1.1. The uniform.

 

Having left college with a qualification in bookkeeping, I searched for weeks before I found a company that were interested in me. Thankfully, after reviewing my CV, West Africa Pharmaceuticals (WAP) offered me a position, crunching statistics, in the pharmacy inventory department (PID).

I didn't have a degree, so the Junior position was the best I could hope for. The job was almost too good to be true. Getting my own office and a salary of £25,000 per annum was beyond my wildest dreams, so I jumped at the chance of working for the multinational company.

However, as with most work situations, the job wasn't quite as straightforward as it first appeared. My immediate boss, Catharine Blackburn, behaved like a pleasant, easy-going individual when she interviewed me. However, once I was working at the company, I began to realize that her interviewing persona wasn't reflected in her true character.

Her manner, from day one, was overbearing and authoritarian. My job though enabled me to get my head down and do what I was paid to do - crunch figures and spot mistakes. Catherine, like most of the staff at WAP, was black and of East African descent. At first, I assumed that she was being tough on me because I was white.

Unfortunately, my office was next door to hers and she insisted on the door being open at all times. Not only was I at her beck and call from the moment I arrived, but she watched my every move like a hawk. I had to put up with constant interruptions and demands for me to run errands for her.

Then, it got personal. She started to criticise my choice of outfits. Even the shoes I was wearing. I had been working there a month, when one Tuesday morning she called me into her office. I had been laying out some work on my desk, when Miss Blackburn, called for me.

I slipped out from behind my desk and walked through to her office. "Molly," she began. "As you know, you've been with us a month. Are you enjoying your work?"

"Yes, I am, Miss. It's a challenging job and I enjoy being tested."

"That's a good attitude to have, Molly. We, the Professor and I, are pleased with your work ethic."

"Thank you, Miss," I responded. I was relieved that I wasn't getting a reprimand for something I had done wrong.

"However," she continued. "We would both like you to improve your appearance."

My clothes, in my opinion, were as smart as her outfit. I was wearing a knee-length, black pencil skirt and a light-yellow blouse. However, I didn't want to challenge her opinion lest I upset her.

"Oh ... Yes ... I'll make more of an effort, Miss. Perhaps you can give me some tips?"

"Molly, you've seen how many distinguished scientists and academics visit the office and attend meetings with Joseph... er, Professor Undoko. You will be attending some of these meetings, so we want you to wear something pleasing on the eye. You are young and attractive, so we feel that your clothes should reflect your age and personality."

I liked the compliment but didn't agree that my clothes weren't appropriate for my age. I nodded in agreement though, because I was prepared to listen to what she had to say. Having finished, she lifted a package from her bag and placed it on the desk.

"This is a complete set of clothes, Molly. Wear this outfit into the office tomorrow and if you're comfortable in it, we'll order a couple of more sets for you."

I was surprised. However, it would save me a lot of money if it was a permanent thing. "Will you expect me to wear the uniform every day, Miss?"

"Molly, we prefer to call it an outfit, but yes, we want you to wear it to work every day." She pushed the package toward me. "Now get on with your work."

"Yes, Miss."

On the way back to my office, I sensed Cathy studying my back and maybe even my posterior. I scolded myself. I got the impression that she had a low opinion of white girls. Nothing concrete. It was her manner toward me and a few comments I had overheard in the canteen. The fact that I was the only white girl working in the office didn't bother me, but it may have bothered some of the black girls.

I shouldn't have been thinking about such things while I worked, but the uniform, which I had put in a carrier bag I kept in a drawer, bugged me a little. There was no mention of a uniform when I applied for the job, and it had taken a month to get round to hoisting it on me.

Then a thought occurred to me. Maybe, they were waiting a month to decide if I was right for the job. That made sense, so I put it to the back of my mind.

Our suite of offices was separate from the main laboratory complex, so I was the only female junior member of staff in our section. On the other hand, a lot of senior staff, mainly men, visited our section to discuss the reports with Catherine and the Professor.

One thing that Cathy said pleased me.

She made a point of saying they were pleased with my work and that I would be attending some of the meetings while senior staff was present. I liked the idea of being involved in meetings so if it meant I had to wear the company's uniform, I'd go along with their wishes.

