CHAPTER ONE

 

Perhaps her pinstriped skirt was just a bit too short. Or maybe her heels were just a bit too high. She'd been hoping to make it clear from the start that she was a sophisticated businesswoman, but instead the machinery clattered to a halt and then the first man wolf-whistled, then another, then another. There were seventy-five of them working in the factory, producing high-spec sports cars for the well-to-do, and so Rebecca couldn't have asked for a greater challenge in what was her first job since finishing her business studies degree. She could tell by the look of them, these hot and sweaty, dirty and greasy, oil-drenched men, that they wouldn't take kindly to a female boss. Especially one aged twenty-three!

In fact, walking through the production plant, it was like these men had never seen a woman before. She could feel them staring at her breasts and legs and wished her blouse and skirt weren't quite so revealing, although no amount of clothing would have saved her that morning, not with all those beady eyes undressing her body. She couldn't believe quite how blatant they were about it - some of them were even licking their lips - and she wondered if the workmen were putting her through some kind of initiation test. Her heels were chiming loudly on the concrete flooring, making it impossible for her to fade into the background. With the machinery switched off, it was the only noise; at least, until the wisecracks started.

'Put the kettle on and make us a tea, please, love!'

'Yeah, milk and two sugars.'

'And don't forget the biscuits.'

Rebecca turned and smiled at the men who were shouting, refusing to take their chauvinistic bait. She recognised two of them from the numerous occasions she'd visited the factory to see her father, and an icy chill ran though her bones as it fully hit home that he was no longer here. In the past, all the men had been respectful towards her, regardless of how tight her tops were or how short her skirts, because Rebecca had been the owner's daughter and any hint of cheek would have meant the sack. It was she who had played the tease in those days, flirting with the handsome, younger mechanics. But today the shoe was on the other foot - it was the workmen's turn to play the tease!

A group of them came swarming round her, just as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

'Did someone send for a stripper?' asked John, who was one of the men she'd recognised earlier, and right on cue, a twenty-strong chorus all launched into the famous Stripper tune. Rebecca didn't know how to respond at first. It was probably best just to laugh it off and hurry on, but she was scared of climbing the stairs with them all standing down there, since it would have given them a perfect view up her skirt. And they might have caught a glimpse of her stocking tops, or even worse, her skimpy black knickers. And so she froze; froze on the spot, until she heard what sounded like another pair of high heels coming down the metal staircase.

Rebecca turned to look and it was such a relief to see another female face in the building. The woman, who appeared to be in her early thirties, was dressed in the classic secretarial style. She wore a fresh white blouse and a tight black skirt, with fishnet stockings and a pair of stilettos whose heels were at least six-inches high. She stopped about halfway down the stairs and gave a yell for silence, repeating her command when the men at first kept singing. And second time around, they obeyed her order, although not entirely without argument.

'Oh, come on, Eva, let us have some fun.'

'Look, just leave her alone and then get back to your work.'

'Oh, Eva!'

'Be fair, Eva.'

'Look, just do as I say or I'll fetch the boss.'

And that made Rebecca pipe up: 'But I am the boss!' And it was just like a red rag to a bull.

'A female boss?' yelled one of the workers. 'How can a place like this have a female boss?'

'You're joking, ain't ya?'

'This is a man's world, darling.'

'Yeah, we thought you'd just come here to strip.'

'Yeah, come on darling, show us your tits.'

'That's all women are good for - showing their tits!'

And again they launched into the Stripper tune, and again it was Eva who made them stop.

'Be quiet!' she yelled, standing tall and commanding, her hands on her hips and her head held high. And perhaps it was her position halfway up the stairs, or perhaps it was her sky-high heels, but it seemed to give her a genuine sense of authority over the army of men. It was the kind of impact Rebecca had been hoping for, but while the men looked up to Eva, they still looked at their new boss like she was nothing more than a piece of meat. Just a large, pert cleavage! And a tight, trim arse! And two long, slim legs! And some holes they could fuck!

And much as it disturbed her - she realised then how hard it was going to be to assert her control - there was something exciting about the mood she had created. Was it the element of danger? What exactly would have happened if the secretary had not shown up? Would she have been forced to strip completely naked for these men and then to do much more besides? Nothing in her previous life - nothing at boarding school or university - had prepared her to deal with these kinds of men. She was used to dealing with rich boys, with city boys, with the kinds of men who fell in love at first sight with her and could be easily wrapped round her little finger. But these working men were completely different. They knew they could never date and marry a girl like Rebecca, but they could still use her body, still use her for sex.

