There were no doors or curtains for the shower, and Jen felt awkward, rubbing soap all over her naked body in front of a woman she'd just met. It was true that she needed a shower. Her skin was sweaty from the race, and her thighs still a bit gooey from all the juices that flowed from her pussy before and during the race.
She washed herself thoroughly under the watchful eyes of Ms. Barnes, and the unseen crowd of people in the coffee shop. Word had spread that there was a brand-new mailgirl in the shower. She dried herself with a small towel that felt scratchy compared to what she used at home. Ms. Barnes then hurried her out of the locker room and up on the elevator to Human Capital.
Jen moved her arms to cover herself when two men approached, but Ms. Barnes told her to keep her arms at her sides. In her office, she directed Jen to knees position on the mat, then sat in a guest chair in front of her so they could have a conversation. Ms. Barnes described the mailgirl program enthusiastically, then used her app to call a mailgirl. When Seventeen arrived, it was Jen's first face-to-face meeting with a mailgirl - barefoot and naked except for the elastic sleeve on her upper arm holding her Mailgirl Management Unit (MMU). Mailgirl 17, a sultry brunette with a truly outstanding pair of breasts, demonstrated the basic poses, and Jen followed her lead. Ms. Barnes said she was doing okay, for a beginner, but needed more work on the poses. Seventeen was then sent down to maintenance to find some clothing for Jen and bring her socks and running shoes from the locker room.
"Mail delivery runs are timed with demerits given for being late. That should appeal to your competitive side as a runner. You would earn the same minimum wage you are currently earning, but overtime would effectively give you a substantial raise, plus the signing bonus and completion bonus. You would also have no food, clothing or accommodation expenses for two years."
Ms. Barnes was very happy to have recruited a new mailgirl so easily. The B-cup breasts were smaller than ideal, but her body was toned and beautifully proportioned. She entered Jen's details into a contract template and reached Mr. Smythe, the lawyer who handles mailgirl contracts, for a video call so he could be a witness.
Jen signed a preliminary contract that would send her for training at Dumpster Dawg Enterprises (DDE) starting in two weeks. Mailgirl 17 returned after finding some disposable coveralls in maintenance. Jen pulled them on. Ms. Barnes then directed Seventeen to escort Jen to the front door.
"I'm Jen. Thanks for getting me some clothing and my shoes. What's your name?" she asked her escort, as they walked past the framed panties outside Human Capital. "Mailgirls are only referred to by number, and not by name. If someone calls this mailgirl by name, this mailgirl is required to politely remind them of that rule," Mailgirl 17 said. "Please call this mailgirl Seventeen."
"Is this going to be fun or have I just made the biggest mistake of my life?" Jen asked. "I'm so much smaller than you it's like I'm your little sister. Do most mailgirls have large breasts like yours?"
"This mailgirl's breasts are larger than most," Seventeen responded, "but there is a range of bust sizes here. As for having fun, parts of it may be fun, but there's a lot of degradation and humiliation. There's also paddling when a mailgirl gets too many demerits. There's no avoiding demerits no matter how hard one tries."
They walked together down the stairs to the lobby and said goodbye. Seventeen explained that mailgirls do not use the elevator. Jen walked to her car in the almost-empty parking lot, found her keys where she had left them under the back bumper and drove home. She made a quick stop at a sandwich place to buy a salad and use the restroom to change out of the borrowed coveralls into the light jacket and yoga pants she had brought with her.
That evening, she had dinner with her parents and told them she had not only run a great race, but she'd accepted a new job at SG&T. They were happy about her good news, but they didn't know the whole story. She didn't actually mention the naked part of the race or the job. They were surprised that SG&T was flying her to the West Coast for training. After supper, she wrote a brief letter of resignation giving two weeks notice, printed and signed it, then put it into her purse.
She was very tired when she went to bed but she had to deal with the arousal that had been with her all day. She reached orgasm almost immediately when she started to touch herself in her familiar way, but it happened so fast that she wasn't satisfied. Jen thought about how she had shaved her pussy the day before, the cool breeze she felt up the legs of her shorts, seeing the naked mailgirls, and sliding her shorts off at the start of the race. She began to tremble as she replayed the sight of the toned legs and butts of the mailgirls she followed, stripping off her top and running naked in front of all those people. This time the waves up and down her body were overwhelming.
Jen slept well but Monday morning at the office was a nightmare. Her 'friend' Nancy had gone online Sunday night to find photos from the race. She circulated several to people all over the building she and Jen worked in. The most embarrassing were the shots of Jen being walked naked through the hostile after-race crowd by a female security guard.
The first person she met as she walked toward her office from the parking lot was Tim, the courier who she saw almost every day at her reception desk. He asked her how she made bail so quickly? Jen looked puzzled, so Tim pulled out his phone and showed her a picture Nancy had sent him. There she was, bare breasted with her legs spread wide exposing her shaved pussy as she was being pushed along by the guard.
Jen was stunned. This was much worse than she imagined. How could Nancy do this to her? She expected some teasing but this was mean. She didn't accomplish much that morning, as she was constantly interrupted by people wanting to talk to her or ask her to autograph a photo for them. When Nancy peeked into the office to see how Jen was doing, or perhaps to gloat, Jen told her to go away.
