Mailgirls on the Run Pt. 03

This really doesn't make much sense unless you've read and remember parts 1 and 2, but the quick summary of what has gone before is that Megan Brooks (formerly Mailgirl Two) has been tasked with selecting and training a team of mailgirls to compete for SG&T in the upcoming Corporate Challenge 10 km race. As before, it slips in references to the mailgirl stories of LizStanton8181 and Seahawk. Hopefully, I'll have part 4 posted in the next week or so.

*****

Chapter 8

Another early Monday morning, another on-going downside to getting sucked back into the world of mailgirls.

One, Seventeen, and Twenty-four were due for punishment this morning. The more frightening prospect was Ms Barnes possibly deciding that the crowd scene Sunday morning would require reminding mailgirls of their station in life. Megan still remembered the lineup of gagged and hooded mailgirls, bound hands stretched up behind them forcing them to bend forward - strappado position, according to then Mailgirl Eight - while standing on newly laid gravel. Some fifth floor executives had complained of insufficient respect being paid by mailgirls. The several mailgirls that the fifth floor had called out by number were strung up first on a Monday morning and the rest of the mailgirls were paraded past them. Then for the rest of the week a half-dozen mailgirls were on display each day from 11-2 for the lunch crowd. That stretch of gravel was still in the courtyard as a reminder.

Megan walked through the breakfast crowd in the lobby and down the stairs to the Mailgirls' Locker Room. Eighteen looked up at her and complained, "Six miles next weekend is going to kill me. Tell Ms Barnes I'll accept my six strokes as a given and take another half-dozen in lieu of pounding my feet on the asphalt." Several other women said that went for them as well.

"I can make the suggestion, but I suspect that Human Capital would come up with something more painful than a dozen strokes of the paddle or crop to discourage mailgirl initiative. Anything else you would like me to raise with Ms Barnes?"

One spoke up, "The bra I was testing out didn't do the job."

Samantha, aka Twenty-two, added, "Nor mine."

Seventeen said, "Dawlish's leather cage isn't a sports bra, but it did help. A bit of chafing, but my boobs are less sore than they were after the first run."

Megan asked, "Eleven?"

"Some chafing, not enough support."

"I'll pass all of this on to Ms Barnes. I suspect you'll each be called up to report to Mr Dawlish personally."

It was amazing how much disdain a mailgirl could express without saying anything or even nodding her head. Then they all froze and Megan knew Mistress V had arrived and the mailgirls' workday had officially begun.

* * * *

Checking her calendar Megan saw she had a meeting with Ms Barnes at two p.m. - not a lunch date then. The Mailgirls App showed the punishment session for One, Seventeen, and Twenty-four at 10:30.

She took time out from the finance business for the 10:30 ritual and then worked through the noon hour at her desk, not feeling inclined to make another trip to the dining hall. Then it was nearly two and Megan made her way up to Human Capital, mug in hand. Four was in "Knees" position on the mat next to the receptionist's desk when Megan walked into the outer office. The mailgirl kept her eyes firmly on the ground in front of her mat, steadfastly ignoring Megan's approach. The door to Ms Barnes' office opened and Two emerged, eyes downcast and obviously in pain. She stepped aside to allow Megan to go in. Megan noted the six parallel red lines across Two's ass cheeks, souvenirs of the caning she had obviously just received.

Ms Barnes was seated behind her desk, Mistress V was standing up straight against the wall a riding crop dangling from her left hip. There was a thin black rod on Ms Barnes' desk, the instrument of Two's punishment, Megan surmised.

"They get paddled for running slow and caned for running fast?"

"No, the caning was for that disgraceful scene in the parking lot Sunday morning. These are mailgirls, not porn stars. There was entirely too much hubris shown with all of those men crowding around at the end of the run. SF&G personnel know how to treat mailgirls; those voyeurs need protocol lessons. We may have to cordon off the finish area to keep them away if they can't behave properly. It's not fair to the mailgirls to tempt them so."

Mr Starnes spoke from behind Megan, "We're going to have to walk a fine line if we want this project to succeed. While I understand that the mailgirls have to know their place, we still need to provide something of a carrot if we want them to run well. The old trope 'Beatings will continue until morale improves' is not an inspiration to strive for excellence on the day."

"Yes, we'll figure out something to remind all of them that they are mailgirls. Well, what do you have to report about the running?"

