Exorbitant Interest

Miss Harding was far too beautiful, I thought, to be spending her days in the dry and musty, unlovely environs of the Northern and General Bank. When she could so easily be looking out from the glossy and glamorous colour pages of some of Gary's Girly magazines ... her sexy bare feet, hopefully, excitingly displayed. Maybe she model's in her spare time, I mused. But, then again, if what Dad said was anything to go by, maybe she could earn a lot more money working for the bank, these days.

A number of times in the past, I had heard the term: Blonde bombshell. Well, now I understood what was meant by the phrase ... because I knew that I was actually sitting opposite two of them.

Then I heard those exciting, unmistakable, softly rustling tell-tale sounds that – to my finely-tuned ears! – meant that both of the female N&G bank employees facing me, were easing their dark-hosed feet from their black leather pumps.

And there was nothing in the world that I wanted to do more, than to look down, and to feast my eyes upon what was going on under the Customer Services Desk ... But, with both the receptionist, Penny, and Miss Harding, the manager, looking directly at me; their stares unwavering, I did not dare.

And, as I looked at their beautiful faces, I felt my face redden and get hot, as I listened to their maddeningly teasing, seductive rustlings: the sweet-sounding whispers of their dark-hosed feet, caressing shoe leather, as they played with their black leather office pumps under the Customer Services Desk. And I soon began to quail, under the intent gazes of their combined and continued silent scrutiny.

After what had seemed an age – though it must have been well under a minute – Miss Harding finally addressed me.

To my shocked disbelief and horrified embarrassment, in the full sight and hearing of almost all of the customers in the bank, who were patiently queuing up and waiting their turns to be dealt with at the four bank cashiers' windows, Miss Harding spoke loudly and clearly.

"I am Miss Harding, and I am the manager of this branch of the Northern and General Bank," stated Miss Harding, her voice projecting effortlessly – and alarmingly!

"I have summoned you to the bank this morning, David, in connection with the late monthly repayment of your Personal Loan, in direct contravention of your loan's terms and conditions," Miss Harding informed me – and everyone else in the bank! Hell! It was like she was making a public announcement!

And, Miss Harding had actually used the word 'summoned'. Wait till I told Dad!

Miss Harding continued, stern-voiced, "The Northern and General Bank takes a very dim view – a very dim view, indeed – with regards to the late repayment of its loans," she chided. And Penny, the receptionist, nodded her head in total agreement.

"And, as you will be aware, David – that is, of course, if you have taken the trouble to read the small print pertaining to the Terms and Conditions of your Personal Loan Agreement – we have the right, without the need or obligation to supply you with either written or verbal notice, to change the Terms and Conditions of your Personal Loan Agreement, in the event of your defaulting on it ... And, with immediate effect," added Miss Harding, ominously.

As if they were sharing some private joke, I saw cruel, gleeful smirks beginning to insinuate themselves upon the faces of both Penny, the receptionist, and the manager, Miss Harding.

And then their eyes once again locked onto mine, as Miss Harding now began to conclude her degrading dressing-down of me – conclude our "meeting without coffee" – in front of everyone in the bank!

"David, as you have now defaulted on the Terms and Conditions of your Personal Loan Agreement, with the Northern and General Bank, it is my duty, as manager, to inform you that we have now changed your Terms and Conditions accordingly ... and, with immediate effect."

So absolutely shocked – mortified – was I, at having every customer in the bank listening in, on the belittling, withering reprimand dealt out to me by Miss Harding, that I wanted a hole to open up in the floor, and swallow me up. And, to borrow Miss Harding's words: "With immediate effect!"

And, regardless of what Dad had said, in his angry and bitter castigations of the N&G, such was my disbelieving shock, at this so severe censure, at this so over-the-top ... talking-to, by Miss Harding, that I could only muster a pathetically feeble and inadequate reply in my defence.

"I – I am very sorry, Miss Harding, very, very sorry indeed," I began, in tones of abject apology. "But, you see, I – I had to spend last month's loan repayment on repairs to my car, because the repair bill ended up being a lot higher than the garage's original estimate ... And, of course, as I'm sure you'll appreciate, Miss Harding, I need my car to get to work. So ..." I gave Miss Harding a 'What else could I do?' shrug.

