The Innocent

by John Argus

  ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ the blonde said, pouting exaggeratedly. ‘But who can say? Tastes vary. Do you know anything about this girl?’

  ‘She’s supposed to be very old fashioned, from one of those Swiss finishing schools parents who want to keep their daughters chaste send them to.’

  ‘So, Selina, do you think that nasty old Beacher and the virginal young intern have a thing going?’

  ‘It would be precious, wouldn’t it?’ the Asian girl agreed.

  ‘We’ll have to find out.’

  ‘Well, you could always have a go at the girl yourself.’

  ‘You’re more her age.’

  The Asian beauty made a face. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Befriend her.’

  ‘Oh, please.’

  ‘Seduce her, I mean.’

  ‘But you know I’m straight.’

  ‘Do I?’ Allison’s smile broadened.

  ‘Okay, so you can make me come, big deal,’ Selina conceded. ‘It’s just a physical response, that’s all, and God knows you know how to bring out physical responses in a girl. So what?’

  ‘I told you before that all of us are bisexual at heart, Selina. It’s only our inhibitions that keep us from realising it.’

  ‘You blackmailed me into that,’ Selina protested, her chin pushing out resentfully.

  ‘You made a bet and lost,’ Allison pointed out, her lips moving close to the other girl’s ear, ‘and then you squealed and wriggled and twisted like a fish on a hook while I ran my clever fingers and tongue all over your pretty little body.’

  Selina moved away, frowning. ‘It was a physical reaction, nothing more. Besides, I was drunk. I’d had a lot to drink to brace myself when I knew I’d have to let you touch me.’

  Allison snorted.

  ‘And it won’t happen again. I’m engaged.’

  ‘Yes, to a boring little man for a marriage arranged by your parents, and you’ll get married in a quaint little ceremony and be a dutiful little wife to him forever.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Selina snapped. ‘Don’t make it sound like that!’

  Allison moved her face closer again. ‘Does he make you writhe and twist like I did?’ she goaded.

  ‘We haven’t done anything yet,’ Selina retorted resentfully, turning away.

  ‘You haven’t? Good God, is he under the illusion you’re a virgin? He doesn’t know about those wild times in Paris, or about the time in Oxford?’

  ‘Be quiet!’ Selina hissed in exasperation.

  ‘What about the wet T-shirt contest at that grotty little bar in New York?’

  ‘Please, be quiet, someone will hear you…’

  Allison chuckled as they walked down the corridor in silence for a few moments.

  ‘I was younger then,’ Selina said abruptly. ‘Now I’m more mature. Some people grow up and stop doing foolish things.’

  ‘I think pretending to be something you aren’t, and marrying someone who thinks you’re going to act like a pretty little China doll, is supremely foolish,’ Allison said haughtily.

  ‘There’s no reason he has to find out anything unless someone tells him.’

  ‘Not me, my lips are sealed. We’re friends, after all.’

  Now it was Selina’s turn to laugh cynically.

  ‘Let’s get back to this Zoe girl,’ Allison urged.

  ‘Okay, but I am not going to seduce her,’ Selina insisted.

  ‘Okay, okay, I was joking anyway. I’ll do that myself. But you can befriend her and find out all you can about her and Beacher.’

  Selina sighed.

  ‘I’m your boss, after all,’ Allison reminded her amiably. ‘Think of it as espionage. We need to know what the enemy is up to. You don’t have to sleep with the girl, just play up to her.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ Selina gave in. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Normand Miller stared at Zoe as she approached her desk. She was carrying her jacket in one hand, and something was wrong with her sweater; the previously smooth, unmarred top seemed oddly wrinkled above her breasts, but as she drew nearer he saw this was not in fact the case, and after a moment more he realised why. Her bra – the lines of which beneath the form-fitting material were detectable to his well-practiced eye – was twisted up somehow. In fact, the left side was actually pushed up above her breast, which made the outline of her soft orb much clearer than had been the case previously, so clear in fact that he could define its perfect shape right down to the dimpled presence of her nipple at its centre. This in itself was intensely exciting, and he feasted his eyes on her as she came nearer, only just remembering to raise them from her alluring bosom as she looked over at him with an unconvincing smile.

