The Desk Ch. 03

Chapter 03: Before The Desk

[sequel to “the desk” and “under the desk”]

1

Sunday evening was special in this house. They both knew it was “their” time, especially set aside: hang the telly, hang the dishes, hang the laundry – this was important.

Chloe cuddled up to Angela in the soft, pink cotton-covered duvet; and thought to herself how she had never been happier. She had it all: a burgeoning career in IT site management; a pretty semi-detached in town, with the mortgage taking care of itself; a new car outside on the gravel; and most of all, a partner she loved. Angela put out an arm to stroke Chloe’s dark red hair as they kissed.

Added to all that, she’d also found a new side to excitement that she’d not known before.

They’d started the evening rubbing skin cream into each other’s bottoms: Sunday evening was so special, because Sunday afternoons was when they both submitted themselves for punishment. They’d grown used to laying side-by-side, whilst they waited for the pain and bruising to fade down. This was a time to enjoy each other; to love, after the punishment.

The headmistress at the school they both were employed at, Mrs Petrescu – also the instigator of their Sunday afternoons spent bent over a desk receiving cane, stroke and paddle – had been delighted when she’d found out that her protégées had become a couple, and that Angela was moving in with Chloe.

“Congratulations!” she’d told them in her office, on the wet Friday morning they told her. “But of course I hope this doesn’t mean that you’ll no longer be ‘socializing’ with me…”

“Of course not, Madam” said Angela quietly, so nobody outside could hear her use the word she called the headmistress during ‘punishment’. “We hoped you’d approve and let us continue serving you.”

“Excellent. A little advice to you two, though: keep it discreet – at least at school, or you’ll never hear the end of it. Despite all we do, children can still be so cruel. And more importantly, punishment is my privilege – I don’t want either of you thinking you can be the ‘top’ in your relationship. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Good. Dismissed! I’ll see you as usual at one o’clock sharp…”

Both of them knew that they could never stop going to see the headmistress – the weekly ritual was a release, a focus for energy: when Mrs Petrescu had gone away for a fortnight in Prague – alone, despite the rumours throughout the school that she had some Czech toyboy waiting for her [there were many puerile jokes about “check-ups”] – they both noticed how agitated they were at missing their session. They had growled at each other like feral cats, argued over a stupid television programme; Angela had even spent one night at her mother’s in Biggleswade whilst she sulked over who had first rights on one pair of boots. That went on for a fortnight until the headmistress’ return: they had confessed their grouchiness, and were punished extra hard for their transgressions; that night they were the perfect lovers again.

And now, it had been six months since Chloe’s shock at seeing Angela servile, dressed in school’s gym kit, serving tea at Mrs Petrescu’s. A whirlwind time, yes: but a happy one.

“You remember the first day at Ma’am’s?” she breathed to Angela. Recounting and revisiting their punishments was a frequent precursor to making love: nothing excited either of them as much as telling each other how they looked with their knickers down and a tawse across their bottom, or how much they’d enjoyed watching each other take turns to pleasure the headmistress in whatever fashion was demanded.

Andrea giggled. “I still can’t believe your face when I walked in… I knew you’d be surprised, but you nearly jumped off the sofa!”

“And with good reason. How was I to know you’d be standing there in that little pleated skirt?”

“I hoped you’d like me. I’d seen the glances you’d given me around school. Not to mention the ones you were giving me once I’d sat down and it rode up!”

“I didn’t know where to put my eyes! If I’d leered, maybe Ma’am would have given me even more punishment…”

They kissed again: Angela’s hands slowly danced and stroked her way down Chloe’s torso.

“Oh, I remember now!” Angela said as she broke off the kiss. “I meant to ask you… who was, umm, Nila?”

“Nila? Did I mention her?”

“Yes, when Madam asked you if you’d had a girlfriend… when you said ‘yes’ I felt like running round the room cheering!”

Chloe shifted herself slightly: the bruises of the afternoon were wearing off now. “Nila… well….”

2

Chloe hailed the taxi through the relentless drizzle, and hauled her suitcase and rucksack into the trunk. She dived into the car and fished around her pockets for a piece of paper: she read off it the kıbrıs escort words “133, Sherburn Road” and the car pulled out of the railway station and into the traffic.

