Judicial Punishment Lottery Pt. 08

"But coffee!"

"He's ten years older than you."

"Yea, but look at those arms! He looks like he could bench-press a small truck."

"Stop it, you twit!"

Oblivious of the inner dialogue bouncing about in Margo's head, the Station Chief had sat back down and, with a smile, had continued his talk, "I appreciate the situation in which you find yourself here is less than ideal, and the enforced nudity must certainly make things difficult and embarrassing, but you are not the first person to carry out their Community Service here with us. The authorities prefer placements in official or government-based institutions such as Police Stations, Custody Centres, Fire Stations and the like as a means of having folk around who are both accountable and who can protect you from unwarranted and unwelcome attention. Even so, it's not ideal.

"Mrs. McGilvery will look after you, I'm sure, and the lads and lasses stationed here are used to seeing the occasional naked person working away. Though I'm sure they'll be delighted to see it's someone as attractive as yourself. But I suspect that after a few days," he chuckled, "maybe a bit longer in your case, the novelty will wear off, and you'll just be another work-placement."

The man cleared his throat in what looked like embarrassment, "Um, with that being said, they may occasionally make a few, let's say "suggestive" or perhaps overly flirtatious comments that perhaps they shouldn't, but they're a good bunch for all that and I hope you won't take offence. Of course, if any of them go over the score, or harass you in any way that makes you uncomfortable, you are to let me know immediately, and I'll happily boot their backsides for them," he grinned, "or if you feel particularly aggrieved just tell Mrs. McGilvery. They're all terrified of the woman."

Margo smiled at the comment. She could well imagine the redoubtable no-nonsense matron tearing strips off anyone foolish enough to draw her ire.

"I'm no wallflower, Sir. I doubt I'll need to bring anything to your attention."

He laughed, "You might be doing Community Service, but nobody says you have to take any shit. This is Glasgow Miss DeVries, not Canterbury Cathedral. Feel free to use my services if things get out of hand, but as long as it all stays friendly you may fight your own battles as you see fit. Just remember, like Mrs. McGilvery, I'm your supervisor while you are here. As such, you should bear in mind that if they annoy me, I can make my displeasure known by giving them shit jobs. You, on the other hand, I can, and will, take a belt to your posterior for that very same reason."

His brow furrowed in thought, "Um, as an aside. Some of these guys love a good wind-up..."

She interrupted, "Sorry, what's a wind-up?"

"A practical joke of sorts. So, if any of them pretend they have the authority to put you over their knee or whatever nonsense they come up with, you may feel free to either tell them to fuck off, or if they're being a pain in the arse, just let me know, and I'll sort it out."

"Thank you, Sir."

"It's Rob," he laughed, "well, it's Rob as long as nobody's annoyed me. Don't worry; just like everyone else, you'll soon know when that happens."

...

It took Margo a little while to get into the swing of things, and sometimes she had to fight to shake off the mopish feelings of loneliness that sometimes haunted her, but she was anything if not determined. She might have fallen far in the last couple of years, but strangely the events of the last few weeks had maybe helped her find something inside her that she'd long thought lost.

She would get up at five, be ready to leave the prison by six, and by seven, she was sharing a coffee and some breakfast with Mrs. McGilvery. And if the woman thought it strange to be eating her morning toast and marmalade across the table from a naked American woman while discussing the day's news, she never once let it show. It was as if she had simply dismissed Margo's lack of clothes as "one of those things", and therefore so entirely unremarkable as to be unworthy of mention.

Margo thought the woman was amazing, and often wondered exactly what level of craziness it would take to even make a dent in her unshakable aplomb. She suspected nothing so trivial as, say, a zombie apocalypse would even give her pause. She'd simply shake her head and tut with disapproval before telling them in no uncertain terms to, "Shoo!"

While Mrs. McGilvery was clearly a formidable woman, she was right when she described her abilities with, "That bloody machine!" as woeful, and the confusing mess Margo found on the computer took days to fix. She practically had to scrub the thing clean, download and install updated software and then rebuild the entire database almost from scratch, but by the time she was done, it was running smoothly.

When she showed Mrs. McGilvrey the results of her labours the woman was simply delighted. The accounts were all neatly kept, the list of donations and deliveries was fully updated and trackable, and Margo had spent endless hours making a complete inventory of available stock, all listed and with foodstuffs sorted according to the myriad "use by" and "best before" dates.

