Mailgirls Down Under Pt. 10

For those joining for the first time, all you need to know is that after months of secrecy, the Melbourne mailgirls are about to appear on prime time television. Needless to say, there is apprehension in the office.

Jan Stephenson was feeling a little wicked as she strode into the open plan area of the tenth floor. The tall athletic mailgirl knew that she always got a lot of attention from the predominately male IT staff working at their desks between her and Mitchell Johnson's office near far wall, which was her destination. It was now his office since he was no longer the boss of the office but assigned to special projects.

Jan had been a promising talent in the IT department when she used to work in clothes and had long ago rationalised the attention her totally naked body got from her once colleagues. And she played up to them. She sidled up to her old boss's desk and stood up straight in front of him knowing that he was staring at her firm breasts and small, hard nipples. God, she enjoyed this.

"Les," she purred at her former boss, "do you have any projects for me?" As she asked him, she flexed a knee wide knowing that her slit was now at his eye level. And he was looking straight there, speechless. "Oh well," Jan dramatically sighed, brushing her hair back in place which also shimmered her breasts for the IT manager's appreciation, "maybe next time," as she continued on towards Mitch's office. Les would never guess that she had hacked the mailgirls app and was now working on backdooring the rest of the office comms.

Jan found Mitch clearly biding his time in his isolated office. "Busy?" she asked him.

"What do you think?" he smiled. Jan smiled back at the former boss who had always been caring and respectful to her. She gave him an apologetic look with the news that Lindsay Davenport, his replacement, wanted to meet him 'as soon as he was free'. Which meant straight away. He got, ready to face the new boss.

Lindsay Davenport looked straight into Mitch when he entered her office. "You get a lot of mailgirl messages from the rest of the office," she started. He found it hard to tell if she was admiring or suspicious.

Mitch replied, offhand. "Most of those are from Shane. And most of those are premium wine tips or restaurant suggestions." Shane Crawford, deputy formerly to Mitch and now to Lindsay, was in the habit of what he called 'enhancing the work environment' or as others may think of it, avoiding his office responsibilities. So Mitch's assertion was plausible. Except that Mitch was in on Jan's hack and let the mailgirls use his office as a safe haven.

Lindsay seemed unconvinced though. "I don't see that many mailgirls on my floor," she pointed out. Shane's office was next to hers after all.

Mitch smiled. "You wouldn't see them coming and going from Shane's office when you are at your desk, I'm sure that there are many," he tried. "Maybe you're not using them enough? Or working too hard?" He made a mental note to warn the mailgirls to be more visible to Lindsay. But boy did he enjoy riling her. His wife was right. Lindsay could do nothing to him about it. He was untouchable.

*

Shane was back at the Sad Cafe. And was being served by the same waitress as the previous day, the one with attitude.

"I see you didn't bring your friend," she noted, waiting for his order. Referring to Stuart Broad, the manager newly arrived from the States with some problematic views about mailgirls. And about Australians in general. Shane was glad to be free of him. Even though there was a reason he was there alone.

"How did things go in the study group?" Shane countered the waitress with a grin suggesting he had worked her out. "And he's not my friend." Shane knew the study group did not exist, yet he imagined getting an invitation to debate the morality of naked women wandering an office with such people.

"Not your friend. That much was obvious," the waitress answered back. "Tell me, can he really get me work as a mailgirl?" For some reason, Stuart had held the opportunity out to her. Shane had no idea what that was about at all.

"I have no idea," Shane told her. "Depends if we're actually hiring. But you do have the attributes for it."

"What does that mean?" she asked, suspicious.

Shane gave her his boyish smile, the one designed to disarm. "It means that you are not unattractive and you are clearly capable of spending long periods on your feet."

"Thanks, I'll put that on my CV. Now what do you want to eat?"

Shane told her, and then looked deeply at her. "I'm here for a private meeting. Discrete and all of that. So if you could respect that when my guest appears, that would be great."

The waitress smiled. "I guess so. Although I need to discuss the ethics of that with my study group, you know." She smiled. Then thought for a moment. "Tell me, are you imagining me naked, in your office delivering messages?" She even posed, breasts thrust a little forward, legs astride.

Shane looked her up and down. "Well now I have a picture," he agreed.