This was very much a different Chloe: only nineteen, she’d been a little plumper, and her hair was still down beyond her shoulders then, and in its natural dark blonde – but the world was her oyster. She’d come to this proud Northern city to read English Literature at the university: the morning she’d got her acceptance letter, she’d whooped with delight and ran around the house, waking up her parents and little sister. It had been confirmation that Chloe was Going Places.

And then a whirlwind of loan applications, part-time job applications, and hunting for digs. An advert in the previous year’s Rag Week Magazine had put her in touch with an agency in the city; houseshare with three others, all students: only ten minutes’ walk from campus. She’d accepted after only seeing two photos: the narrow three-storey townhouse, painted pink and looking neatly cared for, appealed to her.

She’d only been to this city once, in a family holiday many years ago. She’d remembered the tall stone Victorian buildings she was passing: she’d not remembered that many chip shops. And nor, she reflected, had she remembered the weather up in this part of the country…

The driver interrupted her thoughts. “133 – I think it’s just up here on the left. You want a hand with that luggage?”

“Yes, please.” The car drew up to the kerb: despite the rain, number 133 looked exactly like in the photo. She leapt out to go knock on the door as the driver struggled with her suitcase and rucksack.

A short, plump woman, dressed and made-up in gothic style opened the door: “Yes?”

“Hi… I’m Chloe?”

“Hey, great! Come on in!” Chloe was ushered inside, followed by the driver, muttering to himself about bloody students…

3

The gothic woman placed a cup of coffee in front of Chloe at the kitchen table. Chloe had learnt that her name was Tammy, and that much work had been required to find two clean mugs, but otherwise she was none the wiser.

Tammy poured out her own coffee and joined Chloe. “Let’s get this down our necks, then I can give you the guided tour. What of it there is, anyway.” She took a sip of her steaming black coffee. “So, let me get the welcome bit out of the way. Hello, I’m Tamara, known as Tammy. Originally from Aylesbury, now in my second year of Psychology. I’m in the Pagan Society, and at night you’ll find me in the Kali club in town. That’s where us goths and weirdos hang out. Ummm… I’m here with my boyfriend, Newt…”

“Newt?”

“His surname’s Newton – and he’s always pissed as a newt. We have the second floor room. You’ll be up on the third alongside Nila. Don’t worry, she’s pretty quiet. You may get some noise from underneath though – it’s not the best house for sound-proofing.” She took another sip of coffee. “You?”

“Oh. Chloe Porter. Came up from Gloucester: here to read English Lit. Ummm… single: no religion: but I’m a Cancer, if that counts. I’m not sure I’m either a goth or a weirdo…” She giggled nervously.

“…Yet.” Tammy smiled at her, before taking a mouthful of coffee.

“…Tori Amos is more my sort of thing.”

Tammy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Cool.” She emptied her mug. “Come on, let’s have a look around the joint.”

4

She sat on the bed, slowly scanning the room, trying to take in the enormity of the day. This morning, she’d been in her bedroom at home: the same one for fifteen years, full of her own life, her own possessions, her own decorations. And now: she had to make this… this tiny little room home.

She reached down to her rucksack. The first thing she pulled out was a little battery radio: she flicked a switch, twiddled the tuning: a tinny voice, with an accent somewhere between Northern England and California: “And it’s a big big evening here on City FM tonight, with the big big sounds just for you..” and the beat of an anonymous pop record. It wasn’t much, but at least it almost cut out the sounds from below: Newt and Tammy were obviously fucking. Either that or they were trampolining whilst he asked her lots of questions, judging by her cries of “Yes! Yes! Yes!”.

She set to work unpacking, unfolding, methodically arranging; trying to make it a little more like home. She resolved to go shopping the next morning, at least to replace the cheap polyester bedding if nothing else. From one case she pulled out a small teddy bear: light blue, but obviously faded through age. She tucked ‘him’ – Mr. Cuddles – into the bed and patted him softly with a smile.

There was a soft knock at the door. She almost didn’t hear it above the radio and the continued banging from beneath. “Hello?” she called.

The door opened. Chloe always remembered konya escort that exact moment; the short woman, with flawless golden-brown skin and black, dead-straight hair that cascaded over her shoulders and halfway down her torso. She was dressed casually, in a pink and grey sports sweatshirt and blue jeans. In the half-light of the doorway, she seemed to almost shine.

