Mailgirls Down Under Pt. 09

Jackson smiled warmly back. "Maybe I would like to watch for a while," she suggested, "I'd like to see you..." It was pretty obvious.

"Well, you're paying," Destinee laughed. She opened her gown, then shook it down off her shoulders. "Do this?" the larger woman asked. She spread her legs and pressed both her hands into her thighs. Destinee was soon pressing her fingers into her pussy. Caught in the moment she closed her eyes, as she reached for the greatest pleasure. She stopped suddenly and looked over at the other woman. "Anyone else getting me doing this like this and just sitting there. I'd take it as an insult."

Jackson seesawed her legs as she ran one hand through her shortish hair, flicked it behind her ear. "Things have changed," she responded, a little upset. "Now I seem to spend the day being looked at, being told what to do. I like these few moments of control."

"Did I misunderstand? I thought you were getting pally with your new boss?" Destinee got up off the bed and stepped towards Jackson.

"Hardly. I'm either supporting her fragile self perception or tagging along with her outside the office as some kind of pet. I don't think she has had much experience of having real friends."

"So why do you do it?" Destinee placed her hands on Jackson's shoulders, gently pressing them with her fingers.

"Maybe you haven't been in the office politics situation? Where things can go bad for you if you're not available for your boss's whims. First they suggest that you go out together for a coffee. And before you know it, it is shopping trips, dinners and attempts at intimacy."

"Sounds terrible. And she hasn't touched you?" Destinee raised Jackson's top over her head, then went behind her so that she could massage Jackson's bare neck.

"Despite having been able to inspect every single aspect of my body and then have me at close range over dinners, in dress shops and such, she not only hasn't laid a finger on me but she hasn't even shown any sexual interest in me at all." Jackson pressed back against the expert fingers.

"What would you do if she did?" Destinee prodded her between the shoulder blades earning a groan from her client.

"I don't honestly know, Destinee. The whole thing between us has been so 'stand away' and sexless that I don't think that I can even anticipate anything happening between us. If she invited me back to her room after dinner, it would probably be to proofread her emails." They both laughed.

"Take the rest off," Destinee suggested.

Jackson pulled a face at the other woman. "It's always sex with you," she complained as she slid her pants down. They were both naked.

"That is generally the case in a place like this," Destinee responded. Jackson did not need a bra, she did not need one to support her firm proud breasts. And she had no underwear beneath her pants either. "I think we'll have you on your front, so I can bash the tension out of your back first." Jackson smiled as she lay herself down on her front. Maybe she did not mind being bossed around. But then at least Destinee who was already teasing the sides of her breasts with her expert fingers really did intend to give Jackson pleasure. And she knew how to.

Destinee worked Jackson's firm buttocks as she chatted. "How's your boss man?" she asked. She reached into the crevice getting first a groan of pleasure then a tightening, a pushback.

"You've never been there before," Jackson checked.

"I'm wearing gloves," Destinee assured her as she pressed a little deeper than before, close to her opening. "Now tell me about your man," she repeated as she pressed a little deeper.

Jackson wriggled a little as she got used to the new sensations that she admitted were not unpleasurable. She thought about how to respond to the question. "Polite, respectful. I don't know if he's being standoffish or if that's just his reaction to me being, I don't know, careful around him and that's the vibe that he is reflecting back." She knew that the answer was not straightforward. But neither were her thoughts on the matter of Mitch.

"You haven't tried anything with him?" Destinee was, as ever, direct.

Jackson relaxed as Destinee moved her practised hands down her inner thighs. "It's a bit hard to suddenly try to seduce him or whatever when I've spent months completely naked with him discussing employment regulations and contract details."

"That's a shame." Destinee laughed.

"Indeed. At least it would be if I was sure I wanted to seduce him." Jackson thought for a moment whether to share. "Oh, there was an incident."

Destinee raised her eyebrows. "Tell me."

Jackson recounted the council of war and how it ended. "The other mailgirls got him to wank me off in front of them."

Destinee chose to be serious about that. "How did you feel?"

Jackson smiled. "Orgasmic." Destinee ran her fingers close to Jackson's outer lips as she spread her legs to encourage the attention.

"And what did he think of it?" Destinee asked.

