Andrew Dixon continued to drink scotch during the one hour drive to Lord Chelmsford’s country home. He became a little handsy with his niece but Gillian she figured he’d paid out thousands of pounds for her breast augmentation surgery and for her wardrobe so she shouldn’t be too annoyed with him. Besides he would usually have one of his trout-pout bimbos accompanying him who would undoubtedly have given up any remaining virtue they had just to be attending such a lavish function.

Gillian would probably have thrown her uncle a blowjob as a reward for his generosity if she hadn’t taken so much time, care and effort with her appearance but there was no way she was going to ruin her hair and makeup in the back of the Roller fellating him. Besides, men were notorious spatterers of semen when they ejaculated and she had no intention of getting any semen, which is notorious for staining, on her Saint Laurent slinky satin sheath.

“If you ladder my nylons Uncle Andrew I’m going to drive my heel into your foot the first opportunity I get,” Gillian removed his hand from her thigh.

“Oh you know me Gillian. It doesn’t matter where I get my appetite as long as I eat at home. Your virtue is safe,” he admonished her facetiously.

“There will be plenty of women at the party happy to compensate an old well-heeled stoat like me,” he chuckled.

Andrew and Gillian made a grand entrance at Chelmsford Hall and Andrew enjoyed leading her around introducing her to the hoi-poli. Tony Carlotta was there, now virtually a bloated old man, and so was his nephew Alphonso ‘Alfie’ Carlotta. At Gillian’s insistence Andrew allowed Alfie to take Gillian away from him so they could have a tété-a- tété.

Alfie took two glasses of champagne and led Gillian to an empty drawing room.

“You are the most stunning woman here tonight,” Alfie offered her a glass.

Alfie was tanned, muscular and very handsome, just like the photographs of him that Gillian had studied.

Gillian didn’t blush at the complement; there were some stunning women at the event but she considered herself amongst the most beautiful.

“Thank you, I suppose,” Gillian looked at him over the rim of her glass.

“I suppose?” Alfie was not used to anything he said being brought into question.

“Well you stated something that is probably bleeding obvious. I am undoubtedly stunning but I’ve had some help from Saint Laurent, Louboutin, Max Factor and Wolford,” she grinned cheekily at him.

Alfie grinned back at her.

“I bet you have, but even without the clothes and makeup I bet you are beautiful,” he countered.

“Oh you’d be surprised what I look like sans clothes,” Gillian knew that he wouldn’t grasp the double entendre but he smiled mischievously at her.

“Anyway I’m surprised that I haven’t met you before,” Alfie smiled back at her.

“Oh I’m a debutante. This is my first social event in these circles,” Gillian feigned modesty.

“Well I hope it’s not your last,” Alfie was quick to complement her.

“So you know who I am then? I mean you know what I do for a living?” Alfie watched her closely for her reaction.

“I know that your uncle Tony used to promote rock bands, has real estate investments, sells new and used cars, and dabbles in investment banking,” her eyes sparkled, indicating that she knew more than she was letting on.

“And?” Alfie leaned his head to one side questioningly.

“And… I suppose you follow in his footsteps. They say you are the heir apparent,” Gillian sipped her drink coyly.

“And?” Alfie’s eyes bore into hers.

“And you make money from other, shall we say, undisclosed sources of income,” Gillian raised her eyebrows.

“Very diplomatically put I must say,” Alfie clinked his glass against hers.

“Well I should know; I actually work for you… well sort of,” Gillian said coolly.

This took Alfie aback. He stared at her suspiciously.

“I deal for Terry Belkin; well I used to. I still do a little but I don’t make anywhere near the money that I used to,” Gillian said candidly.

“Not since I graduated at least,” Terry nearly chocked on his wine.

“You’re the tranny… I mean the… the woman who dealt for him on campus,” he blurted out.

“If you mean I’m the transgendered woman who made you a shitload of cash selling drugs then you are correct,” she corrected him.

“Terry said you were a stunner but you are way out of his league,” Alfie blushed.

“Thanks for the compliment… I think,” Gillian smiled and licked her top lip with the tip of her tongue.

“But you have a degree and your uncle is Andrew Dixon?” Alfie questioned her.

“A degree in humanities; it might as well be a degree in basket-weaving. And Uncle Andrew has given me plenty of money but I don’t want to sponge off him forever,” Gillian replied.

“What do you want to do?” Gillian had finally got Alfie to ask her the question she wanted him to.

“Something where I can use my charm and beauty, but nothing taxing. I want to be well paid of course, very well paid, maybe something in hospitality,” she smiled beguilingly at Alfie.