  But why was her bra up above her breast and how was it she did not appear to notice? As she turned her back on him, placed her jacket over the back of her chair and sat down – rather gingerly, for some reason – Normand saw and confirmed the twisted outline of her bra strap over one shoulder, and clearly the strap traversing her back was undone. Putting this fact together with her fragile smile and slightly less than perfectly brushed hair, and using his rather sordid imagination, he almost immediately came to the exciting conclusion that someone had been at her; someone’s hands had undone her bra and pushed it up to fondle her lovely sweet breasts.

  Hardening instantly beneath his desk, he imagined her naked body in a variety of positions, and then discarded them all; clearly she had not removed her clothing. Her state of dishevelment spoke of furtive fondling and groping. He wondered who the lucky bastard had been as he pondered her odd behaviour as she sat, the way she settled gingerly and then seemed to squirm and constantly shift her position. He wondered lustfully if she was still so aroused that she could not bear the contact of her pussy against the chair, and jealousy mixed with desire as he imagined her nubile body being pawed and mauled by some lucky, undeserving slime-ball.

  Then his lascivious mental ramblings were interrupted by the approach of another young woman, and he furtively squeezed his erection between his thighs at the sight of her. It was Selina Chan, the Chinese girl who worked with Allison Parker. Petit and slender, with a pixy-cute face and straight black hair falling like silk down her back, she had been the subject of his masturbatory fantasies for days after he last saw her and before the glorious Zoe Quincanon entered his drab world. It was difficult to determine her age. Asian girls all seemed so young to him, but the computer database said she was twenty-three and unmarried. She hardly had an accent, but he knew she was first generation.

  He watched her stop at Zoe’s desk, and heard her ask about an old travel claim Allison Parker had made months earlier. Zoe produced the file and photocopied it for her, after which Selina leaned a little closer and whispered something to her. Zoe seemed to blush a little, and as Selina turned and walked off, she got up and hurried away herself towards the ladies’ room.

  When she returned, her bra was once again restored to its rightful order beneath her sweater.

  Normand observed this series of events with intense fascination.

  Zoe was relieved when the day was finally over. She had been dreading having to see Mr Erasmus or Ms Beacher again, which would have been too embarrassing to bear. She even tried to think up ways of quitting her job that would not draw outraged demands for explanation from her parents.

  She hurried down the back stairs, and heaved a sigh of relief as she exited the building, heading for the tube. It had been quite an eventful day, and she had yet to come to terms with those events and the part she had played in them.

  She was almost at the station entrance when a voice made her look back, and she forced a polite smile as the Asian girl who had spoken with her earlier appeared beside her.

  ‘You take the tube as well?�
�� Selina asked cheerfully.

  ‘Yes,’ Zoe said, despite not really feeling in the mood for company, ‘it’s hard to find anywhere to park.’

  ‘Yes, it is, but the tube is probably faster than driving anyway. I don’t live far, just in Mayfair. And you?’

  ‘I live in Mayfair, too.’

  ‘Oh, how nice.’

  They trotted down the steps together, and stepped through the gates to stand beside the tracks.

  ‘Got your bra fixed, I see,’ Selina observed with a cheeky twinkle in her eye, and Zoe couldn’t help feeling so silly. ‘Don’t worry, I shan’t tell anyone. Who was he?’

  ‘He?’ Zoe echoed anxiously, paranoia convincing her that everyone at work already knew every sordid detail about her encounter with Mr Erasmus. ‘I, um, I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Oh, come now,’ Selina giggled. ‘It certainly didn’t undo itself without you noticing. Unless you were so very preoccupied you would certainly have noticed.’

  ‘It just broke, that’s all,’ Zoe insisted, feeling increasingly uneasy.

  ‘And now it’s fixed? Oh never mind, then.’

