MeatLocker

Chapter Four-1

Chapter Four

Matty measured the girth and length of Jenny’s neck. And then the slope of each shoulder. Her fingers were precise and nimble on Jenny’s skin and Jenny closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of being attended to. She imagined herself as being examined on the auction block. Matty ran the tape measure along her spine: from neck to tail bone, tucking her fingers between Jenny’s buttocks. Jenny’s body responded and she was conscious of Dr. McAllister watching, and that made the experience all the more delicious.

Matty reached under Jenny’s arms and wrapped the tape around her breasts and hadn’t the slightest reservation about letting her fingers linger. And Jenny’s body sung when Matty cupped her left breast. Jenny was happy her bra was lace; not padded nor bolstered with cotton. “C-cup?” Matty asked and Jenny nodded, weakly. And then the breath caught in her throat when the woman sought out her n*****s, pinched them lightly, making them twist. Matty carefully measured the distance between the rising nubs and jotted down the number.

Jenny’s hips were next. And then, with Matty knelling on the floor, Jenny was measured from ankle to crotch. “She’s longish,” Matty said to Dr. McAllister. “How about here?” And she raised the front of Jenny’s skirt.

“No. That’s too much leg.”

Matty sighed. “Here?”

“Yes, much better.”

“Three-inches above the knee,” Matty said, resolutely, and getting up, packed her tape and notebook away. “I’ll be ready the day after tomorrow,” Matty said to Dr. McAllister, “for an initial fitting.”

“That’ll be fine.”

Matty moved toward the door and Jenny stepped aside to let her pass. “You’re a lovely girl,” Matty said to her. “You should be proud.” And Jenny was surprised to feel a touch of warmth for the woman.

“Could you send Nurse Emily in. She should be waiting,” Dr. McAllister said, and Matty nodded in reply.

“This is the look we’re after,” Dr. McAllister explained to Jenny when Nurse Emily had positioned herself in the center of the room; standing tall and looking straight ahead. “Of course not everyone has Emily’s trim frame to hang a uniform on, but for argument’s sake, she is a fine example, don’t you think?”

Jenny nodded her head.

“Starting out at the top,” Dr. McAllister pointed. “The short-cap: set square to the head, not too far back and no rakish angles. Emily’s hair is freshly shampooed, and brushed to a soft luster. Makeup is lightly applied and impeccable.

“Okay. The uniform; fresh one every day, and a spare in your locker in case a patient makes a mess on you. Watch pinned to the left breast pocket and your name plate centered above. The neckline is cut to give a hint of s*x appeal and a push-up bra adds a little cleavage.”

“It’s a becoming look,” Jenny agreed.

“Yes. Now turn around, Emily, and bend over for me.”

Emily hesitated a breath, but then dutifully turned, and, placing hands on knees, bent with her behind held high. “As you can plainly see,” Dr. McAllister continued, “the panties show through the fabric.” Dr. McAllister ran a hand down the girl’s buttocks, smoothing out Emily’s uniform. “So panties are optional. But if you wear them, they must be white. No colors and no patterns. I don’t want to see a smiley-face on your ass when you bend over to pull out a bedpan.”

Jenny grinned widely. “Understood,” she said.

“And the pantyhose are sheer. Once again, no colors,” Dr. McAllister continued. “And definitely not white. Thigh-highs are perfectly acceptable; as long as they fit well. No sages or wrinkles.” She reached down and lifted the back of Emily’s dress so Jenny could see the lacy band that encircled the girl’s thighs. “Okay Emily; up you come.” Emily straightened and turned to face them. There was color in her face.

“And the shoes: Three-inch pumps, black or white. You’re choice, but no scuffs. And that’s it. Common sense really, but we are very particular about how our girls look. Any questions you have, direct them to Emily, here. She’s top notch.”

Dr. McAllister returned to her desk.

“That’s the pep talk,” she slipped into her chair like she was molten. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’ve given Emily the morning off and have assigned her to walk you around, get you acquainted with the facility, she’ll introduce you to the department heads, and help you get settled into your room. I want you to feel right at home with us.”

“Thank you,” Jenny said.

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.” It was the first time Emily had spoken.

“I apologize,” Emily said as soon as they were out of the door and standing together in the hallway. “It wasn’t you. That woman goes out of her way to humiliate me. I’m sorry.” Jenny looked up into Emily’s clear, cold expression. “I hate it when she calls me into her office. She’s always touching me about the bum. And she goes outta her way to embarrass me in front of the others.”

