A Surprise for Lucy at the Interview

In the last episode, eighteen year old Lucy stumbled on a sex show/auction taking place in one of the function rooms of the hotel where she was dining with her family. In this episode, as she is interviewed for a seasonal job in that very hotel, she finds the past has come back to haunt her.

A week after the auction, I embarked on my gap year travels. When I landed in Thailand a month later, I’d almost forgotten about Ned Mills and the hotbed of salaciousness that was Crightfellow Lodge Country Hotel. Occasionally, alone in bed in some god-forsaken corner of the planet, I’d think about the spectacle I’d witnessed that night, and how it had aroused me so much that I’d allowed Ned to fuck me like he did.

By the time I returned to the UK, over a year had passed. I’d only been home a week when Mum told me about Ned’s job offer.

On the morning of the job interview, as I laid out the outfit I would wear, I wondered if he would remember me. But of course, he would: I was the youngest daughter of his wife’s closest friend.

I wonder if that was why Ned was so keen to interview me. A formality, Mum had said. Did he really need the baggage of a girl he’d once fucked backstage? He had taken me from behind that night, my cunt a swamp of need from watching those two girls, Bethany and Zoey, lezzing-out on stage before an audience too eager to part with silly amounts of money. Even fourteen months later, I still got wet thinking about what I allowed him that night.

Even though Ned was a friend of my parents, I’d never met the bloke before that night. Mum and Dad had talked about him often enough, though. They had nothing but praise for him and his wife, Eve. I’d seen photos, too, which is how I knew who he was when he first spoke to me, before slipping his hand inside my knickers.

The interview took place in a cozy, exquisitely furnished day room somewhere in the hotel’s depths. Ned was joined by Melissa Bethereidge, the woman I had met in the hall outside the function room where the auction took place.

At first, I didn’t recognize her. Her hair was longer now, and she wore it up, a great nest of a thing pinned to the top of her head. The color was lighter, more strawberry blonde than the clotted blood hue it had been before.

She led me to a leather armchair and told me to sit and relax, and that they promised not to bite. She took a seat next to Ned, directly across from me, on an inordinately lengthy Chesterfield. It was an object whose polished leather redolence would, in the weeks to come, eventually induce an almost Pavlovian sexual response in me.

I’d expected it to be just Ned interviewing me and that a desk would separate him from me. Sitting across from the pair, I became uncharacteristically self-conscious. My skirt was too short for the occasion, its hem riding high to reveal a great expanse of my tanned bare thighs. Whenever I shifted position in the chair, decorum compelled me to tug it discreetly back down over knees it could never hope to cover.

As Melissa launched into some spiel about the hotel and its relevance to the local economy, Ned’s eyes lingered on my legs. Melissa caught him looking, paused for a moment, cleared her throat and then continued. I wondered if she thought I’d dressed like this to win favor. But my choice was purely aesthetic; the garment was elegantly cut and tailored to perfection.

The mood remained informal, and their questions were hardly questions at all. I soon realized the interview had nothing to do with my enthusiasm about working in the hospitality industry. They were checking my appearance and demeanor, the brightness of my smile, my makeup and grooming skills. I quickly came to understand that Ned and Melissa liked what they saw.

It was so obvious that Ned remembered me; I could see it in his eyes. I wondered if Melissa did, too. But she gave no hint that she might. After all, our meeting in the hallway that night had been fleeting.

When the interview concluded, we all stood up and shook hands. Ned was escorting me to the door when Melissa decided I should take home some literature about the hotel. Several small booklets were available that I might like to “read at my leisure,” she said.

When she left the room, Ned came and stood next to me.

In a voice laden with a new intimacy, he began, “About that night, Lucy...”

His words caught me off guard. I thought I’d got through the ordeal without having to acknowledge the proverbial elephant in the room.

“What night is that?” I asked, feeling my face blushing, a horrid inflammation of shame sweeping over my features.

“You know damn well what night I’m referring to. Let me remind you,” he said while looking into my eyes.

He placed his hands on my shoulders, and I thought he would take me in his arms and kiss me. But he didn’t: he turned me away from him, practically spun me around, and then pressed his hips against my buttocks like he had the last time we met. His breathing betrayed him and told me how he savored me as he brushed aside the thick strands of hair from my neck.

And I thought: Oh, god! Surely this should not be happening, here? now!

“Does this remind you of anything, Lucy?” he whispered, his warm breath on my earlobe making me shiver.

“Now that you mention it...” I replied, even as everything inside me began to tumble, pillars of certainty collapsing and leaving a void. A visceral something inside me twisted into a knot of need that only he could now undo.

When his tongue found the nape of my neck, a shiver of pleasure swept through my entire body. He moaned out loud, as if he had failed in some essential undertaking. The words tumbling from him, “Oh, Jeez, Lucy, you are so fucking beautiful.”

And I thought: Oh, god, here we go! Right here, right now! Really?

He gnawed my neck like a puppy at play. He was so excited that I thought he might growl. His hands strayed down each side of my hips, down over my thighs, over the cloth of my skirt, following the same route they had taken during our previous encounter.

