Mailgirls Down Under Pt. 17

Previously in Mailgirls Down Under, Australian mailgirl Heather McKay has become an unexpected sensation as an unconventional mailgirl in the US. And now she's on tour. Mailgirl Kimiko Date who is the granddaughter of the company's founder and owner is in an affair with her former boss Mitchell Johnson. Mitch's daughter Emily thinks she is finally going to become a mailgirl. And avid reporter Rosemary Millwall wants to get back into the office to find out what the mailgirls are really up to.

Heather McKay sprawled across the back seat of the limo. She smiled at the other two naked women in there, facing her. They were both sitting up, swigging glasses of champagne, emptying another bottle. One turned to the other. "Do you know where we're going?" she asked.

The tall blonde holding her glass shrugged over at the other tall blonde who sipped at hers. "I think they said Scranton."

Heather perked up. "Scranton?" she asked excitedly. "Like in 'The Office'?"

The tall blonde mailgirl who knew where they were going gave Heather a sympathetic look. "There's a reason they picked Scranton," she sneered.

But Heather now radiated her innate positivity. "It's The Office Scranton," she insisted, "I've seen it on TV, it's going to be fun!" The other two mailgirls scowled at her. But she took their reticence in her happy stride. "You two! We're going to enjoy this. Just follow my lead. Don't worry" she gushed. "If we have to, we'll make our own fun."

The silent one took a sip of her champagne, turned her nose up at its apparent bitterness and spoke up. "I guess you're not going to give up," she complained.

"No way!" Heather, now fully into her bright-eyed Aussie optimism.

The one who did all the talking dropped her shoulders in defeat. "I guess, you are going to tell us that you know to," she murmured. "How did you end up here anyway?"

"I wanted to see the States," Heather enthused. "And here we are, it's great!"

"I wish..." the silent one murmured, that was all she said.

Heather chose to ignore her tone. "Too right!" she rang out. And she ran her hands down to her crotch. "Let's have a wank off right now!" she announced. "Loser has to go down on the other two."

"What sort of competition is that?" the talking one complained. But then she realised that her silent compatriot and the effervescent Australian had already started. So she downed her champers and joined in. Sort of like what else could they do to shut the Energizer bunny up.

Heather toyed with her lower lips just away from her clit, just to get herself started, then smiled at the other two stopping what she was doing, with her fingers still just inside, to look seriously at them. "Where are my manners?" she realised. "I'm Heather, I'm from Australia. Look at us here, naked, wanking and we weren't even introduced."

The busty blonde spoke up first, continuing to massage a finger into her slit, her legs only slightly apart, like she was protecting some aspect of her modesty despite having no clothing to hide any of herself. "I'm Ashley Madison," she provided like she was answering on a form. Still she was getting a little damp. "I know," she added. But she even smiled, just a bit. What she was doing to herself was, she realised, nice.

The other mailgirl had started to go to work on herself. Having rested her empty glass in a convenient holder, she went with both hands working her clit and inside at the same time going deeper and deeper, like it was important that she cum quickly and win. Heather looked at her, smiling, waiting, still holding off from her own pleasure until they were introduced.

"Oh," the other mailgirl realised, "I'm Tanya Harding. Pleased to meet you, Heather. I know who you are and I'm impressed." She looked over at Ashley who having done her minimum social duty was now concentrating on herself. She was poking around like she was having trouble getting started. Tanya noticed and shook her head. "Don't worry about her," Tanya smiled at Heather. "She'll be licking us both out before you know it." That seemed very likely.

"Nice to eat you," Heather rejoined. And then went to town on herself, soon bucking in her place and gasping along with Tanya in ways that suggested the more restrained Ashley Madison would indeed be the one of them most likely to eat the other two out. Judging by the way that she was eyeing the other two and the slow, gentle way that she was pleasuring herself now that she had got started and found her places, she seemed to have decided that she was happy to do them. In fact, she leaned over to unexpectedly tongue Tanya's nipple, caressing her as she did so in a way that pushed the other American mailgirl over the edge. She looked over to the bucking Australian who now had both hands buried deep in her pussy, she was so close.

Ashley licked her lips as she watched Heather. "One to go," she smiled. Heather suddenly let out a long moan as she came.

All three of the mailgirls were somewhat flushed when they got out of the limo once they had arrived at the office that had won the competition. Each week, a mailgirl from Harada Industries went onto Good Morning America for a brief moment -- blink and you would miss seeing a naked mailgirl on your breakfast television, she would be on just long enough to announce which lucky company would get a visit from Harada mailgirls the next week. The mailgirls suspected that the winners were selected on commercial decisions, whether they would be likely to introduce their own mailgirl program. Which would mean licensing fees to Harada and paying for Harada's training courses. It seemed everyone wanted mailgirls.

