Chapter 2
It was a very miserable Bobby Stanton who washed off his face and gargled and gargled again in the men's John. What in the world had come over him to make him so eagerly put his mouth where he'd put it? Yes, Beverly was sexy and he was probably hopelessly in love with her, but that part of her body down between her legs was incredibly foul and dirty, and he'd gone after it as if it really had been ice cream. He washed his mouth out again, then leaned over the sink, shuddering like a wet dog and feeling sick at the thought of having to do that to every woman in the shop, as Beverly had threatened. He would never lie again in his life, of this he was certain, but he wasn't certain at all he could survive another session like that one. His eyes still looked wild in the cracked mirror above the sink and his shorts were still clotted with his awful jism as he shamefacedly returned to the buzz and clatter of the roomful of women whose jobs he had jeopardized. He should quit his job or commit suicide, but then again, there was hope that his punishment had ended and that never again would he be forced to his knees to lick like a dog at a woman's foul cunt.
"What were you doin' in there for so long with little Bobby?" Glory asked when the smug-faced Beverly returned to her sewing machine.
"Just having a little talk with him," Beverly said with a grin.
Glory wrinkled her pretty brown nose. "Smells like hot pussy around here. Just what was you two talkin' about?"
Beverly felt terrific. She reached over and patted Glory's ass, something that would have brought a slap at her hand and a scowl just a few days before, and she said, "He didn't have time to do much talking." She gave herself a squeeze on her still tingling cunt, rolled her eyes heavenward, and said, "That boy has got a mouth that isn't bad. All he needs is some practice and he could make a living with it."
Glory's black eyes widened. "You got him to go down on you in there? Bullshit!"
Beverly shrugged and took her hand from her crotch and wafted its fingers before Glory's nose, thrilling at the prospect of the time when the black girl would be doing more than just smelling her hot cunt. "I don't bullshit my friends," she said.
"Well, I sure as shit don't believe it," said Glory, regarding Bobby skeptically as he slunk past the front of the room.
Beverly grinned. "You will," she said.
If she played her cards right with Bobby, she'd be playing sixty-nine with Glory before long. The thought of that continued to be nearly as thrilling as the orgasms she'd just experienced in the bobbin room. The double thrill of looking back and looking forward kept her happily at work stitching frilly panties and nighties while she laid her further plans.
As much as possible, Bobby avoided the back of the room where Beverly was working. He was still badly shaken and thoroughly horrified at himself for what he'd done. All that wet and slithery flesh, like raw liver, and he'd sucked it and licked it with mad abandon. He realized now that Beverly was a terrible woman for making him do that to her. And he knew that, no matter what, he'd never permit himself to be forced into doing that again. The smell of her was still rank in his nostrils, and he couldn't bear to look in the direction of the woman he'd formerly thought was so hugely attractive.
But Bobby couldn't avoid Beverly forever. In addition to keeping the sewing machines oiled, it was his job to take away the garments as the women finished them, and Beverly's machine in the back of the room was still churning out lacy lingerie. It normally made Bobby most uncomfortable to pick up the armloads of panties and nighties and slips and bras and carry them out to the warehousing room, but now he scarcely noticed this, as concerned as he was with his actions and staying away from Beverly. At last, however, half an hour after the awful incident in the bobbin room, he had to respond to her loud call of, "Hey, boy! Over here!"
Her smile was the essence of evil as he trudged back toward her machine. He had always thought her small face, surrounded by a big puff of tight blonde curls, was a sweet face. Now he saw only evil in it, but he couldn't look away from it.
"I got a squeak in the pulley down there," she said, nodding down at the machine on its table before her. "Get under there and see if you can find it and fix it."
He wanted to throw the pile of her finished lingerie in her face and tell her to fix it herself, but instead he grimly set his jaw and knelt to look under her table. He couldn't see where the machine might be squeaking, but he could see her nasty old crotch. She had her legs open, the evil woman, and now as he watched in horror, she opened them wider still and ran her fingers down over the obscene bulge of her private parts. It made his stomach churn and it raised the hair on the back of his neck rise up to see her touch herself like that. And then he very nearly vomited when her hand turned about and one of the fingers that had just been touching her nasty old cunt beckoned at him.
He ignored it and went back to looking for the squeak in her machine. He should have gotten up and stalked off, but his darned prick had betrayed him by quickly thickening to a point where anyone could notice it if he started walking away. Her finger beckoned him again, her hand touched her crotch, and again she beckoned him closer under the table. He couldn't do that if he wanted to, not there in a roomful of people, and he certainly didn't want to. But touching his mouth to her cunt through her slacks wouldn't be nearly as bad as what he'd done before.
