Boring and Unadventurous

Part Four
Trying Everything Once
 

The following morning Laura slipped quietly out of Tiffany’s flat early without waking her, and headed home to get organised for her trip to Bristol. After taking a shower, she sat on her bed being indecisive at the mass of new underwear spread out on the duvet in front of her. Eventually she decided to try the pale blue Myla set with its balcony bra, lacy knickers and suspender belt. She wanted to wear this when next she met up with Tiffany but, never having worn a suspender belt before, she felt a trial day first would be a good idea. With the bra and knickers on, she rolled a pair of the new Ann Summers stockings up her legs, and then fastened the belt around her waist. She fumbled about with the suspender straps and the fiddly little clasps that gripped her stocking tops, but eventually had all six of them fastened. She looked at herself in her mirror and wondered why she had spent so many years thinking she couldn’t be beautiful. “It’s only a bit of lingerie,” she thought, “it doesn’t change what you are, but Tiffany’s right, it does change the way you feel.” She pulled on one of her new, stretchy tops and then wondered what to wear down below. It didn’t seem right to wear trousers with her stockings and suspenders, but the thought of a skirt had the remnants of the old Laura asserting their discomfort. She thought about the last time the old Laura had won, and kept her from wearing her boots to work, and how she’d felt about that. She wasn’t doing that again, and while her stock of skirts was limited to just two, the one from her interview suit went surprisingly well with her clingy top and new Kurt Geiger boots.

The first lesson on wearing stockings came as soon as Laura stepped out of her front door and the chill of a March wind made itself felt around her bare thighs. “Oh Jesus that’s fresh,” she muttered as she walked to her car which she had had to park some distance from her flat. “It’s how underwear makes you feel is it? Hard to feel sexy if you go numb with cold down there.”

Fortunately the MX5 had an excellent heater and as Laura’s thighs thawed out while she drove along, lesson number two made itself felt. Her suspender belt had three straps on each leg, one at the front and two at the side. The rearmost of the side straps she had clipped to the stocking at the back of her thigh, thinking that it would spread the support more evenly. Now though, she was finding out why it was at the side. Her car seat was doing an excellent job of pressing the clasps uncomfortably into the back of her thighs. Eventually she had to pull over and reach up under her skirt to refasten the two offending clasps further to the sides of her legs. She decided it had obviously been a good idea to have a suspenders test day, as the thought of trying to sit on a restaurant chair for a hot date meal with her thighs being drilled into by the clasps didn’t seem very cool.

“Here she is. The lady with the hair,” said Ellen cheerfully as Laura was shown into the Flame suite.

“Good morning Laura,” said Mike.

“Morning,” said Laura. “How do you live in a town with traffic like what I’ve been stuck in?”

“Ah. Welcome to Bristol. You got off lightly last week. Schools were on half term.”

“Guh. Why can’t the little darlings get a bus to school?” Laura dumped her bag, beret and Tiffany’s jacket on the sofa. “So what’s new with you? Any interesting things happen at the weekend?”

“Weekend?” said Ellen. “Nothing interesting. Anything interesting for you Mike?”

“No, nothing at all.”

“Nothing?” said Laura.

“Very boring really,” said Mike, but Laura could see him smirking.

“Oh, you’re a pair of sods you two. Tell me what happened.”

“Tell you? Tell you what?” replied Mike.

“Yeah, I’m sure we don’t know what you’re on about,” chipped in Ellen, trying not to laugh.

“All right, are you going to make me beg? How did it go with Natasha at the weekend? Jees.”

“Oh that,” replied Mike. “I thought you weren’t interested in that sort of thing.”

“Well I am now. So tell me and stop taking the piss.”

“It went one hundred per cent exactly as planned. I cuffed her up on Friday and didn’t let her out till this morning. Her wrists were a little pink and it took her about twenty minutes to get her arms to work properly, but other than that she’s fine. And she loved every minute of it, especially being made to do the housework and going out gagged under the burqa. Which I now understand is actually called a niqab, because her eyes weren’t covered. A burqa apparently covers the whole face with a mesh that looks opaque from the outside. They’d be kinda sexy in a funny sort of way if they weren’t so shapeless.”

“Bloody Hell. A whole weekend in handcuffs. I didn’t think you’d go through with it.”

“Ah well. We love to push the boundaries and she loves to test herself. And she also loved her new Jimmy Choos, although I didn’t love their price tag at all. And it seems I’ve had to spring for a new sofa too. A big, corner one from Ikea. That bit was hilarious though. I’d strapped her up so tight under her niqab that after she sat down on the display sofa she couldn’t get up again. So I wandered off and left her there on her own for a while. Oooh, the look in her eyes when I eventually went back for her. A classic example of what I was saying last week. A mundane bit of sofa shopping, with a little kinky restraint, well quite a lot of kinky restraint really, and it becomes a sexy adventure.”

“You left her on her own in Ikea, all tied up and in handcuffs!”

“And gagged.”

“Fuck.”

“She loved it… well afterwards anyway.”