“From what Terry tells me you are very hospitable,” Alfie grinned at her lecherously.

Gillian threw her champagne in his face and slapped him hard, rocking him on his feet. She spun on her heels and strode purposely out of the room knowing that his eyes would be glued to her smooth ivory flesh exposed by her backless dress, her tight buttocks and long legs. She was smiling to herself.

Gillian made her way through the throng, brushing away the many attempts by people to engage with her. She picked up another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and climbed the wide spiral staircase to the second floor and made her way onto one of the balconies overlooking the grounds. She opened her clutch and took a hit from the vial and opened her cigarette case and placed a filter-tipped Marlboro menthol between her lips.

She put her drink down on the balustrade and turned and faced Alfie Carlotta and leaned forward so he could light it. She had expected him to follow her.

“The last person who spilled a drink on me is still using crutches,” he took a lighter from his dinner jacket, leaned in and lit her cigarette.

Gillian blew smoke in his face.

Alfie pulled Gillian to him roughly and kissed her. She opened her mouth and let him explore her with his tongue. She dropped her cigarette and put her arms around his neck and ground her body against him sensuously.

She gasped when he broke the kiss.

“You know what I am,” Gillian said.

It was statement not a question.

Alfie kissed her again, holding her tight. She could feel the distended protuberance through his tight pants and her dress. He kissed her deeply, passionately, working his hands over the smooth skin of her back. Her nipples hardened and her penis, which she had gaffed tightly so she could wear the sheath, was uncomfortably swollen.

He broke the kiss and took her hand, leading her back inside and down the corridor.

Alfie opened the door to one of the many bedrooms; he had obviously been in the house before and knew his way around. Gillian stepped into the bedroom without any hesitation. Alfie closed the door and locked it.

Gillian was about to make her way over to the bed when Alfie spun her around and pushed her against the dresser. She put out her hands to keep her balance and Alfie kicked her feet apart. She heard his zipper and his heavy breathing, he opened her dress and pressed himself against her and she felt his hot breath on her back and on her neck.

“Please be gentle. I’m a virgin,” she whispered.

Alfie eased himself away from her and put himself away. He gently prised her from her bent over position and turned her to face him. He softly swept her hair from her eyes and gazed into her electric-blue eyes.

“Seriously?” he searched her face.

Gillian nodded.

“I’m no maiden but I’ve never done that… you know… been penetrated by a man,” she looked away from him ashamed.

“But you were willing to let me take you like that. To fuck you bent over like a whore,” Alfie caressed her cheek.

“I wanted the first time to be with a man I respected, a man I desired, a man I felt worthy,” a single tear ran down her cheek.

Alfie collected her tear on his fingertip and put it to his lips.

“You are an enigma Miss Dixon,” Alfie stroked her hair and she leaned into him and sighed.

He kissed her softly and she mewed.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Alfie smiled at her.

“With you?” she asked.

“With me,” Alfie kissed her cheek.

She nodded timidly.

“Fuck the party. Let’s go,” he grinned and took her hand.

Gillian followed him down the staircase, a circumspect smile on her face, the corners of her mouth shaped into a conspiratorial grin. The evening was going better than she had planned.

They drove in Alfie's car to a houseboat be kept in at a secure mooring on the Thames. He asked her about herself and she told him her life story but omitted the parts about her narcissistic tendencies and proclivity for blackmail and seduction for her own gain.

The houseboat was luxuriously appointed and was extravagantly fitted out with all of the modern conveniences. Alfie seated Gillian on a burgundy velour lounge that wrapped around the main cabin. He poured them both drinks and then put a small mirror on the low table and poured a small pile of cocaine onto it, chopping it and separating it into four lines. He produced a minute silver straw and held it out to her.

Gillian bent over and toked up two of the lines, offering the straw to Alfie who inhaled the remaining two lines and wiped up the residue with a finger that he rubbed on his gums.

“Well that’s the preliminaries over, is there anything else that takes your fancy?” Alfie smiled at her.

Gillian felt delightfully high and accommodating; she lay back on the lounge and opened her arms. Alfie ripped off his dinner jacket and kicked off his shoes and socks and fell on her. She scooted up the lounge so that she was lying with her head on the pillows with Alfie poised over her, his weight on his elbows, his face inches from hers.

“Kiss me,” she sighed.

Alfie complied; kissing her softly at first and sensing her need he kissed her harder and used his tongue to excite her. Gillian squirmed underneath him, encouraging him. He struggled to get his hands inside her dress so he could free her breasts.

