Mailgirls Down Under

The previous part ended just before Emily and Cara were about to stage Mailgirls in the Office, so in this part we won't get to the office for a while. Firstly, while Emily and Cara are at the theatre, what are their parents up to?

Mitchell Johnson lay on the lounge resting his head on Jessica's lap, his hands still bound, the leash hanging down still attached to his collar. His wife rubbed his temple trying to ease his tension. "That session didn't relax you, did it?" she asked him, teasing his semi-hard cock with the tip of her riding crop.

"I don't know what I need," Mitch admitted.

"It's the American monster?" Jessica asked gently.

Mitch smiled. "We shouldn't call her a monster."

Jessica kissed her husband's forehead. "What then? A gorgon? A banshee?" Her breasts thrust forward, supported by her half cup bra, the strap-on hanging loose on her hips.

"She hasn't done anything yet," Mitch complained. "Maybe wait and see."

Jessica shook her head. "That's just you being too kind," she chided him. "What has she done? She replaced you as manager. She has cancelled the incentive points. She is trying to force all the mailgirls to shave clean each morning. Which you know from the States means demerits if they don't do it properly. And she wants to change them from names to numbers."

"Yeah," Mitch agreed bitterly. "It does sound bad when you put it that way, all of that together."

Jessica was on a roll. "What is she doing to the rest of the office?" She let the strap-on run softly against Mitch's thigh.

"Apart from making Shane do some work..." Mitch smirked at that inconvenience for the deputy office manager.

"I'll have to tell Hollie..." Jessica added sardonically. Which Mitch filed away as confirmed, that his wife did keep in touch with Shane's wife. He was getting properly hard again.

"...she's reviewing KPIs and setting targets for all staff who don't have them..." Mitch added. He shifted his naked body to get more comfortable.

"...winning friends..." Jessica adjusted Mitch onto his knees facing her as she sat luxuriously on their lounge. She looked the harsh mistress as she clipped her tight shiny black corset back on. Discarding the bra, it was all that she wore. Her rouged nipples stood out, hard

"...and threatening to bring in staff from her US office apparently to show us how to do our jobs properly," Mitch added, aware of the incongruity of their measured discussion while they got ready for another round of their games.

Jessica used the short riding crop to raise Mitch's chin. "So everyone in the office is happy?" She forced his knees a little further apart.

"Haha, no one. I only wonder whether she -- or Mr Harada -- have a plan. Or whether she is just doing what she knows." Mitch's cock stood up totally rigid.

"And your friend Jackson?" Jessica smiled evilly as she stroked Mitch's hardened cock with the tip of the whip. She teased her husband further by spreading her legs, exposing what she was keeping him away from.

Mitch tried to fight the stimulation. "I haven't seen much of her since The Change. I think she's up to something but I haven't been able to work out what." It did not work. Mitch stayed totally rigid.

Jessica smiled at Mitch's display. "What did that?" she teased, "me asking about your office wife?" She tapped Mitch's cock with the riding crop. "Well this wife needs some attention," she warned. She stepped close to her husband's face. "Time for you to get to work," she smiled.

Not long after bringing off his wife, Mitch again rested his head in her lap as she spread out on the lounge. This time he gently stroked her pussy getting her to softly groan as he brought her back down.

Eventually Jessica gently removed his hand, smiling warmly. "Enough," she advised.

They lay together for a moment, then got back to talking. "I wonder what the twins are up to?" Mitch wondered. "They've quietened down after the mailgirls flirtation." He could only hope that their interest in that was over.

Jessica nodded. "I was worried. Emily seriously wanted to be a mailgirl. But I think she has moved on. God knows what Cara wants to be. Maybe you should talk to them?"

Mitch looked concerned at that suggestion. "And what would I say? 'I'm glad you don't want to be a mailgirl any more, what do you want to be?' And Cara, have you found a profession where you can exploit your mean girl persona?"

Jessica frowned. "Not sure about that. I think you may need to refine your message."

Mitch shrugged. "Or we could just ignore it. That's worked successfully so far."

Jessica worried though. "I preferred it when we were closer as a family."

Mitch smiled. "Back when you didn't regularly send them out of the house so you and I can play? But don't forget, they're at Uni now. They're growing up. Grown up, in fact."