In between working in the office and the storeroom Margo would find herself cleaning in the kitchen or mopping floors. At one time she would have taken umbrage at the very thought of doing such menial tasks and probably looked down on those that did them, but now she just saw them as jobs that needed doing. It also helped that she could see that she was not alone, or being picked on, and all the volunteers were pitching in.

From the outset, she saw that Mrs. McGilvrey was doing her best to shield her from unwanted attention and, for the most part, kept her in the office or the store, and out of sight of the customers who used the soup kitchen, and Margo was incredibly grateful. But she was also determined not to hide and play the victim. She had gotten herself into this mess, and so she could just live with the consequences.

So, when the fire crews returned from jobs, and it was time to take them a cup of tea or a sandwich from the kitchen, Margo volunteered.

A couple of the other people working with her shook their heads and offered to do it for her, but Mrs. McGilvrey eyed the woman and nodded in understanding. She gave Margo a knowing smile and sniffed, "Quite right, my dear. If you have no choice but to pander to this nonsense, then you may as well own it. "Illegitimi non carborundum" I say! You show them that you won't be shamed, and they're damned lucky to have the opportunity to feast their eyes upon a lovely young woman like yourself in all her natural glory."

Margo grinned, "Thanks Mrs. McGilvery."

"Oh tosh! I'm only saying what is patently true. And please, it's Josephine."

The first day she had delivered the tea and sandwiches had caused quite a stir and more than a few hushed comments amongst the crews, but by the fifth day, nobody batted an eye, though there were still more than a few cheeky comments.

"Hey, Margo, you put extra milk in my tea, or have you just stirred it with one of yer nipples?"

But others were just as quick to come to her defence, "Och, leave the quine alone, ye cheeky wee prick."

"Too right, it's a wee prick! I saw it in the showers, I think. I mean, I couldna be sure cos I didna have my microscope wi me."

"That's not what you said that night after the work's dance."

"I wis drunk! It was a sympathy shag!"

And sometimes she would blush as she heard a few whispered remarks.

"Jesus, Bill, did you see the woman's arse? It's fucking awesome!"

"Do ye think she'd be mad if I took a snap on my phone?"

"I'm fucking sure your wife will be. She'll cut yer knob off if she sees it."

"Might be worth it."

"Cannae argue wi ye there, man."

There were two crews stationed at the Firehouse comprising nine men and three women. They were a tight-knit bunch, which was hardly surprising given the jobs they did and the risks they sometimes took. They were forever playing practical jokes on each other, and Margo suspected it was probably an outlet of some kind given the things they sometimes saw.

She could tell by the mood in the Muster Room when they had attended some horrible road accident or gone to a job where someone had died. They were morose and thoughtful for a spell, but then they just seemed to draw a breath and shake off, and to Margo it was an amazing thing to witness.

She was allowed to use the gym and other facilities at the Fire House and was glad of a hot shower at the end of a hard day. Usually, Margo would finish up about six in the evening, grab a shower, dress and go for a walk before heading back to the prison.

She would get back by eight or nine and read for a bit before collapsing in her bed, ready for the next day.

When Josephine found out she'd been coming in for a couple of hours on Sunday mornings she'd immediately arrived at the station and dragged Margo off to her house in Bearsden for Sunday dinner. The woman was a widow and her children had long grown up, so she lived alone in a sizeable property.

They had talked long into the evening and Margo had marveled at the woman's stories. In fact, she almost choked when she found out...

"Wait! You were an actress and an underwear model! I thought you were a teacher or something!"

"I was a dancer too, and its lingerie my dear, and me? A teacher? Oh, dear Lord, can you imagine! It would have been mayhem," she leaned close, "I'm afraid I was a teensy bit wild in my younger days. Are you sure I can't temp you with a gin and tonic?"

Josephine laughed at the womans wide eyed stare, "You should see yourself my dear; you look like you've seen a Martian. You know, I still have a few of my portfolios. A bit vain of me to keep them I know, but would you like to see them?"

"Oh, this I've got to see."

The photo album contained dozens of what looked like professionally taken shots. The woman in the pictures was much younger, but still easily recognisable as Josephine McGilvrey. The images showed her in an assortment of outfits and a variety of poses ranging from the tasteful to the extremely daring.