“Stop! This dress cost me a bomb, let me get more comfortable,” she wriggled beneath him.

She managed to squirm free but Alfie looked disappointed.

His disappointment soon turned rapture as Gillian stood before him and began a slow striptease. She eased the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and slowly lowered the red sheath to reveal her brassiere. She beckoned Alfie with a coy gesture to take off her bra and quickly stepped away as he tried to take her creamy pillows in his hands. She smiled at him seductively and inched the sheath down her torso until it pooled around her heels.

She stood before him, her milky-white flesh taunt and radiant in the lamplight, her pert breasts heaving, her flaming red hair caressing her shoulder blades. She stepped out of the dress and lay it over the back of one of the chairs. Gillian struck a pose. Dressed only in her flesh-toned Wolford Fatal 15 denier seamless pantyhose and red Christian Louboutin Alminette suede pumps she looked magnificent.

She placed her hands in the waistband of her pantyhose ready to peel them off when Alfie reached out and stopped her.

“Leave on the nylons and heels babe, you look magnificent,” he pleaded.

She put a finger in her mouth and pouted; looking as alluring as any woman that Alfie had ever seen.

Alfie stood and reached for her but she stepped back.

“Now you,” she whispered seductively.

“You do it,” Alfie commanded, his mouth dry.

Gillian took her time removing his tie and unbuttoning his dress jacket. She softly raked her nails across his chest and firm stomach, stopping when she got to his belt. She unbuckled it and opened his trousers and unzipped his flies. His pants fell to the deck and kicked them away.

A magnificent large erection was pushing at the front of Alfie’s tight lycra briefs, a wet patch had formed and was growing. Gillian tentatively ran her finger along the girth of his cock and Alfie shuddered. He shucked out of his underpants and kicked them away.

He reached out and hesitantly touched her swollen nipples, softly caressing them with his fingertips. Gillian bit her lip.

A game of attrition ensued as they stood apart and touched each other gently and tenderly, building their desire and need for release.

Alfie conceded and pulled Gillian into his arms; she moulded her body to his, wrapping one leg around his and tousling his hair as she kissed him deeply. She felt the pulse of his cock pressed against her groin, her own penis was swollen and breaking free of the tape holding it in place. Her testes had descended into her scrotum.

Alfie sensed her discomfort but was confused as to why and then it dawned on him. She had a perfectly formed mound in the crotch of her pantyhose and it could only be for one reason.

When he placed his hand between her legs Gillian froze.

“It’s ok darling; it’s ok,” he whispered lovingly and reassuringly in her ear.

His hand snaked inside her pantyhose and gently removed the gaff, he let the tangle of surgical tape fall to the floor and took her in his hand eased her free. Gillian’s cock sprang upright, pressed against her belly, encased in the gossamer fabric of her nylons.

Gillian gasped into his mouth and reached for him. She extracted his manhood from his underwear and squeezed it. Alfie lowered his face to her breast and sued his lips, his tongue and his teeth on her nipples on her until she was shaking with desire. She stroked his penis and caressed his scrotum, she used his pre-ejaculate as a lubricant and she worked her fingers on his throbbing phallus.

Alfie kissed her again and began to ease her towards the main cabin where he lowered her onto the huge bed and lay on top of her, never once breaking the kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and opened her legs and hooked her feet around his calves. They pressed their groins together, Alfie ground his cock against hers feeling her pantyhose become slippery as they both leaked pre-seminal secretions.

Gillian had prepared for just such an encounter tonight and she clean and well lubricated. She was more excited than she had ever been before and was looking forward to being deflowered with both longing and a little trepidation.

With an unspoken affinity between them Alfie lifted his groin away from hers and positioned two pillows under the small of her back and guided his erect penis to her sphincter.

“What do I do about your pantyhose?” he was a little bemused.

“You’re a predominant London villain Alfie; I’m sure you’re not going to let a flimsy piece of nylon xxx you,” Gillian teased him.

Alfie easily snagged a hole big enough for his cock and slid into the crevice of Gillian’s buttocks. He sensed her tense as his glans nudged her sphincter.

“Are you sure,” he looked at Gillian with concern, his rampant cock was fully engorged, long and thick.

Gillian smiled up at him and put her hands on his thighs and encouraged him. His glans slid inside her tight sphincter and she winced. His pre-ejaculate and her lubricant eased the passage of his member as it slowly slid inside her.

