Jane Is Trained to Submit

Prologue

'Mr McKenzie you are a bully, and I will not be dissuaded by such tactics.' Jane acidly stated.

Bob smiled pleasantly at the plain woman. 'I'm just used to getting my own way.'

'Not this time,' she crossly said.

'So it appears,' he shrugged. 'Some you win, some you lose. It is of no importance,' he said, trying to look as though it wasn't.

There was no connection between him and the developers proposing the project, he just wanted to minimise this arrogant woman's influence on the committee. Although retired, he needed to exert his influence out of sheer habit. Another day, and another battle would be fought, which he would win. He felt a little foolish wanting to be top-dog on the planning committee.

'Why did you come back here?' she asked.

Wondering what connection he had with that association of heartless financiers. They wanted to bulldoze a part of the cities heritage, and she was determined to stand in their way. So far she had won the committee around. Due to her influence the vote went against them, and him.

'I sold my engineering business, retired, and came home. What have you done in the mean time, Mrs Marshal?'

Seeing she wasn't going to answer he continued. 'Call it nostalgia. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I'm bored,' he said. Stowing his papers in an expensive leather briefcase, he turned to go.

'You're bored! So you decided to support that plan to build a retail complex, which would have destroyed the heart of the community you feel nostalgia for. What is the point of that?' she asked, sounding accusatory rather than questioning.

'Supporting progress maybe. Out of habit of battling old fashioned busy-bodies like you. Though, put like that, it does seem counterproductive,' he conceded.

He opened the door for her to marched out of the meeting room, receiving a look of disdain in passing. Returning it with a look of amusement, he watched her trot down the corridor. For the first time, he realised she had an attractive hourglass figure. The clothes and expression of condescension she wore, gave an impression of a frumpy, old maid. There was something interesting under that prickly exterior. He tried to recall her from college days, but his memory failed.

The small city had been by-passed some years ago by state highway two-twenty-four. If it was going to survive, re-development was needed, and she was standing in its way.

The planning committee could have easily re-zoned the run down district, for a brand new shopping mall. They would have done, except for her bullying influence. She had a nerve to call him a bully. It was just that he had the nerve to oppose her.

***

Six months passed with several small battles fought, with Bob losing them all. He was put-out when meeting her at local charities, and other city committees, yet conceded to the narrow minded, parochial woman. At least she took interest in their town, and was doing something where others didn't care a hoot.

It was a fine morning on the veranda overlooking a placid lake, when he noticed something in the local paper. Bob read that Mrs Marshal's husband, Philip, had died. The article didn't give many details, except that it was an air crash due to bad weather.

Despite their antagonism in meetings, he felt sorry for her. Perhaps without her husband's influence she might lose some local support. She might even resign from the planning committee. A twinge of guilt was difficult to shrug aside. He decided to send flowers with a well worded card of condolence.

The Party

In the lounge Jane picked up a gum wrapper Louise had dropped near the wicker waste basket. Instead of trying for a better aim, she pushed it into a pocket. It would be better to dispose of it in the kitchen waste bin, for paper recycling. Looking around the immaculate lounge, she was satisfied all was in order. For the sake of it, she shook and straightened a cushion, then returned to the kitchen.

'You're not going to a party dressed like that!' Jane, tight lipped, plainly told her daughter.

'You're just a prude, mom,' Louise dismissively stated. 'I'm going to make Mark sorry he chucked me. I'll only be there long enough to make sure he wants me back,' Louise said. 'I'll make it plain to everyone, I'm chucking HIM,' she added, as though it were a foregone conclusion.

Jane was pleased Louise had broken up with the arrogant young man, but didn't like the idea her daughter was still fired up over him. The short, figure hugging dress, was designed to gain his attention. It might get Louise too much attention, especially if she was flirting with other guys to make him jealous.

So it was him that broke up with her, not the other way around, which she had casually mentioned a few days ago. Like her father, when she had a mission in mind, a stern determination took over, and nothing would deter it. It was almost a year ago, when he insisted on taking an unnecessary business flight that changed their lives.

