The Secretary’s Tale
I guess I
should say a few words, given this is my retirement party – it’s hard to
believe I’ve done this sort of job for over forty years now, ever since I left
school when I was fifteen. But I also
want to take this chance to share some of the less pleasurable experiences I
have had, the times when I had to do things because someone forced me to.
When I
started out, I was one of a number of secretaries in a pool for a medium sized
company, fresh out of school with my newly minted shorthand and typing
certificates, sitting at my typewriter and going at full speed. This was in about 1973, and the dress code
was not too formal, so I dressed in a
way I felt comfortable – which for then was a white cable knit top with
a diamond effect down the outer sleeves, hotpants in crushed blue velvet, and
knee length white leather boots.
Anyway, I’d
just about finished my shift when the head of the secretarial pool came to me
and said one of the managers needed someone to dictate a letter to
urgently. So I grabbed my pad, and went
up to the third floor of the building where they had their offices.
He was what
was the stereotype of a manager – middle aged, portly, balding, and the way he
looked at me when I took a seat was not the most settling. Anyway, I was a professional, so I sat down,
crossed my legs and started to take his dictation as he rattled off a letter to
some customer – which was when the two men walked in without warning. They had the necks of their jumpers pulled up
to cover the lower half of their faces, and one of them pointed a very real and
very deadly looking gun at both of us while the other ordered the manager to
open the safe in his office.
Well, the
ever so upstanding manager refused – which was when the second man pulled my
hands behind my back, and I felt something like twine used to secure my wrists
together. It was thin, and cut into the
skin, mainly because he showed no mercy as he pulled it tightly round my limbs.
He then knelt
beside me and tied my ankles together, and I could see it was farmer’s twine he
was using, the thin cords rubbing against the clean white leather as my ankles
were pulled tightly together.
As he was
doing this, the first man was standing over the manager as he opened the safe,
before he used the gun to knock him into unconsciousness. I opened my mouth to scream, but before I
could say anything a handkerchief was pushed into my mouth, with a whispered
admonishment not to spit it out.
Ten minutes –
that was how long they were in there for, and they left me too scared to move
and call out as they emptied the safe and walked out. The manager was lying on the floor, unmoving
– and it was nearly anther fifteen minutes before the head of the secretarial
pool came in and found both of us.
I later found
out the manager may have had another reason to see me – so I guess I was
grateful to the two men from walking in, but it was some time before I felt
safe enough to be left alone in the room like that again.
Yeah, that
was the way it worked at that time – they seemed to feel we were there for more
than just dictation and typing. I left
that company soon after and went to work for a lawyer – but even there, there
could be unexpected visitors.
The time I’m thinking
of, I was wearing a red and black minidress.
It had long sleeves, the skirt with red and black vertical stripes, the
top half more like a harlequin pattern.
It was made of a jersey like material, and I was also wearing a pair of
knee length black leather boots with four inch heels.
I was one of
three in this office, and we took turns staying in the office while the others
went for lunch. That meant we had to
bring our own in, so this particular day I had one of those Tupperware boxes,
in which sat two slices of Nimble with some cheese between them, an apple and a
carton of milk.
I heard the
office door open, and without looking up said “I’m afraid the office is closed
for lunch. We will be
openggnnnwhthtthhh?”
Someone had
shoved a folded cloth into my mouth, and I could feel the rough skin of their
hand on my lips as I was forced to look into the eyes of a middle aged woman,
wearing a blue coat and a matching hat, peering at me through tortoiseshell
glasses.
“Where is
he?”
“Whrshhmm?”
“Oh never
mind,” she said as she opened her bag, and took out a roll of brown packing
tape, “hold her hand down.”
I was sitting
in a steel framed chair, as I saw whoever was behind me use his free hand to
hold my left wrist down, while the woman wrapped the packing tape tightly round
it and the arm for the chair, then doing the same thing with my right hand.
“Take your
hand away.”
“Look,
wharrudnggg,” I said as she wrapped the tape tightly round my head, sealing my lips
as it stuck to my hair.
“You just keep
real quiet,” she said as she knelt down and taped my ankles together, and then
my legs above and below my knees, “I need to look in his office.”
Well, I had
no choice but to watch as she went in, followed by this hulking brute of a
man. I could hear them searching for
something, before they came out, the woman putting a file in her clutch bag as
she said “nothing personal dear – strictly business.”
That made me
take a trip to the hairdressers, as my long hair had to be cut away, and I
started to wear it in a shorter style. Ironically,
it also led to a better job, as a few years later I was the executive secretary
to the CEO of a company.
Now that term
Executive Secretary caries all sorts of connotations, but I was never
romantically involved with a boss. There
was one occasion with this guy, however, when things got a little – kinky.
We were into
the late eighties by this point, and I was dressing to impress – a white blouse
with a white man’s tie, a short skirt with an ethnic print, white stilettos and
dark tights. It was late in the evening,
and I was working on the travel schedule for my boss. He was in his early sixties, and as he looked
out of his office and said “can you come in for a moment,” I stood up and
walked in.