As usual, a crowd was waiting outside the lucky company when the limo pulled up. Somehow folk always knew when they would be arriving. "Who would have thought this many people would turn up to look at three naked women?" Heather joked. The other two did not find it funny. Tall and shapely, they would have been professionally distressed if that many people had not shown up to see them naked. They looked at Heather but could not work out whether she really meant it. They both felt that at least they would look professional. Let the Aussie do whatever she wanted.

Of course the mailgirls only appeared outside for as long as it took for them to wave to the well restrained crowd then walk the short distance into the building. Heather strolled between the two taller blondes who both performed a runway walk. They thought they were shielding her, giving the audience a glimpse of their dream of a perfect woman. Heather knew that Ashley and Tanya were her sidekicks, that perfect or not, she was the main attraction. So long as she kept it natural.

Security were waiting for them at the entrance along with a smiling and very toothy and excited woman who introduced herself as Bette Davis from Marketing who would be their guide for the day. One of the security guards handed them their visitor lanyards. The mailgirls handed them straight over to their guide. None of that pesky stuff for them. Bette Davis grasped the lanyards in her fist and led the mailgirls to a waiting lift, telling them breathlessly that they had about half an hour to freshen up or 'whatever they needed to do' before the all-staff meeting was due to begin in the auditorium.

"Whatever we need to do!" Heather exclaimed as she playfully punched Ashley on the shoulder. Ashley was not amused.

In the lift, Bette Davis continued to rapidly tell them all about the company, apparently with some pride. She rattled off how she thought the day would play out. The blondes were checking their reflections in the metal walls of the lift while Heather pretended to listen to her. Heather realised that Bette was trying to address her from the neck up. She smiled, knowing that this usually happened. So she slowly raised her hands to play with her breasts, just enough to draw Bette Davis' attention that little lower, to where the abandonment began. Out of the lift, Bette, a little flushed, led the mailgirls to their room.

"I'll leave you to it," Bette hurriedly told them.

This time Ashley got into Heather's act. She spread her arms wide and opened a leg to give Bette a full view. "Don't you have to stay and keep an eye on us?" Ashley teased.

"I... um..." was as much as Bette said before she backed out the door to close the three naked women in.

"Come on girls, fun!" Heather reminded the other two when they were alone. Tanya grudgingly smiled. Ashley nodded, happy with her little disruption.

Soon enough Bette returned, carefully knocked on their door. She then led the mailgirls to the company's auditorium and trying to maintain her dignity, directed them up to the front of the crowded room to the cautious applause of the assembled employees. It was always that way. The staff got a bit nervous faced with actual naked mailgirls rather than the distant strangers that they had seen on their screens.

Heather knew what to do to get things started the right way. She grabbed the microphone from the hovering Bette Davis and gave the assembly a toothy grin. "G'day cobbers, how they hanging?" she started. And as ever that broke the ice, got a wave of laughter throughout the crowd. Someone in the crowd called out 'you call that a knife?' to which Heather responded with "you need to throw another prawn on the barbie". And they were off like that for another few moments. Heather was impressed when someone shouted 'where the bloody hell are you?' at her. Madison and Tanya looked appropriately confused.

Eventually Heather got to deliver her spiel about why they were visiting, how lucky the company was, which rules to follow so that everyone could have a good time. Then she gave the room a serious look. "I believe this office needs five mailgirls," she recited as if it was writ. That led to a buzz of anticipation. Two women stepped forward, shedding their dresses as they reached the front of the room. They were both in on it, otherwise they may have had something on under their dresses. Now nude they approached the Harada mailgirls and the blondes each gave them a very close hug. Both the locals got flustered at that. And the blondes gave each other knowing looks. All part of the service.

The visiting blondes played to look after the local soon-to-be mailgirls, keeping them to the front of the stage, in clear view of everyone. Ashley and Tanya each took their trainee in hand, raised that hand above their head and twirled them around to show all of the volunteers' bodies off to their colleagues. More kisses, a finger or two near their nipples. And the assembly gave the two -- now braver -- naked women a concerted round of applause, clapping and calling.

Heather waited for the support to quieten down while the two newbies who were now clearly into the scene, posed for the audience. "Anyone else?" Heather teased the group. She looked straight at Bette Davis who blushed bright red.

"Not me!" she gasped. Heather smiled warmly at her, diffusing. She had long ago worked out that there was no point in coercion. "Anyone?" Heather laughed, like it did not matter to her whether there were any further volunteers or not. Hoping that some exuberant man did not offer himself and risked ruining the moment and the experience for everyone whether it mattered to him or not.

But then there was a rustle near the front of the audience. A woman stepped forward. Seeing a possibility Heather clapped her hands generously at the somewhat uncertain woman. Having taken a courageous first step, she now wavered, wondering if it was such a good idea. "Come on," Heather called out to her, "you little beauty." She could lay it on thick, nothing she would ever say at home.

