Claiming Katy Ch. 01

They became closer than mere work colleagues, and with affection came a sadness that this girl was clearly besotted with her cold, oblivious employer.

But now I advance to the end of the third week, the point at which things became especially interesting for Sophie.

--Sophie's Statement:

Mrs Alderney was out at a meeting in the afternoon, and I had just finished picking my way through yet another draft of the same troublesome gypsy threesome which formed the lifeless centrepiece her novel. The overuse of words like "she" and "her" did not help. If I could have persuaded Mrs Alderney to switch into a first person narrative, my workload would have halved.

Katy entered the office, still scurrying in her oddly preoccupied way, having forgotten to find her shoes for something like the twentieth day in row. We exchanged smiles. She had a curious way of walking: a sort of straight-backed glide, which kept her upper body level and erect as her feet moved rapidly across the floor, slightly on her toes. It was quite elegant, or would have been if she hadn't been so inescapably, adorably, erratic. And she was clumsy.

This time she was carrying a small stepladder, little more than a stool, and an assortment of cleaning products. I watched silently as she stopped at one of the tall windows and set down the ladder.

By now I had begun to see how Katy contrived to keep herself so busy. She managed to approach the cleaning of the windows in the most inefficient way possible: leaving items on the floor when she needed them up the ladder, or carrying too many items so that she dropped them, and placing the stepladder just a few inches further from the windows than was strictly safe. Most amusing in her routine was her habit of climbing to the top of the ladder and then reaching down unsteadily to clean the lowest part of the glass.

I watched, unable to keep the smile from my face as she wobbled and gripped the step with her toes, looking like she might fall at any moment.

"Oh Katy, be careful." I stood and walked around my desk to approach the window. "You're making me nervous."

"I've done this before," she smiled, like she was speaking to some fussy old woman, as she stood on one leg to reach the highest, furthest corner of the pane.

In a sudden, sickening moment she lost her balance and tumbled toward the glass, kicking the steps out from under her. I grabbed wildly for her arm and caught her, pulling her into the room so that, instead of falling against the window with all of her weight, she twisted awkwardly and landed heavily on her behind on the windowsill. She looked dazed.

My heart was thundering with fright, and then the anger kicked in.

"Katy, what did I say?" I snapped. "Anyone could see that was going to happen. What's wrong with you?"

I still had hold of Katy's arm, and she looked down at it, her face red.

"I didn't do it on purpose."

I was almost dizzy with adrenaline, and I shook Katy a little too hard. "What's wrong with you?" I repeated. "Look at me!"

Katy raised her large, dark eyes, and bit her lip, and my anger melted away. "Just be careful. Please. You scared me."

"I'm sorry," Katy whispered. Behind the shock and humiliation, her face expressed something less obvious: some thrill of energy which made her lips part, and made something electric happen in my belly. "Thank you."

I smiled and laid my hand on her slender neck, which was burning hot. I leaned in and touched my lips to the top of her head. Her hair smelled wonderful. "You're welcome, you little buffoon," I laughed, and I kissed her. Without another word I went back to my desk, but was conscious of those gorgeous eyes following me. When I sat down, Katy turned her attention to tidying her scattered equipment.

Her expression was now one of earnest concentration, as though she was taking care not to fall again, even though she was only walking on the carpet. I suppressed a laugh as I watched her, and just as I was about to crack some joke, I froze.

I realised with astonishment that Katy was utterly naked under her dress. I had vaguely registered that she had no bra, when I had seen her little nipples pushing against the black fabric. But now, as she bent to pick up her stepladder, it was entirely apparent that she also wore no knickers. The dress was quite short anyway, but the bending and awkward balancing afforded me a clear glimpse of a smooth bottom and the silhouette of her pussy beneath.

I quickly looked away and stared blankly at my computer screen. I realise I was trying to convince myself that I was scandalised, but I'm forced to acknowledge that I was in fact slightly embarrassed and rather fascinated.