At the bank manager's disturbing, implacable, stony-faced silence, I went on, even more falteringly. "I – I assure you, Miss Harding, I had every intention of making up the shortfall, by paying double next month. And – and it is, after all, the first time I've missed a payment ... So – so you see, Miss Harding, I was going to make it up, next month ... I—"

Cutting me off, dismissively – the interview now over – Miss Harding turned to the receptionist beside her. "I've heard enough. Take him away, please, Penny."

For long moments, I simply sat there: confused, perplexed, baffled ... Take me away? Take me where? And ... what for?

"Er ... excuse me, Miss Harding," I said, "but – but I don't think I quite understand ..."

The receptionist, Penny, picked up a small device from her desk. It was black, and about the same shape and size as a mobile phone. Penny pointed the device at my seat and, nonchalantly – as if she was changing channels on TV – she pressed a button ...

Immediately – and to my utter incredulity – a sort of seat belt snapped across my waist, firmly anchoring me to my seat. Simultaneously, my wrists were securely clamped to the armrests ... I was actually trapped, in my seat!

And such was the measure of my dumbfounded amazement, that I mindlessly obeyed the imperious instruction of the receptionist when she then came from behind her Customer Services Desk, and harshly ordered: "David! Lift up your feet!"

Then; and in full view of the queuing, staring, curious, nudging and pointing bank customers, the receptionist pushed me – like an invalid in a wheelchair in an old people's home, on his way to ... therapy – past the bank cashiers' windows, down a short corridor, and to a security door at the far end.

After tapping out the required digits on the security keypad, the receptionist opened the door, and she pushed me through, into the ... what I afterwards thought of, as the 'Long Room'. Where, seated at their bank cashiers' windows, were the four female bank cashiers of the Northern and General Bank.

The four female bank cashiers, I saw, were situated upon an elevated platform, and a safety-rail ran its entire length, behind their seating positions.

It seemed, to me, as if the four female bank cashiers were placed upon a pedestal. And, to my eyes, they were regal, in the poised and stately manner of their bearing.

Upon this elevated – and, to me, 'elevating' platform – with their backs to me, upon padded black leather stools that were bolted to the floor, the four bank cashiers sat comfortably – importantly – like queens upon their thrones.

But, nothing that had happened so far, could have prepared me for the incredible, mind-blowing shock of what happened next: The truly awesome, life-changing experience that was in store for me, in the Long Room of the Northern and General Bank.

The receptionist, Penny Withers, guided the castors of my seat, sideways, into a pair of grooved runners set into the floor ... The runners, that served as rails, and that ran the length of the Long Room, behind and below the four female N&G bank cashiers' elevated positions.

In the moments before the receptionist had guided the small wheels of my seat into the runners that served as rails, in the haze of my incredulous, initial shock, I had barely registered that there were already another three bank customers; two men and a woman, who were also restrained in their ... 'rail chairs', just as I was.

The three bank customers' 'rail chairs' were, I saw, to my utter astonishment, securely 'coupled' at 'stations', further down the 'line' ... where three of the four N&G bank cashiers were positioned.

And I just could not believe my eyes, at seeing just what my three fellow bank customers were doing – or, rather, what they were being subjected to, by the bank cashiers. "So, David ... Default on your monthly bank loan repayments, will you?" admonished the receptionist as, sideways, she pushed my rail chair along the runners that served as rails.

Then, at coming to a 'branch-line', running off at right-angles – the first of four, in the Long Room – the receptionist guided my rail chair onto it; facing forwards now. She then pushed my rail chair the last few feet forward.

I then found my neck being inserted through a 1-foot-wide opening; my face, mere inches above floor level, as my restrained and seated lower body rolled under the elevated platform of the Long Room – upon which, the four female bank cashiers of the Northern and General Bank were comfortably seated – and then come to a stop ...

I had now arrived at the first 'station'. The first of the four scheduled stops, on the 'Northern and General Line'.

And, when I found that my face was positioned directly behind, and at exactly the same height, as the dark pantyhose, black pump shod feet of the first in line of the four female bank cashiers of the Northern and General Bank, I knew I had ... arrived.

