Chapter One

 

Ann was sitting behind the fattest man she had ever seen in her entire life. The back of his neck looked like two rolls of sausage meat beneath a severe brush cut and his buttocks dwarfed the pad of the secretarial chair he used as he watched over a dozen TV screens stacked in rows along the far wall of the room. He was a black man and she was paralyzed with fear of him. Not because he was black and close to three hundred pounds while she, on the other hand, was a petite housewife weighing in at close to one hundred pounds. No that wasn't it at all! It was because she knew, at some point very soon; he would turn and ask for her. She would go to him and he would look up at her. He would then tell her to take off her clothes.

They were below a small office complex; three or four floors. There were no lights in the basement room they called the Bullpen, only the flickering blue light of the monitors throwing shadows about the dark concrete block walls. She looked over "Fat-Boy's" bulky shoulder and saw that each monitor was wired to a corresponding camera; each focused on a private office space. They were cheap black and white TVs, some images were blotted out with snowy interference; vertical black lines scrolled up the screens of others. She strained to make out the images of desks and chairs. On some of the screens she saw the movements of men hunched over briefcases, papers scattered on desktops. One monitor had a large man in shirtsleeves with a maze of tattoos; he was talking to someone across the room. Then, as Ann watched, the camera briefly caught the image of a woman. Her back briefly filled the screen; the long arch of her spine, narrow shoulder blades. Ann leaned forward to look closer and her guts wrenched. Once again, she realized that she was not in this office on the merit of her typing skills. As she eavesdropped, a slim bare arm extended to hand over a stack of papers and then was gone; the man with the tattoos watched lustily after the woman's naked backside.

God, what am I doing here, a voice screamed, tearing holes in the fabric of her brain. She wanted to jump up, bolt from the building but she was too scared. Too scared to stay; too scared to run. So instead, she just sat, chewing the inside of her lip and trying to control the jigging of the foot that was curled around the leg of her chair.

It was Ann's friend, Betty, who had suggested this. Friend? Oh really? she scoffed to herself. Ann and her husband were facing up to the fact that they were in the unenviable situation of being desperate for cash. Caught up in the slowing economy, they were at risk of losing their home. His accounting job with a brokerage firm suddenly evaporated one day and desperate for work, he had taken the only thing available: inventory control at a local warehouse. His marginal salary covered the mortgage or the monthly groceries and expenses, but not both. Ann had confided in Betty that foreclosure was looming; that they had received a stack of notices. Betty had looked over her coffee cup and said that she might be able to help!

"You type, don't you?" Betty asked. Years ago Ann had taken a journalism course in college and was a passable typist. She nodded her head. "Well," Betty continued, "remember last year when I bought my new Lexus? Well I needed some quick cash and got a part time job downtown as a secretarial temp. It paid good money. Really good!"

"A temp? But you type with two fingers," Ann pointed out in disbelief.

"That's true," Betty replied. "But this temp service is more interested in how pretty you are."

"How pretty? What are we talking about, here?"

"Oh Christ! Listen," Betty said, frustration brightened her voice. "It's one of those office services downtown that provides a businessman with a desk, telephone answering and secretarial help. You know the kind of place. Right?"

"Sure, yes," Ann had conceded, still bewildered.

"Ok. Good. Well this place is a little different." Betty smiled like she was delivering a message from the devil. "You see they only hire very attractive secretaries; and for that you qualify, my love. But if you work for them you will be required to show a little skin. Well actually, that's not quite right," she hesitated, smiled again. "All of your skin, actually."

"God! Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Oh stop being so god damned naive," Betty retorted. "You've heard of nude car-washes, nude hair stylists, and nude waitresses. Well this is the same thing; just that it's a lot more discrete and the money's a fuck of a lot better."

"You did that? To pay for that silly car?"

"Well don't knock it, baby," Betty scowled, getting to her feet. "It's an option, if you want it. Otherwise, lose your flippin' house!"

"I got my pride," Ann retorted haughtily. "I just couldn't do that, not for the house, not for anything!"

"Fine," Betty replied, heading for the door. "You can let me know if you change your mind!"

The next day Ann received her final notice from the bank; and damn it, she did change her mind. She needed to come up with eight hundred dollars by the end of the following week and cried for a total of two hours; walked around her lovely house and garden; cried some more and then called Betty.

The next day, with Betty's instructions, Ann found the building. She was taken to a private office and given a quick interview. A woman photocopied her ID and had her sign a release. She was shown to a seat in front of a makeup mirror and told to freshen up. Then a photographer came in and took several pictures of her with a forced smile pasted on her lips and a questioning look in her eyes. And then Ann was left alone, seated on a small chair before a pale blue screen; the bright photographic lights blinding her eyes. She sat nervously for ten minutes, just knowing she had made a terrible mistake, before hearing a door open across the room. She squinted into the darkness beyond the photographer's lights, trying to make out the form hidden in the shadows. She was being watched, studied, but she was too frightened to call out. Ann just sat quietly hoping for the best and though she was dressed conservatively in a light wool skirt and crisp white blouse, she felt exposed. Finally, Ann saw movement, and blinking, she recognized the form of a woman moving toward her.

"Hello," the woman said, stepping into the light, "my name is Reena. I understand you want to work for me."

She is an unusual looking woman, but there is something magnetic about her, Ann thought. Tall, maybe five ten, but her wide shoulders and hips made her seem stocky. Her blond hair was tightly pulled back from a wide face; Eastern European, Ann thought, maybe Polish. Reena gave the impression of a woman who could slip into a harness and pull the plow all day then, slipping into another kind of harness, plow her man all night. She seemed a woman who would need no rest and her aura crackled with efficiency. She was all business... except for one immediately apparent discrepancy.