 “Well I went on a little sexy adventure of my own. Nothing like what you guys get up to mind.”

“Oh yes?” said Ellen. “Do tell.”

I bought myself some shoes with six inch stilettos and went shopping in them. You were right. It was mundane, but the shoes made it sexy and exciting because I didn’t know if my legs would give out before I made it home.”

“Ah ha,” replied Ellen. “What do you think Mike? Is there hope for Laura? Can we make a kinkster out of her before this ad is done?”

“Sounds like we already have.”

“Well it wasn’t really kinky. I mean just wearing heels isn’t kinky, but it was fun. Except the aching ankles of course.”

“Ah so she had fun inflicting ache on her ankles,” said Mike. “Definitely a pain slut in the making don’t you think Ellen?”

“I’m not a pain slut. At least that’s if I’m guessing correctly what a pain slut is.”

The conversation was interrupted by a runner who appeared asking about lunches and offering tea and coffee, which still gave Laura a little thrill as she couldn’t throw off the idea that she should still be making the tea for everyone else. But drinking mugs of coffee prompted lesson number three on wearing suspenders. Laura went to the toilet and tried to lower her knickers to pee, but she had put her suspenders on over the top of her knickers which were now trapped, and she couldn’t lower them beyond her stocking tops.

“Shit Laura,” she said to herself, “you’re thirty years old and you’re still learning how to get dressed. I suppose stockings are like those Christian Louboutin shoes I’ve got. They’re only sexy if you can work them properly. Imagine getting someone to the bedroom and then getting your knickers tangled up in your suspenders. Not cool.” An image came into her mind of Tiffany in fits of laughter at the sight of her, full of passion and horny as hell but unable to get her knickers off. She began to laugh at how ridiculous it all was, and got out her phone to take a picture of the congestion on her thighs which she messaged to Tiffany with the note,

 “PANTY JAM ON THE ROAD PAST LAURA’S THIGHS CAUSING DELAY TO BLADDER EMPTYING. GOT SUSPENDERS WRONG.”

She undid all the suspenders and refastened them under her knickers. As she sat on the toilet she thought about how she had changed in the last few weeks. The old Laura would never have worn such underwear, but if she had plucked up the courage to go tarty underneath for a special date and then got her knickers stuck in her suspenders it would have completely destroyed her. Today she just found it funny and shrugged it off.

“Right,” said Mike as Laura returned to the Flame suite, “to be dull and talk about work for a sec, what do you think of this Laura? I’ve finished the grade on the coaster and it’s looking pretty good and black now, and the CGI boys were rendering over the weekend so there’s a new version of the backgrounds in there now. Still some paintouts to do, but I think we’re getting there. I’m still not convinced about the CGI hole in the ground thing though. It still doesn’t sit very well.”

“Ah, I might have just the thing for the hole,” said Laura after watching the ad a few times. “I rode on ‘The Abyss’ last week and took some pictures. Maybe you could use one of them and do your tracking thing so we fly into it.”

Laura linked the folder on her laptop with her ‘Abyss’ photos to Mike’s computer and he opened it up.

“Jesus,” he said. “That looks fantastic looking down the track like that. The hole looks tiny. It’s like ‘there’s no way we’ll fit in that’. I think this might work. Are these super hi-res so we can zoom into them?”

“They’re 4k. And I’ve got one that I already Photoshopped all the building shit out of here.”

“Brilliant. Let’s give it a try. Oh, but what’s this one? A selfie? Having some trouble with the hair were we? Had to get a hunky man to hold it out of the way?”

“Bugger, I forgot about that one. That’s Stefan the engineer. And very nice he is too. We were the first ones to ride ‘The Abyss’.”

The runner returned with a parcel that he said had come in the post for Ellen. She tore it open and Laura saw that it was another pair of the leather lined handcuffs.

“I liked the look of them last week and so I thought I’d have a pair for myself,” she said with some glee.

“Oh, so you’re into bondage too? I thought you were just about sex in public,” said Laura.

“Oh I like a bit of bondage sometimes. As long as it’s comfy bondage. Padded handcuffs count as comfy in my book.”

“I think this is going to work,” interrupted Mike who had roughly composited Laura’s Photoshopped picture into the footage from the other coaster. Laura felt rather proud that her amateur photography was going to make it into the ad. Her phone then announced that it had a text. It was from Tiffany.

GOOD THING YOU’RE NOT ON A HOT DATE WITH ME. BY THE TIME YOU SORT THAT LOT OUT AND THEN WORK OUT HOW THE STRAPS GO ON A STRAP-ON, I’LL HAVE DIED OF OLD AGE.

As Laura thought about how to reply, another message arrived.

“BUT I STILL LOVE YOU, EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE A KLUTZ.”

“STILL NOT THE BRIGHTEST COOKIE IN THE JAR.” was Laura’s reply.