Rebecca gazed around at the assembled mass of men and she could almost smell the testosterone coming off them. Their overalls were soaked in sweat and grease, their bare arms covered in colourful tattoos, and it was impossible not to wonder how sex with one of these men would compare to sex with a city boy. Her nipples stiffened within her bra. It wasn't the first time she'd had these thoughts, but with her father alive, there was never any chance she would act upon her impulses. And all the men had known that - known it was strictly a case of look but don't touch. But things were completely different now.

It was over six months since her father had passed away, leaving her in sole control of the factory. It was always his intention she would take the reins, hence her expensive education and business studies degree, but were her qualifications even worth the paper they were written on now she was faced with the reality of being the female boss of a predominantly male environment? The opinion of the workforce seemed clear enough - most were staring at her enticing cleavage and wondering what had made her nipples swell. So thank god for Eva and that one friendly face. Although did Rebecca see right? Was Eva checking out her cleavage, too?

'No more arguments. Everyone back to work,' the secretary said, coming down the stairs and approaching Rebecca. She took the young girl's arm and shooed away the men. 'We have an order to fulfil by Friday,' she snapped.

'But it's not fair, Eva.'

All the workmen agreed.

'Why should you get all the young, pretty ones to yourself?'

And that made the workmen and Eva laugh, as if the comment had some hidden meaning.

'Yeah, watch yourself, girlie,' someone added; and it made Rebecca think about the way the secretary had been staring at her breasts. But then she and Eva started climbing the stairs and Rebecca went back to worrying whether the workmen could see up her skirt. The hemline only just covered the tops of her stockings and the three-inch slit at the back of the skirt made it even more likely she'd give them a flash. And the higher she climbed the better the angle for those busy watching from the factory floor.

The wolf-whistles started just two steps from the top, and Rebecca wanted to kick herself. 'I knew I should have worn tights,' she told Eva.

'Or just a less slutty outfit,' Eva suggested.

'But it's a business suit.'

'With a skirt that short?'

Rebecca felt herself blushing. Clearly Eva was right. Though the skirt had pinstripes and a jacket to match, it was much too short to show she meant business. And it wasn't like she didn't know the lay-out of the factory - she knew she'd be up and down those stairs all day.

'Of course, I can see what you were trying to do,' said Eva, as they reached the landing where the offices were.

'What do you mean?'

'Win them over with your body,' said Eva, then she smiled as Rebecca blushed again. 'Don't be ashamed by that. You've got a great pair of breasts and fantastic legs, so of course you wanted to use them to your advantage.'

'But that never even crossed my mind,' said Rebecca, but as soon as she said it, she knew it was a lie. It had always been her intention to use her youthful good looks and sex appeal to get the workers on her side. It was something that had worked so well for her in the past, whether charming traffic wardens out of giving her tickets or getting men to order the best champagne in clubs. Rebecca knew only too well how, with a flash of thigh or cleavage, she could make men turn to putty in her hands.

'Look, you don't have to pretend with me,' said Eva. 'It's something any woman would do in your place.'

'Well, maybe,' admitted a bashful Rebecca.

'And I wouldn't think any the less of you for it. In fact, I think you're incredibly brave. There aren't many girls your age who would dare to take control of a workforce like this one.'

'Well, you must be very brave, too,' said Rebecca, still impressed by how Eva had taken control of the earlier situation. 'Don't the men ever try it on with you?'

'Oh, the men know not to mess with me,' the secretary replied, then standing face to face with Rebecca, she glanced up and down the young girl's body with a lusty, lascivious look in her eyes. She lingered over Rebecca's shapely breasts, the nipples of which were still swollen and hard, and it was like she longed to reach out and touch them. Was there anyone in this building who could look at Rebecca without mentally undressing her body with their eyes?

'And they'll soon know not to mess with me,' Rebecca insisted, then she turned and gazed across the factory floor. From the upper level, she could see everything - all the robotic machines fixing screws and rivets, the men on their knees sliding panels into place and the sparks flying off the welding tools. Though Paxton Cars had moved with the times, it was still run along traditional lines, with an emphasis on quality not quantity and a belief that a man's bare hands were always preferable to the robotic pincers of the electronic world. Real blood, sweat and tears went into a Paxton Car, which was what made them such collectors' pieces. It was what Rebecca's father had always believed in. It was the tradition she hoped to carry on.

'Yes, I'll soon whip these guys into shape,' she said, leaning against the rail and staring down. But she was shaking inside. None of them seemed to respect her - in fact, many were still trying to peek up her skirt - and despite her first class honours degree, she had no real idea what it took to run a car production plant.

'Well, good luck,' said Eva, who was standing behind her.