"You're so brave," the uncertain woman stammered as she took another careful step towards Heather.

"What's your name?" Heather asked warmly, now literally reaching out to her.

The woman looked down at her feet. "Ginger," she stated flatly.

Heather clapped her hands in delight. "That should have been my name!" she gushed. Heather even pointed down at her neatly trimmed pubis. "Look see!" she announced. It was true. Her pubic hair was undoubtedly a shade of red. Ginger let Heather take her by the hand to lead into a world of exploration.

*

Jackson having delivered a message to the engineers on the eleventh floor of Harada's Melbourne office was taking her time going back down the stairs to the mezzanine. Of course it would be Kimiko Date coming up the stairs towards her. Jackson chose to look defiant. Kimiko for once seemed a little nervous. So you should be, Jackson thought. Was Kimiko sneaking up to see Mitch, she wondered.

But Kimiko took the chance and spoke first. "Thanks for the other day," she demurred.

"That's okay," Jackson started to reply automatically polite. Wait a minute, she thought. Kimiko might have been thanking Jackson for getting her off the other day, going down on her when she was restrained by the spreader. But what about the other times? Jackson realised that there had been plenty of other times. And had Kimiko ever been down between her legs? "And the other times," Jackson grumbled.

Kimiko looked confused. "We wanked each other off," she recalled. Kimiko reached out to the other mailgirl who took an impolite step back.

Jackson stared hard at Kimiko. "And to think that I wanked you off that time too."

Kimiko seemed upset at the rebuff. "I will never forget that. I never got the chance to reciprocate."

Jackson looked surprised. "Really, with everything else that you have done, got up to, I didn't think you would remember."

Kimiko shook her head gravely. "I remember everything. If there's anything you want me to do now..."

Jackson crossed her arms. "No, that's okay," she insisted. "But thanks anyway." She knew that she did not sound convincing.

Kimiko tried to give the other mailgirl an ingratiating smile. She was not sure that it worked as she stood a step down from Jackson, unsure of her intent. "There's something between us, some connection, I don't know what it is," she tried.

"Other than you stealing my office husband," Jackson retorted. There was clearly some hurt in that.

But Kimiko misjudged Jackson's feelings. "He's not your boyfriend, your office husband or anything," she chided. She was justified being superior about that. After all, Mitch was hers. He was fucking her not Jackson.

Jackson recoiled, even took a step back. "Well if that's your position, I don't know what there could possibly be between us. Nothing that I can see."

Kimiko grinned, unexpectedly animated. "Except for the times that you have had your face between my legs," she recalled. She convinced the other mailgirl that she really meant it.

Jackson tried but she could not avoid Kimiko's sudden warmth. Somehow Kimiko had infected Jackson with her look. Jackson could not but smile back at those memories. "Well that, I guess," she conceded.

Kimiko made it clear that she was looking down Jackson's exposed body. "By the way, nice bush," she smiled, "I like the way you've let it grow." Jackson could do nothing but wriggle her hips in response.

Kimiko stepped up and gently eased Jackson onto her back on the stairs, equally gently spreading the other mailgirl's legs. She looked up to give Jackson the rest of her smile and then lowered her face to Jackson's pussy. Jackson had to admit it was true, there was something that made them together.

*

Jeneva, slim svelte and naked, shuddered as she stood in the foyer of Harada Industries' US office next to the equally naked if not quite as svelte Heather McKay. Who was now back at their head office. Jeneva clutched at the other mailgirl's arm. "Geez, you're cold," Heather exclaimed, "I thought you'd be used to this." She rubbed Jeneva's fingers rigorously as if that would help.

Jeneva shook her head, her eyes wide. "I was brought up in LA near the beach. I never even knew it could get this cold!"

"Well," laughed Heather as she gave up on the other mailgirl's hands to tweak both of Jeneva's rock-hard nipples, "you're first in line when he arrives, so it looks like you're going to make a good impression." She tweaked again. "It'll be an impression all right. If you pressed these up against him, you'll probably give him some bruises to remember you by." Heather looked down the line at the other mailgirls. They stood waiting either stoic or numb. In a line, so similar, tall, blonde, straight hair tied back in ponytails. Whoever had hired them clearly had a particular idea of an attractive woman. And then there was Heather, the short Australian with actual hips. And Jeneva. Slender sure but with pert breasts and long black hair.

Jeneva tried to twist out of Heather's grip. "How about you?" the American argued. "It never gets cold in Australia. So how do you put up with this weather?"

Heather shook her head. "You've only been reading the tourist stuff from Queensland, haven't you?" She gave the taller American a toothy smile, both hands on her hips, poised like she was waiting for her coffee or something.