“But why?”

“She knows I’m looking for another job. Someplace I don’t have to wear this absurd uniform. You are probably being hired to replace me, but come on.” She took hold of Jenny’s arm. “I’m supposed to show you around. Let’s start with the cafeteria. I haven’t had my coffee yet and I really need it.”

Emily propelled Jenny along the hallway on the ground floor; from the administration wing, through the reception area and the empty waiting room, and then along into the south wing. The cafeteria was on the right. It seemed to be a standard layout: the serving counters on one side, tables in the middle and booths along the outside wall. It was empty this time of the morning and Emily filled two mugs from the large urn and they got seated at a booth beneath large, south-facing windows that drenched them in morning sunshine.

“You’re just outta school?” Emily tried to make conversation.

“Yeah. Looking for my first job, actually. I’m hoping it works out. I’m on three-weeks probation.”

“Look. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’ve got the look they’re after.”

“I’m not sure what you mean; the look.”

“Forget it. Enjoy your coffee. There’s breakfast if you want it.”

“Thanks, but no. They had donuts at the motel. But you’re scaring me with this talk of uniforms. You make me feel like I’m joining the SS. You know, the Nazis.”

“Forget it,” Emily tried a weak smile, apologetic once again. “Don’t let me piss on your parade. This place isn’t like a real hospital, is all. I mean it’s sanctioned and licensed by the State. It’s just that I’ve been here awhile. I guess I know how things work and I want out. I’m not capable. You might be different. Let’s drop it, okay? You’re staying on the grounds; room five. You’ll like it. It’s on the end, quiet, and with windows on three sides. There’s only the five rooms and Stacy is in room one. She’s a lovely kid. You have your bags?”

“In the car. Is this Stacy applying for a job?”

“Uh-uh. Stacy lives here; kinda a fixture, I guess. But she’s special.”

“Special?”

“Yeah. You’ll see, when you meet her. Finish your coffee and we’ll get you settled in your room. Then the grand tour of the facility.”

“My stuff can wait. You say this place isn’t like a real hospital? I’m applying for a job here; I think I need to know what you mean, exactly.”

Emily studied her coffee for a moment. “You’re right, of course, but if anyone asks, you didn’t hear it from me. Understood?”

“Sure, our secret.”

“And because you are probably applying for my job, I have a vested interest in your success; being I want to get the hell out.”

“I understand that as well. And thank you.”

“Have you seen our web site?”

“Nope. When I started looking for a job, I used to look everyone up. But after awhile it became tedious. There are hundreds.”

“Hey, I’m looking myself. I know what you mean. Anyway, Google the Rosedale Institute and you’ll think you stumbled onto some hedonistic s*x resort. And that’s why, except for two or three dubious women, all our patients are men! And they come from all over. And I don’t mean just the States. We’ve got Japanese businessmen here. Russians. And a guy from Denmark.”

“But what kind of specialized medicine does Rosedale provide that would draw patients from the other side of the globe?” Jenny fell silent as she realized the absurdity of the question. “Oh Jesus!”

In her head, Jenny heard Dr. McAllister’s voice: “Not ‘Vee’ but ‘Cee’ ...IC. Intercourse.”

A group of four nurses click-clacked in on high heels and saved Jenny from further embarrassment. They moved to the rack of coffee mugs, chattering and laughing, filled their mugs and moved to a table.

“See them?” Emily pointed with her chin. Notice anything different about them?”

Jenny took a look. “You mean other than they’re all amazingly attractive?”

“They’re ‘eight-inch girls’ ...that’s what we call them.”

Jenny had another look. Shrugged. Didn’t see it.

“Matty just fitted you for a uniform, right?”

“Yes,” Jenny said and studied Emily’s eyes.

“And your hemline?”

“My hemline?”

“Yes. Above the knee.”

“Three-inches. Why?”

“Same as me,” Emily said. “You’re a ‘three-inch girl’...”

Jenny felt her chest cave a little and looked back at the women. They sat chatting with legs tossed carelessly across knees. High heels swinging. Their thighs tanned and bare.

“It’s like a subculture,” Emily continued. “There are over a dozen of them. And they’ll happily provide much more than the usual nursing duties.”

Jenny thought a moment. “But then why would they hire me, and you, for that matter: the three-inch girls.”

