Banking Privately

"Yes I am!"

"Very good. Follow me please." Beverly walked off toward the roped off staircase. She unclasped the velvet divider and allowed Elizabeth to pass, then clipped it back into place. Beverly then led the way up the stairs. From behind her Elizabeth noticed that Beverly's legs were sheathed in fine stockings. The color of the hosiery blended with her natural skin tone and only the soft sheen of a back seam tracing up her leg gave the nylons away.

The back seam, barely a shade darker than the rest of the stocking, ended in a blocked out pattern of reinforced nylon that disappeared into the heel of Beverly's white five inch stiletto heels.. Elizabeth was a little surprised at Beverly's heels. The stairs turned left and as Beverly led, Elizabeth saw that Beverly's heels had a small peep toe. Up close Beverly's French manicured toes could be seen behind the vale of nylon.

Elizabeth wanted to go back down stairs and look at what the other women wore. Clearly this was a uniform and she wanted to see it up close. Beverly's gold blouse and white skirt didn't match the black skirts and white blouses downstairs. And Elizabeth couldn't remember if the ladies below wore heels like Beverly's. Elizabeth didn't have time to think much on it before they reached the top of the stairs.

At the top was a hallway with several doors. Elizabeth felt pleased with herself that she had guessed correctly. Beverly led Elizabeth to an ornate door with a brass plaque that read: J H GRANT. She knocked twice then opened the door, gesturing Elizabeth inside. Elizabeth walked in and Beverly shut the door behind her.

The office was huge, again surprising Elizabeth. A large black oak desk sat on the far wall. The wall was covered with book shelves, the shelves filled with leather bound books. In front of the desk where four leather chairs and between the chairs and the desk was a long wooden bench that was about two feet off the floor.

Sitting at the desk was a man in a black suit and bow tie. A red velvet waistcoat was visible under his black jacket. His balding salt and pepper hair was cut short and a thin mustache lined his upper lip. His narrow features and hawk like stare gave him the appearance of a bird of prey that had just caught sight of a rabbit in the wood. He made no sign that he had seen Elizabeth enter and his hands were steepled under his chin, his elbows on the desk.

"Number Three!" The man called out. "Please take a seat." Elizabeth hesitated. She was unsure if he was talking to her or to someone else in the room. The pause in which no one spoke made it clear that he was in fact talking to her.

Elizabeth began to speak, but the man cut her off sharply, "Take your seat, please." Elizabeth paused, then walked toward the chairs. She saw a brunette peer around the high backing of her chair. The man's attention snapped to the brunette and he barked, "Number Two, eyes front!" The woman snapped back out of view.

Elizabeth came around so that she could see the two other women sitting in chairs. She carefully sat in an empty chair, leaving one unoccupied. The Brunette was seated closest to her. She had long hair that was curled and styled, and her black dress was covered in sequins. Her bare legs were smooth, shiny and her feet were wrapped in strappy sandals with a spike heel.

She looked like she had dressed for a cocktail party and not a job interview. Elizabeth was shocked that she wore no hosiery. Maybe for a private party or while going out this was fine but every guide on job interviews stated clearly that hosiery was a must. Elizabeth felt assured that she wouldn't have to compete with her.

The woman on the far end of the row of chairs was a blond. Her hair was tucked into a French twist, with loose strands framing her face. Her lips glistened with red lipstick and Elizabeth felt she had on too much eye shadow. She wore a white blouse that fit snugly around her large breasts. A tight navy blue pencil skirt hugged her hips and displayed her long legs. Her legs gleamed in dark navy hose that had a sheen dancing over her leg from the light. Matching sling back pumps adorned her feet.

This woman presented herself well, and Elizabeth hopped she could edge her out in another way. The three women sat and Elizabeth picked up quickly that talking would be a very bad idea. it was so quiet in the room, with only the sound of a large grandfather clock slowly ticking out the seconds. She wanted to look behind her and see if Beverly was still in the room.

Elizabeth felt very uncomfortable. She wasn't expecting to be interviewed at the same time as her competitors. The silence was becoming unnerving. She could only hear the noise of breathing. Elizabeth crossed her legs and the rasping sound of her nylons sliding against each other sounded like an avalanche in the quiet room.