  Zoe was relieved when the pretty Oriental girl turned the conversation to safer subjects, and they chatted fairly easily whilst travelling the crowded underground towards Mayfair. Selina got off first, and Zoe rode the rest of the way in reflective silence. She alighted at her station, climbed up to the street, and glanced at the nearby bus stop. There was a large queue, so she walked past it, continuing on down the street towards her flat on foot.

  The time spent with Selina had been a good thing really, she supposed. It had taken her mind off the almost unbelievable events of the day, and introduced the possibility of making a new friend at work. She had few friends in the city; all her friends had been at school, and originated from all over Europe and America. Selina seemed like a nice person and very confident in herself, a trait Zoe greatly envied. Perhaps she would have her over to tea the next time they met up.

  She picked up her mail from the mat, which had been pushed through her letterbox, and closed the front door behind her. Then she stiffened slightly as she discovered another one of those naughty cards mixed in with her usual bills. As with the previous one, it had her name written across the expensive envelope in gold script, and she hesitated to open it for long seconds feeling a mixture of dread and anticipation. Finally, she set everything down and ripped it open.

  As before, she pulled out a wordless card with a well-rendered black-and-white drawing of a lovely young woman. The girl was kneeling, and she was naked except for high heels and a tight black leather corset that covered her from hips to just below her breasts. Shackles encircled her ankles and wrists, which were bound together behind her. A chain above lifted her arms high, forcing her to bend forward so her head was deeply bowed, perhaps in submission to the person imprisoning her. She appeared to be kneeling on a stone floor with a rough stone wall behind her.

  Zoe noticed her hands were trembling slightly as she looked down at the picture, imagining the girl as the prisoner of a cruel master in a dark land somewhere, held captive for her beauty and used in unspeakable ways.

  She felt her chest tightening as she imagined herself in the same position, vulnerable to the cruel lusts of men, naked and chained against her will. She wondered what it would be like to be completely at the mercy of cruel people, with no way to protect herself from any who chose to take advantage of her.

  There was a darkly sensuous air to the picture, and an odd excitement in the images it caused to pass rapidly through her mind. The tribulations of the day were much in her thoughts, and she recalled with a feeling of breathlessness just how she had felt very much a vulnerable captive, how her arms had been pinned to her sides by her blazer so she was unable to resist Mr Erasmus as he pushed his greedy penis deeper and deeper into her mouth…

  She shuddered, put the card down on the telephone table, and drifted distractedly into her bedroom to change. She stripped quickly and hurried to the bathroom, to her full-length mirror that hung on the back of the door. There, for the first time, she could examine her still stinging bottom, and note the angry red lines that had been laid without mercy upon her pale flesh. The welts were thinner than her small finger, but they ached intensely as she tentatively traced them. Her face coloured again as she remembered the shameful way she had been punished, and yet at the same time she recalled the sense of heady arousal as the cane stroked her sex. She slipped a finger between her thighs, rubbing lightly, and felt a growing tension in her tummy…

  Zoe scolded herself and put on her robe, wanting to relax fully without having to bother with any clothing, and went out into the front room. She looked at the clock, noting the time and comparing it to the previous day when Mr Erasmus had phoned. She wondered if he would call again, and whether or not he knew Ms Beacher had punished her pretty severely. Surely he must wonder what had happened after they left his office.

  She turned on the television, gripped by a disturbing sense of sexual tension she did not know what to do with as she moved about her flat, filled with a breathless anticipation.

  Then the phone rang.

  Zoe gasped, and felt a debilitating anxiety grip her as she stared across the room at the receiver. It rang again, and after an agony of indecision, she moved to it.

  ‘Hello?’ she said tentatively.

  ‘Ah, Zoe, how good to hear your voice.’

  Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Mr Erasmus,’ she whispered. ‘It’s you.’

  ‘I do hope Beacher was not overly hard on you for what happened in my office today.’

  ‘No, she…’

  ‘It was entirely my fault. I feel as though I’ve taken awful advantage of you, dear girl. I behaved appallingly, and I feel terrible. Please forgive me for being a silly old fool.’

