Hello again, friends! I'm not sure where the inspiration came from on this one, but I had fun writing it at any rate. This will be part one of three.
As usual, we writers live to know that people are enjoying our work, so please leave a comment when you're done reading this, and then go to another author's story and comment there as well!
An Education in Privilege part 1 (m/f)
by
Kid Indy
The waiting room was heavy with tradition--old wood floors holding up old wooden bookshelves lined with old books from old authors. In the midst of all of that still, quiet air a small glass rectangle, a curved crack across one of its corners, buzzed with activity.
[He’s not going to pay for Mateo’s tuition this year]
[ur a divorce lawyer. make him.]
[He’s holding out for a better settlement on the total divorce. He knows you have a deadline.]
[THEN MAKE HIM PAY NOW!!]
[If we wait for that to happen, the school year will be halfway over. See what you can do there.]
[cant the judge make him pay]
[At the end of the proceeding, yes. But his lawyers aren’t going to let that money go easy.]
[HE RAN OFF ON ME]
[He denies that. The investigation needs time to establish that fact.]
Lucia Wilson--she couldn’t wait to become Lucia Castillo again--almost threw the phone across the ancient room. It was obvious to anyone who knew that her husband, Douglas, had abandoned her for the new hire at his investment bank, a White girl three years Lucia’s junior. He was trying to tell the court that they didn’t start seeing each other until after the separation, and Lucia was trying to get the truth out, that the affair started months before and had caused the separation.
But in the meantime, St. James’ School was asking for tuition for Mateo by August 16, and Doug’s lawyers knew that Lucia couldn’t afford the tuition on any job that she could get in a hurry. So she was waiting to meet with Dr. Adams, the headmaster, to explain the situation and ask for some more time on the deposit and the first month’s tuition.
The minutes ticked by, and Lucia scrolled through her text messages. Her mother reminding her that she never should have gotten involved with that Gringo. Messages from friends from the weekend where she and Mateo had moved out of Doug’s house and back in with her widowed mother. Excuses from Doug about why he was going to be coming home late.
She gritted her teeth and resisted another urge to throw the phone, and as she took her third deep breath, a heavy wooden door opened, and a man stepped forth. She looked from his black shoes up over his conservative suit to see a man who was not yet old but whose dark brown beard, trimmed short, showed streaks of white. He looked in her direction. “Mrs. Wilson? I’ll see you now.”
She stood and followed him into a massive office, where he walked around a hulking wooden desk and took his seat. She sat across the desk from him, noticing that he was letting his own people in for meetings. “Not Mrs. Wilson much longer, with any luck. That’s actually why I’m here.”
“Yes, I got your email. Unfortunately, St. James does not make a policy of deferring payment, even for strange circumstances.”
“You have to understand--once I get the settlement--”
“Which might stretch into the spring semester. I do apologize; St. James is a tuition-driven school, and we’re going to need the deposit, or you’re going to have to find another school for Mateo.”
Lucia felt her heart pounding; she reached out for the last thing she noticed. “What about working here? You don’t have a secretary right now, do you?”
A wry half-grin bent the white streaks in his beard. “Do you have any experience as an office assistant?”
“Yes, that’s what I was doing when I met…” She trailed off into her own resentment.
Adams filled the silence. “How many words per minute can you type?”
“Ninety to a hundred at my last position. And I can pick it back up!”
Adams looked over the top of his glasses at her. “I’ll need some time to do a more extensive interview. But I have phone calls to make the rest of the afternoon. Do you have evening child care for Mateo?”
“Si. Su abuelita--” She cringed as her excitement led to a Spanglish slip. “I can ask my mother to keep Mateo so that I can come back. What time?”
“Seven o’clock tonight.” He handed a business card across the desk. “Call my office phone when you’re at the front door, and I’ll let you in.”
* * * * * * *
From her Uber ride she approached the school’s large front door in the early-August evening light. She dialed the number that Dr. Adams gave her, and after two rings she heard the line pick up.
“St. James School. This is Headmaster Adams.”
“Lucia Wilson here for my interview.”