Suddenly Elizabeth wondered if she was supposed to report or something. Maybe the room was quiet as they waited for her to say something. The other two women fixated in their seats quietly and suddenly Elizabeth felt that she was behind the curve. The guides on interviews stated that introductions were important.

"My na-" Elizabeth started to say to the man at the desk.

"Quiet, please." The man snapped. "Your name is not important. You are not being judged by your name and you will not receive employment at Boaz & Lorentz due to your name. For now you will be addressed as 'Number Three' and if you speak out of turn again you will be dismissed."

Elizabeth closed her mouth and sat quietly. She felt like she had been slapped on the face and was stunned by what he had said. Nothing that had happened from the moment she had walked into the building had been anything like she expected. She thought of the letter inside her purse. She did not remember contacting this bank for an interview and she was unsure how they had found her. Elizabeth started to wonder if she had made a mistake.

Out of the corner of her eye she looked at the two women seated at her right. She thought of what the guards had done to her and wondered if they had frisked these women in the same manner. Maybe the guard downstairs was taking his turn and the next woman who came to interview would be molested by a different guard.

The more Elizabeth looked at the other women the more she was sure that they had been frisked too. How many women had refused to be searched? How many had been unable to withstand the entire inspection and left instead? Elizabeth thought she had come early but she was the third woman in the room. She had almost missed out!

Elizabeth jumped when two knocks at the door shattered the silence. When Beverly had knocked outside, Elizabeth was sure no one would hear her. From inside it sounded like barbarians were trying to bust the door down.

The door opened and Elizabeth heard a soft female voice say "Thank you." and then the muted sound of heels on the carpet could be heard as someone walked in.

"Number Four, Please take a seat!" The man called out. Then said, "Mrs. Standish?"

"Yes, Mr. Grant?" Beverly replied.

"See to it that the guards admit no further applicants."

"Yes, Mr. Grant." Beverly said and the door closed behind her.

Elizabeth had a sudden feeling of pity for 'Number Five' and wondered what the guards did to a woman who was not allowed into the castle. Her thoughts drifted away as a tall ginger haired woman took the seat to her left. Her long legs visible due to a short, tulip cut dress, navy blue in color. The grey nylons she wore glittered in the light of the room. She smiled at Mr. Grant and began to greet him.

"Quiet, please!" Mr. grant said, "Your name is not important. You are not being judged by your name and you will not receive employment at Boaz & Lorentz due to your name. For now you will be addressed as 'Number Four' and if you speak out of turn again you will be dismissed."

He showed no loss of patience as he recited something he had repeated at least three times now. "Before we begin we must make clear what is at stake. This position pays eighty thousand dollars a year. There is also a generous clothing allowance. Full dental and medical benefits are included, neither of which deduct from that salary. A transportation allowance in the form of a personal company car is also included."

Mr. Grant now looked at each woman in turn. His hawk stare burrowed into each woman, giving them a look of a schoolmaster who is about to discipline his students. "According to what each of you put on your resume, you are all skilled, experienced, and trained to work in an office." He snorted slightly in disgust. "If you are not fabricating your abilities, on the pure merit of professional skill, all of you qualify."

Mr. Grant stood up, walked around his desk and then leaned on it, facing the women. Elizabeth's attention was again drawn to the bench that was between them and Mr. Grant. There was enough room for him to walk around it without being crowded by his desk or the chairs the women sat in. It was too narrow and impractical as a coffee table. The curiosity was pestering Elizabeth like an unreachable itch.

"However I only expect to hire one of you today." Mr. Grant said, again looking at each one in turn. He leered at the legs of the women, said "Maybe two." It was the first time Elizabeth had seen him break his professional manner and openly stare a them. It had been the leer of a man at a strip club and it sent a shiver up Elizabeth and caused her arms to break out in goosebumps.

Mr. Grant composed himself and continued. "Therefore the selection process will based on attributes and talents not listed on your resume. If you thought my guards were fresh with you down stairs, we haven't even scratched the surface." Again, he took a long leering look at each pair of silken legs and a smile almost curled at his lip.

There was a physical quiet in the room as each woman took in that statement, and what that look meant. "Today we will not discuss the reason for this. Today we will simply eliminate those who do not qualify to work here. IF you feel at this time you do not want to submit yourself to this elimination process, you are dismissed."