'Thanks, I've a feeling I'm going to need it.'

'And shall I show you to your office now?'

'It's okay,' said Rebecca. 'I know the way.'

'Of course you do, but be certain to knock. Anthony's been working in there since your father passed away and he doesn't like anyone just bursting in. You know Anthony, don't you?'

'Oh, yes, I know Anthony. I know Anthony very well indeed.'

Just hearing his name was enough to send a tingle of anticipation through Rebecca's body. There was history between them - Rebecca had flirted with Anthony so many times across the years, but his work as her father's right-hand man had meant there was never any chance of it leading anywhere. It was something Rebecca had often used to her advantage, turning up at the factory in a tight top and jeans and teasing him with her soft, curvaceous body. She would brush up against him, say how muscular he was. He had never been able to hide his attraction to her, which made these Lolita-like games all the more pleasing for Rebecca.

The door to the main office was at the end of the gangway. Anthony had shut himself inside and pulled all the blinds. Rebecca had a feeling there would be a new wave of tension between them - not just sexual this time, but to do with control. Having worked his way up from the factory floor to become Michael Paxton's second-in-command, it was Rebecca's belief that Anthony had always considered it his right to take over the running of Paxton Cars. And once again it was the young, beautiful tease who was the cause of his frustration. How many times had she sat beside him and made her soft bare thighs brush against his own? How made times had her hands playfully touched his muscles, as she leaned in close but refused to kiss?

Knowing he would be mad with her already, Rebecca didn't take Eva's advice about knocking. It was her office anyway - the whole factory was hers! So she just burst straight in and startled him.

'What did I say about knocking first?' he snapped, before he looked up from his computer screen.

'Surprise!'

'Oh, it's you.'

Anthony didn't sound very pleased to see her, but he did look very comfortable in the big leather chair behind the large oak desk. A bit too comfortable for Rebecca's liking, so she strolled across and perched on the edge.

'Did you forget I was taking over today?'

'No, I didn't forget,' he muttered. 'But there's a lot of work needs doing right now. These factories don't run themselves'

Anthony hadn't changed at all. Just as he'd never been able to hide how much he fancied Rebecca, now he couldn't hide how much he resented the fact she was taking control of Paxton Cars. She could see the fury in his eyes, but also see where those eyes were looking. He was staring at her cleavage, so she sat up straight and pushed them out for maximum effect.

'Of course, it's so sweet of you to have kept the seat warm for me.'

Her choice of words was like a dagger through his heart. His eyes turned strangely black and cold and she sensed that he was biting his tongue. She had the power to fire him if he spoke out of turn, to do anything she wanted, and the thing she wanted most was to make her father proud. Entering his office and seeing his big desk and chair had reminded her what this was all about. She was now in charge of Paxton Cars and nothing was going to stop her from being successful - not those Neanderthal men on the factory floor or the tall, handsome man sat behind the desk.

'I've done more than just keep this seat warm,' said Anthony, sitting back in the chair and folding his arms. He had a look of a man who had no intention of budging, and Rebecca realised right then that the game of cat and mouse had just begun. But who was the cat and who was the mouse? Did she need him more than he needed her? She had already failed to win the respect of the workforce - they had treated her like a dirty slut - so could she really afford to alienate Anthony, the man on whom her father had been so dependent.

'Well, you haven't taught your workforce any manners,' she said, then she crossed one leg on top of the other. Her skirt rode up a little - one more inch and he'd have seen her stocking tops - but instead he just saw her endless legs and the four-inch heels of her strappy shoes.

'What do you mean?'

'They seemed to think I was a stripper.'

Anthony laughed. He could understand why.

'Well, you are wearing a pair of stripper heels.'

'That's not the point. They're meant to show me respect.'

He laughed again, then shook his head. 'Do you honestly think these guys will show you respect? Women are only good for one thing, in their view!'

'And in your view?'

Anthony gazed at the young girl's legs, transfixed by the sight of her sheer, black stockings. Rebecca looked good - she looked really good - but the workforce had got it completely right. She might have been fit enough to fuck, but she wasn't fit to run a factory. Turning up for work in her short skirt and heels, who on earth did this young girl think she was?

'In my view...'

Anthony paused for thought; and then it all came out in one huge roar.

'What the fuck do you know about making cars?' he yelled, then he banged his fist so hard on the desk that Rebecca felt the reverberations where she was sitting. She also felt a thrilling tingle, something stirring deep inside her cunt, as she realised just how much she had unsettled Anthony. And it was just like outside with the workers, there was an added layer of vulnerability caused by the fact that she didn't have her father to protect her anymore. So was it wise for her to keep on teasing this man? Could she really expect him to take it anymore?