Bobby located the cause of the squeak. It was a loose pulley. As he worked on it he tried to ignore the proximity of Beverly's knees, the openness of her crotch, and the awful things she was doing with her hand. He could smell her cunt and it was making him sick. Who needed women, anyway, when they made you do things like that? She did have beautiful legs, ever through her slacks, and the curving bulge of her crotch was more than a little fascinating, but he could ignore that. The tan material of her slacks was very tight over her crotch. The awful, evil woman was now rubbing herself with two fingers right where Bobby had been made to kiss her before, and now it was making him angry. What he ought to do was bite her there, right on her nasty old twat, and then get up and quit his job. But he sure did need that job. And the crotch of her slacks was so tight he could see the split of her cunt. Bobby glanced about him through the forest of women's legs and table legs and pulleys and belts, then leaned close to those beckoning fingers, where the scent of her was stronger, even more sickening. His eyelids felt heavy and his breathing was coming faster as he touched his lips to her fingers and then to her cunt.
"Mmmmm." Bobby could feel her purr of pleasure as well as hear it. The finger's he'd kissed now curled in his hair once again as he kissed up and down her cunt. Its heat and its smell were equally delicious, its softness was divine, and yet he wished with all his heart she was naked down there and he was kissing and sucking the real thing. "What did I tell you?" he heard her say, and he opened his eyes and looked up to see Glory Johnson grinning down at him too.
This can't be happening to me!, Bobby inwardly screamed at himself. He was not only down on his knees kissing cunt in a roomful of women, he was doing it while one of them watched and laughed at him! And he wasn't stopping!
Bobby's prick and balls hung heavy in his crusted shorts. He tried to keep his eyes closed as he pressed his fevered kisses up and down the length of the wonderful, awful bulge of Beverly's cunt, but this he couldn't do. He had to open his eyes and look hard to confirm the terrible situation he'd gotten himself into, and when he looked he saw Beverly point at Glory.
I'm only doing this to save my job, Bobby told himself, as he backed out from under Beverly's table and started in under Glory's. To touch his mouth between a black woman's legs was totally unthinkable, but there he was doing it, and even worse he was liking it.
Beverly was thin, and Glory was round and plump. Her slacks were very tight on her, outlining every curve and bulge of the flesh between her legs that Bobby was kissing and rubbing his mouth and nose against. He'd never had a drop of alcohol in his life, but now he knew exactly what it felt like to be drunk, out of control, doing something you didn't want to do but couldn't stop. He kissed and mugged his way up and down between her legs while she giggled and pulled at his ears, and he would have gone on doing it all day long if she hadn't pushed him away. He rose completely shaken, unable to look at either of them, and used the armload of finished lingerie to conceal the aching bulge in his pants. What could he do if Beverly made him kiss the crotch of every woman in the place? Suicide was the only answer.
Twice more that day Beverly got the kid to climb under the tables and kiss her and her girl friend's cunts. She and Glory were definitely becoming better friends, giggling over their secret and the pleasures it gave them. They'd be real close friends by evening, if Beverly's plans continued to go as well as they had so far. As the end of the working day approached, Beverly knew Glory was pretty hot. Beverly felt that good, fidgety heat in herself, even though it did come from the clumsy kisses of stupid little Bobby Stanton. Beverly was anxious for the day to end, for then she'd get Glory up to her room for a couple of glasses of wine, and it wouldn't be long then till she got the clothes off Glory's beautiful brown body and made her forget all about the under the table kisses that had been the start of getting her pussy wet. Beverly's pussy was sopped and throbbing as four-thirty approached, and with its approach came Rod Hanratty, swaggering down the aisle to stop beside Beverly's machine.
"I'd like to see you in my office for a few minutes after work," he said.
He was a big, phonily handsome bastard with a toothy smile, but his smile was absent as he looked down at Beverly. She smiled pleasantly up at him and said, "After work I go straight home."
"Fine," said he, starting away. "Go straight home then, and don't bother coming in in the morning."
"That sonofabitch," she said to Glory. "I don't want to stick around here and go to his office after work. I wanted to see if you wanted to come up to my place for a couple of drinks and some laughs."
Glory grinned and said, "I'm headin' for home as quick as I can. I got a fire my old man's got to work on. Phew! I do feel horny today!"