“Wait there.”
After a short time passed she heard a latch disengage, and Walter Adams held the door for her to enter. She stepped into the main hall, and he led her through the silent halls, back into the imposing waiting room, where a small desk now stood outside of Adams’s door. “Have a seat.”
She did, and the interview commenced. As he watched, she entered data, navigated the phone system with relative ease, created mailing lists, and several other tasks that she remembered from life between high school and marriage.
She gritted her teeth as she remembered how Douglas had dropped pick-up lines on her at her last secretary job. But she finished the battery of tasks, and Adams invited her back into his office to chat. She followed him and sat once again in the chair across the large desk.
“Clearly you’re good at this, and I do need the help, so I did prepare papers in case I wanted to extend an offer. I do.” He slid a sheet of paper across the table to her, and she picked it up. It was a little more than she had made as a teenager, but not much.
“So this monthly salary, plus Mateo’s tuition, right?”
Adams frowned. Lucia’s heart pounded again. “No, that would be a benefit that raised your total pay by almost half. No, I’m afraid that does not include tuition.”
“But if I pay tuition and medical insurance with this salary, I won’t even be able to pay rent!”
“I’m sorry--I know I didn’t say the tuition was included, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t give that impression either.”
Lucia slumped back in her chair. She cradled her forehead in her hand and stared at the sheet of paper, wishing the numbers higher. Her breathing got heavier as she felt tears start to come.
She heard Adams again. “I might have some other work that you could do in conjunction with being my assistant. Bring your chair over to this side of the desk.” She caught her breath, stood, and picked up her chair. Adams rolled his backwards to stash it in the corner and stood behind her. She looked at his dual-monitor display. “These are the school’s ledgers. I was going to list a job for an accountant tomorrow, but if you can take this raw data and produce some reports for our board members, I could pay you for that work as well, and it should more than cover Mateo’s tuition.”
Lucia felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. This might be her last chance to keep her six-year-old son in the school that would take him to the country’s elite colleges, but she had no idea what she was looking at. She took the mouse and opened a word-processor document, and then she put her hands on the keyboard, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and prepared to fake it. Then a charge of energy jumped through her body.
She screamed as Adams shot his hands under her outstretched arms and tickled her underarms. She twisted away from him and leaped out of her chair, his fingers pinching and prodding as she slipped out of his range. “What are you doing?!?!?”
Adams laughed at her surprise. “I know you’re not old enough to have a first-grader at this school and a Bachelor’s degree in Accounting! I just needed your attention turned away so that I could give you a real test!”
She backed away from him. “What are you talking about? Why did you tickle me?”
“The salary to be my assistant remains my offer. If in addition I can tickle you as I see fit, I have the authority to see that Mateo attends on scholarship.”
“I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am…”
“The kind who would do anything for her son. And the kind who knows a good deal when she meets one. I’m not asking for sex, and I’m not going to do any violence to you. But you’re clearly very sensitive, and one evening a week I want you to come back in to work for tickling, and occasionally during the day, though only when nobody is looking.”
Lucia could not believe what she was hearing. “This is crazy!”
“No, Lucia, crazy is for normal people. When a benefactor with my resources has unusual desires, he’s eccentric. Now what do you say to working as an assistant to your son’s eccentric headmaster?”
Lucia could not believe she heard herself ask, “One evening a week?”
“One evening a week.”
“Only tickling?”
“Your clothes will stay on, though I will need your shoes off for some of what I’m going to do.”
She really could not believe she heard herself say, “And it’s a full-tuition scholarship?”
“For unusual circumstances. Yes, a full-tuition scholarship.”
“How long would I do this?”
“Until you find another way to pay or I decide it’s time for you to go.”
An ancient mechanical clock ticked in the corner. “Okay, I’ll take it.”
