It was seven-thirty on the morning of Christmas Eve 1959. Carol's alarm clock sounded, she groaned, reached out to silence it and accidentally knocked it onto the bedroom floor; it continued with a laboured, muffled ring until it finally 'gave up the ghost.'
The short silence was broken by the sound of milk bottles clanking in metal crates as a milk float made its way along the street. Carol opened her eyes and switched on the bedside lamp; she hated this time of year, getting up on cold, dark mornings and coming home in the dark. Although it was Christmas Eve, today was no exception.
She lived alone in a small 1930s semi-detached house in a suburb of a northern English town. She was thirty-seven-years-of-age and both of her parents were dead. Her father was killed in the war, seventeen years ago; her mother died during the previous summer, leaving the house and a small sum of money to Carol.
There were no other members of her family left alive. She was single, had no real friends and she was sure that this Christmas was going to be the loneliest she had ever known. She sat shivering at her dressing table, a one-bar electric fire struggled to take the winter chill off her bedroom.
She looked into the mirror and, as usual, focused on aspects of her appearance that she didn't like; her small breasts, her weak chin, a slightly hooked nose with a prominent nasal bridge. What she found harder to see were her beautiful blue eyes, her lean, almost model-like figure with its slim waist and her shapely bottom and legs.
Over the years she had taken little pleasure from her staid, unfulfilled life. She'd had no luck with men; boyfriends had let her down. She'd almost been engaged a couple of times and when things had not turned out as planned, her unsupportive mother had been quick to say, "I told you so."
She had little experience in matters of sex; even though she was well acquainted with her boss's cock. For the past eighteen months, since he'd joined the company, she'd masturbated him in his office, once a week, on a Wednesday afternoon, when the rest of the staff had left work. At first, she'd been faintly flattered by the attention, but as she began to realise that their 'relationship' was going to be a one-way street, she became disillusioned.
Not that she was ever particularly attracted to Reg Brown. He was forty-eight years of age, married, a heavy smoker, overweight, and a womaniser. He strung Carol along with half-promises of promotion that never materialised; when she realised what his game was, she became reluctant to play. She told him that she wanted it to stop, but he said that it might not do her prospects any good; she could easily be replaced, he'd said. It was always a hand job, she didn't want him to touch her. He tried to get her to take his cock in her mouth, but she drew the line at that; she was repulsed by the idea.
When she was twenty-three, she'd allowed one of her boyfriends to penetrate her in the back of his Morris Minor. It had been a clumsy, messy, unfulfilling affair; he'd come just as he was entering her, leaving her to mop up his semen while he paced up and down outside the car, frustratedly smoking a cigarette. He'd driven her home in embarrassed silence; as soon as she'd got in, she'd cleaned the drying semen stains off her dress before her mother had noticed.
In her late twenties, another boyfriend talked of marriage; he fucked her numerous times over a three-month period before she discovered that he was also fucking his sister-in-law. She'd enjoyed the sex very much, but she'd lost her confidence with men and found it difficult to trust them. The only orgasms she'd had since then had been self-induced; fingering herself underneath the bed sheets and stifling the sounds of her release so that her mother didn't discover her guilty secret.
The rest of her life was quiet and uneventful; she liked reading and needlework, and she loved looking at women's fashion magazines. She fantasised about being a model, but she suspected that she'd never be anything more than a senior clerk at an insurance company.
It being Christmas Eve, a staff party would commence as soon as the office closed for business. She put on her white bra, corset and satin underskirt with its lace trimming and then sat in her dressing gown as she applied her makeup. She didn't know why she was making a special effort with her appearance today, except that was what was expected for the office party.
She made sure that she got the seams of her tan-coloured stockings straight before clipping them carefully to the suspender straps dangling from her open-bottomed girdle. She removed her dressing gown, put on a clean white blouse, and then got into her best, dark blue, calf-length, wool flannel, straight skirt. Stepping into her black, three-inch high heeled court shoes and putting on the stylish short jacket that matched her skirt, she made her way downstairs for a slice of toast and a cup of tea.