Margo lifted a picture of the woman lying back on a chez lounge wearing only sheer stockings and an alluring smile, and she whistled, "Woah, you were hot!"

"Oh, that's one of my favourites! It was taken on my twentieth birthday. My late husband particularly enjoyed me in those stockings."

"I just bet he did!"

The older woman giggled as she sipped her drink, "I never told my children about these. I'm just hoping after I'm gone that I'm looking down, or up more likely, when they find the albums. The look on their faces will be simply priceless!"

Margo so enjoyed the evening of chatting that she almost missed her bus. Josephine offered to drive her home but given the quantity of gin the woman had imbibed Margo thought it probably unwise. As it was, she made it back to the prison by the skin of her teeth, literally jogging up to the gate as the chimes of ten o'clock began to sound.

Given that her behaviour up till then had been exemplary the Warden had been inclined to overlook the slip for the most part and only gave her a minor scolding, and a couple of demerits just to make her point. Margo was careful to work them both off by the end of the week.

It could have been a bit of a mixed blessing when the firefighters started to include her in their pranks, but Margo took it as a sign of being accepted. On one occasion in particular her towel had yet again been stolen when she had been taking a shower and she stomped into the muster room soaking wet, with her long blonde hair hanging down in an uncombed mess almost to her butt, "For fucks sake guys, you've seen me naked enough times. Stop stealing my towel!"

They were waiting of course, with cellphones out, and the next day a spectacular photograph of her in all her glory was pinned to the notice board under the words, "Caption Contest."

She paused to read a few of the suggestions written underneath, "I'm not doing that, or that, or... is that one even possible. I'm definitely not doing that! Hmm, she's kinda cute, I probably would do that. I might do that, and... Holy shit all of them! No way!"

Turning, she saw the Station Chief watching her. The man grinned, "You okay there, Margo? Anything bothering you?"

"Nope! Not a thing."

He smiled and nodded, "As long as you're okay with it. Just mind and say if anyone goes too far."

Margo nodded and smiled back, "It's okay, Rob. They've all been really kind, and this," she pointed at the pin up. "I think this is them laughing with me, not at me. Does that sound weird?"

"Nah, I think they like you," he waved his hand at her, "and not just because of the obvious, though I bet that helps. But you're a good worker, and a good sport. And I saw you giving Gwen a wee hug when she needed it the other day after we got back from that incident. And if I saw it, so did they."

The man turned to amble off, looking for all the world like a large piece of heavy machinery that had just decided to get up and go for a casual stroll, "Oh, I just brewed a fresh pot of coffee, just go in and help yourself if you fancy a cup."

Margo watched him go and licked her lips. But she wasn't sure if it was because of the thought of fresh coffee, or maybe something else...

It was a couple of days later, when she was delivering a tray full of sandwiches to the Muster Room, that "Big" Tam Ferguson spoke up. "Oi Margo! I've got a wee bone to pick with you."

She turned, "That's funny, Tom, because I heard from a reliable source that it wasn't that "wee."

Fiona snorted, "I told ye not to say anything, Margo! He'll just get a big heid now."

Margo grinned, and turned back to the man, "What is it I can do for you, Mr. Ferguson?"

"Aye, well, it's Tam, no Tom. And I'd like to know how this got intae my sandwich?"

The man held up a long strand and Margo could clearly see it was a hair, a long, very blonde hair.

Tam scowled, "This is jist no good enough, Margo. In fact, I think I'll away and complain to Rob about this. I'm sure he'll sort you oot."

Margo surreptitiously looked about the room and sure enough everyone was watching her and grinning in obvious anticipation, "This is a prank, they're hazing me."

Deciding to play along she took a step closer to the man and her voice was almost a whimper, "Oh, please don't do that! I could get in trouble!"

"Well, you should have thought of that before you started shedding in my scran."

She moved closer still, "Please, I like it here, and he might... punish me," she looked down at the floor, "with his belt."

Tam grinned, "Well, I suppose I could no tell him, but..."

Margo gave him a desperately hopeful look, "But?"

"Well, I don't think you should get off scot-free after all. In fact, think it's only fair that you get a wee spanking, so you learn your lesson."

"From you?"

"Aye."

"And you promise not to tell Rob?"

"Seems fair."

Margo's smile could have lit the room, and she threw her arms around the man, "Sold American!"

Tam's face was one of mixed shock and delight, "What, really?"