Jeneva nodded seriously. "Perfect one day, something else the rest." Like the other American mailgirls she stood with one leg straight, one knee provocatively forward, one hand on hip. Jeneva was tense from the cold and from Heather playing with her. But she looked pleased with her antipodean knowledge.

Heather shook her head. "Google Melbourne winter," she suggested. But Jeneva shook her head with a giggle.

Of course at that moment, the limousine pulled up outside. Mr Harada's two immaculately black suited aides got out of the car and hurried around to the rear door, to attend to Mr Harada. Whispers raced through the mailgirls who straightened up to attention like some sort of nude guard of honour as Mr Harada was helped out of the car by his two straight-faced companions. Once out of the limo, Mr Harada waved his male aide away but was too happy to use the female as a crutch, reaching one arm over her shoulder to almost grip onto her well-covered breast. Like he had to in order to keep his balance, sure. She appeared not to mind.

Chrissy rushed up to Heather from inside panting from running down the stairs. She gave her girlfriend a quick peck as the boss of the whole company slowly approached them.

"Where have you been?" Heather asked her sotto voce, as Chrissy bustled up next to her, requiring Jeneva and then the other mailgirls to reorganise themselves into a slightly longer line.

"Delivery," Chrissy hissed back, "Mr Roberts wouldn't let me go." She turned slightly to show one reddish buttock to her girlfriend.

"Mr Roberts!" Heather exclaimed, shaking her head at the risks of being alone with him. She gave Chrissy's arm a little squeeze just before Mr Harada approached them.

*

How had she and Mr Harada ended alone in this room together, Heather wondered. She stood there, staring at the boss, as he stood on the other side of the room, proud in his immaculate suit. While she was, of course, totally on display. He grunted at the bare mailgirl, made a gesture towards the couch against the wall near him. The gesture was unmistakable.

Heather tightened. "Are you going to ask me nicely?" Hands on her hips. So what if he could see everything. So what if he owned everything. So what if he paid her everything. It did not exempt him from having to behave. But the man stared back at the mailgirl, silent. "Honestly," she exclaimed.

Mr Harada swayed a little on the spot where he stood. "I expect certain things," he told her like it was always true.

Heather did not accept that at all. With one hand on her hip, she gestured back at the boss with the other. "That doesn't surprise me," she started friendly enough. Then a bit stronger. "But this is different, you are going to have to ask me. Nicely." And then Heather smiled widely like everything would be all right. Just make her happy, was the message.

Mr Harada stumbled over to the couch and sat there, all the time staring at Heather first a little threatening then reading her correctly, a little cautiously. He tapped his watch and looked over to the door. His female aide slid into the room, having only opened the door just wide enough to. Clearly she had been waiting right outside. But now inside she remained near the door, straight and silent as if she might prevent Heather from leaving. But from his seat, Mr Harada shouted rapidly in Japanese at his assistant.

Without reacting in any way to her boss's aggressive tone, the aide strode over to face the owner of the company, squat to her knees to open the man's pants then immediately took him in her mouth. In a short moment, Mr Harada pushed the aide's mouth away and looked over at Heather who stood at the other end of the room, arms crossed, watching the performance. He thrust his erection just the once in her direction.

"What do you think of it?" he carefully asked the mailgirl as his aide obligingly gave him a few strokes to keep him hard.

"Not unimpressive," Heather admitted.

"I think you could appreciate it better if you came closer," Mr Harada tried.

"Now why would I do that?" Heather smiled. She gestured at the assistant who was still in front of Mr Harada, on her knees. "Why don't you finish off with her?" Heather taunted, nodding towards the black suited woman who still held Mr Harada's cock like her duty was to keep him hard, once exposed.

Mr Harada smiled down at the assistant who pensively waited for what he wanted from her next. "She is quite submissive, in case you hadn't noticed," Mr Harada advised Heather, while now stroking his subordinate's neck. "But that's not my desire at the moment. Which is why I asked for you to be here. If, that is, you would like..." The man who owned the company let that hang between him and the naked mailgirl. But it was clear that he was trying to make an effort.

Heather sighed. She strode over to the exposed businessman and gripped one of his nipples hard through his shirt. 'Well, it worked for Jeneva,' she reasoned. Mr Harada responded by waving his assistant away. She let go of his cock and apparently reluctantly returned to her station by the door. Heather grabbed the man's cock more firmly than the other woman had.

"Well I guess you asked nicely," Heather smiled right into Mr Harada's face as she positioned herself on the man's cock. All she had to do was press her body down. "Or tried to," she strained as she tried to get him inside her.