“Hello, Chloe”. The voice had a strong South Asian edge to it, making it almost melodious. “I just thought I would drop by and welcome you in. My name is Nila.”

“Hi! Come on in!” Chloe smiled. Nila closed the door quietly behind her and sat on the edge of the bed as Chloe continued unpacking.

“I have the room next to yours…”

“Yeah, Tammy told me.”

“…ah, you have already met her. She is pretty difficult to ignore!”

“You’re telling me. Does this go on all night?”

“No, it’ll end soon. Then they will either have a big row or go to sleep. You will get used to it.”

“If you say so. I’ll be going into town to buy earplugs tomorrow anyway.”

“Ah! May I show you around? You will get lost in the city otherwise.”

Chloe stopped her tidying for a moment to smile at her. “That’d be great. How about lunch, too?”

“Thank you. I will show you the cheap places to eat.” Nila rose from the bed, took one of Chloe’s hands, and squeezed it inbetween hers. “I had better leave you to settle in. Please knock when you are ready tomorrow.” And then she was gone, leaving Chloe smiling at herself, happy that it looked like she’d made at least one friend.

The banging stopped. The shouting started.

5

Orange sodium light streamed through the thin curtains, giving Chloe’s desk an unearthly glow. She stared at it as she lay there, Mr. Cuddles under one arm, waiting for sleep to envelop her.

It was now three nights she’d been here, and in all of them she’d hardly had a wink of sleep: in the rural village she’d grown up in, neither lampposts nor night-time traffic had been around to disturb her. She’d been warned to expect homesickness at first: that she would lay awake, maybe even cry. As someone who’d always slept like a log, the reality of it shocked her.

She thought of the people she’d met so far. Tammy, of course: also Newt, who true to his name had been as drunk as one. Then there was Simon, Newt’s pal, who’d seemed to be very interested in Chloe: utterly ridiculous, he was totally unfanciable if he took as few baths as he looked like he did. But at least there was Nila…

Nila had insisted on taking Chloe to a vegetarian cafe in the middle of the city. She’d told her of how she was on a student exchange from Hyderabad, and how much she was enjoying England. To Chloe, whose only experience of foreign travel was a fortnight in Torremolinos with the family every year, Nila’s background sounded dreamy and exotic.

She thought through some of what Nila had said. She was a political science student, dedicated to “raising consciousness” amongst the women back home, who she said were treated as second-class citizens. And Chloe had thought things were bad in Gloucestershire… there she’d been chased by every local lad in the village, and had fended them off with a mix of shouting and the basic karate she’d been taught in self-defence: but at least she’d had the opportunity to get out, to do something better.

A soft knock came from the door, followed by a hissed “Chloe!”. She recognized the voice: she switched on her bedside lamp, and gingerly skipped across the cold floor to let Nila in. “I’m sorry,” Nila whispered, “I had a nightmare.” She sat on the edge of the bed, her blue pyjamas bright under her robe. “May I sleep with you?”

Chloe was taken aback. “er… what?”

“At home, my two sisters and I share a bed. I have been finding it very difficult to sleep alone. I know this may be strange to you, but…” Her brown eyes stared straight into Chloe’s.

“Oh… um, sure!”

Nila stood up to take off her robe and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. She kicked off her slippers, and climbed into the far side of the bed, leaving a space which she patted to signal to a still confused Chloe to come and occupy.

As Chloe climbed in, Nila was admiring Chloe’s bear: “oh, he is delightful! What is his name?” Chloe blushed slightly, thinking that a nineteen-year-old woman shouldn’t still have such things. “Mr Cuddles.”

“May we share him?”

Chloe switched the light off. The two women ended up on their sides face to face in the bed, the bear separating them. Both had reached an arm out to the bear: their forearms touched from wrist to elbow. Chloe could feel the soft warm air of Nila’s breath on her.

“Goodnight, Chloe” whispered Nila.

“Goodnight.”

Chloe shut her eyes kuşadası escort and waited for sleep again.

The next thing she knew, she felt a weight on her hip. Nila’s arm had unfolded itself, and the hand rested on her pelvis. She tensed up: touching arms was one thing: this was quite another. She’d not been touched there since that boy at the village bus shelter had…

Underneath, Nila’s other hand moved towards her, and the side of it pressed into her right breast… Chloe let out a small yip.

