"Miss Frost, I want to see you in my office. Right now."
Something in her boss's voice chilled her. Had he--found out? Clutching her arms to her chest, she scurried to Mr. Leahy's office.
"Miss Frost, I show you this voucher and this cancelled check. Do you recognize them?"
Oh, God, she thought. It was the voucher she had fraudulently created for a thousand dollars.
"I-I..." she began.
"They are yours, then," said Mr. Leahy in a voice of thunder.
"Please, I can explain," she said. "I was desperate. Mother--my mother--she was very ill, and the medical bills were just too much for me. I just didn't know what to do. I'm sorry."
"You are going to be even more desperate now," he told her. He put his hand on the telephone. "I could have you put in prison for embezzlement. I could call the police now."
"Oh, please," Miss Frost begged. "I-I'll pay it back. I'll do anything."
"I don't see how you could possibly pay it back," said her boss, "if you were forced to steal the money in the first place. But you said that you would do anything. Did you really mean that?"
She saw the steely glint in his eyes. Suddenly she realized the range of possibilities that "doing anything" might entail. But she had committed herself. "Yes," she said in a strangled voice.
Her boss eyed her up and down. She was a trim woman in her middle twenties, with a nice figure that was always hidden behind sweaters and loose garments. She was too shy to meet people, thus had never married nor even had a serious relationship.
"All right," said her boss finally. "I will forget the $1000. For now. But starting tomorrow, you must do exactly as I say. Exactly! Do you agree?"
"Yes, sir," she replied in a meek voice.
"What's that? I didn't hear you," Mr. Leahy bellowed suddenly.
"YES, SIR!" she squeaked, as loudly as she could.
"Good. First, I want you to sign this confession, just in case you try to back out of our little agreement. Miss Holliday," he spoke into the intercom, "Please step into my office. I need a witness."
Miss Holliday was as sleek as Miss Frost was drab. She entered the office wearing a knit dress that hugged each curve.
"Miss Frost, you are signing this of your own free will, is that not true?" asked her boss.
"Yes sir," she said in a meek voice.
"Please sign above your name. And Miss Holliday, sign and date just below."
"Right, Chief," said Miss Holliday, who grinned as she quickly scanned the document. Both women signed as instructed.
"Good. Report to me tomorrow at 8 AM and we will get started," he ordered Miss Frost.
Get started? She dared not ask what they would start doing. She bit her lip and backed out of Mr. Leahy's office.
"Off with your clothes, Miss Frost," ordered her boss at 8 AM next morning.
"But," began Miss Frost.
"You are not backing out of our agreement?" asked Mr. Leahy. "You know what that would mean," he added in a menacing tone.
"Still," tried Miss Frost.
"Still nothing. Get those clothes off and now. Surely you understood what our agreement might entail?"
Miss Frost started fumbling with the buttons on her sweater. Impatiently, Mr. Leahy strode forward and ripped the sweater off her body with one savage pull. Buttons clattered onto the floor. Mr. Leahy threw the garment into the wastebasket.
"My sweater!" cried Miss Frost in alarm.
"You won't need your sweater again," stated Mr. Leahy. "I suggest you take off that blouse and skirt before I have to rip it off you."
Miss Frost began to cry. But she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Then she undid the little pearl buttons on her blouse. After removing it, she stood weeping in her slip, looking at Mr. Leahy in anguish.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" asked Mr. Leahy.
"Something?" echoed Miss Frost.
"You still have your slip on," pointed out Mr. Leahy.
"Oh," exclaimed Miss Frost. And she lifted her slip over her head and stood there miserably in brassiere, panties, and stockings.
"I think we need some help," said Mr. Leahy, and spoke into the intercom. "Miss Holliday, will you step in here, please?"
Miss Holliday was all smirking attention as she spied the half-naked Miss Frost. "Yes, Chief?" she asked, never taking her eyes off poor Miss Frost.
"Miss Frost needs help taking her clothes off. If you would assist?" asked Mr. Leahy.
"Gladly," said Miss Holliday, who deftly unhooked Miss Frost's sturdy cotton brassiere and pulled her serviceable panties and stockings down around her feet. Then she examined Miss Frost. "Chief!" she exclaimed. "She is a darling! Just look at those boobies!"
Miss Frost was embarrassed, but also puzzled. No one had ever told her she had nice boobies.