  Zoe felt dreadful that he was feeling such recriminations. ‘No, it was my fault, sir, I—’

  ‘Don’t argue, my dear.’

  ‘Yes, sir… I mean, no sir.’

  ‘You cannot be blamed for your natural bloom of loveliness, Zoe, for the silkiness of your skin, the seductive scent of your hair and the irresistible fullness of your breasts. It is not your fault that a lonely old man was entranced by your charms and longed to feel, if only for a moment, the freedom of youth in your embrace. Do you remember when I took your budding nipples into my mouth, my dear?’

  Her lips were moist and slightly parted as she held the phone, listening to his every seductive word.

  ‘Zoe?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Erasmus…?’

  ‘It was wonderful for me, you dear girl,’ he said, his husky tone mesmerising her. ‘For the first time in many a year I felt alive again with your ripe nipples between my lips and against my tongue…’

  The blood was rushing to Zoe’s face and pounding in her temples, making her feel light-headed. Her brain felt like cotton wool and she was sure her breathing would falter. Wet warmth radiated between her tightly clenched thighs, and the thin robe suddenly seemed heavy against her tight nipples. Without conscious thought or effort she loosened the waist tie, letting it fall away to the sides, her face hot as she stared at nothing.

  ‘…And the feel of your lithe body against me was like renewed life,’ Erasmus went on quietly. ‘Nothing has made me feel so rejuvenated as the soft cries of pleasure that whispered from your beautiful lips when your orgasm was upon you, Zoe. And I want you to know that the feel of your beautiful mouth around my erection was like heaven on earth. Had I died at that moment, I could not have died a happier man. Never have I felt more joy in my whole life…

  ‘Are you there, sweet girl?’

  Zoe tried to speak, but could not.

  ‘I know, I shouldn’t be saying these things. It’s quite wrong of me to be talking to you like this. Forgive me, I’m taking liberties with your
kind, uncomplicated nature again, but I wanted you to know just how much our brief moment together meant to me… means to me. For giving me such unconditional joy, my dear, I will seek some way in which I can repay you in kind.’

  Zoe was not sure what he meant or why he should say that. ‘I… you don’t… there’s nothing to… to repay, sir,’ she managed, realising her sex was pressed against the rounded corner of the small table. Her free hand moved sheepishly up and cupped her breasts, and she felt a sweet wickedness take hold of her at the thought that she was once again nearly naked while she spoke to Mr Erasmus.

  ‘I do hope you aren’t feeling bad about what happened, Zoe?’

  ‘No, I think I’m all right, sir.’ She felt the glow of perspiration on her forehead as she began rubbing her clitoris gently against the table. The wickedness that he did not suspect what she was doing, that he had no way of knowing, excited her immensely.

  ‘You aren’t like other girls I see today, Zoe,’ he went on, his detached voice a low drawl. ‘You have a much better sense of what it means to be a woman, a much greater appreciation of the roles of the sexes. You don’t try to act like a man. I could tell that about you from the start. I hope you haven’t suffered for it because of me.’

  ‘I – I didn’t… suffer…’

  ‘Didn’t you? You wouldn’t be dishonest with me, would you, Zoe?’ His voice grew slightly distant.

  ‘I… it was nothing,’ she fumbled for words as her mind spun.

  ‘What was nothing? How did Beacher punish you, Zoe?’

  She was too embarrassed to reply.

  ‘Did she punish you in the traditional way?’ he prompted.

  ‘I suppose she did…’

  ‘I thought she might. She’s such a tyrant. I hope it didn’t hurt too much, my dear.’

  ‘No, thank you for your concern, sir, but I’m fine…’

  ‘The thought of you bent over to bravely receive your punishment gives me great respect for you, Zoe. And yet, for some inexcusable reason, even the thought of you in such a humble position revives my inappropriate thoughts for you. I shouldn’t, it’s wrong of me, but I can easily imagine myself standing behind you as you submitted to your punishment. It would have been like the old days, when men of great strength and power disciplined wayward young maidens.’