Jackson smiled at the memory. "The little I took notice of him, he was being staid and office-like. Acting like it was a requirement, that we forced him to do. But then he may have been playing up to all of us there." She thought on that for a moment. "Of course he was," Jackson decided.

"What else is going on there?" Destinee pried.

"They're trying to make us more public." Which was what Jackson really wanted to get off her chest.

Destinee paused her gentle wanking of the mailgirl to make eye contact. "I didn't think they could do that?"

Jackson looked her back. "They can. We're going to be on the tele." She looked unsure.

But Destinee laughed. "You're going to be big time! Friday night SBS?"

Jackson smirked. "I don't think they do that anymore."

Destinee shook her head. "Oh, I think they do. It's usually pretty quiet here Fridays between about 9 and 11. We call it the SBS effect."

Jackson smiled. "I'll have to make that the time to come in."

Destinee got back to stimulating her client. "Well, I can tell you that you won't need an appointment." She had Jackson gently pushing back against her fingers. Then Destinee remembered. "Oh, I shouldn't mention this, client confidentiality and all that. But I've had two girls who come in together who are trying locate a mailgirl."

Jackson started, tensed back from Destinee's touch. "What, they heard that they might find one here?"

Destinee relaxed her back down, working her fingers back around Jackson's thighs. "No, they just talk about mailgirls all the time."

Jackson wondered at that. With no publicity coming out of Harada, she had hoped that everyone had lost interest. But then she knew what was coming. Still she tried to laugh it off. "That's all I need, a fan club. Well, on the other hand, if we're going to be promoted out in the world soon..."

Destinee shook her head. "This is so not like you, indecisive and defensive. Seize the day! Carpe Diem, whatever that means, that was usually you. What has happened?"

Jackson flopped back down. "It's like I was telling you before about the new boss. I've lost my agency. I guess I didn't see it coming. And really didn't realise how much I lost until I started telling you around it. I thought I was still a player, what with the strategising with the other mailgirls and the sneaking out to shop and dine with the new boss. But I'm starting to think that in fact it is all the opposite to being a player. It's more about drifting along in the current."

Destinee rested her hands on Jackson's lower back, just above the rise of her bottom. "What can you do?" she asked.

"Good question." Jackson pondered her situation for a moment. Suddenly she seemed energised. "I have an idea," she announced. She and Destinee shared smiles. "Now," she ordered Destinee, "wank me off. Be as firm as you can. I need a good hard orgasm." Destinee got to work, checking that Jackson was wet then prodding a finger, then another into Jackson. "That's it," Jackson groaned. "Make me cum," she urged. "And keep going until I tell you to stop."

*

Jan Stephenson strode past Betty Cuthbert giving the PA a quick smile. She knocked on Shane Crawford's door and waited, lanky and serious until she got called in. Finding him alone, the statuesque mailgirl decided to play up to him sweeping her wavy blonde hair off her long pale neck and back behind her ear, then teasingly ran a finger from that ear down to her shoulder, turning to look coquettishly at the admiring manager. Of course she was the distance of his room away and Shane was safely behind his desk.

Realising how she was teasing him, Shane affected to be serious. "I'm quite busy," he pretended, "did you come with a message for me?"

Jan stepped forward and enticingly licked her crooked finger while pretending to think about why she was there. "Oh yes," she recalled after a moment, "there is a message." She paused, appearing to try to remember it as Shane ogled her. "Stuart sent me. He wanted to know if you were free for lunch."

Shane smiled and spread his arms dramatically. "You can see how busy I am," he tried. "Snowed under."

"It doesn't snow here," Jan noted dryly. "Shall I tell him one o'clock?" Shane seemed to yield to that and nodded. "By the way," Jan asked, "what's going on with the TV show?"

"Wish I knew," Shane admitted. "Then I would tell you and everyone else to get you all off my back." Jan laughed. "Tell me," Shane asked, "how's he settling in on the eleventh floor?"

Jan reflected his laugh. "He's the only one trying to work there while the builders are finishing the fit-out. They have to try and work around him."

"You're not worried about going up there, being with him alone?"

"The strict family man, I'm sure he wouldn't touch me. Mortal sin and all that."

"They're the worst, they're the ones you have to watch out for," Shane warned with that boyish 'not me' look on his face. Jan shook her head in friendly disbelief. But then Shane became serious. "I've heard stories. If there's anything you need me to do..."