Idly fingering the keyboard, I let my eyes slide back to the display in the window. Katy was back up on her steps, balancing carefully. Now that I was looking for it, I could see plainy even when she was upright, but especially when she reached higher up or bent lower down. There was less to see now, but I could see enough -- as the hem lifted and quivered, and the legs stepped just slightly apart -- to conclude that the pussy was certainly shaved or waxed, and there was just a small dusting of fur at the front.

Perhaps equally mesmerizing was her bottom. The skin was smooth and almost imperceptibly downy. She was not especially toned, but every twitch and flex of her muscles was apparent, translated into a delicate trembling of the flesh. Not hard, but certainly not flabby.

I was impressed and -- if I'm honest -- a little envious.

Her task completed, Katy gathered her equipment and made her exit, gliding in that oddly swan-like way, and glancing at me just once as she left. I didn't get anything done for the rest of the day.

--

Mrs Alderney had not returned from her meeting by five o'clock, so I slipped out of the office and went upstairs to bathe. I decided to go to the gym -- though anywhere away from Katy was fine -- and I quickly dressed and left the house. I was irritated to have my mind so dominated by her image. I used the stepping and cycling equipment and very deliberately avoided watching any of the women on the other machines, or in the showers.

By the time I had finished at the gym, and had a bite to eat, and had two or three drinks, I felt my head was sufficiently cleared of the girl and her anatomy, and I was tired enough to go to bed.

Entering Mrs Alderney's house I heard sounds of people somewhere on the ground floor. I decided I still didn't want to encounter anybody, and hurried up to my room. I found the bathroom cleaned and even my bedroom had been tidied somewhat. My bed was made, my clothes folded in an orderly way. I felt a little affronted by this, confused by the increasing sense of intimacy with Katy, which seemed to be beyond my control. I shouldn't have kissed her. I felt a flash of anger toward the girl, and my mind filled momentarily with a plan to confront her aggressively and tell her...

What? "Stop cleaning up?" Or, perhaps, "Put some knickers on, your pussy is distracting me at work?" I laughed at myself, and I relaxed a little. Really, what was the problem? Cute voice, cute toes, cute pussy... I would sleep on it, and things would be back to normal in the morning.

--

I awoke suddenly, in that state of confusion when deep sleep has been interrupted by an invasive sound, and dreams are still lingering in the consciousness. I had been dreaming of my college days, of the flat and my flatmate. There was that persistent image of Tara perched on the windowsill, confused now with an image of Katy framed in the office window. The details evaporated as I awoke, but I was left with an all-too-familiar atmosphere of guilt.

I shook off my dream and tried to work out why I had woken. The light through the curtains was the orange of a street lamp, and the clock confirmed it was three o'clock. Yet I seemed to have heard a door slam.

Gripped with apprehension, and feeling vulnerable in what seemed suddenly a strange house, I slipped out of bed and pulled the blanket with me to act as a makeshift bathrobe. I opened the door a fraction and was in time to hear water running downstairs, and then ceasing. I heard a door opening somewhere below as I stepped out onto my landing.

I peered hesitantly over the banister, through the narrow gap down the side of the staircase, and caught a glimpse of a figure directly below -- moonlight-white and topped with a head of short dark hair -- as it flitted across the hall on the ground floor.

A momentary glimpse and then another door closed, and that was all. But in that brief moment I had seen a naked figure cross the hall. And I had heard indistinct sounds, nothing specific, but altogether suggestive of soft crying. It must have been Katy. Katy -- who should have been asleep in her attic room -- downstairs, naked, crying.

I hesitated at the top of the stairs, then crept back into bed, suddenly feeling cold and wakeful. I slept poorly for the rest of the night, and my dreams were troubled again.

--

A new chapter, written in Mrs Alderney's elegant longhand, was waiting on my desk when I came down to the office. There was also the usual perfect coffee and croissant which Katy always had waiting for me. As ever, Mrs Alderney was already settled and working, clothes and make-up as particular and slightly-too-much as ever. I wondered if she had been disturbed in the small hours.