The morning passed with slow, but steady progress on the ad and time for friendly conversation while the Flame machine was busy rendering. The runner brought them lunch and set it down on the coffee table, right beside the open handcuff box that was displaying its contents. Laura thought it was strange that he seemed totally unsurprised that they would have such a thing in the suite. Was this normal in the TV business? Was everybody who worked here as perverted as Ellen and Mike? Although they seemed of no interest to the runner, the cuffs were definitely holding Laura’s attention. She kept looking at them and thinking about what they represented. Not just a means of restraining a person, but a means of placing that person under someone else’s power. Whoever had the keys, also had the last word on when, or even if, the wearer would be freed. Laura found the concept fascinating, but she couldn’t really work out why.

“You can try them if you want,” said Ellen

“Sorry, what was that?” replied Laura

“The handcuffs. You seem a bit mesmerised by them. You can try them on if you like.”

“On me? No way.”

“Go on. Don’t be shy. You know you want to. We don’t mind do we Mike?”

“No, we’re all perverts in here. Except for you of course Laura.”

“I’m not your wife you know. I’m not longing to be chained up in public. What if I put them on and the key didn’t work?”

“It’s hardly public in here. And this is TV land where people are always doing drugs and shagging each other. Josh the runner has seen a lot worse than a client in cuffs in this place,” said Mike. “You can check the key works before you put them on if you like.”

“I’ll even do it for you,” said Ellen and she picked up the cuffs, clicked them shit and then released them with the key. “See, no problem.”

Laura looked at the cuffs as they swung tantalisingly from Ellen’s finger in front of her. ‘Boring and unadventurous’. That wasn’t her any more. “Okay, but only for a little while. And no funny business while I’ve got them on, agreed?”

“Funny business? Us? No danger of that is there Mike?”

“We promise, no funny business.”

“Go on then.” Laura held her hands out to Ellen, inviting her to place the cuffs on her wrists.

“Not like that,” said Ellen. “Hands go behind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Behind your back. It’s not much of a hindrance to have them cuffed in front is it.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” replied Laura nervously.

“Go on, turn round,” said Ellen with some authority.

Slowly, Laura turned round and offered her hands behind her. She felt Ellen fitting the cuffs and listened to the clicks as she ratcheted them up snug on her wrists. She felt her heart flutter and a thrill ran through her. The same thrill she had felt when Stefan the engineer had been winding tape round her hand at ‘The Abyss’, but this time it was much stronger. She turned back to face the others and tugged at her wrists. The chain between them snapped tight immediately and she knew she was secured.

“It feels, err, kind of strange,” she said as she wiggled around, testing the limits of her freedom. “I can’t imagine how anyone could do housework in these.”

“It took her a while,” replied Mike, “but she had fun doing it.”

“Hmmm.”

“How does it feel to be at the mercy of a couple of perverts then Laura?” asked Ellen with a wicked grin on her face.

“I’m not at your mercy. The keys are on the table. I’m sure I could wiggle them into the lock and get free.”

Ellen picked the keys up off the table and put them in her pocket. “Not now you can’t,” she said.

“Oh, that’s not fair,” complained Laura. “You promised no funny business.”

“Tell you what,” said Mike, “in the interests of productivity, how about you wear the cuffs until I finish this shot and you sign it off?”

“How long will that take?”

“Maybe an hour if you don’t pick faults in it.”

“An hour?”

“That’s not long. Natasha did a whole weekend.”

“Yes. But I’m not her. Well don’t just sit there, get on with it then.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Unable to do anything else, Laura sat and watched Mike at work. She saw how the Flame machine placed little markers on distinctive points in the footage, analysed their motion and then transferred that motion to her photograph so that it moved in unison with the live action. Mike then softened and feathered the edges of her photo and blended it in so that it all matched. It was all very interesting, but a large chunk of her mind was occupied by other things. She kept tugging gently at the cuffs, not trying to escape them, just experiencing their unrelenting hold on her. And the hold that Ellen now had on her. The pangs of excitement kept coming back and she wriggled her bottom slowly on her chair, enjoying the sensations and wishing the other two would leave her on her own for a little while.

Josh the runner came in and offered tea and coffees. Either he did not notice Laura’s predicament, or he did not think it worthy of comment. But as he returned with a tray of goodies, Laura, to her horror realised he was not alone. She knew that voice as soon as she heard it outside the door. The slightly foreign sounding posh voice. It was Anna, her boss.

“Hello Darlings,” she gushed as she bustled into the suite. “I was in town and thought I’d pop in and see how it’s all going with our latest masterpiece.”

“Anna, so good to see you. What a pleasant surprise,” said Mike, getting up and crossing the room to give Anna a hug and kiss.

“Hi Anna,” said Ellen.  “Checking up on us eh? Or just here to freeload on our coffee?”

“Ah Ellen, as beautiful and acidic as ever. As usual you see right through me. And who’s this hiding under all this hair? Surely it’s not Laura.”

Laura had turned from the desk to face the rest of the room and had then frozen, paralysed by embarrassment. How the hell was she going to explain to her boss why she was sitting handcuffed in the edit suite?

“Hello Anna,” she said in a small voice, wishing more than ever that the ground would open up and swallow her.

