[This story takes place in the some fictional universe as my previous story A College Tryst.]
Prologue – Michelle
There were thousands of students at the City College of New York, tens of thousands in the City University system as a whole. For the fall semester of 1974 there was one of this multitude named Michelle, a graduate of Bayside High School in Queens and now a nineteen-year old sophomore English major. Probably few people who saw her going about on the City College campus or who knew her as their student or classmate thought there was anything extraordinary about her. They would have noticed a fairly tall young woman with lanky brown hair and steel-rimmed glasses. She usually favored cute skirts or faded blue jeans. By the following spring she would sometimes wear woolen or cotton knee socks for what she called her “Joanie Coed, Class of ’66” look.
Like most outer-borough New Yorkers she had an ethnic identity that reflected the city’s immigrant history; her ancestry was a combination of Irish and Polish. As she sometimes said about herself, “I’m a lapsed Catholic twice over.”
There was a boyfriend of course, one she often had over to her Queens apartment. That guy was me, a fellow sophomore. She was only the second girlfriend I ever had; I was her third real boyfriend. Actually I had a crazy but fun time through parts of my sophomore and junior years when I had several overlapping girlfriends going at once. Due to my youthful carelessness this situation turned into a sex farce as everyone eventually found out what everyone else was doing.
One of Michelle’s characteristics that endeared her to me was that she was a real maven for role playing games. These events were like appearing in a short movie or stage play. Sometimes these weren’t so short; she had the ability to remain in character for up to two hours or more.
She had real talents for both acting and scriptwriting, although much of the dialogue was improvised along the way. There were also matters of costumes, props and settings which she gave her attention to. Often she liked to play these games “on location,” in other words partially or wholly in some public or semi-public space.
In the summer of 1975, after we had both passed our twentieth birthdays, I had been through several of these games with her. They could be fun but also emotionally demanding as unexpected feelings could emerge when a person was in character.
Michelle got a second pair of glasses that season, ones with black plastic rims. She kept the stainless steel ones too, and wore whatever suited the situation or her mood that day.
Maybe her new eyewear gave her some inspiration, for these glasses figured in a role-play she cooked up for late September 1975. The setup for this would take place at the typesetting company where we both worked part-time. Michelle had been entrusted with a set of keys to the place. There was a bit of risk involved but we had never seen anybody there on a late Sunday afternoon or evening. Even I, a natural worrier, knew the odds were entirely in our favor.
I would play a job applicant, a person probably close to my real self if I wanted to do it that way. Michelle would be one Erica Keller, the assistant office manager/personnel flunky for this company. She would do the interviews for this position which was as a paste-up artist.
She gave me less detail than usual about this scenario. My role as the “follower” was to show up and go with the flow. However I was sure some notable events were going to occur during this.
Thus one evening I was on the elevator of a West Twenties Manhattan loft building going to the tenth floor. Nowadays realtors refer to the Flatiron District but back then it was merely the nondescript border area between Chelsea and the Garment District.
I was wearing the only jacket I owned then, a blue sports coat that dated back to 1972. I had a tie, nondescript pants and my usual unruly hair to make an impression. My résumé was in a manila envelope and that was the extent of my professional gear.
Just before I rang the bell at the company entrance I tried to clear my mind and prepare myself for whoever would let me in. The door was then opened by Erica.
As customary now Michelle gave me a few seconds to examine her creation. My first impression of her appearance was that she was not that different from what I was used to. Most of her clothes seemed to be familiar ones from Michelle’s wardrobe. She had bought a blue business suit the previous spring; the skirt came down above her knees. It wasn’t that tight but is gave a good indication of what her body was like underneath it.
The rest was neat but basic: a white blouse, pantyhose – well stockings, I couldn’t yet confirm that these were pantyhose – and black high-heel shoes. The heels on these were higher than what she usually wore and I assumed they were something new she had gotten.
Her hair was tied up in a bun at the at the back of her head. I liked küçükçekmece escort that even though I was sure she had never done it like that before. Her make-up was impeccable except that her lipstick may have been a bit too red. Her red fingernails matched her lips. And of course she had her black-rimmed glasses on.