"A picture?" She looked worried.

Shane shook his head. "A mental image," he corrected.

"Ah okay." She looked relieved. "Is it hard?" she wondered.

Shane stared down at his crotch. "Not particularly," he wondered.

She realised and giggled. "Not you, the job."

Shane of course was not at all embarrassed. "Looks like more work for the study group." He grinned that grin. "It depends. Have you ever spent all day wandering around naked amongst clothed workers?"

She shook her head. "Not much of an opportunity for it here."

Shane raised his eyebrows. "Well, there is one way to find out." They both smiled, probably for different reasons. The door swung open and Shane looked to the entrance. A middle aged man wearing dark glasses and carrying a large black bag was standing there. Shane nodded to the waitress who saw the man at the door too because that was her job. She went over and directed him to Shane.

The reporter kept his sunglasses on as the two men introduced themselves to each other. "Are you trying to attract attention to yourself?" Shane asked. The reporter raised one eyebrow above the glasses. "The sunglasses," Shane explained. Then checked himself. "You're not blind?" he asked.

"Oh, forgot I had them on." He removed them, revealing piercing blue eyes. He stared hard at Shane and got straight to the point. "I was hoping we had an arrangement."

"You're the press Johnny," Shane replied, "so we'll never let you into the building." He shrugged. "No journos inside," although he knew that was not the case.

The reporter Johnny O'Keefe shook his head. "You know that's not the case. We've all seen the trailers. Whatever's going to air on Tuesday night. That could have been us, trustworthy quality content. We're the ABC."

Shane explained to him that they had only let the crew in because of all the stringent conditions they had agreed to, what with the chances of others going in with hidden cameras secreted on their person or even just the chance for them to report outside the agreement on what they may or may not have seen. Privacy laws be damned. "We had total control over this one," Shane explained. "I would guess that sort of thing is not what your show would call journalism."

The waitress came back with their coffees. "I'm Monika," she told Johnny as she extravagantly placed his coffee in front of him, with a little thrust of breast thrown in. Shane looked at her curiously but she affected not to notice. Johnny looked determined, with those steel blue eyes of his. Monika lingered. "Can you make me a mailgirl?" she asked him.

For once, the reporter looked flustered. "No, I think you've got the wrong person. You should be asking him." He gestured at Shane.

"I already have," she complained. Shane affected not to look at Monika, so she started to move away.

"Are you going to tell me anything about your mailgirl program?" Johnny asked Shane.

Shane tried the charm. "What mailgirl program?" he asked. Monika's ears pricked up. She wasn't that far away from them and she stopped where she was.

Johnny sighed. "The one that your ultimate boss Mr Harada said publicly that you are running?" he tried.

Monika stepped back towards the two men, assessed the situation and grabbed a free chair from another table and sat down between them. "Yes, that program," she added staring at Shane, "the one you told me about."

Shane tried to ignore her and looked at Johnny. "Have you tried talking to him? If he knows all about it? Just phone him in Japan."

Johnny looked at Monika, trying to work out what sort of support she was giving him. "We tried," he told Shane. "His office says that there is nothing more to say about it than what he has already said in public."

Shane screwed up his face. "That doesn't sound like him. Usually you can't stop him talking about mailgirls." He laughed, to try to finish the topic.

"So I need to contact this Mr Harada?" Monika asked.

Shane looked horrified at her. "I wouldn't do that. You won't know where you might end up. By the way aren't you supposed to be working?"

Monika smiled at him as she looked around the cafe. "All under control. And are you supposed to be having clandestine meetings outside the office so no one knows?"

Johnny smiled. "She makes a good point." He looked to Monika. "Maybe you should leverage it." Then he looked back to Shane as he pulled a laptop out of his bag. "There's something I'd like you to look at." Shane sensed the ground was moving, to judge by Johnny's body language. He had a video cued up on the laptop.

In a grainy video a woman was kneeling naked on the floor of a cafeteria in the most common mailgirl pose. She had what must have been a phone strapped to her arm. To the edge of the image, people were standing around and to judge from the soundtrack they were supporting her protest. Suddenly the camera pulled back revealing another two women undressing and also strapping their phones to their arms. The three women led a chant which sounded like "The clothes stay on!" The video ended.