“Not just yet you won’t. We have to make sure you’re suitable for the scholarship.” Lucia looked at him incredulously. “Sit up on my desk.” Once again she silently cursed Doug as she backed up to the desk, put her palms on it behind her, and pushed her bottom onto its top. Adams once again took to his chair and rolled up to her, his shoulders just above her knees. “Now give me one of your feet.” She extended one leg, and he felt his hand grasp her calf as another hand slid the shoe from her foot. “Very good. Now the other.” The legs switched, and the hands switched, and now both of her feet could feel the well-cooled air of his office through her panty hose. “Now steady yourself--I don’t want you to fall off the desk.”
She closed her eyes again and felt her feet swinging, dangling. And suddenly she felt his hands, not on her feet but on top of her knees. She squealed as his strong grip pumped the tops of both of her knees, and her bottom bounced on the desk as he squeezed and tickled. Her hands quickly covered the tops of his, but he was not going to relent either grasp, and she began to giggle, then laugh loud as he continued to squeeze. Her bottom began to rock, then bounce, as he kneaded her legs above the knee, and she laughed loudly as he tormented her ticklish legs.
His grip shifted so that his fingers wrapped around the sides of her legs and dug into the backs her her knees, and she almost fell off of the desk as she bucked and squealed. “Oh, Lucia, I don’t think Douglas knows what he’s missing!” She wanted to stop laughing to tell him never to mention that name again, but his hands were too powerful: she could only giggle, her skin giving the orders to her lungs, as he squeezed and tickled her legs, and for a moment she even felt flattered in between the impossible urges to laugh. A delicious fear started to well up: was she getting more ticklish because of the compliment?
But that thought did not have time to develop; one of his hands slipped inside her thigh and up her skirt, and her balance disintegrated: she lurched backwards onto the desk and squealed, then shrieked, then wriggled and laughed in an accelerated mania as his fingers scratched and stroked her thigh. His hand never got close to her panties--later she would silently thank the Heavens for that--but nonetheless he had discovered a spot that Douglas had never had the patience to discover, a ticklish ministration that drove her giggling voice into desperate begging and shot the unbearable ticklish sensations right up through the nerves in her legs to energize and electrify everything between her legs. As she laughed and squealed her bottom clenched hard, trying to hold back the explosion that was ready to humiliate her and signal that Adams had vanquished her entire body.
But for reasons that she feared to explore, his hands stopped, and as she lay panting on the giant wooden desktop, she felt one cruel fingertip touch her heel. Its quick swipe up her sole should have made her scream, or squeal, or at least giggle, but instead she felt herself moan as the sexual energy surged again. “Lucia! What was that sound?”
“Please… no more…”
“We can stop now, Lucia, but that would mean that you and Mateo would be finding another school. Or you can let yourself enjoy this as much as we both know you’re enjoying this…” She felt his finger touch the silk hose on her other foot, and she did not even try to retreat as he slowly dragged it from the ball of her foot down her instep to circle her heel. Her moan melted into a girlish giggle. “Just let it happen, Lucia. Just let it happen.” She felt his strong hand grasp her heel, and somehow she knew that was just what she had to do. Her shoulders still flat on the desktop, she felt a gasp take her lungs as his fingers, swift and terrible, began a tormenting dance on her sole. A long squeal exploded into bouncing, uncontrolled laughter as his fingers worked their magic through the silk on her feet. Her hands covered her mouth, a parody of a prayer, as his fingertips skittered and kneaded and pinched at her toes, and the near-disastrous fire between her thighs subsided to a pulsing warmth even as her feet, that skin that she never paid attention to this way, grew ticklish by the moment. She giggled and moaned and squealed and gave him the music that his hands seemed made to play for what seemed an endless ticklish time until finally, without warning, his hands left her feet, and he wheeled backwards in his office chair.
“Yes, I think you’ll do.”
She panted and tried to respond. “I will?”
“Yes, I think so. Report at 8 AM tomorrow, and we’ll get paperwork filled out.”
She started to pick herself up off the desk, and she saw him pick up his briefcase and walk towards the door. “Are you going to leave me here?”
“Of course not! Can I drive you home, or should I call you a ride?”
She slipped her shoes on, feeling them in a way that she had never felt before, and started to imagine his hands on her body across the front seat of a big luxury car. “I’ll take a ride if you don’t mind.”
