The Spanking Stories Ch. 04: Red, or The Temp Tempted

The last thing Jack had said to her before he left was, "Red is a good a color for you."

Lin had puzzled over this remark, and the ironic smile that had accompanied it, for the entire subway ride home.

Because she hadn't been wearing anything red at the time.

Or so she'd thought.

It wasn't until much later, when she was undressing for bed, that she realized what he'd meant:

Her panties.

Oh God.

Lin Kanazawa didn't think of herself as 'Japanese-American', 'Asian-American' or any other hyphenated label; her family had lived in the Boston area for five generations, which she figured ought to be American enough for anybody.

Her father, however, had an entirely different point of view. He was obsessed with his Japanese heritage and ancestry, explaining to anyone who would listen that his family was descended from "pure Samurai bloodlines," as he described it. And he felt it his duty to run the household according to "traditional Japanese values"—which meant that Lin, as a mere daughter, was treated by him as little more than a servant.

Her father's own parents were much more liberal and cosmopolitan in their outlook and didn't know what to make of him. They clucked their tongues over the situation but would not interfere. Lin's mother did her best to soften the harsh discipline under which Lin was raised but could only do so much.

She had, however, at least managed to convince Lin's father that a college education would increase Lin's value as a potential bride. Her father could hardly argue the point as he had met Lin's mother in college.

But that was the extent of her freedom. She was expected to excel in all of her classes, help her mother look after her father and brothers and do her share of the housework. And during school vacations she was expected to earn money.

Which was how she became a temp.

And how she met Jack.

There was nearly always employment available for temporary workers. Employers loved them because they worked for next to nothing and didn't qualify for the usual costly benefits required by full-time employees, such as health insurance.

It was summer and Lin had just started her newest assignment, as a cashier in a large and apparently failing department store not far from Harvard Square.

The store was badly maintained—the floors were dirty, the lighting spotty and the merchandise indifferently shelved. The floor manager explained, as he walked Lin to her post, that he wasn't planning to stay any longer than it took to find another job.

He showed her to her station; one of a pair of checkout stalls at the rear of the floor. He told Lin that most of the customers—when there were any—preferred to go out the way they came in, and that basically the only reason there were checkout stalls here at all was that the store was required by law to have another exit there and management found it cheaper to hire temp cashiers than security guards to sit there all day.

He suggested that in the future she bring something to read.

He introduced her to Jack, "your fellow temp and compatriot in boredom", and left.

She said hello to Jack and went to perch on the high stool in her stall. This brought her up to knee level with the walls that enclosed her space. She looked around the area, noting that the few customers poking around among the merchandise appeared to be elderly ladies who had probably started shopping there years ago and just gotten into the habit.

She sighed. Even though her father drove her crazy she did share some of his values, including a severe dislike of wasted time—even if she was getting paid for it. Tomorrow she would bring some of her textbooks for the upcoming semester and get a head start on her classes.

Out of the corner of her eye she studied Jack. He had greeted her cordially enough, with a nod and a slight wave and then gone back to staring off into space, arms crossed and one leg over the other. Lin guessed that he had just started that day as well.

He seemed to be about her age—probably a hard-up college student like herself, she thought. He was of average height and build, with brown hair worn long around his collar. Lin couldn't tell from where she was sitting but she thought she remembered blue eyes. He was wearing wheat-colored jeans and a faded blue work-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Lin looked down at the knee-length, pleated brown skirt and the crisp, long-sleeved white blouse she had on and felt over-dressed.

Her father always insisted that she dress conservatively—no surprise there—but Lin allowed herself the small rebellion of not wearing pantyhose in the summer. She despised it at all times, but especially in summer she felt as if her legs were suffocating.

Not that Jack was liable to notice—or care, even if he did notice.

Lin didn't know much about men, other than her two brothers. She was not allowed to date, as such. She had been told by her father that if she met any "nice Japanese boys of good family" while at school they were welcome to apply to him for permission to spend time with his daughter after being interviewed by him.