'Come on, answer me,' he said, jumping out of his chair and striding angrily around the desk. Rebecca's heart was beating faster now, but she didn't know if it was fear or excitement. But she did know anger suited Anthony - he looked even more rugged than usual with his sneering top lip and smouldering eyes. And she knew exactly how to enrage him further, walking straight round the desk to fill the empty chair.

'I have a business degree, which is more than you have,' she said, as she sat in the chair and crossed her long legs. And Rebecca also had her feminine wiles; and Anthony was momentarily hypnotised by the artful manner with which she raised one stocking-clad thigh and set it gently down upon the other.

'A business degree?' He couldn't hide his contempt. 'Do you really think that's of any use here?'

'Yes, I do,' replied Rebecca, her confidence growing just from sitting in the large leather chair.

'This is the real world, girl, not some stupid college course. Tell me, what do you actually know about dealing with a bunch of dirty, greasy men?'

He had asked the question with real anger in his voice, but then his sneer became a schoolboy's smirk.

'What's so funny?' asked Rebecca.

'I just thought of the answer. You probably know quite a lot about dealing with a bunch of dirty, greasy men.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Oh, come on, Rebecca, you know you've always been a dirty tease. Your father would spin in his grave if he knew the way you behaved around me in the past.'

'How dare you say that?'

Now it was Rebecca's turn to get angry, but Anthony wasn't afraid to push it further. He walked round the desk and leaned close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on her face as he spoke.

'I dare say anything,' he whispered to her. 'I'm certainly not scared of a silly, little girl!'

'I'm not a little girl. I'm a full-grown woman.'

'No, you've always been a little girl.'

'But I'm twenty-three.'

'I don't care about your age. It's the way you act, the way you tease. All the men here can see it. They all know about you. That's why you'll never be able to earn their respect.'

'Oh, I'll earn their respect. Don't worry about that.' But already she was starting to doubt herself. Anthony was speaking with so much confidence, and he knew the workers much better than she did. Did they really just see her as a troublesome, little girl who liked to flirt and play the tease?

'They will never respect you.'

He seemed so certain of it, but that just made Rebecca even more determined to prove him wrong.

'I'll win them over.'

'Not a hope, young lady. They will never respect a silly, little girl.'

'I am not a little girl.'

'Then prove it.'

'How?'

'Stop teasing and flaunting your body all the time. If you're gonna flash your tits and arse that much, then at least fulfil the promise you make.'

His face was still pressed close to Rebecca's and for a second she thought he was about to kiss her. She wanted it to happen; she wanted to prove that she could do much more than tease and run away, but instead he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her out of the executive chair. The level of force was startling to her, quite unlike anything she'd ever known before, as if he was making up for all those years when he'd only been able to look but not touch. But what exactly did he plan to do next? He was staring at her in a sexual way. It was a look she'd aroused in him so often before, but this time it was mixed with anger and disdain.

She wasn't going to admit it to Anthony, but behaving like his, he did make her feel like a silly, little girl. He was so much more of a man than her current boyfriend, Oliver, and all the rich, city boys she'd been with in the past, and much as she wanted to prove herself to him, she had a sense that things were spiralling out of her control. His muscular presence made her feel so vulnerable and not for the first time that morning, she began to regret her choice of clothes. Not only could he see down her cleavage-crack, but her revealing skirt and the stockings beneath left her feeling exposed in the fullest possible way.

'Let's see what you're really made of,' said Anthony, his hand still gripped round Rebecca's wrist. He forced her to lean across the desk's leather surface, then she looked back and saw him remove his belt. The fear in her eyes was all too apparent, as she pictured him lashing it into her flesh, but Anthony wasn't about to whip her - instead, he wanted to render her helpless. So he tied her hands behind her back - he tied them tight - and Rebecca felt too shocked and afraid and also too intrigued to resist. Of course, this wasn't how she'd planned it. This wasn't how she'd intended to prove to him who was boss. And yet her nipples were tingling and her pussy turning wet at the thought of what this strong, handsome man was about to do.

At the back of her mind, as she let him bind her wrists together, was the thought that she truly needed him. Ever since arriving at the factory that morning, she had felt completely out of her depth, and as the full impact of what it meant to have complete control of the company suddenly struck her, she felt grateful to have this domineering man to guide her through her first day there. All through the week she'd been feeling panicky about the decisions she would have to make, about getting her army of men on her side, about putting the theory she had learned into practice. There'd been so much for her to think about, but now she didn't even have to think - all she had to do was obey the orders of the masterful man whose manly good looks and muscled body had always excited her.