Jan laughed at that and gave Shane a 'what, really?' look which of course he chose not to understand. "And those builders," he remembered, "how are they all treating you? Shouldn't you be careful of them?"

"Ah well, you see," Jan started. She then stopped while she considered whether she should just leave her response there with Shane in a confusion of concern about naked mailgirls having to confront a bevy of builders whenever they had to attend to Stuart. "Those builders..." she continued, teasingly. She shimmied her shoulders as if she was showing off her breasts -- and obviously more -- to a group of leering workmen. What could a mailgirl do?

Shane almost had his tongue hanging right out of his mouth. Jan would have to complete her story before he did himself an injury. "The builders," she restarted, "are all women. And conscientious. They are either concentrating on what they have to do to finish the job. Or giving us mailgirls the occasional pitying look when we have to pass them on the way to Stuart."

"Where did we find them?" Shane gasped, exasperated.

"I was wondering the same thing," Jan responded with a smile, "but for different reasons." She made to head out the door then stopped. "I'll tell Stuart one o'clock, then," she added equally mischievously. Shane was about to retort when Jan turned back towards him. "Oh, I don't have to," she reported. "Here he is!"

And Stuart Broad walked past Jan without acknowledging her and straight up to Shane's desk. "I understand you are ready to go to lunch," he told Shane. And added for insurance, "my shout."

Sitting opposite Shane in the cafe, Stuart watched him closely. "You're looking at the waitress," Stuart cautioned.

Shane looked back Stuart missing any menace in Stuart's tone. "Well," Shane agreed, "she is worth looking at." He smiled. "And I am not being disrespectful, am I? She is an attractive woman and I am not upsetting her or anyone else by enjoying her beauty." He crossed his arms with a look of daring. And a challenge to Stuart. What might he do or say when she came back.

Stuart remained unimpressed. "You are married?" he reminded Shane.

Shane nodded. "I am indeed. And I am looking at the waitress. The two are mutually exclusive."

Stuart shook his head. "I think you'll find that phrase doesn't mean what you think it means."

Shane smiled back. "You don't make friends easily do you? And I know, I'll get a dog or maybe two dogs if I want to make friends, according to your outlook on life. But I know what matters to me. And I prefer the company of happy and contented colleagues." He stared at Stuart who kept a poker face. So Shane continued. "And you are not contented. What is it that you want? Why are you like you are?"

Stuart took a breath before he responded. "I am determined get things working properly in the office. Things need to change. The attitude is all wrong. And it starts with the mailgirls. I know they won't like me."

Shane rocked back in his chair. "I wouldn't have thought you cared," he suggested.

"But it's the disrespect," Stuart tried to explain.

Shane gave him a surprised look. "Ah, you want them to respect you."

Stuart looked sternly back. "I want them to realise where their real place is in this company."

"What's that?" Shane countered.

"They are at the bottom, the most disposable of employees, and morally..." Stuart gnashed his teeth at the thought of the mailgirls flaunting their bodies around him, revelling in their immodesty. He didn't tell Shane this, but Shane could read his expression and got a pretty good idea.

"Just as well the TV show didn't interview you," Shane noted.

Stuart seemed emboldened, taking on that challenge. "Next time. Now let me demonstrate what I mean." He called over to the waitress Shane had been ogling who was now leaning against the counter. She wandered over and smiled down at him. Stuart smiled back up at her. She was tall with short straight dark-hair, thin but showing a prominent bust. She let the men get an eyeful. "Would you like to be a mailgirl?" Stuart asked suddenly.

The waitress looked at him, nonplussed. "What's that?" she asked.

Stuart was caught by surprise. "You don't know?"

"If I knew would I be asking you?" the waitress drawled, possibly aping Stuart's American twang. "I assume you are offering me this job because you think it pays better than waitressing?"

Stuart nodded. 'It sure does."

"And what would I have to do?" the waitress asked.

Stuart looked past her as he explained. "Deliver mail."

Shane rapped his fingers on the table. "Tell her," he urged.

Stuart kept his gaze focussed past the waitress. "Without your clothes on," he added.