At first there was pain; but it wasn’t sharp or biting, it was almost pleasant. As Alfie filled her anus with his tumescent member the pain subsided and pleasure replaced it. The looked up at Alfie with rapture, seeing the delight on his face encouraged her and she wrapped her legs around his flanks and her arms around his neck and kissed him. He filled her aching passage with his cock and remained still while she accommodated him. He waited for her to be ready.

Gillian began to slowly move beneath him, encouraging him to fuck her. She gasped and then moaned as the nerves in her sphincter ignited delightful little sprites delight that’s spread through her anus. His glans pressed on the pleasure centre of prostate and Gillian let out a guttural growl and drove her tongue inti his mouth and writhed encouragingly beneath her.

Alfie’s cock was enveloped in her tight, warm fleshy sheath and he could feel her anus spasm, gripping his cock as he began to slide it slowly in and out of her.

Alfie kissed her passionately; her soft flesh and xxx breasts pressed against him, stimulating him as much as the tingling delight radiating from his cock. They began to fuck. To fuck each other hard and fast, Gillian rising to meet his thrusts, groaning, writhing and encouraging him. Her nails raked his back and her gossamer-clad legs held grazed his flanks, her heels drummed on his back.

The girth of his shaft clinging to the spongy ring of her sphincter and the head of his cock pressing on her prostate was bringing her to extremis. Her cock, sheathed in silky hose, pressed against his tight belly.

Gillian screamed and her body convulsed as she found release. Alfie felt her scalding spend on his belly and he ejaculated, releasing the climax he had been holding back, waiting for her so they could come together. Gillian felt his cock convulse and his hot spend fill her and her climax intensified, she thought she would faint, the pleasure was almost overwhelming.

They clung to each other in a paroxysm of lust, longing, and passion. Their lips crushed together and their tongues slavered as they moaned into each other’s mouths.

They held onto each other for what seemed like an eternity until their orgasms began to subside. With a final gasp, Alfie fell on top of Gillian, almost exhausted, panting and gasping. Gillian held him close, the musky smell of semen mingled with the fragrance of her perfume.

They slowly descended from their apogee, and fully sated, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

They spent the weekend on the canal boat making love, drinking, and eating. The boat had a well-stocked pantry and bar and Alfie had plenty of pharmaceuticals when they needed a kick. They were either naked or in Gillian’s case dressed in lingerie or wore silk robes when necessary. Alfie made and received a number of business related calls and Gillian eavesdropped whenever she could, trying to determine the full extent of Alfie's business interests both legitimate and otherwise.

They lay in bed Monday morning having just made love; neither of them wanted leave but they had to.

“So you know that you technically work for me?” Alfie began

Gillian propped herself up on one elbow. This is what she had been waiting for.

“Technically; yes. Illegally though,” she said protractedly.

“What if I was offer you a promotion?” he lazily circled her nipple with his finger.

“Promotion to what?” now her interest was piqued.

“A job that you can use your skills at,” he resisted coming to point.

“I’m not going o be one of your whores,” she snatched his hand away from her breast and sat up angrily.

Alfie sat up beside her.

“No, no, no! Not a whore! I wouldn’t do that to you. I meant your personal skills, you have a degree in humanities don’t you?” he put his arm around her and revisited when she tried to shuck it off.

“I own a Gentlemen’s Club and I’m looking for a manager. Well technically I have a manager but syou can be her understudy. You would be her second-in-command so to speak. You would run the place in her absence,” Alfie tried to smooth things out.

“A brothel! You want me to help run a brothel” Gillian was getting angrier.

“It’s a Gentlemen's Club; a bona fide business. The members are all wealthy businessmen or members of the upper class. It’s exclusive, expensive and only available to the privileged,” Alfie explained.

“So it’s an up market knocking shop where I’ll be shagged by rich tossers,” Gillian pretended to sulk.

This was just the opening she was hoping for.

“Look. Why don’t you go and check it out? Meet Amanda, the manager and see what you think,” Alfie lifted her chin

She let him kiss her and the kiss turned into a full-on smooch, which turned into a shag.

Finally they could delay their departure no longer.

Gillian removed her tattered and stained pantyhose and dropped them on the bed.

“You like me wearing them so much, you can keep them as a souvenir,” she teased him.

“I’ll treasure them,” he lifted them to his nose and inhaled and she clipped him playfully around the ear.

She pulled the spare pair of pantyhose from her Céline calfskin clutch and began to put them on.

“Aren’t you the Girl Guide, being prepared and all,” Alfie teased her.

