[Although the basic thread of this story really happened, probably many times over with little but the names and dates changed, this specific story is a work of fiction. It is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male fantasies and perhaps some female fantasies as well. As such, the story may for may not totally conform to reality. With certain historical exceptions, all other locations, events, and characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]
*****
I remember the day I left home. The year was 1958. I also remember the final argument. I celebrated my eighteenth birthday in January and graduated from high school in May. Then it was July and I had just received my post interview letter, accepting me for the job of secretary at a big insurance company in Chicago.
"Lois, please, you have to go to college! You will never get out of the secretarial pool without a college degree!"
"Daddy, we have been over this a zillion times! I don't want to go to college, I want to go to work and earn some money, some real money for a change."
"But Lois, your lifetime earnings on a high school diploma will be far short of what you could earn with a degree. You need the fallback protection in case of future widowhood or divorce."
"I can always 'fall back', as you put it, on my secretarial skills, Daddy."
"But Lois..."
"But nothing Daddy," I interrupted, "I am eighteen and I am going--end of story!"
Oh, how I wish now that I had listened to my Daddy then. That was two years ago. I am, uh, well at any rate I was, a rural, midwestern, small town girl.
I was fresh out of high school and obviously I knew everything about the world. Ha ha! I had visited the big city of Chicago a number of times and saw no reason why I could not live and work there like millions of other girls had. An awfull lot of them were young girls like me or even younger. How naive of me that was!
I was a wholesome, good looking country girl, bursting with robust health and vitality of the midwestern corn belt. I was by no means a beauty queen, but I turned boys' heads and had all the boyfriends I wanted. People said I was the typical "girl next door." I had also aced every business course in my high school curriculum. With my knowledge and my looks, I'd have it made in the city, or so I thought. Once again, how naive!
Back to the boys--and sex. Throughout high school, I dated often and had several "steadies" in the course of the four years. I experimented with sex, allowing a couple of the boys quite a bit of heavy petting. But I was always successful in stopping them when and where I chose, never going "all the way." I saw no problem in this area of my life either. Again, how naive!
Well, I had to be in Chicago and report for my new job on August first and it was already July tenth when I opened my letter of acceptance. That didn't leave me much time to find a place to live and get settled. I did take one piece of Daddy's advice, though. I was not familiar enough with the streets of Chicago to drive there and was aware of parking problems from our family visits to the city. So, I left my car home.
Mother and Daddy drove me to the Rock Island Train Station in Peoria for the trip up to Chicago. With mother and me in tears and Daddy trying to hide his, I boarded the train and set off on my adventure. It was arranged that I would stay with Mother's sister Elaine But this was for only as long as it would take for me to find a place of my own. Aunt Elaine was to meet me at the main train station in Chicago.
My job was downtown in the "Loop" and Aunt Elaine lived in a close in suburb in a house that became hers when she was widowed at a fairly young age. Aunt Elaine drove me to the suburban train station each morning and picked me up again that evening. I stayed with her for two months, long enough to accumulate two pay checks and find a downtown apartment.
I began to learn about the real world very quickly. My apartment was not cheap. The twice daily cab fares were not all that much by themselves, but by the end of the month, the fares plus tip really added up to a sizable portion of my expenses.
I also had to eat. Then there were the clothes necessary for a pool secretary in a high profile company in downtown Chicago. That didn't leave much leftover for discretionary spending. In fact, I was perilously close to going into the red each month.
And my social life? What social life? There were flirtations with the men in the office and "girl chat" during breaks. But that was it, period. By the time the weekend rolled around, I needed to recuperate and, of course, there was the grocery shopping, laundry, and other assorted chores that left little time for anything else.
As far as the pub and party life went, it didn't. At least for me, it didn't. Wages from my entry level, semiskilled job were all but exhausted as quickly as I got my monthly check. Without a steady boyfriend to foot the bill, partying was simply out of the question.
I was too far from the nearest church of any kind, let alone one of my faith, to afford the cab fare. So no church social activities either.
After six months in my apartment plus the two months at Aunt Elaine's, I was getting very lonesome and, without realizing it at the time, starting to get depressed. Life dragged on in this almost mechanical fashion for another four months, thus completing my first full year of independence.
I had a cuple of breaks, twice, getting home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas; two islands of R & R that kept my sanity from completely disappearing. I put up a brave front while warming in the home nest, but I think Mother suspected the truth.
One week after my first anniversary with the firm, I got a promotion, along with a substantial raise. One thing for sure, was real. I was good at my secretarial job; very good in fact. My promotion got me out of the secretarial pool and into the office of the head claims adjuster as his personal, private secretary! His name was Fred Jameson.
By now, I suspect you are aware that I was a bright plum, ripe for the picking. And was I ever picked! Fred started flirting with me immediately, innocent stuff at first, but the flirting rapidly progressed to what would today be called "sexual harassment" if such attention was unwanted.
I guess I wanted it. I responded like a petted kitten, purring and mewing in the attention. Innuendoes became more explicit, touching became less and less "accidental," until finally, the touching became outright groping of tits, ass, and pussy.
And I ate it up, often returning the favor with a cock grab and squeeze. All of this, so far, was with clothing all in place. It was also discreet, very discreet. I never wondered why, until much, much too late.
Then came "That Night." Fred asked me to stay over after hours to help him get an important case finished up. I had some idea of what he had in mind, and readily agreed. We did close up the case, rather quickly, in fact. Fred placed the thick file in his brief case and locked it.
