SUSAN GOT THE JOB

 

The two desks were side by side in the outer office. Sybil used the other. Behind them was the door into Georgina's office and behind that again was the management suite. The average day saw the natural office traffic: the letters coming in during the morning; the rising and declining pile of papers in the filing trays; the scripts and tapes; the business visitors of varying grandeur; the times when Georgina or Sybil would tell Susan to 'keep everybody out'; telephone messages; conversations; people from other floors to see Georgina or the boss. The standards of everything from letterheads to furniture proclaimed a growing enterprise, reflected also in the remarkable pay and the engrossing purposefulness of a happy ship. Susan was tall, a well proportioned brunette: Sybil was a petite one. They had taken to each other from the start.

Sybil had been there for nearly two years, and talked cheerfully to, and about, everyone.

She was always ready to help with pencils or tissues or advice, or the use of reference books or whatever. She never seemed to mind interruptions. The drawers of her desk were constantly opening and shutting. It is natural to be mildly curious about the contents of an open drawer. Susan's casual glance fell upon a handbag, a scarf, the old empty wallet probably kept 'just in case', the spare pair of panties, the dark glasses, the other odds and ends of a secretary's bottom left-hand drawer. The panties, being incidentally at the top of the pile, could be seen to change rather often. There had been a frilly black, a directoire, spotty ones, various briefs, a nice winter woolly.

It being a busy office, there was not much time for speculation or introspection, yet sometimes, when the front office was keeping everybody out, Susan would experience that subliminal awareness of the unusual which seldom surfaces enough for explicit formulation. Had she thought about it, she might have realised that it was provoked by slight noises faintly audible through Georgina's door, but she did not pay attention to them because the work distracted her; and she liked to be busy.

On an occasion in July, after about three months, Sybil went into Georgina's room and then popped back for a moment to tell Susan to keep everyone out. Susan was filing papers and the telephone, for a wonder, was silent. In the warm calm she was, for once, aware of the usual indeterminate sounds in the next office. Then they stopped and after a pause Sybil came out looking abstracted. She sat down, opened the drawer, took out a pair of panties and set off for the loo.

"You all right?" asked Susan.

"Oh, it'll pass."

"Why? What's the matter?"

"Don't you know?"

Susan was blank.

Then Sybil put on her most charming smile. "Why not come to supper tomorrow and I'll tell you all about it."

So next evening Susan went to Sybil's flat. Sybil was an excellent cook and there was a bottle of plonk. At the coffee she said:

"Well, now, where shall I begin?"

"I don't know. What are you beginning about?"

"Never noticed anything?"

"In a sort of way ... But I can't put a finger on it."

"Sure?"

Susan was assailed by that feeling again and made a small frown.

"Oh well, here goes," said Sybil, "Georgina caned me."

"What?"

"Caned me ... you know."

" ... ?"

"Oh yes, it's genuine enough."

"I thought it was a sort of metaphor."

"Oh no! You see there's a sort of rule in the ..."

"Good Heavens," said Susan, "so that was the sound I heard."

"Probably. You do sometimes hear things through those doors - but as I was saying, there's a sort of rule. People can either resign or ... er ... it's the second time I've had it since you came."

"Then you can't be the only one."

"Oh no."

"But what exactly happens."

"Georgina is the Lord High Executioner and if you would rather not be sacked, she gives you what's coming to you."

"Do you mean to say that all those who go in there ..."

"Oh no! You see, there's a sort of code. If someone comes out and says 'the boss is engaged,' or 'give callers a seat' or something ordinary like that, it's business. But if the phrase is 'keep everybody out', it might be this."

"Ah! Things are beginning to fall into place. There was another thing ... I couldn't help noticing that you seemed to keep your panties in your desk?"

"Should've been more discreet ... I take them off when I arrive. Georgina is the nicest person in the world, and she certainly isn't cruel or even particularly sadistic, but things are apt to happen a bit suddenly, and having one's pants on seems to irritate her. So I'd rather have them off already ..."

"I've made lots of mistakes. Why hasn't ..."

"Oh," Sybil interrupted laughing, "you wouldn't in the first few months anyway. It's a mark of confidence really. An untried person might be horrified or hysterical or something and then there would be a scandal which might do no good at all. Besides, you haven't done anything serious enough."

"Would it be tactless to ask ..."

"Why I got it? I sent off an estimate - quite a big one - without the specification. Made us look silly. And then the customer wrote back and asked for it and Georgina saw the letter and had me in ... By the way, NEVER try to intercept something or hide it. That's the way to real trouble."

"Yes, of course."

"Like some more coffee?"

"Yes, please."

Sybil came back with the cups and put them down.

"Shall I show you?" she said.

Susan's body trembled with embarrassment, and curiosity combined with a desire for intimacy.

"Er ... yes."

Sybil turned and raised her skirt.

Her fine sun-tanned skin enveloped muscular and well rounded haunches which were larger than her clothed figure seemed to suggest. A little below the start of the cleavage there was an angry zone, red at the edges, which stretched from side to side. It was about a hand-span in width, laced in and out with stripes of purplish blue and, where the skin was healing, with black. Her right buttock was more severely bruised than the left and on the outer side of the right thigh, there were some faint but clear double lines.