As usual, we writers live to know that people are enjoying our work, so please leave a comment when you're done reading this, and then go to another author's story and comment there as well!
An Education in Privilege part 1 (m/f)
by
Kid Indy
The waiting room was heavy with tradition--old wood floors holding up old wooden bookshelves lined with old books from old authors. In the midst of all of that still, quiet air a small glass rectangle, a curved crack across one of its corners, buzzed with activity.
[He’s not going to pay for Mateo’s tuition this year]
[ur a divorce lawyer. make him.]
[He’s holding out for a better settlement on the total divorce. He knows you have a deadline.]
[THEN MAKE HIM PAY NOW!!]
[If we wait for that to happen, the school year will be halfway over. See what you can do there.]
[cant the judge make him pay]
[At the end of the proceeding, yes. But his lawyers aren’t going to let that money go easy.]
[HE RAN OFF ON ME]
[He denies that. The investigation needs time to establish that fact.]
Lucia Wilson--she couldn’t wait to become Lucia Castillo again--almost threw the phone across the ancient room. It was obvious to anyone who knew that her husband, Douglas, had abandoned her for the new hire at his investment bank, a White girl three years Lucia’s junior. He was trying to tell the court that they didn’t start seeing each other until after the separation, and Lucia was trying to get the truth out, that the affair started months before and had caused the separation.
But in the meantime, St. James’ School was asking for tuition for Mateo by August 16, and Doug’s lawyers knew that Lucia couldn’t afford the tuition on any job that she could get in a hurry. So she was waiting to meet with Dr. Adams, the headmaster, to explain the situation and ask for some more time on the deposit and the first month’s tuition.
The minutes ticked by, and Lucia scrolled through her text messages. Her mother reminding her that she never should have gotten involved with that Gringo. Messages from friends from the weekend where she and Mateo had moved out of Doug’s house and back in with her widowed mother. Excuses from Doug about why he was going to be coming home late.
She gritted her teeth and resisted another urge to throw the phone, and as she took her third deep breath, a heavy wooden door opened, and a man stepped forth. She looked from his black shoes up over his conservative suit to see a man who was not yet old but whose dark brown beard, trimmed short, showed streaks of white. He looked in her direction. “Mrs. Wilson? I’ll see you now.”
She stood and followed him into a massive office, where he walked around a hulking wooden desk and took his seat. She sat across the desk from him, noticing that he was letting his own people in for meetings. “Not Mrs. Wilson much longer, with any luck. That’s actually why I’m here.”
“Yes, I got your email. Unfortunately, St. James does not make a policy of deferring payment, even for strange circumstances.”
“You have to understand--once I get the settlement--”
“Which might stretch into the spring semester. I do apologize; St. James is a tuition-driven school, and we’re going to need the deposit, or you’re going to have to find another school for Mateo.”
Lucia felt her heart pounding; she reached out for the last thing she noticed. “What about working here? You don’t have a secretary right now, do you?”
A wry half-grin bent the white streaks in his beard. “Do you have any experience as an office assistant?”
“Yes, that’s what I was doing when I met…” She trailed off into her own resentment.
Adams filled the silence. “How many words per minute can you type?”
“Ninety to a hundred at my last position. And I can pick it back up!”
Adams looked over the top of his glasses at her. “I’ll need some time to do a more extensive interview. But I have phone calls to make the rest of the afternoon. Do you have evening child care for Mateo?”
“Si. Su abuelita--” She cringed as her excitement led to a Spanglish slip. “I can ask my mother to keep Mateo so that I can come back. What time?”
“Seven o’clock tonight.” He handed a business card across the desk. “Call my office phone when you’re at the front door, and I’ll let you in.”
* * * * * * *
From her Uber ride she approached the school’s large front door in the early-August evening light. She dialed the number that Dr. Adams gave her, and after two rings she heard the line pick up.
“St. James School. This is Headmaster Adams.”
“Lucia Wilson here for my interview.”
“Wait there.”