"Three and Four ran very well indeed. Then we have a cluster of Twenty-two, Fifteen, Fourteen, Two, and Twelve. It probably makes sense to seed the heats in this weekend's runs to provide head to head competition of those mailgirls. We're looking for a squad of six mailgirls to race along with Megan and any of the other female staff that wish to enter the Corporate Challenge. Five runners score and it's always best to have more than just a bare five so that one bad race doesn't sink the whole team Fourteen's and Fifteen's mailgirl contracts expire in September so we're not sure of their availability."

"Ms Brooks, what do you have to say?"

"Both Three and Four could have run quicker and with training will do so. The other women Mr Starnes mentioned won't disgrace themselves or SG&T. From a competitive standpoint I'm feeling more optimistic about this whole project. But the pride in doing something well is antithetical the whole Mailgirl concept. I don't know how that can be reconciled."

"That's in my domain, not yours, Ms Brooks. You let me worry about the Mailgirl concept. You and Mr Starnes will let Mistress V know who will run in the fast heat on Sunday. We'll see if that selects our team for us. Mr Fforde has persuaded the fifth floor into offering Fourteen a part-time mailgirl contract through the end of the year, offering the carrot that she could attend college on-campus three days a week. Legal is working on it now, contingent on her making the team. And we're very close to acquiring a mailgirl from Donovan Runnels who was an All-American in college."

"Also Ms Barnes, several mailgirls have said they are willing to accept their half-dozen in lieu of running the 10k this weekend."

"Mailgirls do not make suggestions, they merely obey. Everyone will run and the slowest eighteen will receive the cane. Mistress V will spread their punishments out over the next week."

Megan sighed. "Where are we on bras for the runners?"

"Mr Dawlish will be interviewing the five test subjects today and I expect his decision this evening. Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

Megan headed back to her office, having agreed to send Mr Starnes her picks for a fast heat on Sunday. She wasn't looking forward to a summons from Mr Dawlish. As a senior executive she had to treat him with due deference, but she needed to make it clear to him that she was no longer a mailgirl and her choice of clothing was her business. Floating her resume was getting more attractive day by day.

It didn't make sense to run three eight girl heats to select six, or five, mailgirls for the team. What she proposed to Mr Starnes was that the eight least likely girls to make the team run on Saturday and the other sixteen run in a single heat on Sunday. Plus, this way she would only run one race on Sunday rather then attempt back-to-back 10ks. Her suggestion would be that One, Five, Seven, Eight, Eighteen, Twenty, Twenty-one, and Twenty-four run on Saturday.

She then put thoughts of running Mailgirls aside and immersed herself in the details of a proposed project before the the Investment Committee. Mr Bratz had been giving her increasingly more important proposals to review which Megan took as a measure of his confidence in her work. It was past six p.m. when her computer pinged and displayed a new calendar appointment. Mr Dawlish expected her in his office at 6:30. Megan closed out the files she was working on, logged out of her workstation, and left for the day. Working after hours on financial proposals was one thing, catering to Dawlish's fetishes wasn't something she need put up with any longer.

* * * *

Fourteen looked for Ten as soon as she finished showering and retired to the Mailgirls' Lounge at the end of her workday. The former HR staffer was laying in her sleeping niche looking at the ceiling.

"Ten, Mr Fforde told me that Human Capital will offer me a part-time contract if I make the running team. I would work at SG&T Friday through Monday and be outside on my own Tuesday through Thursday so that I could attend class on campus beginning in mid-August and extended through the end of the year. That scenario would work better with my class schedule since my current end date would be part way through the semester, but I'm not going to be Fforde's live-in mailgirl. Do you have any suggestions?"

Ten rolled over onto her stomach and said, "Let me think. Is Twenty-two around?"

Twenty-two was looking over Thirteen's shoulder while the ginger-haired mailgirl was typing away on one of the computers in the corner. She turned around and sauntered over to Ten's niche asking, "Anything I can help you with?"

"Would your sister help Fourteen get settled when she leaves us?"

Twenty-two paused to consider. "I think so. I mean, she's hanging around to keep an eye on me. And it would help get her focus off me."

Fourteen explained about the part-time offer.

"I'll ask her."

Ten said, "I'll get you to see her. Meanwhile, I'll have HR to forward Fourteen's college transcripts to Megan."

Fourteen asked, "Why is it that the folks in HR still do you favors? Are they expecting that you'll be their boss when you finish up this contract?"

