Julie's story.
My stepmother was a real bitch. I bet you've heard that before but in this case it was true. When I got kicked out of school with no qualifications, she told me that I couldn't just laze about the house doing nothing. My dad had stopped my allowance for some reason. I'm sure she had something to do with it. He would never be so mean.
The upshot of it all was that I'd have to go to work. For fuck's sake! I suppose the alternative was to stay at home and be treated like a skivvy, so I had no real choice. The bitch, as I called her, had spoken to an old friend who needed a receptionist. That didn't sound too bad, so I grudgingly agreed to meet her. The bitch insisted on coming with me, probably thinking I would bunk off.
Anyway, she made me dress up smart and dragged me into town. The place was up some dingy alley. After speaking into the intercom, the door buzzed open and she led me up a flight of stairs. To be fair the front office was very posh looking. The walls were painted a dark red which I thought was a bit odd. On the far side was a futuristic desk, all glass and chrome. Behind it sat a woman in a smart business outfit who smiled and held out her hand to the bitch. She glanced at me and simply waved me to a chair off to one side. The bitch sat at the desk facing what was obviously the boss woman.
"So, this young lady needs a job," she said glancing at me, "she certainly seems pretty enough. Is she well behaved?"
"Truth be told she's a stroppy little cow. Typical teenager. She'll need a strong hand."
"I'm sure we can work something out. Can she type or do filing?"
"I'm sure she can type, what with all the texting she does with her friends on her damned mobile."
"We shall see," said boss lady, looking at me with more interest, "I'm prepared to give her a trial. Shall we say 2 weeks to start with?"
"That's more than fair."
"Good, then off you go so I can have a private word with her."
Suddenly I was all ears hearing the bitch being treated so dismissively. I couldn't help but grin. She looked a bit put out as she got up and left the room. I looked up at boss lady and found she was staring at me. She pointed at the chair in front of her desk.
"Sit there!" she snapped.
Suddenly I was nervous and almost leapt out of my chair and hurried to do as she'd said.
"Your mother does not seem best pleased with you."
"She's my stepmother and she's a ..."
"That's not the point," she said interrupting me, "the point is that you are coming to work for me and displeasing me does you no good. Is that understood?"
"Yes," I said glumly.
"From now on you will address me as Mrs.B or as Ma'am. Is that clear?
"Yes, Ma'am." I could see that my options had become very limited. Boss and the bitch must have arranged this already between them.
"You are eighteen, I believe?"
Suddenly I saw a possible get out of jail card. "Not quite, not for a couple of weeks," I replied trying to look my most young and innocent. Maybe I could put her off employing me, but I was disappointed.
"That's okay, I can work round that." She watched the hopeful look dissolve away and smiled to herself. "Let me explain your duties. Mostly it will be to sit at this desk and look pretty. To answer the phone and book appointments. Make sure they are well spaced apart, we offer the utmost discretion at all times. To welcome clients and pass them on to me. To keep records and even type the occasional letter. There may be other duties but that will do for now. Your hours will be from one o'clock until ten, but I will occasionally ask for more. You can get here under your own steam, but I will always arrange a taxi home. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Ma'am," and suddenly it didn't sound too bad. It certainly didn't sound like hard work and at least I'd be out of the way of the bitch most of the day.
"Let me explain what we do here. We arrange meetings between our clients and a female companion. They simply want someone to talk to over dinner. There are two lists, one for clients and one for companions. Who is matched with who is not part of your duties, that is down to me. Any questions?"
A million but I couldn't think of any to ask then and there so I shook my head.
"Good, then you can start right away."
Whoa! I was expecting at least a tomorrow start. I watched as she stood up and moved away from the desk. She gestured to me to sit in the vacated chair. When I did, I saw the room from her point of view. The entrance was in the middle of the wall opposite and off to one side was a second door. Other than the desk and a few chairs the room was almost empty. Everything was modern and stylish.
"Pretend I am a client," she said suddenly, interrupting my thoughts, "how would you welcome me?"
I was taken by surprise and began to get flustered.
"Try saying, 'hello, how may I help you?'" she said.
"I've come to book one of your girls," she said and paused waiting for me to respond, "may I have your name please, Miss?" she prompted, and I repeated it parrot fashion.