After a short time passed she heard a latch disengage, and Walter Adams held the door for her to enter. She stepped into the main hall, and he led her through the silent halls, back into the imposing waiting room, where a small desk now stood outside of Adams’s door. “Have a seat.”
She did, and the interview commenced. As he watched, she entered data, navigated the phone system with relative ease, created mailing lists, and several other tasks that she remembered from life between high school and marriage.
She gritted her teeth as she remembered how Douglas had dropped pick-up lines on her at her last secretary job. But she finished the battery of tasks, and Adams invited her back into his office to chat. She followed him and sat once again in the chair across the large desk.
“Clearly you’re good at this, and I do need the help, so I did prepare papers in case I wanted to extend an offer. I do.” He slid a sheet of paper across the table to her, and she picked it up. It was a little more than she had made as a teenager, but not much.
“So this monthly salary, plus Mateo’s tuition, right?”
Adams frowned. Lucia’s heart pounded again. “No, that would be a benefit that raised your total pay by almost half. No, I’m afraid that does not include tuition.”
“But if I pay tuition and medical insurance with this salary, I won’t even be able to pay rent!”
“I’m sorry--I know I didn’t say the tuition was included, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t give that impression either.”
Lucia slumped back in her chair. She cradled her forehead in her hand and stared at the sheet of paper, wishing the numbers higher. Her breathing got heavier as she felt tears start to come.
She heard Adams again. “I might have some other work that you could do in conjunction with being my assistant. Bring your chair over to this side of the desk.” She caught her breath, stood, and picked up her chair. Adams rolled his backwards to stash it in the corner and stood behind her. She looked at his dual-monitor display. “These are the school’s ledgers. I was going to list a job for an accountant tomorrow, but if you can take this raw data and produce some reports for our board members, I could pay you for that work as well, and it should more than cover Mateo’s tuition.”
Lucia felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. This might be her last chance to keep her six-year-old son in the school that would take him to the country’s elite colleges, but she had no idea what she was looking at. She took the mouse and opened a word-processor document, and then she put her hands on the keyboard, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and prepared to fake it. Then a charge of energy jumped through her body.
She screamed as Adams shot his hands under her outstretched arms and tickled her underarms. She twisted away from him and leaped out of her chair, his fingers pinching and prodding as she slipped out of his range. “What are you doing?!?!?”
Adams laughed at her surprise. “I know you’re not old enough to have a first-grader at this school and a Bachelor’s degree in Accounting! I just needed your attention turned away so that I could give you a real test!”
She backed away from him. “What are you talking about? Why did you tickle me?”
“The salary to be my assistant remains my offer. If in addition I can tickle you as I see fit, I have the authority to see that Mateo attends on scholarship.”
“I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am…”
“The kind who would do anything for her son. And the kind who knows a good deal when she meets one. I’m not asking for sex, and I’m not going to do any violence to you. But you’re clearly very sensitive, and one evening a week I want you to come back in to work for tickling, and occasionally during the day, though only when nobody is looking.”
Lucia could not believe what she was hearing. “This is crazy!”
“No, Lucia, crazy is for normal people. When a benefactor with my resources has unusual desires, he’s eccentric. Now what do you say to working as an assistant to your son’s eccentric headmaster?”
Lucia could not believe she heard herself ask, “One evening a week?”
“One evening a week.”
“Only tickling?”
“Your clothes will stay on, though I will need your shoes off for some of what I’m going to do.”
She really could not believe she heard herself say, “And it’s a full-tuition scholarship?”
“For unusual circumstances. Yes, a full-tuition scholarship.”
“How long would I do this?”
“Until you find another way to pay or I decide it’s time for you to go.”
An ancient mechanical clock ticked in the corner. “Okay, I’ll take it.”