“My, I heard that you had had something of a change of style. Your hair is simply stunning.”

It was at this point that Ellen, realising Laura’s situation, dived in to the rescue.

“Laura’s actually a little indisposed at the moment Anna. You see me and Mike have both just bought a pair of these fancy, leather lined handcuffs.” She picked up the box from the coffee table and waved it at Anna, “And you know us, we persuaded Laura to try them on. I think perhaps it’s time to let her out.”

“Oh I’m so sorry Laura,” said Anna, realising why her protégé was so red faced and quiet. “Me bursting in here unannounced like this.”

“I’m sorry, you must be wondering what on Earth is going on,” said Laura as Ellen unlocked her from the cuffs.

“Not at all. I’ve worked with these two for a long time and I know well what a pair of unequalled perverts they both are, so it doesn’t surprise me that they have led you into their sordid little games. If there’s anyone who should be embarrassed in here, it’s me for not warning you about them.”

“Perverts? Us?” said Ellen in mock surprise.

“Thank you Anna. I’m sure you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” said Laura.

“Laura, I have worked in these post-production suites on and off for many years and I know that the hardest thing is keeping yourself amused while that Flame thingy sits there rendering. I’m sure Mike just sets it going when he fancies a tea break.”

“Yeah, crank up the anti-aliasing and turn on motion blur for a nice, long render when I’m thirsty,” said Mike.

“So it does not surprise me that these two have enrolled you in their kinky activities. These are actually rather nice looking things,” said Anna, picking up the now discarded cuffs and examining them closely. “I like this lining. No chaffing I suppose.”

“I kept Natasha in a pair all weekend,” said Mike.

“All weekend?”

“Yep. Friday night to Monday morning. No breaks.”

“You’re going to do that lovely wife of yours a serious injury one of these days. So, now that you are free, let me have a look at you Laura. Such a change from when I saw you last.”

Laura was dumbfounded. Not only did Anna seem to know all about Mike and Ellen, she seemed to know about handcuffs too. “No wonder I’m ‘boring and unadventurous’ if everyone else in the world is like this,” she thought. “Err, thanks,” she eventually managed to say. “I thought a new look for my new job.”

“Indeed. Well you look quite lovely. I heard that you had made quite an impression on some Swiss engineers. Now I understand how.”

“You heard about that?”

“Oh yes, Patrick thought it was hilarious. And see here how in your boots, it is me who has to look up to you now. I would have worn higher heels today if I had known. Don’t you think that heels are proof that God was not only a man, but also a misogynist, for why else would he have created something so impractical and that causes such discomfort, and then programmed us women with such a desire to wear them.”

Laura felt her embarrassment at being found wearing handcuffs being replaced by embarrassment at the barrage of compliments being thrown her way.

“I suppose I had better look at what you’ve been spending all my budget on. I don’t have too long as I’d like to be on the 1530 train if possible,” said Anna when she had finely finished examining Laura.

Mike played the ad several times for Anna. “It’s very good,” she eventually declared. “I think the little devil character summoning the riders to their doom works rather well. I had some doubts about him and that it might imply some sort of danger, but then we know that the punters want a thrill, and actually like to think the rides are just a little bit dangerous. We don’t really want to tell them just how safe they really are, do we? And Bartock might be an awkward little arsehole to work with, but he does deliver the goods.”

“Oh, we know how to deal with Bartock now,” said Ellen. “We just need Laura on set. She’s not scared of him and keeps him in line.”

“Me? I just told him to stop wasting time filming stuff we don’t need and concentrate on the storyboard. I didn’t know I was supposed to be scared of him.”

“You told Bartock to stick to the storyboard!” exclaimed Anna. “I’m surprised he didn’t stomp off the shoot in a tantrum. Oh bravo Laura, bravo.”

“Well I just thought it’s pointless filming great developing vistas that take twenty seconds to resolve for a thirty second ad. And I did tell him discreetly. I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”

“Oh, trust me Laura,” said Ellen, “everybody noticed and was giggling under their breath. You stomped on his ego good and proper.”

“Well, he was an irritating little shit anyway. Although I did like his beret. See, I got one the same for myself. Somebody gave me this convertible sports car and I need to wear hats now.”

“Ah yes, now talking of wind in your hair,” said Anna, pulling her laptop from her bag. “I have something for you to look at Laura. That lovely upside-down picture of you riding a coaster that we’ve been using, well one of our parks in Spain would like to use it on the front of their brochures and on their web homepage, if you’re agreeable to that. They do want to make you look a bit more Spanish-looking though. What do you make of this?” Anna turned her laptop round and Laura gasped as she saw the picture of herself. They had darkened her skin and hair so she looked tanned and more Iberian, but what shocked her was that they had painted down the neckline of her tee shirt into a low cut top and enhanced her already weightless breasts.

“Oh my God, they’ve given me cleavage!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, I’m not altogether happy with it, but the Spanish market is big on lads on holiday. If you’re not comfortable with it I will tell them to restore your neckline.”