Jessica worried further. "And I hope not away."

Mitch caressed Jessica in sympathy. "Maybe that happens. Okay, let's think of things to do as a family."

*

As the audience filed into the Union Theatre the cast acted out a normal -- clothed, that is -- workday in an office set on the stage. Sarah and Bill sit at facing desks alternating between appearing to work and chatting sociably with each other. Rob, The Boss, looks disapprovingly at them then types something into his mobile phone. A moment later a nude woman dashes across the stage, snatches a sheet of paper from Rob while not breaking stride, continuing off into the wings of the stage and out of sight. A few in the audience noticed because they were vaguely watching the humdrum action in front of them. Too many did not. The audience mood became a buzz of excitement.

"Did you see that?" a male voice called to someone else from the stalls, but it was too late. The naked woman was gone. Word quickly spread and now more of the audience watched the stage, hoping for a repeat. In the wings, Cara noted that more than half the seats were already taken, ten minutes before the scheduled start. Despite her earlier dire prediction, quite enough of Melbourne had come out on a Thursday night to the Uni to see a student dramatisation that promised to show what happened in a mailgirl office. Emily stood naked smiling at her sister, still puffing after her streak across the stage. Cara handed Emily a robe as she checked the time. "Five minutes," Cara told Emily.

Out on the stage, The Boss had punched another request into his phone and now looked around frustrated that a mailgirl had not appeared at his request. That tension extended to the audience, those of whom had seen the dash across the stage and expected another one, but especially those who had missed it and had either been told or had overheard others discuss it and did not want to miss it again. Cara looked at her watch, nodded at her sister who handed the robe back to Cara, then dashed out mailgirl style to snatch another sheet of paper from The Boss. She turned and then slowed down to tread the short distance back to the wings. That attracted and quietened the audience. Even though she had walked this time, it had still only taken an instant. So some had missed it again.

But The Boss held out another sheet of paper for the mailgirl indicating that she was supposed to have collected two from him. Just when the audience suspected that she wasn't coming back, Emily walked slowly back onto the stage, apologetically took the sheet from the admonishing manager and walked equally slowly off the stage to applause and laughter from those watching. Then the curtain dropped and the lights dimmed.

After a moment's darkness, a spotlight shone on the bare stage frontage. Emily stepped out into the light, now covered in a flashy red velvet robe.

A wag in the audience called out "Get em off!" Emily smiled and courtesied in response and mouthed "later" to general amusement.

She waited for enough hush then recited "Oh for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest office of innovation! An office for a stage, mailgirls to act, and managers to to behold the swelling scene!"

Another wag in the audience then loudly continued the chorus, as Shakespeare intended it. After letting him finish to some mild applause, Emily smiled and announced "we're going to have a lot of fun tonight. We will expose the ugly underbelly of late capitalism by showing the attractive bellies -- and other parts -- of young idealists." That got another round of applause. "Because what better represents the depths that the commercial world will sink, to subjugate its workers by stripping the clothes off some of them -- the pretty ones -- and then enslaving the rest at their desks."

That got a lot of hoots of agreement amid further calls for her to get out of her robe. Taunting them Emily held one side of the robe to her body and flashed the other, exposing nothing. She hushed the celebration down and tried to look serious. "Are there any mailgirls in the audience?" she asked with a cheeky grin as she looked out over the rows of people watching her.

For a moment there was a murmured silence. Then a male voice from near the back called out: "There's a mailgirl here!" Heads turned and Emily peered over trying to see who was calling. "Over here," another voice called, evidently someone near the first revelator. "Here," called the first voice, and this time the person on lighting was ready. They turned a spotlight onto Ian Baker gesturing at Pam Burridge, sitting next to him, as she cringed, towards the centre of the second back row. Ian was smiling. Pam wasn't. But she was literally in the spotlight.

"I am not a mailgirl!" Pam complained loudly, enough for the hall to all hear. Assuming that this was part of the performance, a fair number of the audience laughed at the vehemence of Pam's complaint.

Ian got his phone out and knelt dramatically in front of his date. "If you're not a mailgirl, swear it on this YouTube video of Melbourne Mailgirls Go Wild," he urged to again the general mirth of those around them. And the attention of the entire room.