I knew I’d get more information when her character was animated, which would happen as soon as I said something.
“Hi, I’m Paul, I have an appointment today.”
“Yes, I’ve been expecting you. I’m Erica Keller, pleased to meet you.” A very slight smile was on her face. She put her right arm out with her hand drooping down. It didn’t seem like I was supposed to kiss it; I guessed she was just avoiding a manly handshake. I lightly gripped her fingers. In the last year I had touched Michelle in every place that could be touched but this slight contact sent a buzz into my skin.
“I’m glad to meet you Erica . . .”
“It’s Miss Keller, if you wouldn’t mind using that.”
That seemed a bit much but I would go along with what she wanted. I said, “Anyway, I wasn’t sure who I was supposed to see today.”
“You are supposed to see me, I’m sure of that.”
With that she turned and walked away from me. She wobbled on her heels, which confirmed my suspicion that she wasn’t used to their height. They did give a nice shimmy to her ass; obviously that had been planned and tested before I got here.
I followed her into one of the offices and she closed the door. “Have a seat, please.” She sat herself behind the desk and immediately started some business chatter, “Now I wear several hats here, I fill in as receptionist sometimes and I’m both assistant office manager and also assistant personnel assistant.” I think the double use of that word was a Michelle joke but otherwise Erica was already tiring me. I thought of a junior high school-level quip like, you’re not wearing a hat right now but I stifled it.
A moment later, “May I see your résumé?” I removed it from the envelope and gave it to her. The amount of time and attention she spent reviewing and marking this skimpy document would have suited the Magna Carta.
Just as I was sinking into job interview boredom and irritation she pulled a big surprise on me. Her timing was perfect. She liked to pull some stunt near the beginning of a game and catch me unprepared.
She rustled through some papers on the desk, “I know you have yet to fill out a full employment application.”
Oh no, don’t make me spend time working on that. I assumed for the purposes of the role playing I could fake it with sixty seconds of scribbling.
She said, “Excuse me for a moment while I get a form.”
She got up and went to a filing cabinet, bent over and opened a drawer at the lowest level; then she peered into it. It was obvious where this a going; I remembered another of her characters examining the lower reaches of the stove and refrigerator in her apartment. Erica was upright but bending over as far as possible to look into the drawer. I heard her say, “It’s really a mess in here.”
The Michelle in this must have realized that her skirt was not as short as she had expected. Erica/Michelle got down on her knees and wiggled her behind in the air as she made another pass through the drawer. Even that wasn’t enough so she just yanked her skirt up as needed.
Now I was sure this lady was wearing pantyhose – but she didn’t seem to have any panties underneath. I tried to confirm that. The stockings were the nude/tan color or whatever they called the standard version. I could see through them, searching for a thong perhaps but that wasn’t there either.
She let have me have a good long look, finally saying, “Ah hah, I got one.” As she pulled back she looked over her shoulder at me and put a hand to her lips, “Oops, sorry, I forgot.” A highly unlikely explanation I thought.
I had mixed feeling about this display of female ass because now I would have to spend much of the interview hiding a boner. If I was sure said boner would be dealt with at the end I would be fine but I couldn’t be sure which turns this game would take.
She patted down her clothes and regained her composure before sitting down. My impressions of her coming together; she was officious but sexy. Or maybe her sexiness was just an affectation, maybe she simply enjoyed discomforting men, including young job applicants like me. My concentration was certainly blown. If this had been a real interview I would be in trouble by now.
I was glad to hear, “Why don’t we save some time and you fill that out at home and mail it to me?”
As she continued the interview with the usual vapid questions common to these things, other, but more subtle, sexy bits of business were occurring. She got rather intimate with a ballpoint pen; she kept putting this pen to her mouth. She got to licking the little clicker at the top and then pushing it up and down with küçükyalı escort her tongue. Click, click; the point at the other end went in and out. Then she moved the pen across her lips and managed to leave lipstick on it.
“What would you say is your greatest weakness?”