“No, it’s fine. Just a bit of a shock, that’s all. Look at this Ellen. Do I look like a porn star?”

“Wow, is that you? You do look a bit buxom. In a good way though,” said Ellen as she looked at the laptop. “Love the earrings.”

“Yes they were added too. There’s not much of me that isn’t fake is there.”

“Welcome to the world of advertising.”

“Well I will email you the picture,” said Anna, “look at it and let me know by Thursday if you’re happy for them to use it. There’s no pressure here Laura. If it makes you uncomfortable then I will insist they restore your tee shirt. Remember this brochure will go Europe wide so a lot of people will see it and if it’s on their homepage then anyone in the World can see it. And if you’re going to be a cover girl for them, then I think they should pay you about three thousand Euros.”

“Three thousand Euros? Pay me?”

“Usage rights. They want to use your face to front their brochure. It might cost them three times that for a professional model. Your contract of employment allows the company to use photos that feature you for marketing purposes, but if they want you on the front cover then that would be considered beyond the scope of that, so they will need to negotiate a deal with you. I think three thousand Euros would be about right.”

“Bloody hell,” said Laura.

At that point, Josh the runner returned to say that a cab had arrived for Anna and was waiting for her.

“Well my coffee is drunk and my two pennies-worth of interference is spent, so I must away back to London. Keep up the good work, and you two, stop corrupting sweet Laura here. Are we still planning to finish tomorrow?”

“Generic finished tomorrow, then versions on Wednesday,” said Ellen. “Copies to Clearcast Thursday.”

“Excellent.”

Laura walked with Anna to her taxi. “I got your email this morning about the brochure changes,” she said. “I’ve almost got them done. I haven’t been spending all my time here in handcuffs you know.”

“You were so funny. I have never seen anyone with such a red face. I thought you had used too much blusher in an effort to match the red in your hair. Which really does look incredible.”

“My friend is a stylist. It was her idea.”

“Well make sure she stays your friend. Now relax and let Mike and Ellen take the strain. They are good at what they do and get well paid for it. Well au-revoir Laura. I will see you tomorrow afternoon if I can get some things sorted out in the morning.”

“Goodbye Anna. See you tomorrow.”

“Do you still have a job or have you been fired for undergoing bondage in the workplace?” asked Ellen as Laura returned to the edit suite.

“Still employed I think,” replied Laura with a smile. “Christ, talk about embarrassing situations. Caught by your boss wearing handcuffs. That’s gotta be in the top ten.”

“You were the colour of beetroot. Sorry to get you into that,” said Ellen.

“Oh, it’s ok. I don’t think Anna was bothered really. She just seemed to think it was funny. Did you see how she was eying up those cuffs? I reckon she’s no stranger to that sort of thing.”

“We could tell you a thing or two about Anna. She’s, err, not what you might expect,” said Mike.

“Don’t tell me she’s like you two.”

“Oh she’s nothing like us,” replied Ellen. “She’s in a league of her own.”

“Please don’t tell me. I seriously don’t want to know.”

The afternoon passed with a good amount of work getting done and the ad moved towards its finishing touches. Ellen went home early in the evening, but Laura and Mike kept going until they were both yawning more than more than they were working and called it a night. Laura decided to get some air and walk the half mile to her hotel. She soon realised that she was going to get more air than she really needed, as the chilly night breeze found its way straight up her skirt to her bare thighs. This, combined with the exercise and the fact that she still had to concentrate on walking in high heels, soon chased away her tiredness and by the time she reached her hotel room she was wide awake again. And horny. She sat on the bed with her laptop and looked again at the big-boobed, cleavage flashing, Spanish version of herself. Even with her actual size breasts, the old Laura would have been horrified to have so much of herself exposed, and while the new Laura seemed to have thrown off the fear of being smart and was even managing to do sexy with what she thought was considerable success, exposing her skin below her neck was still something she couldn’t come to terms with. So why did she not object to seeing herself like this in a picture? Was it because it was all fake, or was it because a picture was somehow different to looking in a mirror? Whatever the reason, her new ego liked the idea of being a cover girl, even if it was for a park brochure and not Cosmopolitan or Vogue.

“Maybe I should take their money and use it to pay for a holiday in the sun for Tiffany and me,” she thought. “I could pack only bikinis and skimpy tops so I’d have nothing else to wear and be forced to expose my flesh to the World.”

She looked again at her Spanish self and then stripped off her top and skirt and stood in front of the room’s large mirror still wearing her underwear and stockings. She cupped her breasts in her hands and pushed them up and together, creating a respectable amount of cleavage.

“Not enough for the lads in Spain, but I could hide my credit cards in there if I was on a beach holiday.”

She let her breasts go and posed for herself, soaking up the image of the sexy looking woman in the mirror. “It’s how it makes you feel,” Tiffany’s words about underwear came back to her. And she was right. Laura had been feeling something all day. Maybe that’s why she had allowed herself to be led into wearing those handcuffs. And even the old, boring Laura would have to admit that she was rocking this underwear. As she posed and examined herself, she came to the conclusion that something was missing. She slipped her feet back into her boots, zipped them up and re-presented herself to the mirror.

