Behind closed doors

Sabrina slipped carefully through the heavy, wooden door, waved in by a man deeply embroiled with his telephone. She always tried to make sure no-one was paying attention when she entered this imposingly-furnished office and yet, somehow, got the strange feeling she was being watched every time. Just paranoia, she supposed... Though the nineteen-year-old girl could have sworn she saw just a hint of movement behind one of the shelving units…

She shook the suspicions out of her head. Now was not the time. Mr Benson expected her to be on time and in position before any of his morning appointments arrived. She stepped forward nimbly, heels clicking on the polished floor. Sunlight and a fresh breeze flooded in from several wide open windows on the far wall, dancing against and under the ridiculously short skirt which had become her uniform here. Her freshly shaved legs tingled beneath their thin nylon covering and goosebumps made themselves known upon her propped up and presented cleavage. Everything to make her look like the perfect, sultry secretary. The trappings of modest professionality… adjusted carefully to be anything but. Her mother had beamed to see her first dressed up like this, for the interview. “Oh, they’ll all just fall over themselves, to see you like this!” She’d exclaimed, as if that was the only thing that mattered…

Sabrina carried the steaming mug of coffee that served as her cover, over to the man who’d hired her. John still hadn’t more than glanced at her, since she’d entered… laughing and joking with some other besuited tyrant somewhere else in the country, no doubt. She’d come to realise that, unless you were his current focus of attention, you might as well be invisible to the man. Just another lump of background furniture, though one that lived and breathed and was expected to bend over and pick things up quite slowly, on occasion. He’d notice if her skirt was too long… that was certain. The rules for her outfits had been very strongly laid out, by his paid secretary in very similar attire. ‘Mr Benson is a man of very specific tastes’ had been her delicately-put warning. A step outside those lines and all hopes of fast-tracking up the ladder were dashed.

The young intern shuddered a little, internally. But the words on which she’d been raised by echoed around her skull: “A girl’s gotta use what she’s got to get ahead!” Mother’s mantra to both her, Katherine and Emma, each and every day. Three sisters brought up by a single mom… and whatever man happened to be around this week. Grown dark haired, bright-eyed and with a figure that could kill at twenty paces, just like she still had. Perhaps in other households daughters were not taught how to sway one’s hips in just the right way to cause traffic accidents somewhere behind… but those were the skills Momma {mom} had practised to pass on. So those were the gifts she gave her precious offspring. Sabrina couldn’t fault her parent’s logic. She was earning more in this ‘unpaid internship’ than most would at the peak of their careers. Some things were just worth selling.

Coffee offloaded, she stepped around the side of the desk. Mr Benson gave her one, long, lecherous look up and down… then wheeled his chair backwards, out the way. Sabrina stepped forward as she had done many times before, by now… and knelt down on her hands and knees. The small patch of carpet here was soft enough to be welcoming, as often as she had come to greet it. She crawled forward slowly, offering ample time for the view to be admired… and not surprised at all when a hand came down to smack against her buttcheek. The short, sharp shock of it sent shivers running through her. Adding to the general, humiliating awareness of where she was once again placing herself.

The space beneath the desk was cramped… but not so much as you might expect. It had clearly designed with some specific tastes in mind, allowing plenty of room for an individual to count it as a home away from home… if needs be. From the underside hung a ring attached to a chain and collar. The first thing Sabrina put on, once she was safely ensconced. It was mostly symbolic, really… once Mr Benson was back in place it would be quite difficult for her to leave without pushing him out the way anyway. Still, once it was on… she felt a strange and comforting calm wash over her. As if all the world outside had faded away. This small, cozy space was all there was now… for the next few hours. All the rules and worries of humanity and society receded. All she had to think about were the racks of interesting toys and tools upon the walls, her master’s lower half enclosing her… and the beady, little cameras focusing in from three different angles.

Another day’s work could begin.