As she ate her breakfast, she cringed at the thought of what Reg would be expecting her to do with him later on in some dark store cupboard; she made sure that she'd got two handkerchiefs in her handbag. She put on her coat, picked up the old biscuit tin, that contained mince pies that she'd baked for the party, and set off through the sleet to catch the bus into the city centre.
On the journey, she overheard a conversation between two women about last-minute Christmas shopping and realised, sadly, that she had no reason to do any. She hadn't bothered to decorate at home, a small artificial tree was her only concession to Christmas. Her melancholy increased at the thought of the sardines on toast and a mince pie that would be her Christmas Day lunch; meagre offerings that symbolised the deeper sadness of her lonely, unfulfilled life.
Her mood lifted a little when she got into the office and was greeted by Brenda's and Mike's smiling faces. Brenda was in her mid-fifties; she was a wise old head and often provided a listening ear for Carol. She'd helped her deal with the death of her mother earlier in the year; she also suspected that Reg was using Carol for his own gratification but she didn't know the details.
Mike was the office junior, he'd been with the firm since he'd left school at sixteen; he was nineteen now and was making the transition from a boy to a tall, handsome young man. He played football and cricket and liked going out for a drink with his mates. Carol had always watched out for him at work, she'd taken him under her wing when he first joined the firm. She liked his kind eyes and gentle manner; she sometimes wished that she was younger and he was older. He had a thoughtful and considerate nature that helped make him popular with all of the women in the office.
In the past few months, as he'd begun to develop physically and mature mentally, she had found herself casting glances in his direction; furtive glances, the kind that sometimes made her nipples tingle.
Although it was Christmas Eve, it was a normal business day, like any other Thursday; the only concession to the holiday season was that the office would close an hour early, at four o'clock. The firm had provided a limited quantity of drinks which had been augmented by booze brought in by some of the staff. Some of the women had baked sausage rolls and mince pies to help soak up the alcohol once the party got underway.
During the morning, Carol had half a mind on her work and half a mind on the job application she put in several weeks ago. The office supervisor job had become vacant; she'd hoped, forlornly she expected, that her weekly masturbation of Reg's penis might stand her in good stead. Reg had said that he would make the appointment before Christmas. The problem was that Carol now had a rival.
Diane had joined the company six months ago. She was twenty-five, ambitious, pretty, and had a good figure and she knew it. The attractive blonde-haired woman had played the field; she'd been engaged a couple of years ago and had broken it off. She was engaged again now; her boyfriend wanted to settle down and marry but, unbeknown to him, she was having an affair with his best friend. Carol had noticed how she'd gradually got her hooks into Reg and now she was reeling him in.
What Carol didn't know, but suspected, was that Diane was playing hard to get; something she thought with hindsight, that she should have done. She knew that Diane had also applied for the job. Diane was being clever, although they hadn't spoken directly about it, she'd made sure that Reg understood that she wouldn't touch his cock until she'd got it in writing that she had got the job. Despite Carol being much more experienced, and having previously done the job in an acting capacity, she knew that Diane was going to be appointed.
Her worst fears were confirmed just before lunch when she witnessed Reg handing an envelope to Diane. They were both in his office, he was leering at her and she had a look of self-satisfaction on her face. Diane left his office and gave Carol a smug grin before telling her that Reg wanted to see her.
"Er, I've made a decision about the supervisor job Carol, and I'm afraid you've been unsuccessful on this occasion..." said Reg.
"Oh, I see, well if that's all I'll get back to my desk."
"It, it was a difficult decision, I..."
"Please don't patronise me, we both know why she's got the job," said Carol, stung by her own hypocrisy as much as Reg's decision to give the job to Diane.
"I hope it won't interfere with our 'arrangement,' we can still..."
"Oh no we can't, you'll have to hope that she keeps her side of the bargain."