It was times like this Jane missed her husband. He would have laid down the law, and made sure she wore something sensible to the party, or forbid her going. Jane tried once more to talk her into changing. Seeing her daughter's determined look It, it was obviously useless,. She was becoming more forceful, like her father, with every argument.

Without his support, she was giving in, and not just to her daughter. It seemed any determination to exert her will was failing, in every aspect of her life. That very morning the bank manager had been insistent adjustments be made to their living standards. She just couldn't find the energy to counter his arrogance.

It was better to avoid another skirmish descending into an argument, with it inevitably turning nasty. Last time they had a fierce argument, Louise reminded her she became pregnant at the age of sixteen. Her daughter was eighteen, more sensible, and a strong character like her father. Since that hurtful argument, Jane avoided confrontations, by letting her daughter explore a burgeoning adulthood.

'I'm eighteen, not sixteen,' Louise bitingly reminded her mother.

'Alright, have it your own way. Just be careful,' Jane said. She found herself having to bite her tongue, to prevent trotting out a familiar saying, 'Don't do anything I wouldn't.'

Getting pregnant at the end of a high school party, had been a setback all those years ago. She didn't want Louise to experience the same mistake.

Her daughter glared, as though resenting being given permission for something she was going to do anyway.

Jane thought of going to the party on some pretext, but that would merely incite her daughter to a greater rebellion, throwing off the little authority she had left. The bedroom was clean and tidy, so she set her mind on clearing out a closet in the spare bedroom. Finding a masquerade mask reminded her of that special party nineteen years ago.

A fond memory of becoming a woman led to an awful thought. Would history repeat itself with Louise? Money was short already. An unplanned pregnancy would be an impossible burden. Young people didn't get married today just because of an inebriated mistake one night. Louise's plans for university would be killed outright, which would be devastating for both of them.

She pulled on a dress and the old mask, wondering if it might be possible to attend the party. Could she get away with the ruse? Since Brian had passed away, she had lost weight. A slim figure left her looking good, though she didn't appreciate it. Without the mask it would be obvious she was an intruder, a dreaded parent. Being identified as Louise's mother, which anyone of her friends could do, would be a disaster.

The party was at Mark's parents house, and he certainly knew her, as did his mother. She didn't like the idea of meeting that woman. The mother, Margaret, was as arrogant and disdainful as the son. Another reason against their relationship blooming again.

It was a foolish idea, even more so than just turning up on some alleged reason. It was dark outside, and there would be low lighting at the party. If Louise didn't get back on time she might, just might, be able to make a brief appearance. If her daughter was in trouble, she could do something. After all, she was a mature woman, and they were just a bunch of adolescents. The thought that her daughter was at a party with Mark's friends, wasn't pleasant when thinking over what happened to her all those years ago.

She fixed a drink. It had to be a scotch with plenty of water, as it was all that was left in her husband's drinks cabinet. The life insurance didn't stretch to replenishing luxuries.

The dress was too old fashioned. It was also a bit tight around the bust, proving she hadn't lost all the weight gained while married. She found a skirt from long ago, and was pleased to find it zipped up. It was a bit short, having to pull over larger hips. Though it was just right for a partying eighteen year old. Enjoying dressing up, she continued working through the back of the wardrobe.

A while later, three drinks had been downed, and several outfits rejected. Through the restricted vision of the mask, she glanced at herself in a mirror. She looked good. Good enough to party.

***

Jane giggled. More from nerves than delight, as she stood outside Margaret's house. She dropped the flat shoes behind a shrub and pulled on a pair of high heels.

'Wow! I'm not used to these things. How long ago was it I dressed up to go out?' she murmured, with a self-conscious giggle. It had been a long time since partying on a Saturday night.

From a sudden flash of anxiety, she was about to turn around and wobble off home, when the door opened. Startled in the glare of a security light, she nearly fell off the heels. A large young guy gripped an arm, and pulled her in.

'You're late!' he said. 'I'm glad you turned up. You look just right for me,' he joked.

'I wasn't invited, I should leave,' Jane blurted out. It wasn't a game, she was actually there, and that was enough to sober her up. For a moment thoughts were crystal clear. Her body was swaying on a different rhythm to the loud beat escaping from the lounge.