"I haven't done this for a while," she told the man she had straddled, still working herself around him. Heather adjusted herself and let out a little groan as he went deeper. "So many things you don't have to worry about when you're a girl." She looked down at Mr Harada. "Are you comfy?" she asked him. The man did not respond. "Feels like you're all the way in." He grunted. "Well tell me if you're not happy," she decided. "I'm going to go for it!" And Heather bounced up and down on the man.

She stopped for a moment and looked at Mr Harada. "It's been a while," she repeated, "how am I supposed to do this again?" Heather smiled at the boss, but he stared blankly back at her. A look of mild disgust crossed his face, too quick for Heather to notice. Why, he wondered was he fucking this woman who was so unlike the mailgirls that he preferred, the Japanese ones who were so clean and submissive, the American ones so tall, beautiful and unapproachable. Except to him. Heads held high until he told them what to do.

Mr Harada became even more disgusted with himself, having to admit that the short, stocky and slightly pudgy Australian with her sun damaged face was indisputably turning him on. This was all manifested in his thrusting into her, first moderately then hard and fast. Yes, she had lit something in him. This was different. Better?

Heather sensed Mr Harada's immersion in the act and smiled right into his eyes. "You go for it, guy," she urged, "Now I'm juicy, I'll just stay like this and you can do all the work."

But Mr Harada barely acknowledged her urging as his own needs took over. Over-stimulated, his thrusting continued, but didn't go for much longer before the boss thrust one last time and held onto the mailgirl firmly as he came into her. Finished he slumped forward into her arms.

Heather held him against her chest for a moment before something concerned her. She lifted his face back from her embrace and could see nothing in him. "Are you alright?" she asked urgently. But he didn't respond. She looked over to the assistant near the door who appeared to be concentrating on nothing. "Hey you," Heather called out to her. "I think your boss needs some help."

The assistant did not seem to comprehend, so Heather moved a bit to let her see Mr Harada's blank face. So now the assistant showed a glimmer of concern and spoke softly into her wrist device. In a quick moment, the male assistant strode into the room. He looked at the assistant then looked over to Heather and the boss. He raced up to them and handled Heather off Mr Harada. It was then that she realised that he was still hard inside her. But now they were separated.

"You have to go now," the male assistant ordered.

"Did I kill him?" Heather asked.

But the only reply was a repeat of the previous order. "Go now!" with slightly more urgency. The female assistant came over, took Heather by the shoulders and gently walked her to the door and out of it. With the door firmly closed, Heather was alone in the corridor. Wow, she wondered. And then decided that she needed to be with Chrissy. What had just happened?

*

At her workstation on the fourth floor at Famechon Engineering, Emily Johnson looked around the room at the other workers near her. They were all silently staring at their screens. Some were typing, some reading apparently. Emily looked at her screen again but could not get excited at what was on it. Apparently she needed to learn about the company's document management system so as to understand that any documents she created needed to be stored securely.

Emily quietly yawned. What, she wondered, could be more secure than a naked mailgirl carrying documents from one person to another? She scrolled through the presentation but there was no mention of that. 'What am I going to do all day?' she typed into her phone.

What was this work that they wanted her to learn? HR had said something to her, but she had not been listening. What could she do? Well, there was always the kitchen and the coffee maker. She looked over at the colleague who was meant to be training her, but she was busy flirting with a young guy standing close to her desk who was flirting back. Emily sighed, got up and went to the kitchen. A little miffed that Mr Flirt had not even noticed her. That would be different when she was a mailgirl. She worried for a moment. If she would ever become a mailgirl.

Emily was unsurprised that she soon had company at the coffee machine. She knew that a young, fresh and attractive woman would get some attention sooner or later. Two men, about her age, wandered up. One seemed to have social skills. The other blurted, asked her straight out if she knew how to use the coffee maker.

"I'm new," she smiled trying to be alluring, "will you show me?" She overemphasised her words and leaned forward to the poor guy, probably as close as he had been to a woman. Emily got the response she expected, he backed away.

"George will show you," the poor guy blurted out and escaped from the room as quickly as he could.

Emily smiled at George who was blatantly checking out her legs. Well, she had worn the short skirt on purpose. "I'm sorry about Bill," George started. "He's a bit nervous around women. I thought I'd help him break the ice." George clearly had none of Bill's reticence. He even stepped closer to Emily, repeating what she had done to the departed colleague, close enough to be exhaling on her.

"I hope we didn't deprive him of his coffee," Emily smiled without flinching, enjoying their intimacy.

George laughed. "Could you imagine him with some coffee in him? I guarantee he never touches the stuff." He gave Emily a soul look. "Not like us," he sleazed.

Emily stepped back. "You need to teach him to introduce himself before he blurts," she suggested.

"Noted," smiled George. It was unclear whether this would be implemented or whether Bill was mere collateral. "I'm George, I'm a trainee engineer here. One of the many. I guess that you are too?"

