Long ago...
The factory used to produce automobiles in great numbers, but when the war started that industry, along with almost everything else changed. Now the manufacturing facility made airplane parts and along with the product most of the employees changed. Gone were the able bodied men that used to work the assembly lines, and the few older men that remained were joined by women. Women that wouldn't have stood a chance at jobs in the plant before the war were now essential to the production, although the wages they made were only a fraction of what was paid in the past.
Bernadette Cole, Bernie to her few friends, was a supervisor in the plant, chosen because she was a gruff and no nonsense woman and not because of charm she did not possess. What counted was production and management made it clear that if workers didn't care for Mrs. Cole's demeanor, they were free to hit the road because despite the low pay and physical work, there was always someone else willing to take their place. Besides, there was a war going on. The poster on the outside wall by the employment office said it all, with Rosie the Riveter making a muscle while the sign implored WE CAN DO IT!
While the wiry Bernadette Cole had the muscle and chiseled features to pass for Rosie, Dorothy Olsen was nothing like that image. Meek and shy, the soon to be 20 year old looked more like she belonged in school or perhaps in a clerical position, and in fact before war broke out she was planning on going to go to college. A falling out with her mother had her out on the streets and on her own, not a good thing at any time but especially now.
"You're lucky I don't throw your slutty ass out the window instead of ushering you out the door," Dorothy's mother said as the girl packed what she could in a tattered suitcase. "Every time I think of what I saw I want to throw up." It had been a case of bad timing but Mrs. Olsen didn't care, so Dorothy left and after finding a horrible apartment in a wretched neighborhood - all she could afford given the few dollars she had saved - Dorothy went job hunting.
After days of failing Dorothy ended up at the former auto factory, and after filing out the application - padding her skimpy resume with bogus things out of desperation - Dorothy ended up in the office of the Personnel Manager, a dead ringer for Teddy Roosevelt who sat behind the desk and looked at the application in his hand like it was a warm turd.
"You have no experience in anything we do here," the miserable man growled as he shook his head, although in fact nobody had experience in anything going on in the factory after it was retrofitted. "It's physical work too. Stand up and let me get a look at you."
Dorothy did as she was stood, posing in the worn shapeless dress that hung on her gaunt frame, a feature that did not go unnoticed by the director who glanced at his watch and grunted.
"Not much to you but skin and bones," he appraised while looking the teen over. "Can't see you being able to lift things."
"I'm stronger than I look sir," Dorothy lied as she brushed her mousy brown hair away from her face, and although she was appalled by the way she was being looked at, that would pale in comparison if she ended up doing what a lot of other women were doing out of necessity.
"Go pick up that plant," he said while pointing to a heavy looking potted plant in the corner. "Put it over in the other corner."
Dorothy nodded and hurried over to the plant, trying to get a grip on the ceramic planter, and as she lifted she prayed she didn't drop it. Trying her best to make it look effortless Dorothy smiled grimly as she waddled over and put it down, and kept smiling when she was told to go put it back where it had been.
"Not bad," the director said as he motioned for her to sit back down. "I'm not sure. You realize of course that there are a lot of gals that want these jobs."
"I know sir, but I'm willing to work hard and I'll do anything to get this job," Dorothy insisted as she watched the barrel chested man in the bow tie stand up and walk past her towards the door, and the click of the door lock resonated in the office and made the girl shiver.
"A lot of girls say that," the man said as Dorothy felt his presence at her side, and then he put his hand on her bony shoulder and added, "but do you mean it?"
Dorothy was only mildly shocked when she turned to see that the man had exposed himself and was wiggling his vein riddled organ in her face. A few seconds later the man was complaining, "Haven't you ever done this before?"
If the teen was able to speak she would have said that she had done it before, many times against her will, and she didn't like it then any more than she did now. That was why unlike her mother, Dorothy didn't hold her breath for news of how her old man was doing overseas and in fact may have been hoping just the opposite.
"I must be getting soft in my old age," the Personnel Director said as he put himself away and zipped up after coming to orgasm, "but I'll take a chance on you."
"Thank you," Dorothy mumbled as she tried to get the taste out of her mouth.
"If you can't cut the mustard, out the door you go," he cautioned. "If you can handle it, then bully for you and all the better for the country."
"Who knows? If you excel, there may be opportunities for promotion, but we'll talk about that when the time comes," he concluded, and with that Dorothy was hired, albeit with a bitter taste in her mouth for more than one reason.
***
Although Dorothy's introduction to her job at the auto production plant turned parts and munitions factory was horrible, the work itself was bearable despite the repetitive nature of the teen's tasks, but what made the days enjoyable of her was her supervisor, Miss Cole. Miss Cole was probably in her 40's or 50's. making her old enough to be Dorothy's mother, but even though she seemed skinny she was tough as nails.
There was nothing soft and cuddly about her boss, and it seemed most all the other woman on the line hated her, but Dorothy thought she was great. Sure, she could be surly and short tempered, but the teen had no problem getting along with the older woman. Maybe it was because she reminded her of her Aunt Claire, but whatever the reason Dorothy looked up to her supervisor and did everything she could to stay on her good side. Working hard, doing what you're told and keeping your mouth shut was all it took, and that was something Dorothy Olsen was good at.
***
Bernie Cole started her beat up pickup truck and winced when she saw how low the gas tank was, and because of the rationing it was going to have to last until next Tuesday. Those few gallons, along with a rear tire that lacked much resembling tread, were the only thing that kept her from being like the most of the rest of her workers, walking to and from work or depending on public transportation.
"Or like Dorothy," the butch supervisor muttered to herself when she saw her newest employee pedaling out towards the street, riding a bike that looked older than she was, and while Bernie figured it beat walking, it wasn't by much.
The kid was cute in a way, a little raggedy looking but judging by the far from accidental gropes Bernie had given her, not bad at all underneath her crummy clothes. The supervisor considered the possibilities as she neared the girl - it was Friday night and she was horny as ever - making an evening run to her local hangout a probability, but when the bike lurched and Dorothy jumped off before crashing, her mind was made up.
"Hell of a bike," Bernadette snapped through the open window as she watched the girl trying to put the chain back in place.
"It always does this ma'am," Dorothy replied. as she struggled with the chain.
"Where do you live?" her supervisor asked, and when she gave an address in a sorry neighborhood at least 4 miles away she shook her head. "Can't take you all that way."
