Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consentual or reluctant sex.
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I would welcome comments from all readers, for this my first post. I have been experimenting for sometime and built a limited catalogue of stories I am ready to offer for criticism. I do hope you enjoy this first piece and I look forward to posting later stories for your opinions. Please do not ask for what happened next in this story. I am sure you can imagine it for yourself.
Bernice being eighteen years of age would normally change from her school uniform before going to work. Today was not a normal day. With exams completed , and the summer drifting out before her, she had not even been into school. Today was different. Today she had purposely dressed this way. It was how Andrew at the solicitors thought of her. The young girl who would breeze into the office spending hours picking his encyclopaedic brain whilst helping her mother clean.
He was an earnest man, ten years her senior with a gentle wit and shy demeanour. He had been relaxed with her in her tom boy days. She would dress in jeans and tee shirt, hiding her developing body. It had allowed him to forget she was a girl hurtling towards womanhood. They had joked and teased, having mock fights, innocent simple, tickle tumble games. Bernice had grown up. She wanted him to notice the change. Her fondness for her adult friend, leading her to want something more intimate and less innocent than before.
She had shortened her uniform skirt to suit her intentions. Adding discrete makeup to give maturity to her face. The carefully chosen underwear from the exclusive lingerie shop, gave an added dimension to her already firm round bust. The only regulation thing about her lingerie was the colour, white. The many calls, and toots from passing vans suggested her clothes would create the required impression. She breezed into the solicitors office to commence her mother's cleaning work, whilst she holidayed in Ireland.
Most of the office had left for the night. There would only be Andrew working late. Andrew always worked late. His boss Miss Jackson ruled over him with a rod of iron. She found Bernice a distraction. So it was only when she helped her mother clean of an evening, she had any time to chat. Being conscientious and a little afraid of Miss Jackson. Andrew's conversations were often conducted from behind a mound of books or a flickering computer screen. Bernice hadn't minded it meant she could study him. The same way her friends had studied film and T.V. stars. He was very handsome, slim with fine boned features. A light crop of fine blond hair topped his head, leaving the always pink tips of his ears exposed. He had a patient calm voice, when explaining and interpreting things her frantic mind could not comprehend. He was always tolerant with her like a parent with a child. Bernice was no longer a child. She hoped he would find in her the woman, not the fresh faced girl.
At sixteen she had lost her virginity to one of the boys from the school rugby team. Her fresh face and full figure had attracted lots of willing attendants since then. They were nice but frequently disappointing. She knew more about the workings of their body than they. Now she wanted someone who would teach her. She wanted Andrew to be her body tutor.
The offices were thick with residual heat, where windows had recently been closed. She slipped her mothers apron over her white blouse. Then started cleaning the ground floor as fast as she could. Andrew worked at the top of the building. When his office was cleaned it would be his signal to leave. Tonight he might be a little later.
The surfaces of the desks stuck to the perspiration on her arms, as she hurriedly dusted and polished. The heat of a photo copier startled her, as her bottom grazed against it. The brush reminding her just how short her skirt was. She gave a cry as she caught her breath. Looking up she saw Miss Jackson watching her.
'On your own tonight?' The brunette asked looking remarkably cool in her light linen suit. Like Andrew she was slim, with delicate hands and features. Keen bright blue eyes, immediately captured Bernice's attention. She hadn't expected her to be working late tonight, normally she would be gone.
'Yes. Me mam's gone over to the folks in Ireland. So I'm covering for the next couple of weeks. I've started putting some money together, for September and the University.' Bernice replied in her most polite accent. She was a girl with spirit. Sometimes she felt it was better to appear a little humble, especially with someone as clever as Miss Jackson.
'I had forgotten you were still at school. We normally see you in jeans. Your governors are very lenient, lax almost. Your uniform is a bit revealing for a young lady. I certainly could not have entered a class with makeup on my face. I would have been made to scrub it off.' Miss Jackson said a note of disapproval in her voice.
'You have to have a little rebellion miss. We sort of pushed the boundaries with the skirt to be a little fashionable. After all we only get one pass at life. I expect you were the same when you were younger.' Bernice couldn't help the slight reference to their ages. Miss Jackson appeared much older than her 30 years. Always dressed in older clothes, almost prim, like the old maids her mother spoke of in Ireland.
'I expect I did. I just don't remember ever wearing anything, which so compromised my decency. I suppose it's just a question of background.' Miss Jackson said finishing with a smile, which revealed her even white teeth clenched at the jaws. She leant her head back, out of the office and called back up the stairs.
'You won't be late Andrew. I'll meet you in the restaurant at eight.' There was no reply. Miss Jackson quickly tossed her head and looked back to Bernice. 'He's engrossed. I must be off. I expect you have a lot to do.' She turned and was gone.
Bitch. Bernice thought slamming her fists into the air. She had it all planned until Miss prim and proper stuck her oar in. Bernice quickly sprayed some more polish around filling the air with the wax smell. She raced around with the old vacuum cleaner. A visible dust cloud rising from the machine. Already she feared, she would look a mess. She could feel the dusty powder coating her skin. She hastily hauled the machine through the downstairs rooms, colliding with doors as she went. Now everyone was gone, she dropped the lock on the front door. She didn't want intruders breaking in. She didn't want anyone disturbing her and Andrew.
As Bernice climbed the stairs to Andrew's office, she felt she had established a new cleaning record. She looked at the boys watch on her freckled wrist. She had an hour. Miss Jackson could wait if she had to. She considered her arm. The watch didn't look very feminine. She took it off placing it in the apron pocket. She felt her skin dirty and grained. Quickly she dashed along to the toilets, doused her arms and face, then towelled herself down. She had pink blushes to her cheeks, and throat. The rest of her skin was white like cream. The mixture of the dark and white made her special. Like a pretty porcelain doll. The make up to her eyes and lips was still in place. She ran the tip of her finger along her eyes, tidying any smudges. She discarded the apron hanging it over the door to the ladies toilet. It was covering too much of her. She undid two buttons on the front of her blouse, so it gaped just above her cleavage.
