to the older woman's curvaceous form in the pencil-thin dress, her bare long legs, and her pouty red glossy lips.
"Discipline is an established practice I have adopted in my line of work. To be regulated. Directed if you will. From my way of thinking I think we can accommodate you in the agency. It seems to be effective."
Wintergreen looked down her nose at the nervous blonde with a sardonic grin. As she lectured, she paced the room, her navy stiletto shoes clicking on the hardwood floor.
"Now, I used to be a teacher at a private girl school in Kent. And I did NOT spare the rod. There are three types of discipline. One is preventive. Two, are supportive, and three are corrective. Which do you think I should pick with you?"
"Look, Mrs. Wintergreen. I just came here to have my yearly review. I wasn't expecting this at all. Maybe I should leave."