He tried to raise the hem of my skirt, but the fit was tighter. As he lifted the material, it became jammed on my hips. So he grabbed two fistfuls of cloth on either side and tugged the recalcitrant cloth hard until it was well up over my waist.

And I thought, God! My knickers will be next. Surely, he isn’t expecting a repeat performance; Melissa could walk in at any moment.

He slipped his hand inside my knickers, saying, “Do you remember this, Lucy?”

It came flooding back to me how I had watched Bethany and Zoey on stage while he had fingered me to orgasm. Now, every nerve in my body became electrified, a sexual current surging from my pussy to my nipples. My breath flirted with hyperventilation; I tried my hardest to get a grip on myself.

“You’re feeling it, aren’t you, girl?” he said. Then retrieved his hands from my panties and turned me to face him.

All I wanted now was for him to kiss me — more than anything else, I wanted him to kiss me. I held his gaze, willing him to. Finally, he understood. I craned my neck, a baby bird welcoming poppa bird home, and accepted the gift of his tongue. His kiss reassured me. His palms gripping the cheeks of my arse was comforting. I felt treasured, precious, and no longer merely used.

Getting him to kiss me was a minor victory. He had acknowledged who I was. And then I knew I held all the cards, could deal a hand whenever I wanted to.

I reached behind myself and removed his hands from my backside, then broke away from him completely. Tugging down the hem of my skirt, even though I was still buzzing with sexual excitement.

Now, I was more than willing to postpone completion. I would make him wait for second-helpings now that I knew our previous encounter had made such a big impression on him. It was good to know that my mere presence could arouse him to the pitch that it had.

I had found a mirror on one of the walls and had gone over to check myself in it. While I tidied my hair, he was saying:

“If you want this job, Lucy, I need to be certain you can be relied on. You know what they say?”

I turned and faced him. “What do they say, Mr. Mills?”

“That discretion is the better part of valor.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means that if you were to find yourself immersed in any — let’s call them indiscretions — here at Crightfellow Lodge, it might be expedient to keep that beautiful mouth of yours well and truly closed. Do you understand me, Lucy?”

“I can do discretion,” I said. Then, under my breath, “I’ve been doing discretion for the last sixteen-fucking months.”

“What was that?” he asked.

“I was just making the point that I’ve not breathed a word of what I saw — or experienced — that night — not to a living soul.”

“As long as we understand each other, then?”

“Is it okay if I ask a question?”

“Ask away,” he said.

He studied me as I tried to find the words. When I had organized my thoughts, I held his gaze as I spoke. I wanted him to know he could not intimidate me, that I could not be coerced, and that even though I was young, I’d traveled now and had more sexual encounters than I had fingers.

“Those girls...” I began… “Those girls on stage. Bethany and Zoey. You know… And the others in the changing room.”

“What about them?”

“They were paid, right?”

“I know what you’re thinking, Lucy, but they were not whores.”

“A fundraiser, then? Their bodies offered up in aid of charity?”

“ — Not whores . . . Not in the usual sense of the word.”

“In what sense, then?”

“Everyone is a whore, Lucy. You, me, Melissa, we’re all potential whores and have our price. The secret is in determining that price!” He continued to look at me intently. “Do you understand me, girl, that we all have our price?”

I wondered what my price might be. Then I thought of Ned and the freebie I had granted him. I felt myself blushing again, thinking, Poor amateur you, Lucy.

He stepped forward, brushed a wayward strand of hair from my cheek, and said, “Then, my beautiful girl, we shall rub along famously.” He moved from me and stood a respectful distance as he continued, “Melissa will want to pick over the interview with me later, but as far as I’m concerned, the job is yours.”

Melissa returned, and Ned fell back into manager mode. He started banging on about how working at the Crightfellow Lodge was like becoming part of a family. He and Melissa prided themselves on the bond they had forged between themselves and their employees. He said my parents must be proud of me, how they had told him about my grades, and how he hoped I would make the grade while working at the Crightfellow Lodge.

Something about the word grade made me wonder if it was a euphemism for something not quite seemly.

Melissa handed me the folder of leaflets, and then there was silence as they both stood eyeing me. It was as if each one was expecting something more from me.

I thought I had better say something.

“It’s really great of you to consider me,” I said. I was unsure if I had won Melissa over, so I gave her a look I imagined disarming, fluttering my eyes and smiling my best coy smile.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Ned said while opening the door and standing aside.

“I think you will fit in nicely here, Lucy,” Melissa said. “We have one more girl to see. Ned will phone you later and let you know one way or the other.”

I thought each of them might embrace me. But they didn’t; it was all smiles and handshakes.

As I made my way to the front entrance, the girl on the reception desk left her post and called after me, “It’s Lucy, isn’t it?”

“The one and only,” I said, now facing her.

“How did it go?”

“Okay… I think?”

She saw my uncertainty. “Don’t worry, love. You’re exactly what they are looking for.”

“Really?”

“You wait and see.” She held out her hand and said, “I’m Helen. We’ll probably be working together.”

Thank you for reading,

Episode 3 can be found here; https://readmedium.com/lucy-is-stripped-naked-by-blonde-angie-from-concierge-6cdd04575e6b