"Oh well one more punter and then I'll call it a night." I said to myself as I strutted up to the car window.
"Hi hon, looking for...." I leaned into the open window and started to greet the driver.
"Well, well, if it isn't Katie Davenport!" This certainly is my lucky night." A very familiar voice cut me off mid-sentence and sent a cold shiver down my spine.
I stood at the car door, frozen, my mind a complete blank as my worst nightmare came true staring at the man in the driver's seat.
"Don't just stand there Katie. Get in." his casual manner a total contrast to my own feelings.
"Look Roger, this isn't what it seems. I can explain." I started to speak, unsure of exactly what I was going to say.
"GET IN!" his voice rose several decibels as he spoke.
Opening the door, I slid into the passenger seat, tugging hard on the hem of my skirt trying desperately to make it longer. It was a futile endeavour as it rode up regardless of my efforts, exposing the dark bands at the top of my fishnet hold-ups.
"Roger, this isn't what you think." I tried again to extricate myself from the position I found myself in.
"Oh, I think it is Katie. What was it made you do it? The money? The sex?" he ogled my scantily clad body lasciviously.
I didn't answer just looked out of the window and fastened my seatbelt keeping silent and trying desperately to think how I could get myself out of this situation.
Not getting a response from me he simply put the car into gear and pulled away from the kerbside, "Let's find somewhere more private to talk, shall we?" he suggested cheerfully.
As he drove, I let my mind wander back to when I had first met the loathsome Roger Morris.
I had started teaching at a local primary school four years earlier, it was my first job after university and everything had been perfect. I had loved it from my first day. I adored the children and the other staff were all really friendly while the head couldn't have been more approachable or helpful. Then 12 months ago a new headteacher, Roger Morris, had been appointed and everything changed.
In his late forties and married I had initially just thought our new head to just be a little over friendly in an attempt to fit in at his new school but then I realised that these affable overtures were aimed solely at me. Of course, he was quite circumspect and never did or said anything in public that made his interest in me obvious, so I had no one to support my suspicions.
I told Liam about it and tried, with some success, to stay out of Roger's way, particularly if it meant I would be alone with him. I certainly didn't want to give him any sort of impression I was interested in him.
Unfortunately, he had taken this snub as a something of a challenge and began to make more significant propositions towards me. Even suggesting we went out for a drink together or that we needed to have private meetings after school hours. I consistently declined these unwanted invitations with a variety of excuses and had repeatedly told him to stop asking as I was happily married, but he had persisted in his advances.
Lately though his harassment had become even more blatant and he had made it quite clear that he wanted to fuck me. After this I had tried even harder to keep him at a distance and avoid being by myself with him but that wasn't always possible. On one very recent occasion, when he had surprised me in one of our stock rooms, he had pinned me against the wall and had gone as far as groping my breasts before I had managed to get away.
Reporting him wasn't really an option, with no evidence to support me it would just be my word against his and the only realistic outcome would be me having to leave the school. I was trapped in the situation and now it had just become a hundred times worse.
The car stopped and I looked up to find we were in the lorry park, tucked away between a couple of empty trailers.
"Look, it's not what you think. I can explain." I began feebly.
"Oh, I think it is Katie. I've been watching for a while after I saw you in the cafΓ©. I filmed you getting into the truck and I've taken several photos of you on the street. You're a whore!" he showed me one of the pictures on his phone.
It was undeniably me.
"So, what was it, Kate? Money or sex?" he continued, asking me the question again.
"Does it matter?" totally resigned to the inevitable my reply was somewhat sarcastic.
"Not really," he leered at me, "I'm going to fuck you whatever. Unless you want your husband and the school board to see these pictures."
I knew if he put the video and associated photographs on social media my career would be over and my reputation ruined. We could move away, of course, but I would never get another job teaching and I'd be forever labelled with the stigma of being a prostitute.
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" my voice was quiet, accepting my fate.
Roger smirked, "No. Not really."
We sat quietly for a few moments. Both of us unsure how this was going to happen.
"Why don't you let me see those gorgeous little tits?" I jumped as Roger spoke, breaking the silence.
For a second or two I glared at him contemptuously, then slipped off my jacket before reaching behind my back to unhook my bra. Easing the straps off my shoulders I let the flimsy lace garment fall away from my breasts, the still swollen nipples jutting out like bullets from the dark areola,
"Nice." Roger reached out to cup my modest tits in his hands, gently squeezing them and then pinching the sensitive buds.
Wincing, I stifled any sound not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out. Instead, I stared into his eyes with all the disdain I could muster as his hands played with my chest. The only problem was his skilful fingers were making my nipples tingle with excitement despite my loathing for the man manipulating them. If Roger realised the effect his ministrations were having on me, my cheeks had flushed and my breathing had quickened a little, he didn't show it.