Susan had been deflowered long ago, but this brought her heart into her mouth and seemed to penetrate even deeper. She had no idea how to react. For an endless second she simply looked.

Sybil was speaking.

"Quite impressive, aren't they?"

Susan nodded. Another pause. Sybil thought that Susan was trying to count.

"She gave me ten ... the tramlines here are where they curled round a bit last time."

"But didn't it hurt like hell?" said Susan, meaning inwardly, 'how could you put up with it?'

"Oh yes! Absolutely horrible ... but Good Lord, it's meant to be. Otherwise there'd be no point. I'd done something avoidable." She looked at herself in the wall mirror and said with a sort of grin: "Now that you know, I don't have inhibitions about sitting down carefully ... it tends to look more impressive next day, anyway." She dropped her skirt.

"How much is this talked about?" Susan asked. "You've talked to me, really, to explain your panties, but how far does it go?"

"Hard to say. She has records and we in the front office know about the code. And I suppose other people talk a bit, like you and me, but we're all pretty discreet because a lot depends on it."

"I see that, but if somebody gets the cane, do the others know? I haven't heard anything so far."

"I think others in the same shop are practically bound to know. Partly hunch: like recognising a virgin and partly observation. Someone gets into a row. You hear it. He goes upstairs. You see that. They come down looking different. You notice it. If you've been beaten yourself, you're pretty sure. It not, you may still have suspicions or hear dark rumours. And anyway, if anyone with a bruised backside goes to bed with someone not in the know ..."

"So presumably most people would think that you had?"

"In a general way, yes. But they wouldn't be certain of particular occasions. Georgina wouldn't tell."

"So by now," said Susan, "many people would assume I had had it?"

"Some sillier ones, perhaps. But don't forget the virginity thing."

Susan smiled.

"Anyhow, none of this ever happens for fun. No initiations or anything. Georgina isn't like that. If you do something wrong, it'll be time enough. If you don't, the question will never arise."

"You obviously seem to like the system," Susan said.

"I think it's marvellous! Good pay. You'd have to be incorrigible to get sacked. You don't get nagged - much. The firm cares and you care about IT. All in return for an occasional night on your tummy. A boyfriend outside the firm might be awkward, but I wouldn't put it past Georgina to solve even that one. As it happens, Philip is in the firm."

"Does it come to everybody in the end?" Susan said, thinking of Philip.

"Probably," said Sybil, thinking of her guest. "After all, nobody is absolutely efficient. All the same, I wouldn't have thought that you had a lot to worry about."

 

PART ONE:

OBSESSION PROVOKED

 

1

 

When Georgina applied to the firm she was twenty-three. Stanislas had run his eyes over her once and promptly put her into his private office. With her kind of seductiveness she was suspect, but in fact she rose to be the manager's personal assistant, she had never, without effort or intrigue, been to bed with him, nor even dined. She had had a perfectly innocent run of luck. The firm was expanding and since Georgina kept the personal files it was natural for Stanislas to delegate staff management to her.

All the same she formed an obsessive element in his daydreams. Mentally he undressed that gorgeous untouchable six times a day. For her part, she was conscious of his magnetic field but would not exploit it. She was by no means frigid but her instinct for loyalty and her interest in the firm pulled in the other direction and she soon discovered that other men of the growing staff were in the field too. The business intimacy of the manager's office was repeated, if less strongly with them, but in an unstable world it sometimes broke down.

To begin with, there were the wives and girlfriends. Her tall brilliance could easily cause trouble. She was not going to compress her breasts or become dowdy-faced on that account, but she reduced the danger by good timing. She arrived before anyone else and left after the last bells. She used the back gate and seldom went to the canteen, sending out for sandwiches and coffee which she ate in the office. This was real devotion, for she was not unsociable.

Then there was rivalry, disappointment and gossip. Men would bid for her good graces from self-conceit or lust or ambition. She could not help this. She could only hold the scales evenly and hope that scandal would burn itself out. But this was more easily said than done. If a dull middle-aged applicant with a wife and children needed money while another, young handsome and competent did not, what was she to do? Her interest favoured the former, the firm's the latter. She could get Stanislas to deal with it, but she was paid to shield him and she was not a coward. So for the Nth time she gritted her teeth and did the right thing. Nobody thanked her.

And there was the manual staff, mostly female. The firm employed many women, from schoolgirl typists to hefty cleaners and she was expected to reign over all that lot, most of whom were older and perhaps wilier than her. She partly overlooked these perplexities by trying to be as humanly nice as she could. She was quite good at this, but naturally life had its excitements and surprises with which Georgina coped mainly by improvisation. One such, when she was twenty-seven, changed a good many lives.

The door burst open and a furious scraggy manageress from the despatch office charged in, dragging a tearful, blotchy faced girl, almost a child. Georgina was standing in front of the mirror dealing with her massed auburn hair, when the explosion happened behind her. The door slammed shut. She put down the hairbrush and turned round. They stood there panting. She said:

"What's this?"