Like that was ever going to happen,she'd thought to herself.

Otherwise, her father assured her, when she had completed her studies he would arrange a suitable match for her.

When he turned away Lin had rolled her eyes and made faces at his back. But in her heart she was sure it was the only way she would ever get married.

She was, in her own words to herself in the mirror, "Skinny, flat-chested and moon-faced." She wore glasses. She loved her long, glossy black hair, which she wore parted in the middle and down around her shoulders, and she secretly thought that she had a pretty smile, but that was about it.

So when Jack suddenly swiveled around on his stool and began talking to her she assumed it was out of sheer boredom.

She had little experience in conversation with men her own age, her upbringing having made her feel insignificant as well as unattractive—an impression that had only been heightened after attending college for two years without once being asked out. So at first she had answered only in shy monosyllables, glancing at him for an instant and then back down at her lap.

But under the influence of his persistent friendliness—and of course having nothing else to do—she gradually began to relax and take part in the conversation.

Nothing of much consequence was said; it was mostly school and studies, books and music, likes and dislikes—gradually warming up, as the day progressed, to include elements of personal history.

Lin found herself actually enjoying the conversation. She found herself meeting his gaze more often, then little by little turning on her stool until she was facing him. And by the end of the day she was unconsciously aping his posture: leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, hands hanging loosely or gesturing, feet propped on the highest rung of her stool.

She enjoyed looking at him, enjoyed the easy flow of his talk. She had no illusions that he found her attractive...but there was something about the way that he looked at her—a knowing, almost mocking quality behind his glance, as if he knew more about her than she did herself—that she found subtly disturbing.

Still, with the exception of their lunch breaks, which they were required to take in turn, and the extremely rare moments when one or the other of them actually had to help a customer, their conversation continued and became more open.

And at the end of the day, when the floor manager came to empty their registers and let them out through the rear doors before locking up for the night, Lin found herself actually looking forward to coming back to work the next day.

Jack accompanied her down the two flights of stairs and out onto the sidewalk. It was there, just after wishing her good night, that he leaned forward and with a mischievous glint in his eye said softly, "Red is a good color for you," before turning and heading off down the sidewalk.

Red.

Red as her face.

He had been looking up her skirt the whole time! Staring between her legs! Oh God, she had gotten so caught up in the conversation that she hadn't even thought about how she was sitting. And even if she had it would never have occurred to her that anyone would be interested.

She suddenly recalled the way Jack had been looking at her while they'd talked. The expression on his face as he'd said, "Red is a good color for you."

Ohgodohgodohgod, he must think I'm a complete slut!

She pulled her skirt, which she had been holding half-lowered around her knees since her realization, back up around her waist and fastened it.

As if in a trance she pulled her desk chair in front of the full-length mirror on her closet door. She took some blankets from her bureau drawer and folded them and piled them high on the chair before climbing up and perching precariously at the top of the heap, facing the mirror.

She placed her heels on the seat and leaned forward on her elbows, imitating as closely as possible her position on the stool at work. She pictured the wooden sides of her stall: no, they wouldn't have come up as high as her knees.

She began moving her lips silently, recalling snippets of their conversation. She began to relax her posture slightly and gesture occasionally, the way she remembered doing...

...And watched, half-fascinated, half-horrified, as her knees began drifting apart, giving a clear view up her skirt and exposing her panties to anyone who cared to look...

Like Jack.

She buried her face in her hands.

She waited for the tears to come, the tears that would reflect her shame and humiliation.

She waited. Then waited a little longer, trying to bring up the feelings she knew she should be experiencing.

Nothing.

She raised her head and opened her eyes. Stared at her image in the mirror...at the exposed flesh of her thighs and the triangle of red fabric where they joined.

What a stupid thing to get upset about,she thought.It's just underwear, for heaven's sake.