"Oh, yes, Tam. And you can spank me as hard as you like, give me a real thrashing, and I won't complain. You can absolutely tan my ass as much as you want, as long as you don't tell Rob."

"Oh, hey now, lass, I was only kidding. I'd no hurt ye. In fact, you dinnae have to dae anyth-"

"Oh no, Tam, I deserve a spanking, I really do, um, but..."

His brow furrowed in suspicion, "But?"

"Well, you can spank my ass if you like, but I have a couple of conditions."

"What conditions?"

"Well, I'll go over your knee, as long as she goes over mine," Margo turned and pointed at Firefighter Isla Buchanan, "oh, and for every spank you give me, I'm going to give her two."

Isla was a short, attractive young woman with dark hair and dark eyes, nicknamed, "The Pocket Rocket" because of her diminutive size and fiery nature. She had an impish face and tendencies to match, and everyone knew she was the instigator in more than a few practical jokes. She was also probably the most determined woman Margo had ever met, and Margo also knew it would be a cold day in Hell before she let her teammates see her back down, from anything.

Isla feigned innocence, "Me? What the fuck has this got to do with me?"

"Well, Isla, I don't actually make the sandwiches, and even if I did, I always have my hair tied up in the kitchen. But yesterday, you came into the shower room while I was in there, and I saw you playing with my hairbrush. I just thought you wanted to borrow it, but now..."

More than a few of the onlookers laughed and called out, "Ah, Isla, yer caught! Pay up, lass! If ye cannae take a joke, you shouldna be playin."

Isla rolled her eyes, "Fine! I was just having a laugh. Tam's been staring at yer backside all week, so I was trying to do him a favour. I knew he wouldna ever hurt ye."

Tam blushed, "Sorry, Margo, but ye cannae blame me for staring; you've got a fantastic arse and no mistake."

There were murmurs and nods of assent.

Margo smiled at the man, "No harm done, Tam, better staring at my butt than my tits."

"But you've got great tits as well."

"Yes, but staring at a ladies' tits is just rude, Tam."

Isla, Gwen and Fona all nodded in agreement.

The man pursed his lips, "So, hang on a sec. If I put you over my knee, then Isla gets a hiding as well?"

"Yup, only double."

Isla jumped to her feet with a laugh, "You touch that lass Tam Ferguson, and you're a fucking dead man!"

"Oh, now I dunno. I think I'd quite like to see that. How about the rest of you?"

This time the shouts were downright enthusiastic.

Gwen winked at Margo before turning to the woman next to her, "What's it to be then, Isla? You backing oot?"

Margo shook her head, knowing what was coming next. And sure enough the short Fire-Fighter didn't just take the bait, she swallowed it, hook, line and sinker.

"Me! Backing out! No fucking way. You just wallop away there big man. Er... Margo, I'll give ye a chance to maybe compose yourself a wee bit after he's done and come down to your office later on, so we can, well... You know."

Margo laughed, "Oh Hell no! If I'm getting spanked on my bare ass here in front of everyone, then so are you. Otherwise, it's a forfeit."

The smaller woman shook her head and muttered, "How do I get into these things? Fine! Er, hang on, what would I forfeit?"

Tam spoke up, "Well if you forfeit, I'm gonna tan yer arse anyway, and then stick a picture of it up on the board for a "Caption Contest."

"Oh, de ye bloody think so? You and who's army?"

Gwen, Fiona and several others stood up, and Isla sighed, "Fuck! Me and my big mouth."

Tam moved in his seat, and laughing, he gestured to his lap, "There you go, lass, be my guest."

Margo slithered across his lap, brushing her body playfully over his groin and eliciting a hiss from the man, "Aw, fuck Margo! Seriously?"

Settling herself, on her tiptoes, with her legs kept straight, her posterior was perfectly raised and gloriously curved, while her firm breasts jiggled slightly as she moved into position and her long blonde hair hung almost to the floor. She giggled, "Hey Tam, is that a gun your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

Tam looked at the fantastic sight before him and, blowing out a shaky breath, he stroked his hand across the woman's bottom, eliciting a sigh, "Sweet Jesus, Margo, that's awesome."

Leaving the palm of his hand cupping and stroking one cheek, he leaned close to her and whispered, "You sure about this? I mean, we were only playing. I was just gonna cop a feel, I'd never have actually hit ye."