'Nonsense! You look so sexy, how could anyone turn you away?' Angelo laughed.

He gripped an elbow to steady her, and led her into the gloom of a party in full swing. He grabbed a glass from a friend, and thrust it into her hand. If he let go, she might fall off the high heels. She wondered who it was behind the mask, and worried if he knew her.

'Knock it back, you need to catch up with everyone else,' Angelo chided her.

The beat of the music vibrated her ribs. The gyrating dancers were just shapes in the dark. He gripped her hips forcing her to dance with him. She sipped the fizzy orange, while looking where to deposit the glass. Finding it palatable, she downed it, so as to free up a hand. She needed both hands free to push him away, as he was becoming a little too familiar.

An aftertaste of vodka warned it had been a mistake to tip back the glass. She was already unsteady, and vodka on top of whiskey didn't help. It felt as though she would take a tumble if he let go. The dance rhythm slowed. He wound his arms around her for a much closer dance, which turned into an embrace. She felt his hands wander down to her bottom, and he tugged her tight against him.

It was disconcerting not knowing who he was, and if he knew her daughter, or even her. Turning the closeness to her advantage, she shouted in his ear.

'I need to go to the bathroom!' At least the last word was pronounced reasonably well, so he got the message.

He dragged her by the hand across the room toward the hallway. She knew the layout of the house, yet let him lead the way through the throng of gangly limbs. It was true, she needed the bathroom, and it helpfully meant escaping his grasp. The close packed throng of gyrating bodies, of hot sweaty adolescents, were pressing in on her. Jane was finding it even more difficult to keep on her feet, after one too many drinks, and the stifling heat of young bodies.

Almost reaching the door, she became caught between two young men. They closed in, to perform a grinding dance against her body. They pressed up against her, front and back, sandwiching her tightly. She felt a hardness rub her bottom. Startled, she pulled away, only to press her belly against an equally hard bulge in the other guys jeans.

'Stop that right now,' she protested crossly. They couldn't hear or understand the disapproval. In any-case, they weren't interested in what she had to say.

Angelo was laughing at her, though she heard nothing above the blaring noise that they thought was music. She had to pull at the rising hem with hands pushing down between them, back and front. Her hands rubbed their hardness on the way down, and back again.

Already embarrassed, she felt trapped, like a bitch between two dogs. They were playing with her, blatantly teasing her. Jane wished she were taller, or more able to look after herself. She felt stupid over letting these young guys paw her body. In a mall, shopping with her daughter, they would have treated her with respect.

A pair of strong hands from behind, slid up the t-shirt. The guy in front gripped her wrists preventing her from protecting herself. She looked up at the one before her, trying to make him understand the struggles were a protest, not a wild dance. He was encouraging his friend to synchronise their thrusting hips.

Jane was outraged. They weren't the only ones behaving outrageously, but she was a respectable woman. If she was caught in this position by her daughter, there would be hell to play. The absurdity of the thought, that her daughter would be angry with her, brought on a fit of giggles. The nervous laughter left her feeling weak, and encouraged them.

The guy behind her squashed her tighter against his friend. The one in front lifted her, with his thighs between hers. She was heaved off the floor, leaving her feeling like a doll, being played with. He let her down into his friends grip, and let go of her. He pushed up his mask to balance it on the top of his head, and moved in for a kiss. Her mask covered her head, down to below the nose, leaving her mouth and chin exposed.

Jane gasped in surprise. It was that nice quiet boy, Trevor, from Louise's class. He was only a month older than Louise. Before she could shake off the shock, he found her mouth hanging open, and delved in.

What could she say? Nothing at the moment, while his tongue explored her mouth. She had to take a quick breath when she could. This hadn't been foreseen, being groped by a stranger, while deeply smooching with a friend's son. He would be appalled to know he was deeply kissing one of his mother's friends. His church going mother would be livid, and probably never speak to her again.