“How long
have you worked for me, Joan?”
“Three years
now sir,” I said with a smile.
“Well, I
shall be retiring soon, but there is something I would like to ask you to do
for me, if you wish. You are free to say
no, but if you do, I will pay a bonus this month to you personally.”
“Of course,
sir, what is it?”
“Kneel on the
floor, and put your wrists together in front of you.”
Well, it
sounded unusual, but I did as he asked, watching as he took from his briefcase
a blue and white checked scarf. He
folded it into a band, and then to my surprise her used it to tie my wrists
together in front of me, before he took a long silk strip with a striped pattern
from the bag, walked behind me and tied my elbows together, the band pressing
on my back.
“Sir, what
are you doing this for,” I said as I sat down, looking to the side as he tied
my ankles together with a third scarf.
“To see how
it feels to me,” he said as he took one last scarf, a red bandana with white
spots. I watched as he roiled it into a
band, and then passed it between my lips.
I felt the cotton press my tongue down, and it tasted slightly of scent,
as he sat back and just watched me.
That’s right
– he just watched me, as I looked back at him.
This went on for about an hour, before he untied me, removed the scarf
gag and said “thank you Joan, you may go now.”
He left the
company a few days later, and I got the bonus, but it have to admit – of all
the times I found myself in that situation, that was the strangest.
About ten
years ago, the company I was working for at the time had a seventies day for
charity. Now I have managed to keep my
figure – yes I have – so I chose to wear a brown and cream striped tank top
over a full sleeved brown blouse, a fawn mini skirt and brown knee length
boots.
I even had my
hair done in the style of Olivia Newton John at that time, albeit with grey
fringes. Anyway, we were having a great
time, running charity stalls and generally goofing around, when I excused
myself and made my way to the toilets.
As I was
coming back, I noticed a shadow in one of the offices, which I thought was a
couple of the younger members of staff sneaking off for some quality time. The right thing to do would be to sneak away
– but I could never be accused of doing the right thing, so I went in – and saw
two young women hacking into the computer system.
“Oh dear,”
one of them said, as she pointed a small gun in my direction, “we had hoped to
slip in and out without been seen.
Please, close the door, and come over here.”
Well, what
choice did I have? As I walked over, the
girl at the terminal looked at me, and said “Not bad – you look good in that
outfit. Pity we need to make sure you
stay here.”
“Yeah – not
the first time,” I said as the first girl walked behind me, put my wrists
together behind my back and used a plastic zip tie to hold them together. I then gasped as they used a second one to
pull my elbows together behind my back, forcing my chest out before I was made
it sit on the floor, two more ties used to secure my ankles and my legs
together below my knees.
As I tried to
move them, the plastic and the leather rubbing made it sound as if there were
mice in the room, as I watched them continuing to hack into the system and
download information onto some discs.
“Right, I
think we have everything,” the second girl then said, “we need to keep her
quiet.”
“Agreed,” the
first intruder said as she looked at me, and took a small sponge ball from a
bag, “open wide.”
As she pushed
the ball in, I was surprised as it expanded in my mouth, soaking up the saliva
as the girl then pressed some sort for tape to my mouth. It certainly held my lips together – it also
seemed to move as I tried to speak, sealing it tightly as I watched them make
their way out of the room.
It was
another two hours before someone finally came to see if they could find me – by
which point, I had decided a career move for the last few years of my working
life would be a good idea.
And so, here
we are. But I want to take a moment to
talk about what happened last week, in the hope it is a lesson to all of you.
I was about to
leave the office, with only young Angela in there with me. I was wearing what I have on now – this green
silky shirt dress, with a thin brown belt, and my brown knee length boots,
while Angela was wearing a white sweater, blue trousers and black knee length
boots.
So when the
masked men came in, and Angela started crying, I took her by the hand and said
that we should just do as they said, and let them take whatever it was they had
come for. That is important – your personal health and safety are the first and
only thing that matters.
They used
white rope to secure our wrists behind our back, our fingers unable to reach
the knots, and then used more rope to secure our arms, stretching the material
of our dresses over our chests as they did so.
I could see the eyes for the one binding Angela sizing me up as my arms
were drawn to my sides, leading him to make a comment about what a beautiful
MILF I was.
I had no idea
what that meant, but I felt somewhat flattered – as we were made to sit back to
back, and our ankles tied together in front of us. I had my legs secured together above my
knees, gathering the skirt of my dress around me, while poor Angela had hers
secured together below her knees. We
were then brought together with rope around our midriffs, as I gripped her
fingers to offer some sort of moral support.
They then
pushed scarves into our mouths, and wrapped this tape – medical tape, I think –
round both our heads, both to hold them together and also to keep the stuffing
in our mouths. We then had to watch as
they plugged a USB device into the laptops, and downloaded onto somewhere files
as well as emptying our accounts.
I was there
for Angela through all that – and should it ever happen to you, which I pray it
never does, always remember your safety and that of your colleagues is more
important that anything your employer says.
Now, let me just say thank you for the gifts, and I will miss you all...
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