The position of bank manager still carries some weight of dignity in her town.
Not enough to merit the Mayor's table at the
annual banquet, but enough to guarantee an invite. Even a chauffeur-driven
car to collect her, this year. Although... wasn't the
banquet in Longton this year? This looks like East Hundred. And that glass
partition is awfully thick. No talk slot. Or talk button. Or
door handles on the inside. And no-one will be able to see in through those
tinted, mirrored windows and oh my god, there's GAS coming out of the
vents!
The committee has inspected her C.V.. Not the A levels/business
studies/boring bank manager one. The trail through the kinky websites.
The stalking on Fetlife with a blank profile. The twitter followers on the quiet
account, the one that's only on her phone. The committee has decided on
radical action. The humiliation cell. The disinhibiting effect of the drug in the
gas. The cameras to perform to. The rich, rich patrons waiting to bid on her
gleaming, oiled up, helpless flesh. The effects of the humiliation, the
helplessness... but the drug to
reassure, to prevent the panic and allow her true feelings to flow....
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