“Well I have to do the walk of shame and all I have is my evening dress,” she’d used her compact and lipstick and brushed her hair doing the best to make herself presentable.

She shimmied into her red floor-length Saint Laurent slinky satin sheath while Alfie lay on the bed watching her.

“I could watch you doing that all day,” he grinned.

“And no lady of mine is doing any walk of shame. I have a car waiting for you dockside, ready to take you anywhere you want,” Alfie sat up.

He rummaged in the drawer and picked out a business card and wrote on the back of it. He handed it to Gillian who studied it. Gold lettering on glossy black back ground read: ‘Fleur de Lis’ with the stylised heraldry embossed in gold.

There was no phone number or address.

“Membership is by invitation only. I have written the address and Amanda’s number on the back.

Gillian turned the card over and smiled.

“Yes. That’s my private number on there too. Only select people have it,” he massaged her feet as he helped her put on her red Christian Louboutin Alminette suede pumps.

“My car will take you home and my driver Alvin will give you his number so you can call him when you have arranged to meet Amanda at the club,” he stood up and helped Gillian to her feet.

He kissed her goodbye.

“One last thing,” he said to her as helped up the companionway.

“You don’t work for Terry Belkin any longer, whether you take the job at the club or not,” he said sternly.

Gillian blushed and looked away.

Alfie lifted her chin and kissed her cheek.

“My girlfriends do not deal drugs,” he patted her bottom and sent her on her way.

“Got him!” Gillian Dixon hissed as she walked down the dock to the waiting BMW.

The Fleur de Lis club consisted of three two-story row houses that had been adjoined, situated off the Gloucester Road in Kensington. The building was redbrick, indistinguishable from the houses either side. Set into the brickwork either side of the oak panelled door above the three wide marble stairs was the heraldry of the Fleur de Lis in gold-leafed ironwork. There were no street numbers or nameplates, nothing other than the plaques to identify it.

Gillian alighted from the back seat of the BMW, the door held open by Alvin. Despite showing acres of stocking-clad thigh and a flash of white satin panty when she ungainly and very unladylike struggled to get of the car, Alvin did not stare but simply offered her his hand to assist.

Gillian was wearing an ivory skirt and matching jacket, black long-sleeved silk Dior blouse and white high heels. Underneath she wore a white satin bra and panty set and shimmering, flesh-toned hold-up stockings. Her jewellery was simple but elegant and she had toned down her makeup but still wore her signature bright red lipstick.

Alvin waited patiently by the car as she pressed the call button and spoke into the intercom. He drove away when she was ushered inside.

“I’m Cecelia Flick, Amanda Grayson’s assistant,” a young woman greeted her and showed her inside.

Cecelia was wearing a simple black skirt, matching jacket, white silk blouse, beige hosiery and black high heels. Her face was round and pretty and framed by a short black bob; she had big blue eyes, a cute nose and full red lips. She appeared childlike but sophisticated, almost like Betty Boop. Her voice was high-pitched but she spoke quietly.

Cecelia gave Gillian time to look around the entrance which was wood-panelled, richly carpeted and aristocratic with several overstuffed armchairs and dark wooden tables. She could see into a bar where a few men wearing suits were drinking and being entertained by elegantly dressed ladies. Doors leading to other rooms on the ground floor were closed. A large staircase with a wooden banister led up to the second floor.

“This is the waiting room where non-members are required to remain until their host collects them. Very few non-members are allowed inside the club and only by special appointment,” Cecelia explained.

Cecelia kept her head bowed and couldn’t keep eye contact with Gillian. He demeanour and body language reeked of subservience; Gillian’s antennae attuned to the woman’s servility. Gillian filed the information away for future use.

“Come,” Cecelia turned on her heels and led Gillian to the staircase.

Gillian followed Cecelia upstairs, impressed by the opulence and grandiosity of the place. Works of art graced the walls, the carpeting was rich and obviously expensive; no expense had been spared on the decor. The long corridor on the second floor was spaced with equally identical doors on either side.

“The girls call them the workrooms but they are conventionally known as the entertainment and relaxation rooms,” Cecelia said softly, noting Gillian’s inquisitiveness.

“I bet there isn’t much in the way of relaxation happening in them,” Gillian said brusquely.

Cecelia blushed, bowed her head and kept walking until they came to a set of double oak doors at the end of the corridor where Cecelia paused with her hand on the doorknob.

“The club’s administration centre and Amanda Grayson’s office are beyond these doors,” Cecelia explained.

She opened one of the doors and politely stood aside so that Gillian could enter before her.