"I've 'ad enough, I 'ave. You cope with 'er. I've 'ad enough."

"Well, what's she done?"

"Can't do nothing, see - least nothing right."

The girl stood miserably.

"How long have you had her?"

"Dunno. Three weeks, 'bout. Pain in the neck."

"What exactly has she been doing?"

"Wrong addresses, wrong weights, missed post, the whole bloody works."

"All right, leave her to me."

"'Far as I'm concerned, she's 'ad it." And the virago slammed her way out. The girl, all sniffs and tears was left standing. Georgina crossed to the filing cabinet.

"What's your name?"

"Bridget, Miss."

"Bridget what?"

"Rashinaki, Miss."

She found the file and sat down.

"Oh ..." Bridget began, but Georgina held up a hand.

"I dunno what I'll do. My M-mmm's ill ... something always goes wrong before I've 'ad a chance to get the hang ..."

"For heaven's sake," said Georgina, "how can I decide anything if I don't know anything about you?"

She leafed through the file, but Bridget was blinded by her troubles.

"It's my fourth time, Miss. And the rent's behind and the p'lice 'ave been in to see my brother ..."

"Oh, stop talking!" Georgina almost shouted, "and stop snivelling! Find a handkerchief, powder your nose and behave like an adult. Haven't you any pride?"

It was all there in the file. The deserted mother; the younger brother heading for trouble; three previous jobs. Only 17 now. Probably too worried to keep her eye on the ball.

She blew her nose.

"Bridget, what happened?"

"Miss, I didn't mean ..."

"Just tell me the facts, whatever they are, and I'll work out what they probably mean. And no lies - mind - because I shall check up."

"I was typing labels - from a list, see. They were all numbered, so I finished the labels and started to stick them on. An' then one of 'em must've got lost an' I stuck all the labels on the wrong parcels."

"You put the labels and the parcels in order and stick them on, but if one is missing and you don't check with the list, you're one out each time?"

"Yes, Miss."

"And you didn't type the list number on each label."

"Er, no, never thought of it."

"Is that ALL you've done? Mrs Blackwood seemed to have more on her mind than that?"

"She doesn't seem to like me, Miss."

"Obviously, but have you done anything else to annoy her?"

Tears began to well up again.

"How long has your mother been ill?"

"Three weeks."

"When you said that you didn't mean anything, what were you talking about?"

Long silence.

"Bridget, shall I ask Mrs Blackwood?"

"I said she was an old bitch."

"When?"

"Not now, Miss. Last week."

"Why?"

"She chucked me boyfriend out of despatch."

"And what was he doing there, Bridget? ... Oh, never mind. I can guess."

"We wasn't doing nothing, just talking."

"And keeping your mind off your work ... now look, I've sacked girls for this kind of thing. What you do in your private life is your look-out. The firm, even if it wanted to, can't support your mother while you make a mess of its work. Were those parcels actually posted by the way?"

The girl was ashen.

"So there'll be a flood of angry letters and we shall have one hell of a time sorting it out."

"Yes, Miss. I see."

Georgina wandered across the room to the mirror, thinking. Then she said: "This is what I'm going to do. You're going to have to trust me. I'm not giving you your cards and I'm not going to send you back to despatch. I'll find someone else. You've never had any real training, so you can get some by doing the donkey work sorting out the trouble ... and as you'll be better off after something for which others have been sacked - which isn't fair ..." She picked up the hairbrush. "I'm going to spank you with this."

"Oh, Miss ..."

"Here and now."

"You must be joking, Miss."

"Oh no," Georgina said, astounded at herself. She sat down. "Come on. Take your pants down and bend over my knee."

The girl was paralysed.

"Come here and don't be ridiculous," Georgina heard herself saying. "This is the best chance in life you're ever likely to get."

Bridget took two steps nearer; and then Georgina realised that it was her own towering beauty that was somehow unnerving her.

"Come on," she said kindly, "we'll get this over with."

Then Bridget was suddenly willing enough. She put her hands under her skirt and brought down her knickers. She put herself across Georgina's knee and flipped back her skirt.

Georgina looked down at Bridget's young buttocks. "I've never done this before, Bridget. I don't want to hear a sound from you - and no one else will anyway."

There was a resounding 'thwack' as the back of the hairbrush struck the pale flesh and then a breath-catch. Then another on the other side. The rounded bottom twitched and jerked but Georgina had an arm over her back and she did not try to rise or escape, as the pain of the beating rose in her and the skin of her posterior became increasingly livid and hot. Georgina laid it on for all she was worth; first the right side and then the left, and so on. She thought 'if people get six of the best with a cane it does both sides at once, so I'll give her six on each side and then see'. But by the tenth stroke Bridget's face looked as if she would break and she whispered something. 'Two to go' thought Georgina. 'No good being sentimental'. The reddened haunches rose and fell in a final desperation.

"Enough's enough."

Bridget got up stiffly and pulled up her knickers. She was dry-eyed.

"You'll need a bit of time to recover. There are tea things in the cupboard. You can make us both a cup of tea, while I put away this file." Would it work?

"Yes, Miss."