Reena was dressed in a tailored business suit of gray linen that off the rack would have been worth more than Ann's car, but this was no off-the-rack suit. It was hemmed short about her meaty thighs, eight-inches above her knee, exposing more leg than would have been acceptable in the usual office setting. But more disturbing, her jacket was buttoned tightly around her pinched waist, and above, the lapels flared dramatically about her full bust-line. She wasn't wearing a blouse. Her bare breasts jutted outward, lifted by the tight jacket and her thick brown nipples seemed to point keenly into Ann's face.

"Yes," Ann stammered, not knowing what else to say; eyes transfixed on the woman's chest so intently that she couldn't seem to force herself to make eye contact.

"Tell me, Ann," Reena asked. "How badly do you want to work here?"

"Very badly. My husband's lost his job. We are going to lose our house." Her voice cracked and she felt the tears gathering on her lower eye lids.

"Ahhh," Reena replied evenly, a slight accent curling her words, and taking a step closer, she stood directly in front of the chair where Ann perched her tiny bottom. "Badly enough to suckle one of these?" Reena bent slightly at the waist and brought her breasts even with Ann's eyes.

Ann was flabbergasted. She tried to say something but her tongue went dry and nothing would come. Her mouth felt pithy and she caught herself licking at her lips... hungrily Reena would think. Reena's grapefruit-sized breasts blotted Ann's vision and she didn't know if she was being laughed at or if Reena's face was strained in lust.

She felt Reena's hand on a shoulder. "Well?" Reena breathed, impatiently.

"Yes!" Ann suppressed a shudder and cleared her throat. "Yes... If that's what you want." she managed, looking up again, trying to catch Reena's eyes. But it was impossible; she was standing too close. Ann felt defeated, no longer in control of her own life. This was just one more downhill step toward ruination. What did it matter anymore? She shifted forward on the chair and took up one of Reena's trumpet-shaped nipples between her lips and gently sucked on it. Reena relaxed immediately, but Ann's stomach seemed to pitch.

"No," Ann choked out, pulling from Reena's nipple and turning her face away to wipe the sweetness of skin from her lips with the back of a hand. "I'm sorry. I can't," she cried out, covering her face with her hands so Reena wouldn't see the tears staining her cheeks.

"You can't? Or you won't?" Reena asked, sternly.

"Oh please," Ann begged from behind a fortress of linked fingers. "I need this job so bad. I have to find eight-hundred dollars by next week and this is my only chance. I'm so sorry. I've never done anything like this before, but please, I'll try. Really, I will. Give me a chance. I'll try to please you." And dropping her hands, she turned back to face Reena's heaving chest.

"No... No. That's ok, my dear. I think I can rely on your loyalty," Reena said dismissively. She bent at the waist and nuzzled the top of Ann's head. Ann heard her inhale deeply and felt the kiss planted in her hair. With a flourish Reena swiveled on a high heel and with quick, purposeful strides, disappeared from the room. Moments later, the first woman reappeared, told Ann she was all signed up; to report back the following day and to be sure to fix her lipstick before she left the building.

 

Ann's phone was ringing when she walked through her front door. "Were you watching for my car?" she asked when she recognized Betty's voice.

"Just wanted to see how you went on," Betty answered.

"Ok, I guess. I mean they asked me to come back tomorrow."

"Oh good for you. They took your picture?"

"Yeah, a few of them."

"Good. I hope you smiled prettily; those photos will go into the book. It's how the men will choose you."

"Great. I feel like a farm animal!"

"Never mind. The important thing is you're in!" Betty said reassuringly, "Did that cow make you suck her tit?"

"Oh yeah. Thanks for the warning, you bitch," Ann returned sarcastically. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Relax. She's not a lezzy or anything. It's just her way of testing you. I mean if you were a cop from vice you'd have to be pretty dedicated to do it, but someone desperate for the money... well you're ok, right?"

"Yeah, but it was a bit creepy."

"Well don't sweat it. All the new recruits go through that one and she must have liked you or you'd be sitting around tomorrow watching the soaps."

"Yeah, I guess. Lucky me! But to tell you the truth, I'm still not sure I can go through with it."

"Oh baby, it's not so bad. You'll see. The guys are mostly older and really successful businessmen; teddy-bears with lots of cash. It's just that they would rather go to work each day and have a choice of attractive secretaries to work with. And the fact that those girls are willing to bare it all while they perform their office duties is a perk they are willing to pay for. And baby, they can afford you! So relax, ok? There'll be a couple of bad apples that might tend to get out of hand but for the most part, they'll treat you like 'daddy's little princess.' Trust me."

"Oh sure. It's ok for you but I feel as guilty as hell. I'm a happily married woman, remember? And I'm not the type to run around naked at an office."

"Well just try to remember it won't be forever. A couple of weeks to cover your bills gives you some breathing room. In another month, who knows? Dave will have a new job and you can forget all about what you had to do to save your house. And all women do it at some point, it's all we really have to sell, isn't it? I did it for a few weeks and got a car. A car I really love."

"God, you're impossible. I can't believe you did it for a damned car!"

Betty laughed on the other end of the line and somehow her laughter made it all tolerable. That, and the fact that in a couple of weeks it would, hopefully, be over. "Good luck, baby and don't be surprised... you may even have some fun." Betty blew her a kiss into the phone and was gone. Ann hung up and noticed that her hands had stopped shaking for the first time since leaving downtown. She kneaded her eyes with a thumb and forefinger. Now all she had to do was get through dinner with Dave and try to get a night's sleep before selling her body to the teddy bears.