"Mostly it's because they really dislike Human Capital. Ms Barnes is nominally part of the Human Resources Department, but she reports directly to the fifth floor. HR is left to clean up after Human Capital's messes. While Human Capital makes sure that the workforce doesn't go over the line with their treatment of mailgirls, that line is far past the boundaries of sexual harrassment and HR has to ride herd on the workforce's behavior with the rest of the women at SG&T. Human Capital can pitch becoming a mailgirl to an employee, but for anyone else telling a woman that she should be a mailgirl can be seen as threatening. Human Capital lays down the law that we are to be treated as sub-human, and HR has to follow behind with seminars, memos, and counseling about how to deal with the clothed population. Throw in the fact that mailgirls recruited from the professional ranks are pulling down outsize salaries to perform menial tasks and/or have been promised major promotions down the line and we have resentful women who see us as whoring for money and advancement. Human Capital just keeps pushing their agenda which keeps the tension high."

"Well, if Megan helps to keep me out of Mr Fforde's grasp I'll be forever grateful."

* * * *

Tuesday morning, Megan was unsurprised to find a premptory message from Ms Barnes directing her to set up a meeting with Mr Dawlish at his convenience. The post-it note telling her to talk to her sister was more puzzling. Dawlish wasn't in yet, but as with most of the 5th floor his secretary handled his calendar and Megan arranged a ten minute appointment with him at 10:15 promising Mrs Johnson that she wouldn't bleed into his 10:30 meeting.

She was trying to decide whether to just summon her sister via the Mailgirl App when she heard a soft knock at her partially open door immediately followed by Samantha, that is Twenty-two, entering carrying a closed mailing envelope.

"Delivery, Ms Brooks" chirped Samantha, coming to a stop beside Megan's desk in Feet position, presenting her MMU to be tapped in acknowledgment of the delivery. Megan complied, noting that Sam had twenty-three seconds to spare.

"Knees" and Samantha sank gracefully down into position while Megan looked at the envelope from Human Resources. "What am I supposed to talk to you about?"

"This Mailgirl is passing on a request from a colleague. Mailgirl Fourteen would like your help. She may be offered a part-time mailgirl position for the duration of the next semester. Mr Fforde has arranged this offer, but she would prefer that Mr Fforde not arrange her life outside of SG&T. She wanted to know if you could help."

"And the envelope from HR?"

"Mailgirls do not queston what we are given to deliver."

"So why didn't Ten just arrange for Fourteen to come talk to me?"

"This Mailgirl does not know. Mailgirl Fourteen believes that she can finish her accounting degree over the next two semesters and then move on with her life."

"Does Mailgirl Twenty-two have any such plans?"

"This Mailgirl is just doing her inadequate best to be the best mailgirl that she can be."

"Oh, get out of here Sam and tell Fourteen that I'll see what I can do. Go out to the mat and titilate the rest of the Investment Group."

Twenty-two gracefully rose to her feet - Megan ascribed it to her early dance training, not that Sam continued once she discovered boys - and left, closing the door behind her.

Megan opened the envelope from HR and found college transcripts from Mount Holyoke College, Montgomery College, and the University of Maryland, University College. Marie Hyland was a straight A student her first year at Mount Holyoke, then her grades tailed off a bit in her sophomore year, especially the final semester. Her courses didn't indicate any particular field of concentration. Marie Briggs' grades the last year and a half at the two local colleges were back to straight A's in business and accounting courses. She hadn't been wasting her time in the law library.

Mount Holyoke..., who did Megan know that went to Mount Holyoke? Her smart phone chimed to warn her of her upcoming appointment and Megan put that question off until she returned from the fifth floor. She headed out of the Investment Group, idly noting that the mailgirl in position by the receptionist's desk was Fifteen; Twenty-two must be off on her next delivery.

Megan took the stairs. It wasn't a lot of exercise, but walking stairs was part of a healthy lifestyle and Megan realized that she needed to take back her life. She unconsciously squared her shoulders preparing for the meeting with Dawlish.

Up on the fifth floor she entered Dawlish's office and announced herself to his secretary. Megan wondered why Dawlish didn't have the stereotypical gorgeous young woman as a secretary - jealous wife? Or maybe besides being a creep he did real work and Mrs Johnson was part of that.

"You may go in now. Remind him that he has the Naimo people coming in just a few minutes."