The guy behind kept her in place by pressing her bottom with a lump in his trousers, and both hands wrapped around her breasts. She tried to clench her thighs, but they were either side of Trevor's legs. She felt a hand slipping from a breast, on a voyage of exploration. Her frantic wriggling was misinterpreted as enthusiasm.

On feeling a hand cupping her crotch, she tried to shout defiance. She began to struggle free, then instantly froze. Louise was nearby in the dark. There was no way she wanted to bring attention to what was happening.

A finger pushed at the crotch of her panties. In her head she cried out in anguish, but dare not fight back. She was a mature woman, and should be treated with respect. Instead the young stranger behind her was fingering her panties. From behind the mask she watched her daughter dancing close by, willing her to move away so that she might fight them off. As though they might pick up on her thoughts, she repeatedly shouted, NO, in her mind.

Trevor's deep caresses, and fumbling hands in the t-shirt, were forgotten. A hand was working its way into her panties! She had never been so badly mistreated, not even as an adolescent. She would never have dared to play around on the dance floor, or anywhere else like this.

Was it anger or the kissing that had her breathing heavily? The heavy beat of deafening music, combined with alcohol, turned her thoughts to mush, and defeated her resistance. Her mind was being assaulted by basic animal instincts. Fingers were teasing hardened nipples. Fingers were rubbing a wetness between her legs. The state of arousal was overwhelming.

It was all too much. It had been a long time since having sex. Sexual needs had been awakened. Everyone and everything around her was blanked out. She kissed Trevor back, entwining a tongue around his. She pressed her breasts into his hands, rubbing her nipples between his fingers. She blatantly separated her thighs, and pressed her sex onto the strangers fingers. The teasing fingers rubbed a pair of sensitive lips, encouraging her writhing movements.

The moment of protest was long gone, and so was her self-control. It had happened so quickly she had no time to summon the least willpower. She moaned loudly, which went unheard as it blended with the throbbing music. A finger was working its way in, ready to slip into a soaking wet vagina.

At that moment Angelo pulled her free. She didn't hear what he said to his friends, but it was enough for them to release her. Feeling weak at the knees, breathing heavily, she managed to keep up with Angelo. She was now frightened of letting go of his hand.

'Upstairs,' he indicated, with a nod of his head.

The shame over what happened was too much to handle. So many emotions and chemicals swamped her brain, her thoughts were reeling. Expecting him to pull her up the stairs, she wondered why he let go. The bedrooms were upstairs, and were probably being used for a quick fumble. She was disappointed he wasn't taking her up there. The naughty thought was quickly suppressed. What was wrong with her? That such a thought occurred at all, meant the alcohol was more effective than she realised.

Holding onto the rail she carefully climbed the stairs. Looking back from the top step, she saw why he remained there. He was looking up the short skirt. The panties had been massaged between her cheeks, but she couldn't bring herself to adjust them while he watched. She wanted to shout at him not to be so rude. She was a married woman, and a mother, so deserved respect. Not married any longer, she reminded herself.

Jane was hot and bothered from the uncouth manhandling on the dance floor. Now fired up, even Angelo's rudeness was adding kindling to her fire. Settling for a cross look of disdain, she quickly turned away from him, intending to stride away. Instead she stumbled precariously toward the bathroom.

'Not used to heels then?' a girl laughed.

There was a line waiting for the family bathroom. The young women looked her up and down. Their eyes glinted evilly behind the masks. Just as it had been all those years ago, the end of college masquerade allowed them to behave mischievously. More than that. They could put aside their usual reticence, to behave badly. Over eighteen years ago she had given herself to Philip. In those days he had done the decent thing, and they married before Louise became a noticeable bump.

Where was her daughter? She had seen her on the dance floor, and wondered if she was upstairs with some boy. Jane had been too preoccupied with saving herself to keep an eye out for her daughter. If she had been recognised by Louise, it would have been her, being marched home in disgrace. The inappropriateness of that idea, made her laugh.

An uncontrollable fit of giggles had her wondering if she was drunk, or just reacting to the shocking experience. Unable to wait for her turn outside the bathroom, she automatically hobbled to the master bedroom, as though it were her own house. She had to press her thighs together to hold back from wetting herself.