Nila’s eyes flicked open. “Ssssh” she whispered. “Please relax.” Chloe could now feel Nila’s fingers lightly dance round and explore her breast, in a decreasing spiral which led towards her nipple…

“Nila….” she whined softly.

“Please. You are my friend. Let me.” The last two words had a firmer tone; a command, not a request. Chloe didn’t know whether to stay in bed and let her, or to spring out and scream.

Nila’s right hand moved up from Chloe’s hip to her back, pulling her closer into Nila. Her nipple was being teased into life as Nila pushed her head out to softly kiss her on the lips. It was only a second before the kiss was broken, and their eyes locked together: Chloe’s in amazement and confusion, Nila’s in a comforting smile.

Nila’s hand moved across Chloe’s chest, and started bringing her left nipple to life as well. The other hand found itself under Chloe’s pyjama top, and was lightly caressing her back and side. Despite herself, Chloe found she enjoyed Nila’s touch. She let her muscles detense, as Nila continued to explore all round her torso.

“Nila…” she breathed again, but this time with less reluctance. Nila’s response was to guide Chloe’s arm onto her own breast: Chloe could already feel the nipples poking through the cotton. The points felt bigger than her own, springier: unsure of herself, she let the tips of her fingers circle around, the way she did to her own sometimes. As she did so, she felt Nila’s hands leave her breasts, and move to undo the buttons of her top. The reality that she was being seduced, that Nila was going to make love to her, hit her body and made her quiver: half anxiety, half excitement. She found herself also gently, slowly, unbuttoning Nila’s top.

As she finished and pushed the material to the side, she saw Nila’s breast caught in the orange light. A bigger, darker aureole than her own; the tight skin showing Nila’s excitement. She pushed herself down the bed slightly, and gently pressed her lips to it. It was the Indian girl’s turn to squeak softly now. Chloe felt her own pyjama top being pushed away; and now nothing between Nila’s fingers and the soft white skin of her own breast.

Chloe ran her tongue around Nila’s nipple: gently brushed her lips over the tip: instinctively rolled her lips over her teeth to gently close over it. She felt Nila’s hand leave her body; and could just see Nila push it into her pyjama bottoms. Chloe ran her own hand down Nila’s arm: now she had gone this far, she was eager to go further, to explore more. Her hand joined Nila’s under the elasticated waistband, and cupped it to press Nila further between her legs.

A small sigh passed Nila’s lips as she moved herself to allow Chloe access to her, and to use her own hand to explore down past Chloe’s waist. Chloe’s fingers lightly brushed Nila’s pussy: she noted that Nila’s was obviously much hairier than her own, and already the strands lower down were damp. And also, now she traced her fingers around, that Nila’s lips were fuller, more pronounced… and wet.

“Taste them” whispered Nila, as she pushed Chloe’s legs open and began to work on her. Chloe pulled her hand out and brought it to her lips: little taste, but a sweet, pungent aroma, not unlike the one time she had tried her own after a long bath. Having tasted each finger, Chloe moved her hand back to Nila’s pussy, and moved her head so they could kiss as they played with each other. Now Nila’s hand had gone past Chloe’s lips, and sought out both the hole and the button; Chloe could feel herself getting as damp as Nila was. She closed her eyes as she felt two of Nila’s fingers work their way into her, and slowly start to thrust back and forth: at the same time, the thumb worked around Chloe’s clitoris, occasionally brushing over with the gentlest of pressures.

Her hand left Nila’s body so she could push her pyjama bottoms down to her ankles: then continued around Nila’s pussy, but not yet in, not whilst she…

A yelp passed Chloe’s lips: she could feel the excitement build inside her. Nila rolled Chloe onto her back, knees up in the air: then, with her other hand, pulled Chloe’s legs further open and moved herself slightly down the bed to give herself more thrust, as she quickened her pace on Chloe’s pussy.

Chloe knew what was coming; she was going to be coming. But never with anybody else around, certainly not with anyone else pushing their fingers into her, and never had she thought it would be a girl doing this to her! Her muscles tensed up: her thighs closed around Nila’s hand, and then suddenly she was there! “Nila!” She wanted to shout, but managed to keep it to a whisper, as she came over Nila’s fingers.