As uniforms went it was not the most attractive Mandie had come across. The pale blue blouse was stiff and shiny. It was made from such a cheap material that it reminded her of those worn by travel agents twenty years ago. The skirt was a navy A-line, with a short no-nonsense slit at the back, showing barely a glimpse of the regulation honey beige tights. Taking the shop assistant’s job in the local bookshop and newsagents was definitely only a stop gap, but it would help keep a roof over her head and pay for what Mandie considered to be her real uniform: her large collection of expensive lingerie.
The shop manager, Martin, was very tall, very blonde, and very earnest. Mandie tried hard to concentrate as he showed her where the pens, paper, and folders were displayed. Plastering a willing to please smile on her face, she listened dully to the importance of customer service, pricing regulations and the layout of the shop.
It wasn’t until she was shown into the store room that Mandie felt the first flicker of interest. One of her duties was to restock the books; a number of which were erotica. So here was the silver lining. Mandie silently vowed that she would ensure that this particular area of the shop would be thoroughly investigated and cared for.
As a present to herself for sticking out her new job for a whole week, Mandie bought an addition to her uniform that, although not regulation, made her feel much better, and far more confident. The honey beige tights had been replaced by honey cream stockings, secured by a beautiful ecru Basque and knickers. Slipping them on under her drab clothes made Mandie feel as if she was living with a delicious secret. Now all she needed was someone to share it with.
Lost in a fantasy world as she stocked the selves, Mandie jumped suddenly as Martin tapped her on the shoulder. She was treating him to the “can I help you?” expression she had recently perfected, when she spotted the girl next to him. Mandie was vaguely aware that Martin was introducing her to a new member of staff, but she hardly heard him. Her eyes were fixed on the girl. The bloody uniform actually looked good on her; she even managed to look sexy. Definitely sexy.
Although she was nodding and smiling in all the right places, Mandie realized that she’d been operating entirely on autopilot and hadn’t heard a word that Martin had said. She snapped to the present just in time to hear her boss say, “. . . so I hope you don’t feel it’s too soon for you to teach Harriet the ropes?”
“Of course not, no problem,” Mandie spoke to his retreating back.
Harriet stood in front of her, a broad grin across her face. “Everyone calls me Harry, by the way.”
“Oh, right.” Mandie was robbed of her voice as she observed her new helper. She had bobbed shoulder-length red hair, remarkably pale green eyes, and a neatly shaped figure that even the nasty blue material couldn’t disguise.
“Mandie, are you all right?”
“What? Oh, sorry, urn, Harry. Right, well, I was just sorting these books out. What was I supposed to show you? I’m afraid I wasn’t really listening.”
“I bet this place does that to you. Don’t worry, I’ll liven things up a bit.” Harry smiled with the flirtiest mouth Mandie had ever seen. If only she could engineer a situation where she could “accidentally” bump into Harry at a time when she wasn’t wearing this hideous outfit. “You are supposed to be teaching me to use the till.”
Gathering herself together, Mandie talked Harry through the finer points of till training. She had to dig her fingernails into her palms to stop herself putting her own hand over Harry’s to guide her around the unfamiliar keyboard.
It was a relief when Martin came to take Harriet away for a tour of the stationery department. Mandie escaped to the sweet store, and took some deep breaths. This was ridiculous. No one had ever had such an immediate impact on her. Never before had she wanted to get a woman alone so badly.
As she hid in the ladies room with a suitably shaped chocolate bar and the latest erotic classic, Mandie realized that even her deliciously secret masturbation sessions suddenly felt like a consolation prize. Adjusting her suspenders and straightening her stockings, Mandie sighed out loud as she looked in the mirror. Even if Harry liked her when she wore her normal clothes, she’d probably read the signs wrong. Mandie touched up her dusky pink lipstick, pushed her shoulders back, pulled her stomach in, and headed to the store room.
Mandie had been up and down the paint-spattered ladder for over an hour, and her legs were beginning to ache. Why the excess novels had to be filed on the top shelf of the store room was anybody’s guess. She had just got to the middle rung with a pile of chick-lits when she heard the squeak of the door. Unable to look down safely, Mandie called out, “Hi there. Can’t move, I’m balancing books. Who’s there?”
There was no reply, but Mandie could hear footsteps coming towards her. “Who’s there?” Mandie nervously began jamming the remaining books in anywhere she could, before taking a step down the ladder.
A soft hand touched her ankle as it descended onto the next rung. Mandie stood stock still as an electric charge shot up her legs. Now she didn’t want to look down, just in case it wasn’t who she desperately hoped it was. The hand was stroking the back of her calf, slowly, methodically, as if it needed to discover every toned contour. A draught wafted over her arse, telling Mandie that the edge of her skirt had been lifted slightly, giving her silent companion the perfect view of her large firm arse encased in flimsy cream knickers.
Mandie held her breath as a finger traced the line from her heel up the back of her leg to the clip of her suspender belt. The touch was so gentle it was almost as if it wasn’t really there, just a deliciously intoxicating daydream. Still she didn’t look down as two small strong hands gently encouraged her to take one step further down the ladder. Mandie gripped the sides tightly to stop herself falling back against the head, which now held the skirt fully away from her legs. Someone was literally getting an eyeful.
Harry had known Mandie fancied her from the second they’d laid eyes on each other. She couldn’t believe her luck in finding her, and longed to see what lay under that wildly unflattering uniform. As Martin had dragged her through the routine of the day, Harry’s mind had been full of stocking tops, lace, and sweet-smelling sweat. Now she really was examining at close range the delicately patterned tops of Mandie’s stockings, she couldn’t hide her delight.
“You’re just so . . . well, you’re fucking beautiful.” She pulled her head away from the navy material to look up at her colleague.
Mandie blushed, “I didn’t think you were interested.”
“Are you kidding? You’re bloody gorgeous.” Harry’s eyes shone as she commanded, “You stay there, young lady.” Man-die watched in disbelief as Harry pushed a large stack of empty book crates against the door. “Just in case someone tries to come in, we’ll have some warning.”
Despite her rising excitement, Mandie paled slightly, “We can’t! Not in here.”
Harry’s mouth twitched into a cheeky smile. “Why not? You’ve thought about it haven’t you?”
“Well, yes, but you know . . .”Mandie’s halfhearted protests were cut short by Harry’s return to the bottom of the ladder. Waiting, just as she had been instructed, Mandie shivered with desire as two hands ran up the back of her legs and over the round of her buttocks.