ShutterBuggered: Women Shattered Under the Lens

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

Reena buzzed Ann into the building and she was downstairs in the Bullpen by ten after nine. Ann glanced around the dozen or so chairs, eyeballing the competition. The red-headed kid was in the back row, scrolling through pages on a phone that would cost her husband two week’s wages. Two women sat chatting; they must have been friends and looked a little street-hardened. Hookers, Ann thought, doing something useful during daylight hours. She was bit surprised Reena would let them into the building. She thought Reena had a little more class. A fourth woman sat closer to the door. She looked up and smiled pleasantly. “You’re new,” she stated, brightly, “I’m Ellen.” Ann took the hand extended to her and squeezing it, she slipped into the adjoining seat.

“Yes,” Ann replied, “yesterday was my first day. Name’s Ann.”

“Welcome to the Bullpen, or as I call it... the Meat Locker,” Ellen laughed. “I’m pleased to meet you.” She was older, in her early forties, but as Ann’s dad used to say: well preserved. She had a lovely figure, full head of dark rich chestnut hair, a strong jaw line and a smooth faultless complexion. Her bright, half-moon eyes gave her an expectant, hopeful look that instantly drew Ann in.

“Forgive me, but you don’t seem to be the type,” Ellen laughed.

“That’s so weird,” Ann replied. “I keep hearing that. And I guess that’s a good thing; you’re not exactly hardened material.”

This brought another laugh and a knowing wink. “I shop.” Ellen shared the information with her in a whisper.

“I beg your pardon?”

Ellen smiled and placing a hand on Ann’s arm, leaned closer. “You see, every couple of months or so, I go on a shopping spree; I mean a real bender. Charge everything. Mostly it’s shoes. I’m a real sucker for shoes. Anyway my husband, bless him… the sweetest man to walk God’s fine earth… well he’d kill me if he knew how much I spend on shoes. He still thinks a good pair of high heels runs thirty bucks. But even more than the shoes; you know what?” She doesn’t wait for Ann to respond, “I just love having a young man playing with my toes. It’s the most erotic thing. If I happen upon a nice polite sales clerk, I’ll keep him busy for an hour trying on shoes. And it’s so kinky when they try to sneak a peek up under my skirt. I’ll give them the opportunity, you understand; look around and pretend not to notice. But then I’ll snap back and catch them sneaking a peek. God I love to see them squirm. It’s the only time I ever wear a garter-belt. It makes me feel so sexy. So here I am, selling my butt, as regular as clockwork,” Ellen extended a long shapely leg, “...with new shoes! After all, it’s all you ever get to wear around here, anyway!” She waggles a trim little foot adorned with a leopard-skin pump. It’s the real deal.

Just then the ‘Fat-Boy’ called out Ann’s name and tapped a monitor with a pencil. “That was quick,” Ellen said in amazement.

“I take a good photograph,” Ann laughed, referring to the head shot Reena kept of her in the book at the front desk. She stood and took note of the number below the monitor. It was for office eleven; third floor. Then Ann’s nerves kicked in and she tried to control her watery knees. This is the most humiliating part of it, she thought. More humiliating than standing naked in front of a strange man. She had to undress in front of these women. Ann stood by the clothes rack and undid her blouse. Why can’t they provide a private place to strip-off? It wouldn’t be that hard. Even a simple curtain would be welcome. But maybe Reena does it on purpose; her way of demonstrating to us that we are mere pawns in her business model. Unimportant and easily replaceable beasts of servitude, the girls were not even allowed the privilege of using the elevator.

Ann glanced back at the women and was gratified to see that none of them were taking much notice of her and she quickly stripped, shouldered her bag and clutching her laptop to a breast, slipped into the hallway. She took the stairs at the rear of the building, her heels echoing, up to the third floor and pushed open the fire door. Ann yelped as she was almost bowled over by a naked blond girl. She raced past like a frightened rabbit, clutching a hand to her mouth, tears staining her makeup. She was about Ann’s age and totally distraught but before Ann could say anything the girl had sidestepped her and the last Ann saw of her was cut off by the closing door.

What the hell! Ann was so shocked by the incident that she missed her chance to determine which office the young blond had bolted from. Not from office eleven, she prayed. And she couldn’t help but wonder what disgusting act the girl had been asked to perform?

She tried to shake the image free from her thoughts. It took a moment to get her legs to respond and with her heart still trying to pound its way out from between her ribs, she found office eleven half way down the hall. She took a moment to gather herself and sucked in a deep slow breath before opening the door.

The office was almost identical to the one she had shared with Mr. Pendfold the previous day. The room was long and narrow with the desk at the far end. The setup allowed anyone seated there, to enjoy a good long look as the woman approached from the opposite end of the room; like a fashion model on a runway. Only this fashion model looked like a school teacher and, except for high-heels and glasses, was extremely naked.