Elizabeth thought about the guard downstairs. He had given her a similar warning before touching her in ways she never expected from someone at a job interview. The thoughts on Mr. Grant's mind were unknown, but by the way his eyes drank in the beauty of the women in front of him, Elizabeth guessed at what his intentions may be. She wondered if it was worth it.

Again Elizabeth reminded herself that she had been looking for a job for months. If she or Julian didn't find work soon, their savings wouldn't stop the bill collectors. They would lose their home. Bankruptcy was a certainty. Eighty thousand dollars a year was almost twice what Julian had made. Elizabeth steeled herself. She could get this job, and nothing Mr. Grant could do would scare her off.

That's what this was. A scare tactic. Jobs were scarce and the competition for them was outrageous. This was all an act to "thin the herd" so that he didn't have to interview as many people. She had already been groped once today and if the other women in the room could put up with so could she.

Mr. Grant looked at each woman in turn then continued his lecture. "Twenty Seven other women were told to be at this interview today, If you wish to leave I will have no issue filling your vacancy." He paused, waiting for their answers. "Well?" he said at last, "Do you all agree to the elimination process?"

There was a thick silence and none of them spoke. Elizabeth imagined each of the woman mentally weighing the rewards against the risks. "You are allowed to speak, and you must verbally answer me." Mr. Grant said quietly and sternly.

All four women said yes each in a random moment, like clocks chiming at different intervals in a Swiss shop.

"Good!" Mr. Grant continued. "Since you are here, now, in my chairs, and not downstairs being turned away, you have passed the first test. All of you have shown that you are punctual. If you are ever late without a valid and proper excuse, you will be receive punishment. If you do not wish to lose your job, you will submit to punishment."

"What is the punishment?" It was the red haired woman, at Elizabeth's left, who asked the question.

"Number Four, you have spoken out of turn. This has earned you a demerit. Demerits are expunged by submitting to punishment. If you collect more than twelve demerits you must immediately submit to punishment or be dismissed."

"What is a demerit?" the woman asked.

"Two demerits." Mr. Grant Snapped.

"What?" the woman said, bewildered.

"Three demerits. Do not ask questions. You may submit to minor punishment to remove one demerit at a time or submit to full punishment to remove up to five. You can choose to submit now or you may delay punishment." He looked her over in a leering fashion. "I warn you that once you pass five you cannot chose minor punishment and removing more than ten will not be pleasant for you."

The woman looked at Mr. Grant with wide eyes and Elizabeth shared the fear she could see on the other woman's face. Mr. Grant waited, clearly expecting the woman to choose her fate. Elizabeth knew that if it was her she would accept the minor punishment now, rather than build up a debt. The woman opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. She looked like a fish gasping for breath.

"Your third option," Mr. Grant said sternly, "is to leave."

For a moment, Elizabeth thought the woman was going to get up, but that moment passed and she remained quietly in her chair. "I'll delay my punishment." She stammered.

"Good." Said Mr. Grant approvingly. "More fun for me. Bear in mind you may earn more before we are though and I may not give you the opportunity to submit to punishment before you reach five. It is possible to be liberated of them though outstanding performance but I doubt that will happen before we are done."

"Well," the woman said in a meek voice.

"Four." Mr. Grant said and stared at her, almost daring her to speak. She clamped a hand over her mouth to insure she didn't let out another peep.

Mr. Grant leaned over his desk, pressed a button on his phone, then spoke loudly. "Now, Mrs. Standish." Almost instantly, Beverly walked into the room. When she came into view, Elizabeth saw that she had four pairs of black heels in her hands. She bent over at the waist with legs straight in front of the woman who was "Number One" and placed a pair of shoes at her feet.

Elizabeth moved down to Number Two, and then to her, then to Number Four. Each time Beverly place a pair of black five inch stiletto heels at their feet. The shoes looked exactly like Beverly's, including the tiny peep toe, only these were black patent leather.

Inside the heel of the shoe Elizabeth noticed a golden number seven. How had they known her shoe size? By the time Beverly had handed out the last pair Elizabeth remembered the guard sniffing her shoe. So he had a purpose other than to be a pervert.

