A busy morning in the office; 11’o’clock and I need a break. At that moment my secretary brings in a steaming cup of coffee and something very naughty – an almond croissant. I really shouldn’t but I think I need the sugar and fat kick.
“Thank you Candy, great timing,” his long eye lashes flash with pleasure and I spot a small bending of his smooth black stockinged knee. It was only a slight curtsy as his pink pencil skirt is just too tight and too short to genuflect any deeper without fully exposing his small white knickers. I know that’s what he wears as in reality they are not well covered such is the shortness of the six-inch skirt which fully exposes the delicate embroidered tops of his hold-up stockings.
“Stay here a moment I need you to type a quick memo,” I tell him with a smile. “And then could you wipe down my desk, it’s a little dusty as the cleaner hasn’t done his job very well.”
He sits crossing his long slim legs, a four-inch heeled shoe hanging from one foot waiting for my instructions. That’s how I like them to be, waiting for my intructions. His fingers give a backwards swish of his shoulder-length blond hair to move it away from his heavily made-up face. He writes down what I say, his bright pink lips pursed in concentration, his long pink manicured nails struggling to hold the pen. Not the brightest button in the box, but I recruited him for his short skirts and long legs not his brain. He then rises to wipe over the desk with a wet wipe he pulls from his shoulder bag. He bends across me as I slide my wheeled chair backwards to make room and I’m tempted to pinch his now exposed white cotton-covered bum or tweak that little clitty bump of his but I don’t want any accusations of sexual misconduct and abuse of power against the weaker sex do I? He stands, a delicate smile sweeps across his thick plump lips and he gives another slight curtsy and leaves my office.
The day passes quickly and I text Alice that I’m on my way home. I arrive after a short tube ride and Alice is waiting for me at home. The smells of fresh herbs and oven-cooked chicken hit me as I enter the front door. Alice is in the hall waiting, a pretty short dark dress, green flowered patterns with frilly arms. I think all males should wear short skirts and dresses and Alice complies with my rule admirably. She curtsies properly, fingers holding the sides of her flared dress hem. The house is clean, the food is ready and Alice is pretty.
Part one is the future I hope for but part two is the present I have.