Very little small talk, an exchange of Good Mornings, and I began to leaf through the manuscript. After an hour of turning the pages I realised I had barely been reading, never mind scrutinising the text.

I found myself trying hard to call to mind the sounds I had heard as Katy had passed like a sprite through the darkened house. Perhaps I had misheard and she hadn't been crying. Perhaps she hadn't been naked, and had merely been visiting the bathroom in the night. Perhaps my own dark dreams had put a more sinister colour on the event.

I turned back to the first page, irritably flapping the loose leaves of paper. I leaned my forehead on my fingertips and tried to concentrate.

A mop of black hair atop a luminous white figure continued to intrude on my thoughts.

"Is there a problem with the new pages?"

I looked up and met Mrs Alderney's gaze. She wore her usual make-up, but her face looked younger, perhaps because she wore an expression of slight apprehension and hurt. I realised my irritation must have looked aggressive. Regardless of her severe persona, Mrs Alderney was still a creative person, and presumably sensitive about her work. I pulled myself together.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't seem to be taking it in this morning."

Mrs Alderney half returned to her own papers.

"Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable working in an environment with fewer distractions. I'd be quite happy for you to work in your own room, if you prefer."

I regarded her with narrowed eyes. For a moment I thought she was telling me off and essentially sending me to my room as punishment for being inattentive. Luckily by this stage I had developed a habit of carefully judging her phrases. In fact, she was making a helpful and thoughtful offer, but her cold personality could never allow it to sound that way. A thoughtful offer: and accepting it was unthinkable.

"Oh no. No, this is... Really I just need to focus. I slept quite... badly last night."

If this meant anything to Mrs Alderney she kept it to herself. We each returned to our silent work.

--

When Katy entered the office at ten o'clock to clear away the breakfast trays, I looked up sharply to watch her. She crossed the room silently on her bare toes, walking with even greater delicacy than the previous day. She collected the trays and I was astonished to see her bob a tiny curtsey to each of us.

"Will there be anything further, Madame?" she asked with a soft huskiness in her throat. Her eyes were locked intently on Mrs Alderney's face.

"No thank you Katy." Mrs Alderney's voice was cold and hard, and she didn't look up from her work.

"Miss Burton? Is there anything you require?"

I sagged a little, bemused. There had been none of this weird behaviour before.

"Er, no thank you Katy." I felt foolish, being sucked into this odd formality, so I added casually, "Not right now, thanks."

Katy performed another slightly awkward curtsey, looked searchingly again at her boss -- apparently unnoticed -- then she hurried from the room, rattling the trays.

I tried to return to my work.

It was before midday when I went to find some lunch. I was eager to escape the atmosphere of oppression in the office, and also to talk to Katy.

I found her at the kitchen table, two plates of the usual excellent sandwiches set before her. She was kneeling up on an old-fashioned wooden stool and nibbling a leaf of iceberg lettuce with an expression of far-off contemplation. As soon as I entered she was on her feet and trying to look busy with the plates. There was nothing to be done, so she just restlessly adjusted their alignment.

"Miss Burton. I was... May I... Will you require your luncheon now?"

She was pushing things a little too far with 'luncheon'.

"Katy, why are you..?" I struggled for words. "You don't have to be so... formal. You know? Not with me."

One of the plates was rotated through nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, apparently occupying all of her attention for half a minute.

"I do. I mean, I should. It's how Mrs Alderney likes things."

I managed a playful smile. "Well, when she's not around you can call me Sophie and employ contemporary syntax."

It was the sort of feeble joke that would usually make us both smile, but Katy's face grew even more serious.

"Katy, can I just talk normally with you? Properly? You know, just talk about... stuff?"

She looked nervous. Or rather, she looked guilty, standing with her gaze lowered, smoothing the front of her dress in silence. She looked like she wanted to be elsewhere and I knew that in a moment she would make an excuse and leave. I was determined to ask about the moonlight scene, or at least let her know that I'd seen something, so I made my voice as light and chatty as I could when I spoke.