The man behind the desk was painfully thin, his skinny neck with its prominent Adam’s apple seems cragged like a vulture’s and it stuck out of a suit-collar that was far too large for him. Atop the neck, his head lifted and she got the impression of a gopher coming up out of a hole. He had pale features, hollow cheeks and his greasy hair was combed back and he was balding. His watery eyes stared at her through thick, black-framed glasses.

“You rang down for some help?” she asked from her position in the open doorway.

“M-m-m-m, come in.” His voice was smarmy and tinged with self-importance. “I have notes to be transcribed.”

“Yes, sir,” she humbled her voice and closing the door, she started the long walk toward him. He didn’t possess the gentlemanly decency and manners displayed by Mr. Pendfold. As she moved, his eyes were firmly fixed on her legs and v****a. She had prominent labia and unrestrained, she could feel them as she walked, swollen; rolling with each step. His eyes caught the pendulum movement and his jaw slowly sagged so he breathed through his mouth in strangled rasps. God, this is so awful, she thought and as quickly as she could, she took her place at the desk and despite the awkward position forced on her by the seat, hugged her knees together so tightly the skin paled. By jamming a leg up against the desk frame and swiveling sideways a little, she was able to defeat the design of the footrest and kept her legs pinned tightly together. She dropped her bag to the floor, and without looking up at him, she opened up her laptop and started a new document.

“Here,” he sneered and she realized that he was annoyed with her for disrupting his view of her s****l virtues. He passed over a yellow legal pad with smudged pencil scrawls marring the pages. His handwriting was atrocious and it took her a minute to figure out that she was looking at some sort of manuscript. She scanned the first page and read something about importing silk from China, then realized he was writing a book about the history of women’s undergarments. Shesh! This should be good, she thought and started typing. He went back to scratching at a yellow pad with a chewed pencil and worrying his scalp with the other, sending a cascade of dandruff down over his shoulders and lapels. She worked for the best part of an hour, deciphering each page, correcting spelling and transposing the words into her computer. His writing was basically a bunch of drivel but by working hard, she lost herself to the task.

Ann jumped when he finally spoke again. “Your knees…” he didn’t try to mask his feelings of disappointment with her and her self-imposed, forced posture.

“Yes, sir?” Ann asked, startled, looking up from the computer screen. A little chill ran through her when she noticed that his right hand no longer held a pencil but was hidden from view below the top of the desk.

“Nothing,” he scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Just didn’t think I’d have to spell it out for you.”

“Yes sir.” she repeated submissively and dropped her eyes back to the words on her screen. With the cold realization of what he was asking, her fingers begin to tremble and the room was suddenly very warm. Ann couldn’t get her hands to work any more so she ended up just laying them idly on the small desktop, one each side of the keyboard and still staring at the screen, she relaxed her left leg a little and twisting back around to face him. She let her knees drift apart.

He gave a little grunt of satisfaction and she quailed.

“Come on. Come on,” he encouraged. Her shoulders drooped and mentally she was overcome by a wave of deep humiliation and defeat. “If it comes down to a choice between you and losing a client,” she heard Reena’s threat in the back of her skull. She slouched back on the small seat and spread her legs. Cool air tickled her moist thighs. She knew what he wanted but she just couldn’t make herself reach down. Still staring at her computer she shook her head to try to rid herself of the image of him sitting behind his desk with his trousers loose.

He groaned openly and the smell of his body odor was suddenly overpowering. Her head swooned with delirium and she wanted to vomit.

He rose up slightly, then leaned back, spent, arms hanging limply. She heard him clearing his throat of phlegm. Sitting up and closing her knees, she said, “Perhaps I should finish this downstairs.” Their eyes meet and he studied her features momentarily, his brow knotted.

But then he seemed to renege, abandoning any further plans for her. “Yes,” he conceded. “Finish it off on your own time and drop it down to disc.” Relief flooded her body and she closed up her laptop and reached down for her bag. She spotted the two long strands of blond hair on the floor. Oh crap, she thought, turning on a high heel and retreating toward the door. What on earth had he proposed to that poor girl? And then she had the mind-numbing realization that he had summoned her from downstairs before the girl had fled the room. He intended to enjoy the both of us, together! Her mind was overwhelmed by the thoughts of what he might have had planned. She had only been saved from that humiliation by the frenzied retreat of the blond, whoever she was.

Ann hurried back down three flights of stairs to the basement and slipped into the safety of the Bullpen. She longed for the security of her clothing and as she dressed she looked around for Ellen. She felt a need to talk with someone and Ellen seemed the type of person who would put an optimistic spin on any situation; no matter how depressing. But Ellen wasn’t sitting in her chair and looking about; Ann spied her clothing neatly hanging at the end of the rack. The young blond that almost bowled her over in the hall was missing as well. Ann took her usual seat and feeling a little shell-shocked, watched as the ‘Fat-Boy’ unwrapped a meatball sandwich.

She tried to study the monitors, looking for Ellen, but she was too far away and the quality of the images were so poor that she quickly gave it up. Then a red light began glowing on the “Big Boy’s” console and she saw him swallow hurriedly. Adjusting his headphones, he mumbled incoherently then half turning in his seat he called out her name.