Pam seemed struck dumb as she stared at Ian's phone, wide eyed and silent. The stranger sitting on the other side of Pam, another youngish man who looked a bit like Ian stared over at the two of them. "She's not swearing. She's a mailgirl!" the stranger declared.

"Fuck," Pam muttered.

The audience picked that up, and a good natured chant started. "Mailgirl, mailgirl." Soon, it seemed everyone had picked it up. At Cara's suggestion, the stage curtain went up so that the three actors in their office setting could also watch.

Pam stood up and raised her hands, gestured to hush everybody. As if that would work. The chanting got louder. Now the centre of attention and feeling no alternative, she pushed along her row to the aisle and then made her way down to the base of the stage. The chanting became applause. In the spotlight, swaying her hips slightly she catwalked at her chosen pace, not to be rushed. She nodded at Emily who beckoned her up. So up she climbed and went over to join Emily to look out at the audience. The chanting of "Mailgirl, mailgirl" picked up again. Pam gestured for the chant to stop and waited for a moment until it did. She stood, wavering a little then took a deep breath. "Okay for the sake of this performance, I am a mailgirl," she announced.

"I knew it!" Ian shouted out to again widespread amusement. And applause. And a failed attempt to restart the chant.

Pam stood still in the middle of the stage, forlornly. "For the sake of this performance then," she complained again, clear enough to seem a part of the performance. Worrying about the show stalling before it was supposed to begin, Cara strode onto the stage, took Pam by the arm and sat her down at one of the workspaces. Pam carefully smoothed her dress, appearing not to care that her bare legs were visible up to nearly the top of her thighs.

Thinking on her feet, Emily advised the room that "our visiting mailgirl will monitor our performance and offer constructive criticism if she thinks we are falling down on the job." She nodded at Pam. Pam nodded at her. She brushed her lanky hair back from her eyes as the stage lights enhanced her features. Even thought Ian had watched her at those photo shoots he was smitten by how gorgeous and self-possessed she was on the stage.

The lights dimmed and then rose on the actors as the show proper started, with The Boss proclaiming at a bemused Pam about the imminent end of western civilisation due mostly to its decadence.

"So not global warming then?" she asked.

The Boss shook his head and looked out to the audience. "No, the decadence," he boomed.

And the show progressed from there. Sarah sat at her workstation, dressed in sensible office work attire. Bill seemed to be concentrating on whatever was on his PC screen. But he also compulsively stole glances at his phone. The Boss tapped something on his phone. He looked around distracted that nothing had happened then looked over to Pam with some urgency.

"What do you want me to do?" Pam asks him. Someone in the audience makes the kind of suggestion which she immediately and over-dramatically refused. "Do you boys want a tease," Pam responded. She raised her dress just a little higher up her bare thigh. But clearly she was going no further.

In the wings Emily turned to her sister. "Jaysus, she's getting more attention that I am. With her clothes on!" Emily whipped off her robe and pushed it to Cara. She thrust her shoulders back, breasts forward. "Deal with this," she muttered.

Pam was glowing in the limelight, stealing the show while The Boss lectured her about the modern downtrodden worker. Until Emily strode back on stage in a moment later, proudly naked, shoulders back, her firm breasts prominent. She seemed completely unselfconscious about her state. And the audience this time did not have to worry about missing anything. She was taking her time. She slowly snaked across the stage towards The Boss and Pam.

The Boss stops his rant to glare at the naked Emily. He utters one word at her "mailgirl." It is an order. Emily realises what she should do and kneels in her practiced mailgirl position, shoulders back, breasts forward and knees spread. She faces The Boss which means she pretty much has her back to the audience. Pam looks shocked.

The Boss ignores Pam and gets out of his seat to slowly circle Emily. Standing over her, he gives Pam a look that invites the still surprised onlooker to comment. "Is that necessary?" Pam asks. She can't work out again why her genuine response again gets laughter from the audience.

The Boss smiles at her. "The workers have to know their place in the organisation."

Pam looked puzzled. "But she knows what her place is in the organisation. She has to run around naked delivering messages."

The Boss sneered. "She has to be constantly reminded of her role. And her status. Look, she enjoys doing it because she doesn't even understand that she is subjugated under the yoke of capitalist oppression."