Emily gave her name. Then she chose to start to find out about the place. "Do you have women to deliver messages here?" she asked. George looked confused. Emily tried to clarify without revealing too much. "An inter-office service?" she tried.

But he still looked confused for a moment. Then he seemed to realise. "This is your first office job?" he asked. Emily nodded. Anything for info. "You've seen the videos," Shane continued. "That's in the States. We don't have that sort of thing here." He seemed sure of that, so Emily did not correct him. And now he had a big smile on his face. "What would you do if we did?" he challenged.

Emily laughed like she had made a real blooper. "What would you do?" she challenged back. Then they both laughed.

George said what she was thinking. "Could you imagine Bill?"

Emily laughed because she could not imagine Bill. Except that she could imagine stepping over to Bill's desk, completely naked watching him react to seeing her, all of her, and having to make eye contact and acknowledge her while she delivered a message to him. She realised that George was studying her, carefully checking her up and down, probably considering whether to invite her for an after-work drink or something. "Stupid me," she simpered, so out of character but what the Heck, "to think that every office had them."

"Pity," George agreed, "it would certainly liven this place up." He was, Emily could tell, imagining himself immersed in one of those videos with the American beach girls striding nude between the desks. She checked to see if George was eyeing her up and down, but he was careful not to get caught at that. He stared meaningfully into her eyes when she let him. Was George thinking of her in that role, she wondered. Which she found flattering if true. After all she knew she could pull it off. Since she had before, up on the stage. In the Uni ref... In Fanny's office. She looked at George sizing her up and wondered, well, did every young male hope that every young female could be a mailgirl?

But he was Mr Chivalrous. "Let me show you how the coffee machine works," he smiled, still that close to her. Well, at least she would learn something.

*

At her desk Emily picked at her nails for a while before deciding that she had had enough. She found an empty meeting room so she could make a call. "Uncle Shane," she complained when he took the call, "no one here knows anything about a mailgirls program. Are you sure you sent me to the right place?"

Shane laughed. "You may have to do some work," he replied. "Are you learning anything?"

Emily wasn't taking that. "Is this the right place or not?" she demanded.

Shane checked through his notes. "Oh," he replied after a moment, "they're not due until Wednesday. We have two or three of ours going over to kick things off then. I guess that will be the big reveal, a pleasant surprise for the staff. I guess you'll just have to do some work for a few days. That could be good, you can pick up a few skills."

Emily pouted. "I thought you were quite happy with my skills."

Shane was up to that. "Yes well, you are very talented. But it helps to be able to do more than give good head. I thought that was the point of a university education."

Emily shook her head and sighed. "If only I had you here now. Right where I want you."

Shane laughed back at her. "Well, you are working for the competition. But who knows, I might find a pretext to drop over for a visit."

"Men," Emily complained and rang off.

*

Looking at Heather's expression on her screen, Jackson gave up trying to restrain herself and let it all out, a real deep laugh. Alone in Mitch's office, face-timing the other mailgirl she did not bother to muffle it. And Jackson found it hilarious, so why not? Eventually she stopped.

"It's not funny!" Heather insisted. "Honestly. I thought I'd killed him."

"Fucked him to death," Jackson chortled.

"It's a real thing," Heather argued. "How do you think Attila The Hun died?"

Jackson could not get the grin off her face. "Died in battle, I guess." Who knew anything about Attila The Hun?

Heather squeezed her legs together. "And it was the first fuck I've had in ages," she laughed. The memory. "Something a bit different to the girls." She gushed, just a little bit, at the memory.

Jackson pulled an admonishing face. "Not that you've been short of action with them," she chided.

Heather giggled. "Well, at least I remembered how to." They both laughed until Heather realised that perhaps Jackson did not find it actually that funny. Heather stopped laughing, tried to look deeply serious. "I thought I had killed him," she remembered.

"That must have been, um, something..." Jackson tried, feeling a little neglected. Who was there for her, she wondered.

Heather did not notice Jackson's chagrin. "You're telling me. One moment he's moving around inside me. Really going for it! And I'll admit that the old guy knew what he was doing. It was great, I was getting off, remembering what a good man could do to me. And then he kind of went limp on me." Heather gave Jackson a wide-eyed look. "But not in me. Still hard there, where it mattered. Hard there and limp in my arms. And of course suddenly it was bedlam. Suddenly I was being dragged off him and away and kicked out of the room. If I hadn't been so turned on I would have thought that I had been used."

Jackson mused. "It sounds like they were almost expecting it, like they all knew what to do. Do you think it had happened before?"

"No idea," Heather replied. "Like they were going to tell me anything. It was probably just a well-drilled first aider reaction."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Would make sense for them to be drilled in first aid. He doesn't seem the healthiest. And he's not young."