She replaced her reflection in the mirror with an image of Jack, sitting just as she was, just as he'd been sitting that afternoon.

Only now he was openly, deliberately staring between her legs.

Now he was raising his eyes to look straight at her, and smiling the way he had when he had left her.

She shivered...then straightened her back and met his eye...and opened her legs a little wider.

So, he likes red, does he?

The next morning she made sure her father had left and her mother was busy before she finished dressing. From the very back of her closet she pulled out a summer dress she had worn only once, before her father deemed it too immodest for a well brought up Japanese girl.

The dress was, of course, conservative by nearly anyone else's standards, and so pretty that she hadn't been able to bear the thought of getting rid of it. It fell sweetly to just past the middle of her thighs; it had a hint of elastic woven into the bodice which emphasized what little bust-line she had; there were sleeves, but just barely.

And it was, of course, red... the bright, vibrant red of a fresh poppy blossom, with a tiny bit of black embroidery here and there.

She slipped it over her head and stood before the mirror as she zipped herself up. She smiled at herself and felt very nearly pretty, even with her glasses on.

She brushed her hair until it shone. Then she reached into the back of her lingerie drawer and pulled out her only pair of satin panties, a luxury she had regretted indulging at the time she bought them but now...

They didn't quite complement the color of her dress; they were more of a dusky rose. But she didn't care; no other pair would do for today.

She stepped into them and savored the texture of their fabric as they slid up her thighs and nestled into place.Mmmm...

Fortunately she had a pair of black sandals that went well with trim on the dress. She took one last look in the mirror, resisting the giddy temptation to blow herself a kiss, before sticking her head out of her bedroom and listening carefully for a moment.

Then, carrying a small knapsack with the regular 'office clothes' she planned to change into before coming home, she slipped out the back door and made her way to the subway station.

She lost a little of her confidence on the train—she was sure everyone on board was looking at her bright dress disapprovingly. But she quickly realized it was just her own nervousness and when the train reached her stop she hurried up the stairs and out of the station.

Her nervousness, however, did not diminish as she approached the store--quite the opposite, in fact. But she bit her lip and pushed herself forward.

The truth of the matter was she had no definite plan. For all she knew Jack might just show up with a book today and ignore her completely—and she suddenly wished she had brought a book as well, as she'd had planned to do yesterday.Too late now,she thought, as she rode the escalator to her floor.

But if nothing else she wanted to see him look at her in her red dress, wanted to see the expression on his face as he realized that this was her reaction to his remark.

Even if she wasn't quite sure what she meant by it.

When she stepped off the escalator, however, the floor manager greeted her with the news that she would be on her own today. Apparently Jack had been called back to his previous temp job to help straighten out some emergency. The floor manager said, smirking, that he was sure she could "handle the crowd" by herself and that he would relieve her at lunchtime.

Lin trudged dispiritedly across the floor to her station and sat at her register. Outside it was overcast and humid; inside there were even fewer customers than there had been yesterday.

After about ten minutes of staring vacantly in front of her Lin considered asking the floor manager to bring her a book—any book—from the book department on the bottom floor.

After twenty minutes she was ready to scream.

After thirty minutes the possibility of running amok and stapling a few customers to the walls, followed by setting fire to the store, became an attractive possibility.

By lunchtime she was sure she was certifiably brain-dead and, when relieved by the floor manager, seriously considered going home and phoning in sick.

But after a quick lunch, which revived her somewhat, she stopped at a nearby used bookstore and bought a paperback detective novel to get her through the afternoon.

She waited until the last possible minute of her lunch break before returning to work.

But when she got to her post the floor manager was gone and Jack was back on his stool. He was wearing a different shirt but the same jeans as yesterday.

Lin had to restrain herself from bursting into a huge smile. But she allowed herself a small one when she saw Jack look at her dress, and then at her, almost exactly the way she'd imagined it.