By the time I left for home, I had gotten used to the idea and had forgotten my earlier reservations.

I had a change of heart as soon as I opened the package, after I had popped my dinner in the oven. It contained a maroon pleated skirt which was smart but way too short. I normally wear my clothes to the knee, but the skirt was mid-thigh. Two inches shorter and it would have been the same length as my tennis skirts!

The cotton white blouse was a tad on the small size for my 'C' cups and because there was no bra in the package, I immediately decided that I would wear one of my own to work. Without one, my dark areolas and nipples would be visible pressing against the fabric. The parts of the outfit that really concerned me though, were the full white cotton panties and short white ankle socks.

The clothes were more suited to a young teenager, not a 21-year-old statistic analyst. I hadn't worn big pants since I was in junior school, so I felt weird when I pulled them up over my ass and mons. They didn't feel comfortable, so I lifted a foot onto a chair to inspect the gusset.

I discovered that the strip of cotton was unusually narrow and didn't quite cover the full width of my pussy. However, it covered the important bit - my cleft and clitoral flesh. I'd have to make sure I didn't flash my panties, or I'd have some embarrassing moments. Also, because the stretchy cotton was tight, my mons was well defined and my black pubes showed through the material.

The final item was a pair of black stilettoes that had 3" heels, not the most practical footwear for the office! They and the skirt fitted me perfectly, a fact that had me wondering if Cathy knew my sizes or had bought them using guesswork.

I examined my reflexion in the mirror and had to admit that I looked smart, but younger than I was comfortable with. My jet-black hair, a throwback from my Japanese father, cascaded around the shoulders of my white blouse. I liked the contrast and often wore white tops.

The door banged, announcing my flatmate had arrived home, so I opened my bedroom door and stepped into the hall. I got a surprise when I discovered that Carly had brought her new black boyfriend, Todd, back to the flat. It was the second time I had met him.

"Molly, where'd you get that outfit?" she asked.

Todd, tall and muscular, just stood and stared of my clothes. But focussed on the outline of my breasts through the fabric of the blouse.

"My boss wants me to wear this in the office," I informed her.

"Oh, does he?" she responded.

"It's a 'she', Carly. Catherine is my boss."

Todd found his voice. "I wish the nurses would wear skirts that short at the hospital." Carly elbowed him in the ribs.

"That's even stranger, Molly. Normally, personal assistants want junior staff to cover up."

I hated being referred to as a junior at work. Carly didn't think that I had an important job, despite the salary. "What are you doing this evening, Molly?" I asked.

"We're going out for a meal with some friends."

"Oh, what time?"

"In an hour..." She followed Todd into her bedroom while I returned to mine to change out of the outfit.

I had no plans to go out, because I was studying for a computer accountancy course that I was taking at the local college. I attended two nights a week and usually studied a further three nights. I wasn't a very good student during my teenage years, but I was through that phase of my life. So, I was trying to gain as many qualifications as I could in the hope I could one day become an accountant.

I had just returned to my room and started to undress when there was a knock on the door.

Without waiting for a response, Carly entered. "Oh, sorry, babe..." She entered and closed the door. "...I just wanted to let you know we'll be home late."

My blouse was open, revealing my breasts, but I hesitated to remove it, even though she had seen me naked several times during the 6 months I had rented the room from her. Maybe, it was the way her eyes roved over my body as she talked to me. Maybe, I was still shy.

"Okay, Carly, I'll probably go to bed early."

Her eyes focused on my skirt. "Are you seriously going to wear that to work tomorrow?"

I slipped the blouse off and picked up the t-shirt I was going to wear. "Yes, I've decided I like it."

"Okay. It's bold and the sort of thing I'd wear..." With that, she left me to change and soon afterwards left the flat with Todd.

I was a tenant in Carly's home so I couldn't complain about her entering my room without knocking but her commenting on what I wear to work was new and unexpected. I shrugged her opinionated comments off and forgot about them as I relaxed for the rest of the evening. I had a much more difficult situation at work to think about which I hoped would smooth itself out over time...