"Hey, Katy, did I imagine it, or did I see--?"

"I'm sorry!" She was as good as shouting, and she jumped awkwardly forward, gripping the edge of the table. Apparently shocked by her own voice, she continued more quietly and more nervously. "I'm sorry. I should have been more careful. I mean I was very rude. And I'm sorry."

I almost replied with an automatic platitude. But I hadn't understood the remark at all.

"Rude?"

Katy was blushing furiously. "God, it was stupid. I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. I'm so embarrassed, I feel sick."

I sat at the table, frowning. "I'm sorry, I don't think I understand what you're saying. Tell me what you're apologising for?"

Her response was extraordinary. She seemed to shrink, as though physically crushed by her own sense of shame. She winced and twisted her head away. She clearly thought she had done something wrong, something she knew would be found out. It was no surprise, but it still burned. She looked close to tears, and she spoke with the soft huskiness again, now speaking as if by rote.

"Miss Burton, I'm sorry to have offended you... with my unseemly behaviour at the window yesterday. I'm sorry I let you see my... see I wasn't properly dressed. I'm sorry I displayed myself to you. So flagrantly."

These clearly weren't her own words, and that was chilling, but for the moment I was burning with my own shame.

"Jesus." This was all I could manage at first. "Jesus, Katy. I didn't really see... anything. What made you think--?"

"I saw your reflection in the window."

Now I felt a sickening hot lurch of humiliation in my belly, and then the old familiar anger snapped on inside me.

"Well Christ, Katy, what were you playing at? I mean just walking around like that, never mind... Are you doing the same today?"

"No, I have knickers today," Katy murmured. "Madame wasn't happy about it."

"How does she know?" This was almost a howl.

"We... talked last night. She's very serious about maintaining standards. Of decency, I mean."

Bombshell upon bombshell was shaking me now, but something in this last remark made me feel especially cold. There was something suggestive in the whole scenario. Something familiar. I leaned forward over the table and spoke quietly, but I could hear the rage still catching in my throat.

"And how did she respond? I mean, how did she enforce her standards last night?"

Katy shook her head, eyes downcast. "Please don't Sophie. Please can we just forget--"

"Come round here, Katy." I murmured softly. Again the shake of the head. "Come here!" I snapped. "Come here now!"

She shuffled around the table as though it pained her. I studied her intently as she came near. Her eyes were wide and anxious, but her face was otherwise only a little flushed, as was her throat. Arms were pale and smooth. Legs, emerging naked from that hemline and naked to her toes, were firm and white as the day she first opened the door to me. My dark suspicions abated slightly until I noticed that she was facing very deliberately towards me, which was odd given the rest of her body language.

"Turn around. Katy, please turn around."

She was frozen, bracing herself for some calamity. I couldn't bear it any longer, and lunged forward, snatching at the hem of the dress and pulling her around a little. Katy didn't resist, and her eyes focused intently on my face. Now I saw the newly-acquired knickers, simple and white and brief. And I saw the marks I had been looking for, or rather the type of marks. Not random, brutal welts or savage bruises, but a series of horizontal stripes across the pale contours of her bottom and the upper part of her thighs. They were dark pink lines, slightly flecked with bruising, but neat and parallel like an image from a bizarre dream.

"Please Sophie... I'm sorry, but please don't be angry, please can't we just--?"

I looked at her face again, furious. I didn't know who deserved the anger, but I didn't have much control of it anyway.

"Maintaining standards?" I snapped.

Katy was panicking now, terrified of something. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm so fucking stupid! I wasn't supposed to show myself to you again!"

--Dr Pacetti's Notes:

I feel I would be irresponsible if I didn't warn readers that the action in Chapter Two is darker and more explicit. If you do not wish to see any of these women suffer pain or humiliation you may wish to end your reading here.