Johnny sat back and crossed his arms, holding strong eye contact with Shane. "Are they your mailgirls?" he probed.

Shane reclined back seemingly unaffected by the interrogation. "The footage is rather low quality. I can tell you that it is not our lunchroom. I can't say for sure that I have ever seen these woman before," he said. "Maybe they're actors?" What he did not say was that he recognised Mitch's daughter Emily as the instigator. But he relied on his casual demeanour, his easy going image to gloss over that, assuming any interest he showed was all about him ogling some girls naked in public in the short video. He looked back at the reporter. It seemed to have worked.

Then Monika grabbed the laptop. "Let me have a look," she insisted. Shane looked worried as Johnny agreed. What if Monika knew Emily? What were the odds? She ran the video again, concentrating on it while the men watched her. She nodded. "I know that place. It's the University of Melbourne cafeteria."

"Are you sure?" Shane reflexively asked. Johnny looked intent.

Monika snorted. "I studied there for a year," she huffed. Then noticed Shane was looking to pooh-pooh her statement. "I studied there for a year," she repeated to Johnny then turned to Shane. "Bachelor of Waitressing," she snorted.

Johnny sunk his coffee. "You've both been very helpful," he sniffed as he packed up his laptop and left. He glared at Shane on his way out. "You haven't," he added.

"That was sudden," Monika noted, looking at the empty chair Johnny had so quickly vacated. She thought for a moment. "Where did he get that footage?"

Shane looked towards the entrance of the cafe, but Johnny was already gone. "Good question," he agreed. "I should have asked him." He looked back to Monika. "Still mailgirl curious?" he asked.

Monika looked back at Shane across the table. "How do they do it?" she asked.

He knew what she meant. "Easy. They come in in the morning, take their clothes off and sort of go with the flow."

"Sounds like a hoot," she smiled. "Any chance?"

Shane sighed. "You've got to be sure. It's a severe career choice. Think of what you'll be doing and the attitudes towards it here. You have to think of your future," he added probably a bit too desperately. He could not believe that he had actually said that.

The cliché seemed to steel Monika. She waved her hand around the room to make her point. She leant forward fixed him with her large strong dark eyes. "And I'm thinking of my future here?"

Shane looked for some middle ground. "What were you studying there?" he asked.

Monika put a hand flat on the table but Shane ignored it. "Architecture. But I needed some money to you know, eat and stuff, so I deferred after first year."

So now Shane was in a quandary. Monika actually was thinking about her future.

*

Jackson wandered through the IT section carrying her laptop to Mitch's office. She usually chose to avoid eye contact with the crowd in there having sensed that keeping aloof from them was good strategy. Although it was not yet clear to her for what. But out of the corner of her eye she saw someone beckoning her over. Ah well, she decided. Since she was not doing a mailgirl message delivery, no hurry. But for some reason, having stepped off her direct path to Mitch's office and in amongst the IT workers, she felt more naked than usual as she pressed through the closely positioned desks. She felt eyes peeking at her from close range, pretending not to be looking, as she squeezed between the desks towards the one person who was staring at her, Simon O'Donnell, who had called her over.

"Simon," she started when she was close enough. She pressed the laptop to her breasts not coyly, she was sure, but because that was the most comfortable place to hold it as she stood facing the programmer. Anyway, her pussy was very much on display to Simon who was trying to look at the laptop and her face. "Do you want something?" she asked a little brusquely since she did have an appointment. He seemed subdued but also somewhat eager.

"Sorry," he flustered back, "I was wondering..." he started. Jackson stared at him, not helping. "Fanny," he blurted, "what can you tell me?"

Jackson smiled, his intention was so obvious, Fanny had beguiled him intentionally or otherwise. Fanny of the large firm breasts which no doubt he had yet to touch, so close and so openly on display throughout the office. And so memorable. Jackson had felt those breasts, massaged them, learning how sensitive to her touch they were. And Jackson had seen Fanny show poor Simon just that little amount extra of attention, attention which had evidently given him hope. Jackson apologised that she was busy but she would talk to him when she was finished. Simon thanked her as she turned and strode away to make her call.

The call was to her ex-colleague Heather McKay who was now at Harada Industries in the States. It was their regular catch-up. Of course Jackson told Heather about Simon straight away when she got through to her in her apartment in the States, Jackson alone in Mitch's office. "Does she know?" Heather immediately chortled.