"But look at her, she doesn't enjoy being like that," Pam insisted. In the wings Cara grinned widely. This unscripted stuff was even better than what they had planned. Sensing the way the play was going Sarah and Bill kept pretending to be pretending to work.

"Let's ask her," The Boss told Pam. "Mailgirl 6," he addressed Emily who, trying not to move her head towards The Boss, seemed to be straining to hold her position, "do you enjoy displaying yourself in my office totally naked so that anyone who comes in can see you like that?"

That caused Sarah and Bill to look up and peer over, firstly curious, then surprised to find that they have a naked woman on the floor near them. Sarah in particular looked seriously interested.

Emily looked down at the floor. "I enjoy being the object of capitalist subjugation," she recited.

The Boss looked over to Sarah and Bill and laughed roughly. "I don't even think she understands what she is saying," he exclaimed.

"Why?" Pam asked.

"Because if she did she would throw off her chains of repression and rise up to slaughter the parasites of the ruling class."

"Is that really necessary?" Pam asked, incredulous. The audience seemed to be breaking down to those who enjoyed the archaic Marxist references and those who didn't get the source but thought The Boss's rhetoric was hilarious being so overblown. The few members of the ruling class laughed along hoping not be slaughtered by the end of the show.

"I certainly hope not," The Boss smiled, since he was clearly one of the ruling class who would be first up against the wall. He turned his attention to Emily. "Now mailgirl 6, I have a message for you to deliver." He went to his desk, picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to the naked mailgirl. She stood up and started to jog on the spot, holding onto the note, her breasts jiggling with the effort. "Deliver it to Rogers," The Boss ordered, off-handedly and Emily jogged off the stage.

"You see," The Boss told Pam, "the mailgirl knows her place."

"I don't think anyone would want to be treated like that," Pam argued.

"And yet you saw what you saw,"Tthe Boss told her. "The money," he hissed.

Pam looked around the room to check. She was pretty sure that none of the others from Harada were there. None of them would be mad enough to come to a show like this. Pam wondered what she was doing there. Up on the stage! She tried to find Ian, But he was too far back. Anyway, she knew he would be loving this.

And the show progressed. Emily strolled back onto the stage, gave the boss a note and strolled off, oblivious to any notion that people might stare at her because she was naked. "But that's not real," Pam tried again. "No one would let themselves be treated like that."

The Boss smiled malevolently at Pam but said nothing. She felt slightly silly having said that given what she did for a living. But there was something about Emily's self confident nudeness. And Pam realised: I do that. I can do that. And she wondered why she ever got embarrassed. Walking around an office naked was so easy. You just had to be confident.

Silently Sarah got up from her desk and walked up to The Boss who eyed her with amusement.

Sarah coughed, perhaps a little nervous and addressed The Boss. "I'd like to be a mailgirl." She smiled at Pam, expecting support. Pam looked shocked.

"You can always find women who want to be mailgirls," The Boss gruffly told Pam. He looked Sarah over, clearly contemplating what he should do with her. Sarah stood still, waiting. "If you are going to be a mailgirl, you better take your clothes off," he ordered. Then he looked over at Pam. "And you have work to do."

Sarah stepped a little away from The Boss and started to do a striptease, swaying her hips. Appropriate music came up. Sarah strode across the front of the stage, swinging open her jacket revealing a simple blouse. She lifted the hem of her skirt until she was showing the audience a lot of thigh. She shimmied out of her jacket and flung it to Pam who caught it and folded it, placed it on her desk.

The blouse came off next. Now down to her bra, Sarah revealed her still covered quite large breasts as she unbuttoned her blouse and pushed her shoulders back pushing them forward provocatively, as she slipped it right off. This time, Sarah pranced over to Pam and handed it straight to her. Pam shook her head at Sarah who shrugged a shoulder, marched back to the centre of the stage and wriggled seductively out of her skirt. She was now reduced to her matching black bra and panties, fishnet stockings and garter belt. She danced enticingly for the audience, showing off her assets.

The Boss waved to cut the music and gestured urgently at Sarah to stop her performance. But he could not stop her prancing around a little more as she started to play peekaboo with her breasts, teasing to release them from her bra. The audience was of course geeing her along. The Boss shushed them. "Being a mailgirl is not a striptease," he thundered.