I love my job. As Ward Manager in the local hospital, I am the only male member of staff, all the other nurses being female and in their early twenties -- with one exception. When I had first taken up this post there had been a mixture of male and female nurses, older and younger, but over the years I had managed to whittle them down to the ones I wanted. And they were all very young, except one, so much so that I looked forward to going to work every Monday morning to regale them with tales of my sexual weekends.
Some of them giggled nervously at my lurid stories; others would laugh outrageously. The more experienced among them seemed to simply smile to themselves and say nothing. The only exception was Sally.
Sally, at forty seven, was old enough to be the other nurses' mother and at times she definitely played the part of a surrogate mother to them all at one time or another. Besides which, she could practically run the ward single handedly -- but that wasn't why I had kept her on.
There was something about her, something different, something sensual, and though she sat in the staff room and listened as I entertained the younger members of staff, she never commented. That's why I was really surprised when she knocked on my office door one day and asked for a private word.
"Of course, Sally. Take a seat. What can I do for you?"
She quietly closed the door behind her, which immediately alerted me as the door is always left open. Sitting down in the chair on the opposite side of my desk, she lowered her head, her eyes fixed to the floor, her hands mildly trembling in her lap.
"What's up, Sally?"
"This is so embarrassing. I don't even know if I can say the words."
"Take your time. Anything you say in here will never be repeated outside. I give you my word on that."
Taking a deep breath, she raised her head, looked me straight in the eye and asked,
"Are your stories true?"
Her head immediately lowered again, her eyes once again were fixed to the floor and her cheeks were burning red.
"You mean my stories about what I get up to with my lady friends?"
She nodded.
"You mean the stories where I embarrass them and even spank them?"
Again she nodded, more vigorously this time.
"Yes, Sally, they're all true. Why?"
Her head lifted once more before she said,
"I've never done anything like that."
"You've never deliberately shown off your knickers to a man, to your husband even?"
She shook her head.
"Have you ever been spanked?"
No.
"Sally, why are you telling me this?"
If I'd read the situation correctly, if I'd read Sally correctly, things were about to get very interesting.
"I love my husband, very much, but he hardly even looks at me anymore, never mind touch me. And we've certainly never even thought about doing the things you say that you do with your girlfriends."
"Sally, would you like to do these things?"
There was a long hesitation before she gave a very, very slight nod.
"Just once, just for one day, I'd like to feel what other women feel."
"Then let's see what we can do."
A few days later, I had arranged to work from home, when I heard the expected knock at my door. Getting up from my desk, I took my time walking through the house to the front door. Opening it, I looked down at a very nervous looking Sally who looked even smaller out of the workplace, far away from her safety zone.
"Come in, Sally. You managed to get away for the day then?"
"Yes, my husband is at work all day." She hesitated. "Sandy, I'm not sure I can go through with this."
"You can leave at any time, Sally, and you don't have to do anything you don't want to do but while you are here you will address me as, "Sir" and, while you are here, you will do everything I tell you to do. Is that quite clear?"
"Yes, Sandy. I'm sorry, I mean, yes, Sir."
"Don't worry. I know you are nervous. We'll take things nice and slowly to begin with until you are more relaxed.
I could tell Sally didn't feel like she would ever be relaxed again but she followed me into the living room and took off her coat when I asked for it. She was dressed in her white nurse's uniform, just as I had instructed and I was desperate to know if she had carried out the rest of my instructions.
Offering her a glass of already-poured, chilled champagne, she took it hungrily and downed it almost immediately. Meanwhile, I sat down in my favourite armchair and simply looked at her. She squirmed under my scrutiny but she had nothing to be ashamed of. At forty seven years of age, a mother of two grown up girls, she was still a stunner. Slim, but round in all the right places, her gorgeous blue eyes were her most captivating feature. Just at that moment, though, I couldn't see them as she hung her head low, her hands clasped in front of her, obviously embarrassed to be standing in her manager's living room about to do things she had only ever dreamed of doing. She knew it; I knew it; and I think her embarrassment was even greater because I knew it too.
Eventually she managed to lift her head and look at me. I smiled.