"Nice," was his only comment.

But that 'I-know-all-your-secrets' look was in his eyes, and Lin was unable to repress a small shiver as she walked past him to take her place.

Now that he was really there, however, she felt herself losing her nerve. She sat facing away from him, pretending to check her cash register and trying to control her breathing.

But almost immediately he began talking to her in the same easy way as he had the day before, telling her about the job he'd been doing that morning and how the boss there was a moron who could have taken care of the whole thing himself without any help from Jack, and asking her about her morning...

...And before she knew it she had turned to face him and was chatting away as if yesterday's conversation had never stopped.

At first she was self-conscious about the comparative shortness of her dress and kept her feet on the lowest rung and her knees together. But after a while she noticed that every so often Jack's glance flicked briefly downwards toward her lap then just as quickly back up again. If she hadn't been watching she'd never have noticed.

But now she'd noticed. And somehow, knowing that he wanted to look up her dress again, and that she could let him or not, as she chose, made her feel, for the first time in her life, both powerful and sexy.

She thought a moment. Then, while apparently still paying close attention to what Jack was saying, she took off her glasses and made a little show of lifting the hem of her skirt to clean them with.

She followed his glance as it shifted down to her lap. There was nothing to see, of course, but it gave her a tingly feeling to be able to control his attention like that. She put her glasses back on and at the same time, as if unconsciously, she moved her feet to the highest rung of the stool, raising her knees above the dividing wall.

She leaned forward on her elbows...but was careful to keep her knees together, and was amused and gratified to see his glance flick downward more and more often.

She toyed with him for the rest of the afternoon—letting her knees drift apart...then somehow together again just when he happened to look there. She used her elbows to gradually inch her dress up towards the top of her thighs, pretending not to notice when he unconsciously licked his lips.

Lin was having the time of her life...and she thought her pretence of displaying herself innocently was totally convincing.

She was wrong.

She had been paying too much attention to the direction of his gaze and not enough to its content. Otherwise she'd have noticed a certain deepening of that knowing look, and a certain twist at a corner of his smile.

He hadn't been fooled for long... as she was about to find out.

There were about ten minutes left before closing time when she noticed Jack's attention begin to shift. He was looking around the store—and she had no idea why, as there was absolutely no one there other than the floor manager, a distant figure at the other end of the store from them.

Then Jack stepped out of his stall, saying, "You'd better get that register straightened out before it's time to close, or we'll never get out of here."

Lin had no idea what he was talking about, especially since she hadn't used the register all afternoon. Nevertheless she got up from her stool as he entered her stall, and allowed him to brush past her to reach the register.

He squatted down as if to look more closely at the machine.

Then he suddenly swiveled, fell to his knees in front of Lin, lifted the front of her dress and thrust his head beneath it.

Oh! Shocked, Lin gasped and attempted to back away but Jack quickly seized her legs and pulled her to him.

He began rubbing his face slowly back and forth against the skin of her belly.

Lin had no idea what to do. In a panic she glanced around the store, but she already knew there was no one nearby. To get the floor manager's attention she would have to scream out loud. That's what she should do, she decided. She was going to scream, right now...

...Except that now Jack was kissing his way down the front of her panties, even as his hands were drifting up the backs of her thighs...

Ohhhhhh...

Lin felt her mouth falling open in a mixture of sigh and groan, and instead of a scream what came from her mouth was a whispered, "No..." that even she could barely hear.

Through half-closed eyes she saw that even if there had been anyone nearby, the walls of her stall would make it seem as if she were simply standing in front of her register—if it weren't for the fact that she seemed to be hyperventilating. She put out her hands and grasped the walls on either side of her for support.

Oh God, she was standing in plain sight—from the waist up, at least—while a man she'd only met yesterday was...Mmmm...nuzzling her between her legs... while his hands were cupping and sliding sensuously over her behind, his touch delicious through the warm satin.