Mr Dawlish looked up as Megan entered. "Our Miss Brooks. You can keep the bra, that's not the model I chose. We're going with the 'Bondage Bra', but in satin instead of leather to avoid the chafing issue. So, when you and Starnes choose a team we'll order a couple of bras for each of the girls and they can add hand washing them to their list of after hour activities. It's not a style that suits your figure however, so you can go with what you have."

Megan was stunned, this wasn't Dawlish the lech. He'd actually put some constructive thought into this project, though she suspected he got off on it as well.

"Mr Dawlish, the gentlemen from Naimo are here," came through the speakers on his executive desk.

"Send them in."

The door opened again and Mrs Johnson - definitely not Ms - ushered through three Japanese men.

"Welcome gentlemen, I trust you enjoyed your escort."

"How could we not appreciate a mailgirl leading us to your door."

"This is our Ms Brooks, one of the top analysts in our Investment Group. She'll likely be on the team that reviews whatever plan we develop.

"Well, I mustn't keep you, Megan. Back to your corner of the coal mine."

Megan responded, "Yes, sir." and left Mr Dawlish's office, not at all surprised to see her sister kneeling on the mat next to Mrs Johnson's desk, in full view through the open door behind her.

Entering the stairwell musing on what was going on with Dawlish, her sub-conscious lifted Seven up. Seven had been a petit Oriental woman: gorgeous face and fabulous hair, not that much up top - she and Megan had been lined up side-by-side more than once by some wit who decided to hold an itty bitty titty contest. When she signed her mailgirl contract, Seven was ABD (all but dissertation) in some branch of higher mathematics and her thesis advisor was a Mount Holyoke alumna. The former mailgirl left SG&T for a teaching job subbing in mid-semester for someone out on maternity leave. The last Megan heard Seven was still there.

Megan passed Three sprinting up the steps and called out, "Tell Fourteen I'm working on it."

She had real work to do, but she googled 'Hood college faculty' and began scanning the list. There was no entry for "Seven" which is the only name that Megan knew for her former colleague. Mailgirls did not have names only mailgirl designators and that had been thoroughly beaten into Megan by the time the second cohort - Mailgirls Seven through Twelve - came on board. Megan still bounced between Twenty-two and Samantha in her head every time she saw her sister despite her sister being Samantha much longer than she was Twenty-two. Mistress V had been brutal in correcting both women in the few months that Two and Twenty-two had spent together as mailgirls.

This search would be a lot easier if the Hood website posted headshots of their faculty, but there weren't any women with Oriental names in the Math Department. So Megan checked the Business Department list where she found Lin Chang. No photo, but she did have an email address and Megan dropped a quick note. Then Megan got back to work looking at financials.

It was well into the afternoon when her telephone rang and the caller id indicated an unknown, outside line. "Two, what are you still doing at SG&T?"

"Well, it's Ms Brooks now and I enjoy Ms Brooks' work. Plus, if you remember, my sister was hired last summer as Mailgirl Twenty-two and I had to stay around to keep an eye on her. Passing on Samantha sightings is the only reason that my folks still talk to me. Call me Megan. I'm sorry to say that I didn't even remember your real name."

"So, what can I do for you?"

"I don't know if you ever knew, but I ran track in college. Last fall just a few months after returning to the finance desk I ran on the SG&T team in the annual corporate challenge. That's a 10k race between teams from companies and government agencies across Central Maryland. I was SG&T's top woman by a wide margin. This year SG&T hosts the race. Jeremy in Corporate Relations told me they brought in a couple of male runners from other SG&T locations, but had a problem in finding women who would accept a transfer. So, some bright soul on the fifth floor decided that we could field a team of mailgirls.

"I've been formally tasked to help select and train the team. One of the wrinkles in the whole scheme is that Mailgirls Thirteen through Eighteen come to the end of their contracts before the race. I don't know if you remember Fourteen, she's the older woman that used to be married to a lawyer. She spends weekends in the law library taking on-line courses through a special dispensation arranged by a friend of her ex-husband and she's a serious contender to make the team. They've tenatively offered her a part-time mailgirl contract to start in mid-August and go through the end of the year if she makes the team. She'd work Friday through Monday allowing her Tuesday through Thursday to attend class. She's afraid the friend of her husband sees her as a live-in mailgirl and she doesn't want to go there. So Ten sent her to me."