“That’s better,” she said to herself. “Stockinged legs need some heels to finish them off. Shame I haven’t got those Louboutins with me.”

Laura ran her hands down her thighs and twisted her fingers through the suspenders. She thought about earlier in the day when she had been squirming about on her chair in those handcuffs, wishing she was alone. Now she was alone, and because her hands were no longer cuffed behind her, she could slide them into her panties and masturbate. Which she did, and kept doing until she orgasmed.

Laura awoke suddenly from a strange dream in which she was engaged in some sort of bizarre tug-o-war with a witch, using the horribly ugly woman’s broomstick which for some reason Laura just had to take from her. This was all happening on the stairway of the ‘The Abyss’ lift ramp which was made of a metal grill through which Laura’s stiletto heels kept dropping through and jamming. She looked at the clock by her bed. It said 05:30.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Too early. I don’t need to be at the edit suite before ten. Twenty minutes for breakfast and ten minutes walk. Alarm at nine will be fine.”

She set the alarm and rolled over to go back to sleep.

“No. I’ve got to stop thinking like this if I’m going to be a stylish and sophisticated woman now. I can’t just roll out of bed, throw on the first thing that comes to hand and head out of the door. Got to allow time for hair and make-up and stuff. Alarm needs to go to eight.”

As it turned out she was woken up by the traffic noise before the clock had even reached seven, and so she got up to have a long bath and take the morning slowly. As she wandered into the bathroom, she saw her reflection in the mirror, lit by the harsh, bright lighting. Her face looked as if Mike had put her through the Flame’s colour warper and he had dialled down all the contrast and colour. She hadn’t been wearing a lot of make-up in the days since Tiffany had madeover her look, just a little lippy, some mascara and subtle eye shadow, and a little foundation to hide the tiny vestiges of acne scarring, but she was amazed how quickly she had got used to looking made-up, and seeing herself au-naturel just didn’t look right any more.

“Now I can understand those women who can never even pop out to the shops without putting their face on,” she thought as she started to notice something else about her appearance that she wasn’t happy with. “I think my carpet doesn’t match my curtains. I think I might have to dye my pubes. And I better start tidying them up a bit too if I’m trying to look nice on the inside. And the armpits.”

She ran a large bath and fetched her toiletry bag which she noted had got much fuller and heavier in recent weeks. She got in the bath and soaked for a long time before she took a razor and cream from her bag and smoothed her legs, before moving on to her armpits. Soon they were denuded of their hair and Laura turned her attention to her unruly, hairy mound. She began to trim away at the edges, pretending she was getting herself skimpy bikini-ready, but then from seemingly nowhere, the idea of shaving her pussy completely popped into her head and before she had really thought about it too much, the deed was done and she was smooth and hairless. With nothing left to shave, she put away the razor and ran her fingers over her naked mound which felt strange and sensual. It wasn’t long before her fingers wandered further South and she parted her lips to seek out her clit.

“Masturbation in the evening and now in the morning Laura. What’s got into you girl?” she mumbled as she fingered herself towards the inevitable.

Getting dressed presented a small dilemma for Laura. She wanted to wear stockings again and was actually looking forward to the chilly air around her privates as she walked to work. But she also wanted to adopt Tiffany’s rule of clean panties every morning, which was no problem as she had plenty to choose from, but only yesterday’s panties had a matching suspender belt and she didn’t want to spoil the look with non-matching underwear components. But then she remembered her Ann Summers stockings were multi-purpose and could be worn with suspenders or with the pair of little garters that came with them. She had left yesterday’s stockings’ garters at home, but the other pair were still in their unopened packet in her bag along with their garters. Problem solved, co-ordinated underwear and stockings, albeit without suspenders, were achievable.

But as Laura walked to work, it was not just the cool, March wind around her thighs that she was feeling. She was also getting heat. Heat in the skin of her mound that was becoming increasingly irritated at having had a razor dragged over it earlier. It got worse through the morning and eventually she had to send the runner out to get some moisturiser and Aloe Vera for her. When he returned, Laura tried to think how soon she could head off to the toilet to apply her relief without it being obvious what she was up to. She decided she didn’t care and went straight away.

As the day progressed, the shots of the ad were gradually finished one by one and as Laura signed them off, Mike exported stills to Laura’s computer so she could complete her brochure and flyers. By mid-afternoon her print work was finished and she sent final proofs off to everybody who had to approve them. It seemed like everything she had been tasked to do by Anna those few weeks that seemed like a lifetime ago, was about to be done. Laura felt like she was almost there. She could feel the pride and satisfaction welling up inside her, driving out any last traces of the self-doubt and lack of confidence that had held her in their grip for so long. She had never been so happy.