The waitress shook her head. "You're kidding!" she exclaimed. She stared at Stuart who made it clear that he was serious. The waitress swore and shook her head. But she remained hovering over the two men rather than scamper. Stuart reached into his wallet and offered a business card to her. She studied it. "I've never heard of this company," she noted somewhat calmer after her outburst. "It can't be a very good company if you want women to walk naked around there all the time. What do you do, stare at them as they show off for you?" Stuart said nothing. She kept the card, put it in her pocket. And then gave Stuart a serious look. "I'll mention it at my study group," she told him. Then she gave him a smile for the customer. "No more orders at the moment?" The men shook their heads. She went back to the counter.

Stuart looked triumphantly at Shane. "You see. She's interested, she took the card."

Shane looked bemused. "Didn't you hear her? She is going to tell her study group. She's going to pray for you. She's probably also going to organise a demonstration."

*

After the cafe closed the waitress and a colleague were cleaning and arranging the tables and chairs. She had already told the bulk of the story. "So I told them I'd mention it to my study group," she added.

The colleague started. "You never mentioned a study group..." Then she realised, as they both laughed. "So are you tempted?"

The waitress smiled. "You never know. I may just turn up there one day and find out what it's all about. Ask to see this Stuart Broad," as she read his job title on the card. "Big man," she added, "decision maker."

The colleague waited until they made eye contact to check. "You've never heard of mailgirls?"

The waitress screwed up her face. "What do you think?" They both howled with laughter.

*

Lindsay looked up as the mailgirl entered her office. She held her stern glare watching her approach the desk. "Sit down Jackson, please," she ordered.

Jackson gave her a curious smile. "You're very formal."

Lindsay did not change her tone. "Not at all," she replied without any warmth. "Nice to catch up. Sorry, I've been distracted." Lindsay looked Jackson in the eye then smiled dangerously, like a Cheshire cat. "I've been missing out," she added.

Jackson looked concerned. "You have?"

Lindsay continued. "Indeed. I hear that you and Mitch put on quite a show."

Jackson sat back in her chair, relaxed her hands on the armrests. "Oh, you heard."

Lindsay nodded, ever so slightly. "I overhear things. Not everything that happens in this office happens without me hearing about it."

Jackson pulled a confused face. "A strange way of putting it."

Lindsay ignored that. "And now here we are, the team. Me behind my desk running this company and you sitting there completely exposed, waiting for me to give you an order." Lindsay picked up a pen, then flattened a sheet of paper on the desk in front of her, poised as if to write something and then stopped. "I'm curious to see if your tongue is sharper in this situation. Completely bare and vulnerable to my whims. While, look at me, dressed like I work here."

Jackson did not respond. But she tightened her grip on the seat. Then rather than cover her breasts she arched her back and spread her legs a little.

Lindsay ignored that and continued. "Do you like this, the humiliation?"

"No," Jackson responded, "it's not humiliation."

Lindsay continued as if she had not heard the negation. "I think you like it. Sitting naked and exposed there..."

Jackson sighed "...remembering being free to endure..."

Lindsay patted the corner of her desk. "You could of course..."

Jackson shook her head. "No, not in the mood," she responded firmly.

Lindsay relented. "I won't push the issue. I'll let you contemplate it later when you are alone." She gave Jackson her most triumphant smile. "Maybe when you are watching mailgirls on the TV." Lindsay held her stare.

Jackson started at that. She was not pleased at all at Lindsay's insinuations. But she decided to push things. Spreading her legs wide, Jackson ran a teasing finger down her stomach. "Maybe," she cooed, "you don't know what you are missing out on." She held Lindsay's stare as she let her finger stray as low as her bush. Jackson felt a very small pang. She was enjoying this.

*

Emily turned to Cara as the stripper introduced as Candy strode naked off the stage, breaking her sex goddess character to collect her clothes while about half of the dozen or so men around the stage clapped politely. "I don't see the point," Emily whispered.

An old guy gripping a beer tapped Cara on the shoulder with his free hand. "You up next luv," he asked. Her shoulder was bare courtesy of the thin straps of the little black dress Emily had insisted she wore.

Cara glared at the man's hand that was still close to her bare arm. "In your nightmares," she snapped at him.

"Sorry," added Emily, "we're here for research purposes only." Which seemed to satisfy the old guy who wandered off as the DJ pumped up the volume heralding the next act.

Cara returned to Emily's issue. "The point is that men want to see naked women. And they are prepared to pay."