Everyone in this story is over eighteen, and so should you be!
My mistress Susana called me into her study one day, about two weeks after our return from Mexico, and I had no idea what she wanted, so I was surprised when she asked me if I could take charge of one of her most prestigious branches for a couple of weeks, while the manageress was on holiday. When I protested that I didn't have enough Spanish, she waved away my fears, saying that I was perfectly fluent enough, and, anyway, more than half the clients were foreigners anyway, and my English would be more than useful.
I was, however, still nervous, when I dressed on the morning I was due to start, slipping on the pleated blue miniskirt and white silk blouse that was to be my uniform for the duration of the job. Apart from a pair of patent stilettos, I wore nothing else, unless you counted my mistress's silver-studded collar, and the fine gold waist chain, items I always wore. I had Paloma put my auburn hair up in a businesslike French knot, and, checking my image in the entrance-hall mirror, I decided I could summon Lola to take me to work.
For a day or two I found that my training in the UK stood me in good stead, and my Spanish never let me down β the three young girls I had as assistants helped me a great deal anyway.
Then, after about three days, a couple walked into the store, and I did a double-take. The tall blonde girl in the pink silk trouser-suit was surely a British film-starlet, whose name was on everyone's lips, and she was accompanied by a flash-looking guy in his thirties, wearing an Armani suit.
She walked straight up to me.
'Hi, I'm Kathy,' she said. It wasn't the name she was known to the public by.
'And this is Mark. I want two or three outfits, complete with accessories, and I've been told this is
the
place!' Her accent was middle-class English, and she seemed pleasant enough, but I wasn't sure about Mark, who lounged around, regarding me with a sneer on his handsome face.
'OK, Kathy,' I said, and introduced myself, then said, 'come with me, and we'll see what we can do.'
'Oh, thank God you're English,' she said, 'can Mark come to?'
'Sure,' I replied, though I had rather he wasn't there.
I led them into the huge fitting room at the back, where there were rows an rows of racks and rails, on which hung thousands of gowns of all kinds. Down one side were changing rooms, and I installed Kathy in one, and brought her several dresses of the various types she asked for, while Mark sat on an armchair at the opposite side. After several tries, Kathy pronounced herself pleased with two evening gowns and two day-dresses I had brought her, and I thought she looked lovely in them too.
'Can you fix me up with shoes to match?' she asked.
'Yes, but I'll have to go into the stock-room, if you'd care to wait. You can be trying on a couple more dresses if you like.'
She grinned, and I left to cross the room to the stock-room. Once there, I was so busy reaching up to the shelves, engrossed in reading off the sizes on the boxes, that I didn't realise Mark had come in behind me, and was pressed up against me.
He roughly pulled up my skirt, and grunted when he realised I wore no panties. His hands pulled me by my waist, before I had time to yell, and I felt his erection hard against my buttocks.
I struggled around and pulled myself free, ducking out of his grasp, and fetched him a stinging slap across the face.
'Get off me, you dirty bastard!' I shouted.
'You whore!' he shouted, 'no knickers, asking for it!'
'No, no!' I yelled, 'get away from me. I don'tβ¦..I don'tβ¦..you don't understand!'
'I sure do!' he shouted back, 'you're a fucking dyke bitch!' β and, with that, he stormed down the narrow store and out, nearly knocking over his girlfriend, who, hearing the commotion, was standing at the doorway, open-mouthed.
'Just fuck right off!' she shouted after him, as he marched out of the fitting room, overturning a rail full of dresses. Then she turned to me, tears in her eyes.
'Oh, Sylvia,' she said, 'the bastard! How could he?' She stroked my arm and I could see she cared.
'He's history,' she said, 'I didn't like him much anyway!'
'It's not your fault,' I said, 'forget it, eh?'
She smiled wanly, and we went about the business of fixing her up with some shoes. When we had finished, she paid with her Gold Card, and promised to call me. I thought no more of the incident β after all, it wasn't all that unusual for men to make the mistake of coming on to me, and I could usually put them down gracefully; it just wasn't a good idea to get trapped in the stockroom with a horny stud.
A couple of days later, then, I was surprised to be called to the phone, and to find that my caller was none other than Kathy.
'Have dinner with me,' she said.
'I really can't,' I said, thinking immediately of Susana's likely reaction to my having dinner with another woman. But I also realised that I wouldn't mind seeing the pretty blonde again.
'Lunch, then?' she suggested.
'OK,' I agreed, 'when?'
'Tomorrow, two o'clock, at my hotel?' She told me the name of the hotel, perhaps the best in Madrid, and it was just around the corner from the store. I was to ask for her in reception: 'Miss Turner.' It was clear that she liked her anonymity.
I was unaccountably nervous all the next morning, and thought lunchtime would never come. But it did, eventually, and I found myself, a bit earlier than I had intended, standing in the palatial lobby of the plush hotel, feeling like Cinderella, asking timidly for Miss Turner,
'Suite 411,' a uniformed flunky answered crisply, directing me to an elevator, which hefted me silently to the appropriate floor. I trod the thick maroon carpet to her door, and rang the bell.
Kathy came to the door, wrapped in a black silk kimono, decorated with flowers and a big gold dragon. Her long blonde hair was pinned up, but wispy strands had escaped around her pretty face.
'Hello,' she said, 'come in β you're early! Why don't you join me in the Jacuzzi while we wait for the lunch to be sent up?' She paused as I followed her into the huge and luxurious split-level suite. Turning to me she said, 'You're not shy, are you?'
Without waiting for an answer, she stepped up to the rim of the enormous hot-tub, which was bubbling away on the lower level of the suite, and shrugged the kimono off her slender shoulders, revealing a body which had been seen in nude scenes on the big screen, but still impressed me with its grace and elegance, her long legs and narrow waist in perfect symmetry with her lovely swelling buttocks and firm round breasts. I hoped I wasn't staring, but she didn't seem to notice, anyway, and, sitting on the edge of the Jacuzzi, she patted the rim beside her, and said, 'Come on then, join me!'
I was, of course, no stranger to nudity, and hardly susceptible to shyness, but, for some reason, trembled as I undid the fastening on my skirt, and slipped out of skirt and blouse under the gaze of this gorgeous creature, whose eye widened when she saw that I was quite naked under my uniform skirt and blouse, apart from the fine gold chain I wore around my waist, and my mistress's collar, of course. I kicked off my shoes and lowered myself onto the rim of the Jacuzzi opposite Kathy, grinning back at her reassuring smile. But her eyes, I realised, were on the fading welts just above my breasts, the only visible signs she could see of the most recent whipping my mistress had given me. I had been careful not to turn my back to her, so that she would see the much more readily visible marks I wore there. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, and then thought better of it. I decided I didn't know her well enough to enlighten her β yet.
Kathy pressed a button on a console, and the warm, silky water started to bubble and become more turbulent. I slipped down and let the water wash around me, felt the touch of Kathy's long legs against mine β a natural, unselfconscious, friendly touch, into which I read nothing. She was smiling at me now, and we both enjoyed the simple pleasure of having our bodies pampered, until her alarm sounded, telling her it was time to emerge for our lunch. I had forgotten all about my welts by now, and, when she helped me into a towelling robe she lent me, I inadvertently offered her a grandstand view of my back, with its fading ladder-pattern of whip-marks, which Mistress Susana had inflicted upon me about a week previously, when she had suspended me naked from the chain hanging from her bedroom ceiling, and flogged me mercilessly with her long leather riding whip.
I heard the sudden intake of breath escape Kathy's lips as she saw the healing wounds on my back, and she turned me around, and looked me directly in the eye.