Inside was an open plan office with half a dozen middle-aged women sitting at desks or scurrying around, obviously busy. All of the women were attractive, well dressed, and elegantly coiffed. Most wore business suits, all wore skirts or dresses, hosiery and heels; there wasn’t a pantsuit in sight.

“We have a dress code,” Cecelia explained needlessly.

“Hotel services, food and beverages, housekeeping, bookings and appointments, finance and bookkeeping, Cecelia ticked off each of the desks until they came to a closed door with a secretary station in front of it.

“My desk,” she nodded at the large oak desk guarding a door set with a brass sign with the word ‘Manger’ engraved on it.

She tapped softly and opened the door.

“Ms Gillian Dixon to see you ma’am,” Cecelia said soft-spoken and reverently.

Amanda Grayson rose and came out from behind her desk.

She was a stunning woman in her middle thirties, Gillian guessed. Her shoulder-length, lustrous brunette hair was layer-cut and looked both professional and sexy. Her makeup was heavy, but skilfully applied. She favoured heavy eyeliner and mascara, wore rouge to highlight her cheekbones and had applied matt plum-red lipstick on her sensuous lips. She too wore a business suit; designer label, tailored, with a short skirt and long jacket and a mauve satin blouse. Her long shapely legs were sheathed in expensive sheer hosiery and her heels had to be at least four inches.

Gillian hated her immediately.

“Gillian Dixon; so pleased to meet you Amanda,” Gillian smiled sweetly and extended her hand.

Amanda returned Gillian’s smile and shook her hand. Amanda’s skin was soft and warm.

“Amanda Grayson, manager of Fleur de Lis, so pleased to meet you Gillian,” she flashed perfect white teeth.

“You may go Cecelia,” Amanda dismissed her aid.

Cecelia closed the door behind her while Amanda led Gillian to a comfortable chair with a coffee table set in front of it, Amanda sat opposite, smoothing her skirt under her and crossing her ankles, very ladylike.

“I’ll dive right in shall I?” she did not give Gillian time to respond.

“Alfonso Carlotta for some reason has decided I need an understudy. I can’t for the life of me think why, but here we are,” Amanda patted Gillian’s knee with false affection.

Gillian inwardly cringed but outwardly she patted Amanda’s hand on her knee.

“Maybe because he’s the boss and you have to do what he says,” Gillian smiled sweetly.

Amanda quickly withdrew her hand and her smile vanished.

“Ok. That’s the small talk done. Time to speak candidly. Alfie takes a fancy to a girl now and then although you’re the first of your type he’s been with. Like uncle, like nephew I suppose. Tony had a thing for chicks with dicks too,” Amanda lit a cigarette without offering one to Gillian.

“Usually he just passes them off for me to put to use in the workrooms shagging the punters for money but for some reason he seems to think that you need to feel that you’re special,” her upper-class intonation had disappeared, replaced by a broad Scouse accent.

“I bet he didn’t tell you that you’d have to service the clientele did he? It’s a condition of employment here that all female staff are available to club members if the member should so desire. Most of them stick to shagging the hostesses but some have special requests,” Amanda ashed her cigarette and continued.

“Take that dullard Cecelia Flick. As you’ve probably guessed by now she has a docility about her that some of the punters like. You should see her, naked except for black stockings and high heels, chained to a post in the ‘S and M room’. Her lily-white skin shows the welts from the whip exceptionally well,” Amanda crushed out her cigarette.

“I’m sure there are some members that will want to fuck a tranny, just to try something a little different. Maybe hold onto your joystick while they fuck you up the arse,” she smiled disparagingly.

“What’s your speciality? Are you the one that likes to be shit and pissed on?” Gillian countered, calmly lighting her own cigarette.

Amanda paled then her face screwed up as she became enraged.

Gillian continued before Amanda could interject.

“I’m happy to start outside to see how the place is run. If Alfie wants me to shag a club member or two, well so be it. It’ll be better than giving Terry Belkin his weekly blowjob just so I can deal his coke. I’ll have Cecelia get me sorted with a desk,” Gillian crushed out her cigarette and stood up to leave.

Gillian sat on the corner of Cecelia’s desk outside Amanda’s office listening to Amanda scream at Alfie as they argued on the phone. Finally Amanda came outside looking beaten, her beautifully coiffed hair a little disarrayed.

“Find Ms Dixon a desk to work at and show her how this place works,” Amanda sounded humbled.

To be continued

Author's Note
Little hand thingies and comments and suggestions are always welcome
xxx
Michele