I wanted to say, that would be that I like to have young personnel assistants get their lipstick on my cock. Now she had the pen in one hand while using the other to stroke the shaft. This didn’t see like fun anymore as I squirmed in my seat. Michelle was going to owe me a big payoff at the end of this.
She said, “It’s seems a little warm in here.” The HVAC system was off but it didn’t seem that bad. Nevertheless she took some tissues out of a box. I noticed that her blouse was unbuttoned down to her bra. She used the tissue to wipe nonexistent sweat off the top of her chest.
Then she said, “Excuse me.” She took off her jacket and let her it droop over the seat back. Then she found some reason to put her hands on her hips and push her breasts forward.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
I could see myself in five minutes banging her right on this desk. It occurred to me that I didn’t need to get involved with another woman right now; after all Michelle and. . . Wait a minute, this was Michelle. On the other hand arguably this was not Michelle.
The pen was on the desk as she run a red fingernail along its length. This was distracting me from my already incoherent answers. Erica didn’t seem to be listening to me anyway until she suddenly blinked herself into focus. She leaned forward and folded her hands.
“Now Paul . . .”
“Yes, Miss Keller?” Women liked hearing their own names, right?
“There is a very important issue I want to discuss with you. It’s right here in our employee handbook.” The publication she picked up was some magazine from a printing company. She flipped through the pages and then stabbed a spot with a red fingernail.
“Here, Employee Discipline.” The second word of that caught my attention. Something interesting seemed imminent.
Quoting some made-up material, Erica said, “The basic information here is that in the case of certain infractions like excessive tardiness, absenteeism, insubordination, having an overly messy work area, et cetera, one warning will be issued and for the second offense, the assistant personnel assistant” – she pointed to herself – “that would be me, Erica Keller, shall administer the punishment regardless of the gender of the miscreant.”
I loved the way she made up this handbook babble on the fly. Then maybe she hadn’t; she always planned these games in more detail than she would let on.
She looked up and did her exaggerated blinking. Obviously this was my cue.
“What exactly are these punishments, Miss Keller?” Now I was beginning to enjoy saying her name.
She went into the desk drawer and pulled out a big wooden spoon. Typesetting companies had little use for such items so she must have planted it there earlier. After she put the spoon on the desk she gave it a little pat. I was always struck by these gestures she gave her characters; she had an extraordinary sense for details.
At the same time she said, “Well Paul, they are corporal punishments.”
I wondered how she’d work out the next steps in this scenario. I couldn’t imagine the exact path to fruition here.
My next line would move it along, I hoped, “Could you explain that in more detail, Miss Keller?”
Her next gestures went as follows: she put her elbows on the desk. Her hands were palms down, fingertip to fingertip, forming a little platform on which to rest her chin.
“I’d be glad to; in fact I insist on it. It’s quite simple, actually; I spank or paddle, or both usually, the buttocks of the offending employee.”
That seemed to be just fine; now what was the follow-up?
Her hands went down on the desk and she leaned forward. There was a school teacher / guidance counselor feeling here. She wanted my complete attention and she was getting it.
“I’m going to demonstrate this on you, right now.”
“But I haven’t done anything.”
“Not yet, you haven’t. In any case, this will get you to concentrate your mind. You won’t be as tempted into misbehavior if you know the consequences. Keep in mind, this will be only a fraction of what could actually be administered by me.”
I thought, bravo Michelle! You were a master of the role-playing craft. I admired how she had threaded this plot in exactly the right direction.
She went over to another chair, taking her spoon with her. It was a very utilitarian chair without arms, ideal for the purpose she was using it for. She said, “Come over here, please.”
I had the problem of the bulge in my pants which had been there for a while. There was nothing I could do about it now. It was up to Miss Keller to decide to either comment on it or ignore it.
I had had some bottom maltepe escort opportunities with other women who liked to switch on occasion. From my point of view these had gone extremely well so I looked forward to this.
I stood at Erica’s left but she was right handed so she told me to go to that side. Then she touched me for the first time that evening. With one hand on my back and the other tugging on my shirt she gently guided me over her lap. A little tap on my side indicated that that I should move closer to her.