"Thank you, Mrs. Standish. You may go." Said Mr. Grant curtly. Beverly gave him a nod and then quickly walked out of the room. "Ladies," he said to the applicants, "Please remove your shoes and slip these on."

The women slowly began to comply. Soon all four had the new footwear on and looked up at Mr. Grant for more instruction. "These shoes are what all of our female employees wear while at work. They must be worn to and from work. You may not wear sneakers and then switch once you are at work, as many uncouth women in this city often do."

Mr. Grant walked to the end of the bench nearest "Number One" and then said "Balance and grace cannot be judged on a resume alone. All of you stand up and step up on the bench." The women paused, unsure of what to do. All four of them had walked into the room wearing heels, but these were five inch stilettos. The shoes had a half inch platform at the toe but that did little to help.

"Now!" Mr. Grant barked.

Almost at once the women rose from their chairs and stepped up onto the bench. Elizabeth was used to heels but these were steeper than anything she had worn before. She wobbled slightly when she got both feet on the bench. She was relieved to see that all of the women wobbled slightly.

Number Two almost toppled forward and she flapped her hands in tiny circles to maintain balance. The motion did not go un-noticed by Mr. Grant. He took three quick steps and was standing right in front of Number Two. He looked up at her disdainfully.

"You almost fell on your face, Number Two! What will our clients to think of a woman who is lacking in grace?"

The woman still hadn't gained her balance and had leaned back to avoid contacting Mr. Grant. She was now slowly tipping backward. To avoid falling she thrust her ass out and leaned forward. The motion didn't steady her and she reached out and put a hand on Mr. Grant.

This saved her from the fall but it was clear that it was not well received by Mr. Grant. "One Demerit." he snapped. He stepped away from Number Two and then paced up and down the bench like a drill instructor reviewing his troops.

"I assumed by the slutty heels you strutted in here with that you'd be an old hat with heels like these." Mr. Grant paused, stopping in front of Number Two again. His eyes had fixed on the peep toes of her shoes. He bent over until his face was inches from her feet.

"Are you not wearing hosiery, Number Two?"

"Um." She stammered.

"What kind of slut are you?" Mr. Grant said, straightening and looking up sharply at her. "You waltz in her wearing a party dress like a whore ordered from the local pimp and you don't have the decency to wear nylons?" Number two gulped. It was clear she was not used to being addressed as a slut or a whore. "Two demerits." Mr. Grant snapped.

The man looked over her legs with a look of disgust. He turned sharply and briskly walked to his desk, pressing a button. "Ms. Standish!" The door to the room opened before he was done saying her name. Elizabeth wondered if Beverly was psychic then assumed that they must be on camera. Beverly was anticipating her boss.

Beverly had anticipated more that Elizabeth had guessed. In her hands was a fresh pair of black stockings. She handed them to Number Two and said. "Here, dear. Slip this on. Quickly now." She was already on her way out before Number Two could say anything.

Number Two looked at the nylons, realized that they would need a suspender belt to be held in place. Elizabeth could see the indecision on her face. Number One could see it too and Elizabeth could tell the woman was pleased at what she saw.

Carefully, Number two lowered herself then sat on the bench. She gathered up one stocking to its toe then slipping her foot out of her shoe pulled the stocking over her foot and up her leg. Mr. Grant unashamedly watched as she pulled the garment as far up her thigh as she could. Elizabeth saw a flash of black lace panties as she did so.

With the other stocking in place, Number Two got back up on the stool and stood still. The stockings were staying up for now but every one in the room knew that wouldn't last long. With the interruption over, Mr. Grant resumed his pacing lecture.

"Now then, while you are employed at Boaz & Lorentz you will wear the pencil skirts that are a part of a Bank Assistant's uniform. You will always wear hosiery with these skirts. Monday through Thursdays, fully fashioned stockings are required. On Fridays and weekends you may wear any type of hosiery you wish."

Mr. Grant stopped near Number Four then said, "Hike up those skirts and dresses. All the way up! I need to see all the way to your waist."

Open mouthed shock filled the room. As the words rang in Elizabeth's ears, their meaning shook her resolve. This wasn't a job interview, it was a peep show! Mr. Grant was filling his dark desires by forcing desperate women to submit to his dirty commands!