"Chrissy told me afterwards that he wants to have it away with all the mailgirls. He usually corners at least one every time he visits the States. Some sort of pride or ownership thing, she says."

"Yeah, I know," Jackson agreed.

Heather's eyes widened again. This time she noticed Jackson's expression. "Not you!" she exclaimed.

Jackson shook her head. "We had an, um, encounter. But it didn't go anywhere."

Heather shook her head at her friend. "Girl, we've got to do something about you. I mean really. I might have to come back and sort you out."

"I'm sure that's not necessary."

Heather wagged a finger at her naked friend. "I think it's very necessary. And obviously no one over there is doing anything about it to help you. Tell me at least that you are still getting yourself off."

Jackson pretended to look shocked. "Of course I get myself off."

Heather nodded her appreciation of that. Then she looked serious. "Prove it!"

Jackson looked at her surprised. "I don't need to prove it to you. You know I do."

Heather shook her head. "No I don't," she deadpanned. Jackson did not pick up on her expression and did not give her a comeback. Heather stretched out, leaning back so she was visible on Jackson's screen down to her knees. "In that case," she told Jackson, "let's do it together."

Jackson sighed. Well, it made as much sense as anything else involved in being a mailgirl to have a mutual international wank with her colleague and friend, the one who had almost killed the owner of the company while fucking him. Following Heather's lead she pushed her own chair back and leant back in it too, also exposing herself over the VC. She laughed.

"What?" demanded Heather as she cupped a breast with one hand and pinched the nipple with the other.

"Anywhere else this would be a sackable offence," Jackson laughed as she followed Heather's lead with one of her breasts. "Here it's expected."

"You don't say," Heather gasped having already run a hand down to her clit. And one wet finger into her slit. Jackson followed her, almost in a trance. She felt almost hypnotised as she watched and copied everything she saw Heather do on the screen.

Heather spread her legs wide, wanked herself with both hands, smiling directly at Jackson as she worked her clit with one hand, imbedding two fingers of her other hand, working them in and out of her tunnel. "Do you do it like this?" she groaned, her eyes half closed.

Jackson was doing the same as Heather, nodding wordlessly as she absorbed herself into their shared pleasure. She closed her eyes for a moment, to concentrate on herself, suddenly opening them, awakened by a sudden, stronger groan from Heather. A pair of hands covered Heather's breasts, groping them, caressing them gently then squeezing them together, the fingers never off Heather's nipples.

Heather spread her legs wider for deeper access to her pleasure. The woman groping her breasts leant down to french kiss her, her wavy blonde hair obscuring both their faces. Eventually she pulled back from their passion. Jackson recognised Heather's American girlfriend. Of course it was Chrissy. And of course the gorgeous blonde was naked. After all, she was a mailgirl too.

"What do you have going on here without me," Chrissy demanded, a smile on her face. Her fingers had not left Heather's breasts.

Along with Jackson, Heather had returned to reality. "I'm teaching Jackson how to wank," Heather replied.

"Does she really need to learn that?" Chrissy demanded. "I didn't know," she added slyly. Chrissy let go of one of Heather's breasts so she could ease herself next to her girlfriend, closer to the laptop to get a better view of Jackson's efforts. She gripped Heather's other breast harder getting a squeal from her girlfriend. "Do you really need to learn how to wank?" she asked Jackson, staring at the camera on the laptop as if she was assessing what Jackson was doing. "You're a quick learner," Chrissy added with one hand now working her own slit.

Jackson played up to her. "Yes, I need her to show me, to teach me properly," she smiled, copying everything that Heather was still doing. "You too," she moaned. All three thrust their hips, getting into a rhythm, trying, getting close to cumming.

Chrissy stopped her work to stare at Heather. "You never taught me how to wank myself," she complained.

Heather rolled her eyes at that. "Girlfriend, you taught me things I didn't know could be done."

Chrissy pretended to be offended. "You could have asked," she pouted. She placed both her hands dramatically on her hips. Heather whimpered a soft complaint that her breasts were no longer being mauled.

Jackson was so close to cumming. But she needed something more. "Show me what you taught Heather," she urged Chrissy.

"Oh all right," Chrissy huffed. She settled next to Heather, spreading her legs with one placed over the top of Heather's as they both faced Jackson, their pussies on display to her. Chrissy reached down and grabbed her lips stretching them up. She went for her clit and almost immediately started to thrust.

"She's so orgasmic," Heather admired. But Jackson did not answer. Watching Chrissy was what she needed to get her over the top, get into her own right place. Something about the physicality, the presence of the tall, hardbodied blonde American. Jackson came hard. Spread back in her seat, she spasmed once, twice, again and again. She could not believe how hard she came. She smiled at the two on the couch in America. It was what she needed.