Beverly's wrath rose up at Bobby as well as at Hanratty. What a rotten way for things to turn out. She'd have to put up with some lecture from Hanratty, probably have to fight the bastard off, and then she'd have to go home and diddle herself instead of playing nice games with Glory. It wasn't right, but with her record she couldn't afford to get fired. She would have to put up with Hanratty's bullshit and just start out all over again with Glory and Bobby in the morning.
Beverly had been to Mr. Hanratty's office before, when she'd gotten hired. In contrast to the rest of his business, he had it fixed up very comfortably, with a big walnut desk and a padded swivel chair, a couch and a coffee table for his big deal businessman friends when they came visiting, and a thick carpet on the floor. He had a bar in his closet that she hadn't seen before, but she saw it now for he was mixing himself a drink as she knocked and entered. She didn't at all like the way he looked her up and down as he told her to come in and shut the door after her.
She wasn't as tender as Linda, Hanratty thought to himself, but she didn't look bad at all. She was about five foot one or two, with a cute little shape to her smallish body. What he could see of her tits through her cheap knit blouse wasn't bad, and her hips and her ass were very nicely shaped within the wrinkled tan slacks she had on. She didn't look bad at all, and she'd look a lot better soon. He ambled to his chair and sat down, and made her wait before his desk while he sipped his drink.
"How do you like working here, Beverly?" he said.
"I like it just fine, Mr. Hanratty," said she, smiling and wanting to spit in his face.
"Making enough money?"
"I could always use more. But it's enough," she quickly added, when she realized he might be leading up to offering her a raise in exchange for a screw.
"If you're making enough money, how come you stole Bobby Stanton's wallet?
The smile faltered on Beverly's face, but she managed to hold it there as she said, "Stole Bobby Stanton's wallet? I don't understand, Mr. Hanratty."
Rod Hanratty sipped his scotch and soda and said, "You can lie all you want to about it, Beverly, but I saw you pick it up when he dropped it at morning break. And when you put it in your pocket, that was just the same as stealing it. At least that's the way your probation officer would look at it."
"I couldn't give it back to him right then," said Beverly. "Everybody was crowded around the truck just then, and I.. . I was going to give it back to him later."
"But you didn't," said Rod, coolly smiling, wishing like hell it was Linda Patton standing there sweating it out in front of his desk.
"I got busy. I forgot." Beverly fumbled inside her purse for the wallet wishing she hadn't taken the eight bucks out of it, wishing she'd given the damned thing back. She dropped it on Hanratty's desk and said, "I'll take it over to his house tonight. But you've got to believe me, I didn't mean to steal it."
He looked inside it and smiled again. Then he leaned back in his chair, looked her up and down again, and said, "He can probably do without it till tomorrow. Or forever, for that matter. A kid like that loses things all the time. I'm not concerned about him. I'm concerned about, you, Beverly. You're an attractive woman, working at a job most good-looking women would turn up their nose at, all because of a ass break. I'd like to see you get ahead, and not be stuck behind that sewing machine all your life. You're too smart for that, just like you're too smart to break your probation by stealing the boy's wallet. Not that you did it, of course, but.. . . " He let his gaze rove very frankly over her while his words trailed off, licking his lips and sipping his drink.
Beverly was furious and she couldn't show it. She set her jaw grimly and, wanting to have it over with and hear the worst of it, she said, "What is it you have in mind, Mr. Hanratty?"
He shrugged and said, "I'd like to see you move up in the organization. Like I said, you're a good-looking woman. You might be able to improve yourself by doing a little modeling for me. These things we've been doing for Hollywood Stars Originals have got me to thinking. We might change our selling techniques."
Beverly's anger and her disgust clearly showed now as she said, "You want me to model that lingerie?"
"A gal doesn't have to be tall to be a lingerie model. She just has to have a good shape on her. And I think you do. I could be wrong, but I think you've got a very nice shape under those work clothes you wear. I think you ought to seriously consider doing some modeling for me. I think you ought to think about it very seriously."
"You need younger girls for that," said Beverly, close to panic. "And I'd be too shy to model."
"You'd just be modeling in front of me till you got used to it. And you'd just have to let me be the judge of whether or not you've got what it takes." Rod picked up the wallet and studied it, tossed it in his desk drawer. He was seething with nervous anticipation, but he thought he was handling it well. He gestured at Beverly with a nod of his head and said, "Why don't you take off those things now and let me make a decision about helping you out with your future career? I don't think your probation officer would object, especially if we didn't say anything to him about it."