*

From what I could remember, from what I had momentarily seen of the four female bank cashiers of the Northern and General Bank, as I had first entered the building; not least, the dreamy, preoccupied, far-away, and complacently content – serene – expressions on all of their faces, and that they varied widely, both in their ages, and in their attractiveness, I recalled that the bank cashier at whose feet I was now 'stationed', was, I thought, the least attractive of the four N&G bank cashiers.

From my brief impression of her – Cashier Number 4 – I remembered that she was a rather plump-looking woman who, I thought, was not much to look at. And, with her best days clearly behind her – on the wrong side of 40 – over 'The Hill'.

Her best feature, I thought, was her feather-cut styled, ash-blonde hair that, to be fair to her was still rather eye-catching. And she might even have been quite attractive, when she was younger ... back in the day.

Now, though, she was, I thought, definitely 'past it'. On the other side of 'The Hill' – the down-side. Sliding down the slippery slope, of that ever downward spiral.

She was using rather a lot of make-up, too, in her futile fight against Father Time. Not least, the garish, Shocking Pink lipstick that shone out from her lips like an inviting neon sign ... As if she thought she might otherwise go unnoticed.

After coupling my rail chair into position, the receptionist, Penny, bent down and whispered maliciously into my ear. "Now, you'll get what's coming to you. I bet you won't be defaulting again, David ... After this!"

After tapping out the required code on the numerical keypad, the cruel-minded receptionist went out through the security door and back to her Customer Services Desk.

Now I watched, mesmerised ...

For, right in front of my amazed, captivated – and captive! – face, at her becoming aware of my presence, Cashier Number 4's right, dark-hosed foot began to emerge ... slowly, teasingly, tantalisingly – promisingly – from its slightly tight-fitting, black leather office pump.

And I had never in my life been so excited!

I was enraptured, as I watched Cashier Number 4's right, dark-hosed foot reaching back ... slowly, but surely, until it filled my entire vision ... And still, the bank cashier's right foot kept coming ... inching closer ... ever closer ... towards my 'available' face.

Now, I was being consumed, and overwhelmed, by my own – personal brand – of exorbitant interest!

An interest, that in my dad's own words, was "Far too much, and far beyond, and far in excess of what is reasonable, and what would be considered normal by most people, son."

And, because of my exorbitant interest, I was becoming wildly aroused ... Aroused, like never before!

My heart leaped about in my chest, as I greedily drank in every detail – every thrilling, fabulous detail, of that heart-stopping, mind-blowing vision.

I had waited so long!

And now, my long-denied desires were so pent-up, that I was delirious with sheer, pure ecstasy as I watched the bank cashier's right, dark-hosed foot – her sole, coming closer, and closer ... ever closer, towards my waiting and 'available' face.

I saw the glory – the out-of-this-world, wondrous glory – of Cashier Number 4's right, dark-hosed sole.

Saw it, in such perfect, amazing clarity. Saw it, in such glorious, extreme close-up, high-definition detail, that I knew the awesome image was burned onto my retinas – sealed into my memory – for ever.

I saw Cashier Number 4's dark-hosed sole, in such thrilling, such exciting – such arousing! – detail, that I was getting more and more excited by the second ... down there.

Cashier Number 4, who sat at the first 'station' of the 'Northern and General Line' – that is, at the first of the four scheduled stops, at which, as a sanction, defaulting bank customers were to visit – had, I now saw, quite a large and fleshy sole.

Quite broad, too. And with a generous arch; such a deep, wondrous curve between the ball of her foot and her heel, that was so wonderful to behold ... And, I was doing exactly that!

She had a round, hard, and prominent – dominating – heel. And I could see through the teasing, tantalising, gossamer-thin material of her dark hose, rough skin at the outer edges of the bottom of her heel.

But, what excited me – what mesmerised me! – the most, was the amazing, extreme close-up sight, of Cashier Number 4's dark-hose-covered toes, seemingly in slow-motion, coming closer, and closer ... ever closer ... Until, finally – inevitably – the bank cashier's dark-hose-covered toes found my nose, and cupped it ... and locked onto it.

Just exactly, and for all the world, as if that was what my nose was there for.

Now, my shocked amazement was complete! I could not believe that this was happening to me. That this was really, actually happening to me. It was beyond belief!

Through my fantasies, I could only dream of such excitement. Of such exhilaration. Of such incredible pleasure ... Of such fulfilment.