She said, “First I’m going to give you some whacks of the spoon on the seat of your pants. Sort of to introduce you to it, I would say.”
She pushed my coattails back and gave me a couple of pats on the butt with her implement.
“Ok, hon, are you ready?” Did she just call me hon, as in honey?
“Yes, Miss Keller, I’m ready.
I wondered how much protection I would get from my cotton pants. She started with long swings from the very beginning, steady but not too rapid. I grunted each time, more from the impact than actual pain. I didn’t keep count but she seemed to keep at for a while. Maybe there were ten, but it certainly was bearable. My erection came back stronger than before.
Then she said, “Now for the next phase. Lower your trousers, please.”
I had to get up for a moment to do that. When I got back in position, she yanked my underpants down below my knees without comment. Always practical, she stuck the spoon under my shirt where she could easily retrieve it. And now my erection was pressed against her skirt. It was her call, and she didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Hm, I see a few minor marks. What I’m going to give you is a good hand spanking to warm up your little tush.”
I almost chuckled at her phrasing. Anyway, hand spankings were interesting. They sting but they can have a pleasant warming sensation on sensitive places, erotically charged places directly connected to the genitals.
Erica/Michelle had a strong arm, and she hit me hard each time. A few times she moved to my thighs for variety. She had some stamina for this; I knew her own hand was getting warm too. As this proceeded both the pain and pleasure seemed to go up at the same rate.
She stopped for a moment and said, “Your backside is reddening up nicely.” I thought about the connection between the physical and emotional side of these events. It couldn’t be hurting too much if I was having these musings.
Then she stopped and rubbed each cheek.
“Does that feel good?”
Man, did it ever. “Yes, Miss Keller, it does.”
“Now it’s time for the spoon.” She got it from under my shirt. “Brace yourself please.”
It knew this was going to have some bite to it, and she seemed to be uninhibited in her swings. After a few of those she said, “I know it hurts, but try not to move around so much.” I looked back at her. She seemed focused on her task.
I didn’t keep track of the number; somewhere beyond twelve she stopped. She gave a couple of pokes with her spoon. “Those got though.” Yes, Erica, they certainly did.
Then she said, “Time for my hand again.” I was a bit more worse for wear now and this time it was less pleasant.
“I hope you know now not to misbehave. Believe me, Miss Keller can do this all night if she has to.” Referring to herself in the third person was a notable touch. Anyway, I was beginning to wish I had a more dainty girlfriend. But I knew that smaller women could accomplish a lot regarding discipline if they were motivated.
When she stopped again she said, “I’ve considered that a guy should take off his belt to get a punishment with that. It would be humiliating to be beaten with your own belt.”
Why not humor her? “If you say so, ma’am?’
“Please, I’m still young. Call me miss.”
She finished with six more of the spoon; I kept track of those. She said simply, “That’s enough.” It had been a successful session I suppose, although I didn’t have the endurance that some other people had. Anyway I wanted to get to the explicit rather than the implicit sex
“I know that was a bit harsh, I see especially the marks the spoon made. But it’s effective that way.” She began rubbing my sore ass. “You took that very well, I’m quite pleased with you. I hope you’re always such a good employee.” Baby, I’ll be the best employee you ever had if you give me a chance.
Erica moved her right hand over and held my far hip. I’m not sure what the point of that was but it definitely make me more turned on. Maybe that was the point. She said, “The spoon definitely goes deeper – deeper than the hand, I mean. There’s the whole horizontal versus vertical dimension aspect to this.”
I think I knew what she was getting at. Then Erica/Michelle went through the next hairpin turn. She said, “Lift yourself up a bit.” Then, “I thought so.” Her left hand went under me and she ran one finger along my cock. It didn’t seem I needed to comment so I didn’t.
She said, “I’ve seen this before, but I can take care of it.” I hoped that didn’t require more of the spoon.
It wasn’t to be that. Michelle always had her props in place, and now she reached up for a bottle of hand lotion on the shelf behind her. Soon her right hand was resting on my back while her left one wanked me. She was effective too; Erica seemed to have some experience with this.