Miss Holliday ran her hands over Miss Frost's magnificent breasts and began stroking and pulling at her nipples. "Look at those nips," she cried. "Doesn't it make your mouth water? And that ass! I could eat it up!"
Mr. Leahy indulged himself in a smile. "You'll get your chance later, Miss Holliday, I promise. But now, she needs some new clothes. Then take her downstairs to the platform office and show her the workstation. You can have her at 1 o'clock. She needs the usual work-up."
"Great, Chief," said Miss Holliday. "I have just the thing in my closet." She returned with a leather wraparound miniskirt and a bolero jacket. "I have these for when I want to make a splash," she grinned. She wrapped the miniskirt around Miss Frost's luscious hips, where it barely covered the poor girl's crotch. The bolero jacket was a little tight, but Miss Holliday yanked it closed and strapped it up, so that Miss Frost's nice boobies made a pleasant valley down the opening of the vest. "There!" she said.
"But my panties!" cried Miss Frost.
"We don't wear panties here, darling," said Miss Holliday. "Look!" And she pulled up her miniskirt to display a very neatly trimmed pussy. "Now, come with me and I'll show you your new office."
Miss Frost worked in the Accounting Department of MetroSub, as it was now called. The office was located immediately over a major subway station, but few staffers knew of the hidden route that led from the back office down to the north-bound platform. Miss Holliday knew, and guided Miss Frost through a maze of dimly lit corridors and dank stairwells until finally they emerged on the subway platform through an inconspicuous doorway. Finally they stopped in front of the white-tiled entrance labeled MEN. A rank odor drifted out.
"Here is your new office," said Miss Holliday.
"But," began Miss Frost.
"No buts," chuckled Miss Holliday. "Look inside and to your right."
Timidly Miss Frost leaned forward, keeping as much of herself out of MEN as she could. There was an opening, guarded by an expanding metal gate. Behind it was a small white-tiled enclosure. To the left, a tiled corridor led to the men's facilities. Miss Frost could see several men standing in front of urinals.
Miss Holliday led Miss Frost to the gate, unlocked it, and pushed it back. She located a switch on the wall and a light in the ceiling illuminated the small room. It had evidently once been a janitor's closet, but the pipes were capped and the deep sink had been removed. A metal desk and a wooden straight chair had been installed, together with a metal filing cabinet. Overhead, big and small pipes criss-crossed the grimy ceiling. A grating on the floor covered an ominous drain.
"I can't work here," whimpered Miss Frost. "It's horrible."
"Of course you can," said Miss Holliday. "You can stand anything, if you have to. Sit down."
Miss Frost gingerly sat on the wooden chair.
"Here," said Miss Holliday. "Reconcile these accounts." And she placed a stack of forms in Miss Frost's wooden In-basket. "You have a desk, a chair, light to work by, and work to do. Now get busy."
"But the smell," said Miss Frost. "It's making me ill. And those men," she pointed at one man who had turned away from a urinal, openly tucking his penis into his pants.
"Men have pricks, darling," explained Miss Holliday. "And they frequently need to piss with them."
Miss Frost blushed at the crude language. "But why do I have to be here? Why not an office upstairs?"
"You are being punished, is why!" snapped Miss Holliday. "Do you want me to tell Mr. Leahy that you refuse the assignment?"
"No--no, please don't," squeaked Miss Frost. "I-I'll try."
"Good. I'll pick you up at noon." And Miss Holliday left.
The morning was a slow horror. Trains would disgorge a knot of men who would rush to the urinals. Whiffs of urine would drift down the corridor. Occasionally men would use the stalls opposite the urinals and a fecal odor would follow. If too many men flushed at the same time, a deadly stench of sewer gas would rise from the floor drain.
Most men ignored or never noticed Miss Frost sitting in the tiny cubicle. A few noticed and did a double take. Several men actually waggled their penises at Miss Frost, inducing a twinge of fear in her. But no one actually accosted her except one respectable businessman who told her with a smile, "I can see your pussy right up your skirt, know that?"
Miss Frost suddenly realized that the modesty panel that was supposed to close off the back of her desk was missing. They could indeed see her--her pubic hair. She tried to turn the desk so that it was facing away from the corridor to the urinals, but it was bolted to the floor. So she kept her knees pressed together tightly until noon, when finally Miss Holliday breezed in.
.... There is more of this story ...