Further along the Northern and General Line, at the other three stations, I could hear the frantic and furious – but useless – struggles and protests of the other three defaulting bank customers. The struggles and protests, of the two men and the woman who had preceded me into the Long Room of the Northern and General Bank.

Restrained in their ... rail chairs, just as I was, I heard my three fellow bank defaulters calling loudly and insistently for 'redress'.

Calling for redress, as, forced to face front, and within the effortless backwards reach of the dark-hosed feet of the Northern and General Bank cashiers – who, upon their elevated platform, like queens upon their thrones; their serfs, at their feet, sat comfortably on their padded black leather stools – the bank cashiers serenely availed themselves of the defaulters' conveniently positioned faces.

The two men; one of whom was about my own age, while the other man was about my dad's age, were stationed at the dark-hosed feet of Cashier Number 1, and Cashier Number 2.

At their perceived ... injustice of their intolerable predicament, they were turning the air blue with their appalling language. Swearing like troopers, they protested vociferously, bitterly and resentfully, claiming that their Human Rights were being violated ... All, to no avail. Their scandalised, profanity-ridden diatribe of high indignation was apparently falling upon deaf ears.

Nevertheless, in outraged tones they continued to rant and rail. Rant and rail, against the hideous, humiliating, heinously tormenting treatment being perpetrated against them – via the backwards reaching, dark-hosed feet of the cashiers of the Northern and General Bank ...

Until Penny, the receptionist, had finally had enough of them. She flounced into the Long Room brandishing some sticking plasters ... and shut them both up. "Right!" she said imperiously. "If you can't take your punishment like a man ..." she said to each of the two men in turn, as she firmly sealed their mouths.

In contrast to the two men's spirited protests, though, I could hear that the woman's star was well on the wane. It was quite plain that she was now losing heart for the 'fight'.

Stationed at the dark-hosed feet of Cashier Number 3, she sounded as if she couldn't take much more; that she was getting close to the end of her tether. Very close.

In fact, she was whimpering, and actually starting to cry. She'd had enough. More than enough.

She was saying "I'm sorry," over and over. She said that she'd learned her lesson, and ... she didn't need Cashier Number 1 and Cashier Number 2 pressing home the point further.

The woman – an elderly lady, who was 75 if she was a day – was reduced to emitting a pathetic, heart-rending, plaintive whine of distress. Pitifully begging and pleading. Beseeching, for blessed release.

And I felt for the elderly lady – of course I did!

After all, she was someone's wife. Someone's mum. Someone's auntie. Someone's grandma.

It tugged at my very heartstrings, listening to the anguished wails of the elderly lady, begging and pleading.

The elderly lady was begging and pleading, for an end to her misery. Begging and pleading, to be released from the diabolical, abominable atrocity, of which she was being so callously, mercilessly, and systematically subjected to, at the dark-hosed, backwards reaching feet of the cashiers of the Northern and General Bank ... So Penny, the receptionist, shut her up too.

The receptionist then turned to me and said, "Those were my last three sealants. So I'll have to pop out for some more, later. You've been quiet, David – you've been taking your punishment like a man. But, if I hear so much as a peep out of you – just so much as a peep! – I'll ... I'll stuff my tights into your mouth – feet first! And don't think that I wont!" she warned me. And then, apparently deciding I was taking her threat seriously, she turned on her heel and headed for the security door.

I thought back to this morning, at the breakfast table. Remembering what Dad had said to me after he'd read my letter from Miss Harding: to prepare myself, for "A bit of a dressing-down." For a "Meeting without coffee."

A "Meeting without coffee?" Hell! Dad didn't know the half of it!

I, though, unlike my three fellow defaulters, did not whinge. Oh no!

I did not struggle! I did not turn the air blue with profane protestations! I did not demand redress! I did not complain about Human Rights violations! I did not petition and plead for an early release. Oh no!

Instead, I inhaled, deeply, of the warm and slightly moist, nose-clutching, nostril-cupping, dark-hosed toes of the bank cashier – Cashier Number 4 – who was comfortably seated in the Long Room, at the first of the four stations of the Northern and General Line.

And, if happiness could be inhaled, I was inhaling it now!

The bank cashier's amazing – arousing! – foot scent, was like some incredible, highly intoxicating hit. Like some exotic aroma, her in-between-the-toes scent filled my head – filled my whole world.