Anna arrived late in the afternoon. Laura was happy to see her again. She had decided that she rather liked Anna even though she was still a bit scared of her, but she wondered why Anna would travel all the way down from London to see a finished ad that was not much different from what she had already seen, when Laura could have uploaded a copy to the web for her to look at. Maybe she just needed to be there at the end, and why not? She was the big boss after all. The Lighting Cameraman also turned up with a couple of other people Laura recognised from the shoot, and two animators joined them for an end-of-job viewing and more importantly, some glasses of bubbly stuff. Laura was glad that Bartock, the director didn’t come. As the party atmosphere began to die down and the room thinned of people, Anna announced that she was staying overnight, apparently in the same hotel as Laura, and that they should have dinner together, and a ‘chat’.

“I wonder if that’s to tell me I’ve got a permanent job now?” wondered Laura. “Or to say thanks, now bugger off. She wouldn’t do that would she?”

Laura and Anna sat at a table in the hotel restaurant enjoying plenty of wine and some excellent food. An expenses-paid treat that, just a few weeks ago, as a junior assistant, Laura wouldn’t have dreamed of. Now though, she was acting head of marketing for the park, eating out the big boss.

“I spoke with Patrick about you today,” said Anna through a mouthful of paprika spiced Hake fillet. “He agrees with me that you’ve done incredibly well in the last few weeks considering we dunked you in at the deep end. Actually I think you’ve rather dug us out of the shit.”

“Well the ad was kind of, already flowing along really,” replied Laura, trying not to sound big-headed but without doing herself down. “I just gave it a few nudges really.”

“Nonsense. The whole thing might have gone badly tits up if it wasn’t for you. And those press ads you designed are perfect. I was actually expecting you to get an agency to do those, but you just did them yourself. I had a good feeling about you when we first met, but I didn’t think you’d turn out this well. So Patrick and I would like to make your position permanent. If that’s ok with you of course.”

 “If that’s ok with me? Are you kidding? I doubt if anything’s ever been more ok with me. Thank you. Thank you so much Anna. I don’t know what to say!”

“Well that’s settled then. I’ll leave it to Patrick to sort out a permanent contract and salary with you.”  Anna raised her wine glass. “So I think a little toast is in order. To Laura the iceberg, who didn’t melt when the going got hot. Here’s to you.”

Laura blushed and raised her glass. “Thank you Anna. Here’s to me then. Head of marketing. Who would have thought?” She laughed and took a big swig of her wine. They were already on the second bottle and she was getting quite tipsy.

“And now Laura, I have a little personal gift from me to you to say thank you for rescuing this old battle-axe from Shit Street.” Anna placed a small, gift wrapped box on the table. Something about its dimensions seemed familiar to Laura.

“Oh, thank you. You shouldn’t have.” Laura picked up the present and started picking away at the wrapping.

“Now for the rest of the evening, no more talk about work. I am no longer your boss and you are no longer my employee. We are just two friends enjoying each other’s company. What is said and done tonight stays here, and will not affect our working relationship. Agreed?”

“Err, yes. Sure.”

Laura ripped the wrapping off her present and her heart nearly stopped with embarrassment as she saw what it was. A pair of leather-lined handcuffs, just like Mike’s. And Ellen’s.

“Oh,” she finally managed to say. “I was just messing about the other day when you found me wearing a pair of these.” She felt herself blushing and put the box down on the table. “I’m not really into…”

“Now Laura, it might seem to you that I am a very strong and intimidating woman, and of course when I am working that is exactly how I like to be. I spend my working days barking orders, taking responsibilities and remaining aloof, but I don’t want to spend my personal time being like that. Quite the opposite in fact. When I’m relaxing with a friend, I want to be as close and friendly as possible. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Err, yes. I think so,” said Laura uncomfortably. In an attempt to overcome her embarrassment, she swilled some more wine and distracted herself by returning to her lamb shank.

“Indeed,” continued Anna. “When I first met you, just a few weeks ago now, I looked at you and thought ‘this is a woman who just doesn’t realise how incredibly beautiful she is.’ I could see through that drab image you were protecting yourself with, and I could see what lay beneath. And in these few weeks there is something of a transformation in that image. The beauty is now out on display, flaunted even. And it is a sight that takes my breath away, because I am one who sees beauty in both of the sexes. And when I see beauty, my lust and my desire are usually not far behind. So my dear Iceberg, tomorrow we go our separate ways. I go back to London and you head home in a snazzy blue sports car. And we will see each other again for sure, for we have much work to do together, but tonight is just tonight, and we are just two passing friends, and I must confess that in buying you that little gift I was rather hoping that I would also benefit from the fun it could bring.”

Laura’s fork, loaded with lamb, stopped suddenly en-route from plate to mouth as her brain unravelled the words that Anna had just spoken and extracted their meaning. She looked up at Anna and met her eyes. A smile crept over the older woman’s face. A friendly, inviting smile? Or the leer of a hunter about to snare her prey? An image flickered into Laura’s mind. An image of herself, naked, hands cuffed behind her back, kneeling either side of Anna’s shoulders and bent over with her head buried and bobbing in Anna’s crotch while Anna spanked her bottom with a hairbrush, demanding that her crotch needed better attention that it was receiving. The image shocked Laura. It wasn’t so much that she was having sex with Anna, that was an understandable thought given what had just been said, it was the spanking with the hairbrush that shocked her. Where had that come from? Anna hadn’t mentioned anything like that. She’d made that part up all by herself. She watched the scene play out in her mind, seemingly unable to switch it off. In fact it was Anna who eventually broke the spell.