“Not just yet you won’t. We have to make sure you’re suitable for the scholarship.” Lucia looked at him incredulously. “Sit up on my desk.” Once again she silently cursed Doug as she backed up to the desk, put her palms on it behind her, and pushed her bottom onto its top. Adams once again took to his chair and rolled up to her, his shoulders just above her knees. “Now give me one of your feet.” She extended one leg, and he felt his hand grasp her calf as another hand slid the shoe from her foot. “Very good. Now the other.” The legs switched, and the hands switched, and now both of her feet could feel the well-cooled air of his office through her panty hose. “Now steady yourself--I don’t want you to fall off the desk.”
She closed her eyes again and felt her feet swinging, dangling. And suddenly she felt his hands, not on her feet but on top of her knees. She squealed as his strong grip pumped the tops of both of her knees, and her bottom bounced on the desk as he squeezed and tickled. Her hands quickly covered the tops of his, but he was not going to relent either grasp, and she began to giggle, then laugh loud as he continued to squeeze. Her bottom began to rock, then bounce, as he kneaded her legs above the knee, and she laughed loudly as he tormented her ticklish legs.
His grip shifted so that his fingers wrapped around the sides of her legs and dug into the backs her her knees, and she almost fell off of the desk as she bucked and squealed. “Oh, Lucia, I don’t think Douglas knows what he’s missing!” She wanted to stop laughing to tell him never to mention that name again, but his hands were too powerful: she could only giggle, her skin giving the orders to her lungs, as he squeezed and tickled her legs, and for a moment she even felt flattered in between the impossible urges to laugh. A delicious fear started to well up: was she getting more ticklish because of the compliment?
But that thought did not have time to develop; one of his hands slipped inside her thigh and up her skirt, and her balance disintegrated: she lurched backwards onto the desk and squealed, then shrieked, then wriggled and laughed in an accelerated mania as his fingers scratched and stroked her thigh. His hand never got close to her panties--later she would silently thank the Heavens for that--but nonetheless he had discovered a spot that Douglas had never had the patience to discover, a ticklish ministration that drove her giggling voice into desperate begging and shot the unbearable ticklish sensations right up through the nerves in her legs to energize and electrify everything between her legs. As she laughed and squealed her bottom clenched hard, trying to hold back the explosion that was ready to humiliate her and signal that Adams had vanquished her entire body.
But for reasons that she feared to explore, his hands stopped, and as she lay panting on the giant wooden desktop, she felt one cruel fingertip touch her heel. Its quick swipe up her sole should have made her scream, or squeal, or at least giggle, but instead she felt herself moan as the sexual energy surged again. “Lucia! What was that sound?”
“Please… no more…”
“We can stop now, Lucia, but that would mean that you and Mateo would be finding another school. Or you can let yourself enjoy this as much as we both know you’re enjoying this…” She felt his finger touch the silk hose on her other foot, and she did not even try to retreat as he slowly dragged it from the ball of her foot down her instep to circle her heel. Her moan melted into a girlish giggle. “Just let it happen, Lucia. Just let it happen.” She felt his strong hand grasp her heel, and somehow she knew that was just what she had to do. Her shoulders still flat on the desktop, she felt a gasp take her lungs as his fingers, swift and terrible, began a tormenting dance on her sole. A long squeal exploded into bouncing, uncontrolled laughter as his fingers worked their magic through the silk on her feet. Her hands covered her mouth, a parody of a prayer, as his fingertips skittered and kneaded and pinched at her toes, and the near-disastrous fire between her thighs subsided to a pulsing warmth even as her feet, that skin that she never paid attention to this way, grew ticklish by the moment. She giggled and moaned and squealed and gave him the music that his hands seemed made to play for what seemed an endless ticklish time until finally, without warning, his hands left her feet, and he wheeled backwards in his office chair.
“Yes, I think you’ll do.”
She panted and tried to respond. “I will?”
“Yes, I think so. Report at 8 AM tomorrow, and we’ll get paperwork filled out.”
She started to pick herself up off the desk, and she saw him pick up his briefcase and walk towards the door. “Are you going to leave me here?”
“Of course not! Can I drive you home, or should I call you a ride?”
She slipped her shoes on, feeling them in a way that she had never felt before, and started to imagine his hands on her body across the front seat of a big luxury car. “I’ll take a ride if you don’t mind.”