“Because they are very, very smart. It’s the three-inch girls that provide the forbidden fruit. We’re more desirable because we are not available. You getting it now?”

Jenny studied the other nurses for a moment. “Sure. Thanks for being so upfront. But as a three-inch girl, I’m safe, right?”

“No. Not entirely. Forbidden fruit, remember? The men will find you very desirable and they won’t be shy about it. If you take the job, with your looks, there’ll also be pressure to move you into the upper ranks. They’ll want to shorten your skirt. And if you agree to put out, you can make a ton of money, no doubt; that’s if you have the stomach for it. Personally, I don’t.”

“Regular salary will be plenty for me. I’m heavy into the bank, but I can keep my head above water with what they’re offering. I don’t have to do the other.”

“Well it isn’t easy. Like I said, there will be pressure; from Dr. McAllister and from the patients, as well. Hang tough for a year or so and it might lead to something better. As for me, I’m done. You’re welcome to my job. My boyfriend will thank you.”

Jenny thought of Peter for a moment. What would he care; as long as there was a TV to come home to.

“C’mon; let’s get your stuff from the car,” Emily said, “and get you moved in.”

They walked across the parking lot and pulled Jenny’s bags from the trunk. She had two suitcases and an overnight bag. They made their way back through the lobby, out through a rear door, and across a service alley. Emily led the way to a low-slung building and mounted the stairs at the end. It was a two-story that looked like an old coach-house. There was storage space on the ground floor and maybe a workshop. Above, Jenny could see a railing and five apartment doors. From the top of the stairs, they stepped onto a long open corridor, a covered balcony, which allowed access to the five rooms; not unlike the motor-motel where Jenny had stayed the previous night.

“Stacy? What ever are you up to?” Emily called to the leggy teenager who was busily kicking a kitchen chair along the indoor-outdoor carpeting.

The girl turned shyly. “Hello Emily,” and her color deepened, like a kid who had been caught with the last cookie.

Stacy held her hands cupped firmly together in front of her chest.

“My, you are a very busy girl,” Emily chided Stacy, gently. “Can we help you with something? Move the chair to where you want it?”

“No it’s fine. Really.”

“This is Jenny. She will be staying here with you for a few weeks. She is going to be at the end, in number five.”

Stacy’s eyes went wide beneath auburn bangs. She looked at Jenny, mystified. “You’re pretty,” she managed.

“Stacy? What’s in your hands?” Emily asked. Little Stacy slowly rounded up on Emily, pondered her face, trying to fathom the meaning of the question. A small vertical crease formed between the girl’s eyebrows. “Your hands?” Emily tried again. Tears slowly filled Stacy’s eyes.

It came to Jenny a little at a time: The girl was about eighteen, but spoke with the child-like innocence of a four-year-old.

“It’s a bird,” Stacy finally conceded. And un-cupped her fingers. Jenny and Emily leaned forward to look at a scrawny, featherless bird with bulging eyes. “A baby sparrow.”

“Oh lord,” Emily exhaled.

“Her mommy will be missing her,” Stacy said. And she sniffed heavily. “That’s where they live.” Stacy looked over their heads to a mangle of sticks and grass tucked up under the eaves.

“And you want to put her back?” Emily said, taking hold of the chair and positioning it under the nest.

Stacy nodded. Her eyes wide, still studying Emily’s face; not sure if she was in trouble or not.

Jenny steadied the chair while Emily steadied Stacy. Stacy was gangly, mostly legs and arms, and easily reached into the nest and deposited the birdie-waif into its rightful abode. The rescue mission completed, Emily and Jenny got Stacy back off the chair and picked up the luggage. They moved along to the end apartment. Little Stacy, picked up her chair and returned to her own room, happy now, singing a little sing-song to herself as she went: “Puddle of mud, mud’s in a puddle... I do as I’m told, but my mind’s such a muddle...”

“She’s a great kid,” Emily said, again, “but she has some issues, as I’m sure you noticed.”

“She’s sweet.”

“More than sweet. A complete innocent. Everyone here loves her; looks out for her. She’ll do anything for you and not even expect a thank you. Here’s number five.”

The room was nice. Standard motel fare but larger than most and with a kitchenette equipped with a low fridge and a two burner, gas range. Jenny could make coffee in the morning or cook her own dinner if she wanted a change from the cafeteria. And Emily had been right about the windows. She would get light most of the day and she had a nice view of the surrounding common gardens. But there was no television!