“You look a little surprised Laura. Don’t tell me no-one’s ever tried to pick you up in a hotel restaurant.”

“Erm. No. Well at least…” Laura couldn’t seem to get her mouth to work as she struggled to deal with Anna’s apparent proposition. Even more unsettling though was the fact that the image it had produced in her mind didn’t entirely appal her. But of course there was no way she was going to let her boss put her in handcuffs for the night and spank her bottom with a hairbrush. Or anything else for that matter.

“Does the thought of another woman’s touch not agree with you?” continued Anna.

“Well, it’s just that, err. I know I’ve had something of a transformation in the last few weeks, but I don’t think I’ve transformed quite that far. I don’t think I’m really wired up that way.”

“Ah, but sometimes we don’t know how we are wired until we test the circuits.”

“Well that might be, but I don’t think I want to be handcuffed tonight. Not by anyone. Sorry.”

Laura began to feel like she had things a little more under control. She had refused Anna politely, and hopefully without causing offence. She suddenly noticed her fork, still hanging in suspended animation in her hand, and raised its cargo of lamb into her mouth, just to show she was cool with things. A few weeks ago she would have fallen to pieces, or just run away from what had just happened. Now though, there was a new confidence running through her and she thought she had handled the situation reasonably coolly. She even felt flattered at Anna’s attempt to pick her up. Maybe one day that image in her mind might be something to explore, and that would put The Little Shit’s text to bed once and for all. But not tonight, and not with her boss.

“My Dear Laura, I think you misunderstand me,” replied Anna. “You see, when I said I like to be the opposite of a bossy bitch when I’m relaxing with a ‘friend’, a really did mean opposite. Those handcuffs, I was rather hoping that you would want to put them on me.”

“On you? You want me to handcuff you?”

“Well yes. And then maybe you could call me a worthless slut and demand that I give you some special pleasure while you dream up ways to punish this slut for having the impertinence to even ask for such a thing.”

Laura couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Had her boss, the intimidating, loud and confident Anna, just called herself a slut, and asked to be punished? How the hell to deal with this? Slowly she withdrew the fork from her mouth and began to chew the mouthful of lamb very slowly, tying to buy time to think of what to say. Again, an image formed in her mind. This time it was Anna who was handcuffed and kneeling on the floor but with her torso bent forward and resting on a bed, while Laura attended to her bottom with the hairbrush, and with considerable gusto. The image began to stir her loins with an equal gusto.

“Oh Christ, I want to do this,” she thought. “But she’s my boss. Fuck! I can’t have sex with my boss. And what about Tiffany? Would this be cheating on her even though we’re only ‘friends without keys’. I don’t even know if I’m lesbian enough for this or not. No! Get a grip. Control yourself Laura.”

The voice of reason continued to shout within her. It told her to get out of this. To jump up and run. But the voice belonged to the old Laura, the ‘boring and unadventurous’ Laura, and she was on the way out. There was a new Laura in town now. A confident, sexy and glamorous Laura, who drove a sports car and wore stiletto heels, and she was calling the shots now. She looked into Anna's eyes again. They were the eyes of a little girl who had just asked her daddy for a pony, and whose whole life was hanging in the balance waiting for her daddy’s reply. The new Laura continued to chew her lamb slowly, but now she was not buying time, she was being cool and making the little girl wait for her answer. She swallowed and slowly and deliberately took a sip of her wine. She ran her tongue around her teeth, making sure that it pushed her lips forward a little, and continued to stare into the pleading eyes before her. Then she pushed the tip of her tongue through her lips and licked the wine off them as coolly and suggestively as she could, before she allowed a slight smile to creep across her face. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, yet steady and authoritative, and it gave no hint of the fire that was spreading through her nether regions.

“Less than a month ago, my boyfriend dumped me because I was apparently ‘boring and unadventurous’. And do you know, I think The Little Shit might have had a point. Since then I’ve been on something of a mission to prove him wrong.  I have started a new job, and almost immediately got promoted beyond my wildest dreams. I have become a poster girl for a big corporation. I have started wearing make-up, and stilettos, and I even wore a skirt yesterday. I have acquired a sports car. I have dyed my hair. I have been introduced to TV production and knocked the director’s ego down to size. I was the first person to ride on ‘The Abyss’. I have been introduced to Mike’s wife’s life of bondage. I have been found by my boss wearing handcuffs. I have slept with my best friend and bought stuff for my bedroom that I would have considered ‘sick’ only a few weeks ago. And now it seems that my boss has just proposed that I should punish her for a being a slut while she brings me some ‘special pleasure’. And of course if I refuse to do this, well that would be ‘boring and unadventurous’ wouldn’t it?”