'I have a little task for you to perform. I want you to go to Desirez.' 'Desirez! No!' 'Yes, and this is what I want you to do there . . .'
Mrs Ross loitered in the boutique across the road from Gregg and Saunders for longer than she had planned. For the eighth time, she peered into her handbag to make sure she had not dropped or lost the items that were burning a hole in the leather. Still there. She still could not quite believe she had actually crossed the threshold of Desirez, still less placed these two things on the counter and handed over money for them. She had avoided the cashier's eye quite successfully but he had insisted on asking, 'You're sure this is the size you want?' and she had been able to do no more than nod tightly.
The thought of that anxious exchange was unaccountably erotic now, though; every time she remembered it, an additional peripheral detail slotted into place. How the raincoated man at the magazine stand had looked at her. The bizarre items hanging from the wall. The row of huge dildoes behind the glass counter. It was like a different world, and yet it must be normal to some people. Normal to Mr Gregg. Mr Gregg and Desirez stood on one side of a line dividing her self, while Colin and Waitrose inhabited the other. Talk about a split personality, she thought, disapproving of herself even as she was psyching herself up to cross the road.
Nothing was going to stop her now that the wheels were in motion, least of all her own conscience. That ordeal in the sex shop would have to be redeemed.
'Mrs Ross is here for her appointment, Mr Gregg.'
'Ah, good. Show her in.'
The receptionist replaced the receiver and smiled brightly at Mrs Ross, who was reminded of herself as a young trainee. Was Gregg knocking this one off as well? she wondered. None of her business if he was, of course, though she could not help but twinge at the idea.
'You went to the shop?' were Gregg's first words to her once they were closeted in the office.
'Yes. Somehow. I'm not sure how I got through it.'
'Brave girl.' He smiled. 'Come and show me what you bought.'
Mrs Ross fumbled in her handbag, placing the two purchases side by side on Gregg's desk.
'Ah, yes, this is the right size to start off with,' he said, turning the little pink silicone plug around in his hands. 'And the lube . . . yes. That'll do nicely. I must say, Lynnie –' he looked up, grinning '– you have surprised me. I thought you'd take fright when the prospect was real. You're still on board?'
Mrs Ross found the management-speak a little incongruous, but she nodded, transfixed at the sight of the plug, and the man who meant to put it in her, together.
'OK. Then I must ask you to come over here, Miss Lynnie Speedwell, and lift up your skirt.'
The use of her maiden name made Mrs Ross feel like his young employee again, banishing all doubts and thoughts of resistance. She shuffled shyly to his side of the desk and stood in front of him, performing a slow shimmy of the pencil skirt until it bunched around her waist, exposing stocking tops and a pair of high-cut tight-fitting briefs.
'Good; just what I said you should wear,' said Gregg approvingly. 'Now I'd like you to put yourself over my lap, please, young lady.'
'Over your lap?' Mrs Ross baulked slightly.
'Yes, it's easier and more comfortable, the first time. Don't worry, I'm not going to spank you. Unless you'd like me to?'
Mrs Ross giggled hysterically. 'Not right now,' she managed. She bent forward awkwardly, balancing herself with one palm on the floor while her stomach pressed into Mr Gregg's thighs and her legs hung down, not quite finding the ground.
'Get as comfortable as you can,' advised Gregg, moving about in his chair to accommodate her until she was settled. 'A sofa is best for this kind of thing really. Never mind. Now then.'
He peeled the skin-tight knickers down over her backside until it was fully exposed to his view, tugging them down as far as the stocking tops so he had an extra little peek at the lips of her pussy, which seemed temptingly sheeny.
Mrs Ross felt a little awkward, dangling so, with the dry office air circulating around her naked bottom, but the first brush of palm on curvaceous cheek was so much more than she had been hoping for that she let out a little sigh.
'Aren't you ever touched here?' Gregg wanted to know.
'Hardly ever. It seems like some kind of forbidden zone for some reason. I have to make it clear though, that this is the only part of me you get to touch. No straying off the beaten track.'
'Beaten? You really would like a spanking?'
'No! You know what I mean!'
Gregg chuckled and began gliding his palm across the surface of her posterior, brushing in broad circular motions, moving inward and inward until Mrs Ross was a compliant ragdoll oohing and aahing with satisfaction and getting perilously close to staining the dark trousers he was wearing.
'Does that feel good?'
'Oh, it does . . . better than I imagined . . . it feels so naughty somehow.'
'Well, it's about to get naughtier . . . stay nice and relaxed now . . .'