"You see, it's not that difficult is it. Always address our clients as 'Miss' or 'Ma'am', they seem to like that. I will usually speak to them in my office next door," she said indicating the second door, "so you will pick up the phone and press button one and I will answer. You will announce that my appointment has arrived, and I will ask you to send them in, or I may come out and greet them. Try to look and behave professionally at all times. Do you think you can manage that?"
"I think so, Ma'am."
She leant over the desk and picked up the appointment book and looked at it.
"It is now one o'clock and our first client is at two. Have you eaten?"
"No, Ma'am,"
"Then best go get a burger or something now. Be back here in half an hour. Do you have enough money?"
I blushed and lowered my head. Since the bitch took control of my life, I've been trying to exist on nothing. With an exasperated sigh Mrs.B reached into an inside pocket and took out a roll of notes. My eyes widened. There seemed to be so much. She peeled off a tenner and handed it to me.
"Take this and keep the change. We'll sort it out when you get paid. Now, better hurry along."
I managed to survive that first day and by the end of it was managing to get the hang of things. The first client was a woman in her early forties, very smartly dressed who took almost no notice of me. The second was a bit younger and a lot more glamorous. She was also more friendly towards me. The last one was about fifty and looked me up and down as I phoned through. When she came out of the inner sanctum she leaned over the desk and said quietly, "such a pity you're not available, I'd love to take you out to dinner but Mrs.B says you're off limits." Then she turned and walked out leaving me confused and stunned. Mrs.B was still at the door to her office watching and grinning broadly.
"Well, young Julie, seems like you have a fan already." And she went back into her room.
Shortly after she came out and told me I could go home but to be certain to be in on time tomorrow and that there was a taxi outside waiting for me. All in all, it hadn't been anywhere near as bad as I'd expected but when I came in the next day things did get a little weird. I'd made an effort and tried to dress like I imagined an efficient, professional receptionist would dress. Mrs.B looked me up and down when I arrived and shook her head slowly from side to side.
"I can see you've tried, little Julie but it's not quite there. But never mind I've looked out something suitable for you to wear. Come into my office."
She led me into her office and laid out on the sofa was a sort of cartoon schoolgirl uniform complete with knee-length socks and twee black buckle shoes. I looked at her aghast and she frowned at my rebellion.
"You'll look lovely in it, trust me. And the clients will find you adorable. Now, be a good girl and get changed." There was a hard edge to her voice as she spoke. It seems I had no choice. It also became apparent that she was not going to leave while I changed. I nervously stripped down to my underwear, one of my favourite pink bra and pants set. I was told I could keep those on which was a relief. The tartan skirt was frighteningly short, and I knew I would have to be careful bending over. The blouse was semi-transparent, and my bra was easily visible underneath it. It was also a size too small for me. After I'd put on the shoes and socks, she made me stand still while she inspected me. I went bright red as she walked round me, looking at me from every angle. She popped open another button on the blouse, so a small hint of my bra was visible.
"I was concerned that I'd been a bit bold in the length of the skirt, but I think I got it about right," she commented, "what do you think, Julie?"
"If it's what you want me to wear ..." I replied with little enthusiasm.
"Oh, cheer up. You wait, you'll love all the attention you'll get. Remember how much they all loved you yesterday?"
And that was that. I was sent back to my desk in the outer office. Sitting down made no difference to the skirt. Whenever I moved it rode up and I was in danger of showing my panties. I was concerned about the glass top to the desk, but I worked out where to place the appointment book to mask most of my embarrassment. And, what she had said was true, the clients loved it. I began to feel flattered by all the attention I was getting. By the end of that second day I was loving it and was sorry to change back into my own clothes to go home.
Over the next few weeks, I began to relax into the job more and more. My birthday came and went and was celebrated with Mrs.B and a couple of the girls. I was allowed a glass of wine and was given a bonus in my pay. I'd grown to enjoy the job. I even took to putting my hair in bunches tied with ribbons just to enhance the schoolgirl image. Mrs.B was delighted. I got used to the slightly pervy looks from some of the clients, in fact I found them strangely flattering. I also met most of the 'companions' as they were called. Some of them were not much older than I was. They all seemed so pretty and, dare I say it, sexy.
Mrs.B's attitude was also changing towards me, treating me more like a daughter and slowly replacing the bitch. One day she called me into her office on some pretext and had me sit on her lap while we talked about nothing in particular. That was when I broached the subject of me becoming a companion. She looked at me askance for a moment.
"But what would I do without you handling things out front? Besides I'm not sure you could cope with what might be asked of you."