Jackson thought about Fanny's recent behaviour around her. "I'm pretty sure that she does," she answered as she realised that indeed was the case.

"Great goss! Keep me informed!" was Heather's response.

"So, it's set for Tuesday," Jackson revealed, the date of the broadcast.

Heather smiled. "Welcome to the twenty-first century. You'll be just like us once that cat is out of the bag."

Jackson pulled a face. "Just like us? Don't forget you're one of us. You are just visiting there."

"Well, let me tell you about that," Heather smiled. But she stopped and turned around as the statuesque American mailgirl Chrissy loudly strode in and up to the screen to give her fellow mailgirl a passionate kiss. "Chrissy is not going to want to hear this," Heather resumed, "but I'm still the most popular mailgirl here. They're not going to let me go anytime soon."

Jackson shook her head. Heather, short and stocky, was almost the opposite of the tall, thin, long blonde haired American mailgirls like Chrissy that Harada's American operation were known for. Maybe it had something to do with personality after all? Heather smiled slyly into the screen in front of her and then turned to Chrissy and gave her a knowing look. Jackson took a moment to work out why. Another figure was in the room with Heather, moving around in the background. "Okay," Jackson asked, "who else have you got there?"

Heather grinned widely. "We've got a new one. This one is called Jeneva." She beckoned the newcomer forward. Jackson could see that she was tall slim hipped with pronounced breasts. A typical American mailgirl. Except she had long straight jet-black hair rather than the almost compulsory blonde. But she also had the requisite high cheekbones and large friendly eyes.

"It's an honour," she told Jackson formally. She looked a little bashful in displaying herself despite the obvious fact that everyone in the conversation -- both in the States and in Australia -- was as naked as she was.

Jackson broke out in laughter. "An honour?" she smiled.

"Yes ma'am," the American replied straight-faced and slightly bemused.

Heather hugged Jeneva, held her tight around the waist and gave her a kiss on the cheek as she grinned back at Jackson. "Isn't she just a delight!" she exclaimed.

Jackson just looked confused. "What does Chrissy think of this?" she wondered.

Chrissy was close enough. She tipped their laptop so that Jackson could see her as well as the other two. "We're mentoring Jeneva. She's learning how to be the best mailgirl from us!" So much positivity. Heather sat Jeneva down next to her and did not try to keep her hands off the novice mailgirl. Chrissy reached down from behind Jeneva to massage her shoulders as Heather played with the novice lower down than that. "She's a quick learner, this one," Chrissy added as she bent down to give Jeneva a kiss on the cheek.

Heather butted back in. "Yep, I'm a teacher now!" She grinned at Chrissy. "On top of everything else!"

Jackson decided to take control. Fanny had wanted to be in on the call and had given Jackson some pointers, as she was not sure whether she could get there in time. "Have you had your demerit thing yet?" she asked Heather.

Heather chuckled. "Nah, not even close. I'm gunning it," she boasted.

Jackson looked down at the notes that Fanny had given her. "Chrissy," she asked, "what do you know about your employment contract?"

Chrissy thought for a moment. "Well, they paid off my loans. And there's the health insurance."

"And did you have to give up anything in return?" Jackson asked. Chrissy looked confused. "Like, say deductions from your pay, minimum term working there?" Jackson tried.

"Well I did sign on for five years."

"And what happens if you want to leave before then?"

"Oh, I'll stay. I'm not worried about that."

Jackson remembered that she was only seeking information. Despite her instincts as a former -- and maybe again future -- union rep to give Chrissy employment rights advice, she followed Fanny's directions and controlled herself, did not present her workers rights spiel. "Holidays?" she asked.

Chrissy shrugged. "I don't know. I'll have to check. But every day is like a holiday here!" She looked down to Jeneva who seemed to be in agreement.

Heather decided that she had heard enough of that sort of things. "Get this. Jeneva wants to be a mailgirl with you," she told Jackson.

Jeneva's large eyes seemed to get bigger. "I want to see your kangaroos," she bubbled.

"You could just go to a zoo," Jackson deadpanned.

That did not faze the American. "I want to see the real ones," she explained.