*

The buxom mailgirl Monika Mayhem was the last one out of the showers. The other mailgirls were already sort of lined up for their morning inspection. Only four others were present, Kimiko, Annette, Pam and June.

Wendy Turnbull, their clothed supervisor, stood with them. "All the rest are away," she confirmed, "you're going to have to work extra hard today." Which got a general smile from the five assembled. Except of course Kimiko who kept a straight face like she would handle whatever was thrown at her.

Monika smiled at June who seemed a little unsure. "Extra hard," Monika repeated at other relative novice like it mattered. Then she smiled again. They had both only recently first stripped off and started their mailgirl careers. Their nakedness, the stripping in the morning, and spending their days wandering nude through the office was still somewhat of a novelty. While Pam and Annette, like Kimiko, were almost complacent with their office nudity. The way they stood, the way they moved, they may have been just as well wearing clothes. Monika, despite her tough-girl performance, still looked too aware that her prominent bust was an attraction along with the rest of her body. June seemed unsure of the whole thing which, she did not realise, created an aura of vulnerability, a desirable allure about her, which was the last thing that she wanted.

"There are rules," Annette reminded the other mailgirls as well as Wendy. "No one gets overworked or hurt."

"It was more a figure of speech," Wendy apologised.

Monika smiled at Annette, admiringly. "We know who the shop steward is when Jackson's not around."

Annette poked her tongue out. "She's teaching me," she told the group which got a laugh.

Suddenly there was action from the entrance. Rosemary the journalist strode in, followed by her cameraperson, the ever suffering Trisha Noble who, camera poised and operating, struggled to keep up with her. With one action, Rosemary stripped her dress over her head. It was all that she was wearing.

"I'm here to help!" she announced to the five naked women staring at her. "And it looks like today you could do with my assistance."

Annette's four colleagues all looked to her, waiting for her leadership. Finally Pam spoke up. "Well Annette, you say Jackson has been training you up. What are you going to do?"

Annette stood there, legs slightly apart, one hand on her hip, the other scratching just above her ear. She looked to each of the other mailgirls while Rosemary stood slightly off to the side. "Well," Annette concluded, "what can we do?"

"Exactly," Rosemary called back to her. And strode up to Annette to give her a big, close hug.

Pam was not impressed. "I'll bet that if Jackson was here that was not what she would do."

Rosemary shifted her hand to squeeze Annette's bottom. She was brazen.

Annette lifted the prying hand away from her butt, disengaged herself from Rosemary and looked Pam in the eyes. "And I'll bet that you're right," she told her colleague. "But she's not here. And there's only the five of us here. She can help. We do need it."

Wendy coughed to attract their attention. "There are rules," she reminded them all and looked to Rosemary. "Has this been approved?" she asked the journalist.

Rosemary smiled sweetly at the supervisor. "Why not ask him?" she offered. Wendy went to her app and sent a compliant Kimiko up to get Shane. Catching the lift down, Shane appeared presently, long before Kimiko could return down the stairs. In his usual way, Shane sauntered in, that eternal grin on his face as he encountered the five naked women who were waiting for him. Shane being Shane strode up to Rosemary and gave her a hug and kiss on the lips.

None of the mailgirls were fazed, not even June who after all had already had already had a session with Shane. She looked almost jealous that it was Rosemary, rather than her. But said nothing.

"Are you two fucking, Shane?" Monika asked as if it was the most likely thing and any reply in the negative would be a lie.

Shane gave Monika his seductive smile. "No, not fucking," he told the mailgirl while still holding Rosemary by the waist. Rosemary smiled at him, everyone in the room could sense their chemistry. "Only a headjob so far," Shane revealed.

"Nice way to share," Rosemary complained. Annette slapped her loudly on the butt like, c'mon girl, what were you just doing to me?

Again none of the mailgirls seemed confronted with that. "So you don't fuck all the mailgirls?" June asked dispassionately.

"Not all of them," Shane admitted turning his grin onto Pam.

"Only a headjob here too," Pam admitted to the rest.

June nodded like their discussion was the most natural thing between a bunch of naked office workers and one of the bosses. Then she noticed that Kimiko had slunk back in. "You're quiet, Kimiko," June observed. "Do you have anything to add to this?" Kimiko gave her a warning glance. But June did not cower. "I'm new at this," she announced, "and I've already fucked Shane because I thought that's what we did."

"And now you find that you could have stopped at a headjob," Pam smiled.

Rosemary looked over to Trisha who was still filming. "Are you getting all this?" Rosemary asked her camera operator who nodded some sort of yes. It was pretty superfluous because clearly Trisha was recording it all.

"I could have stopped at a headjob, I guess," June shrugged. "But just as well. He was a pretty good fuck. So I guess it was worth it." She could not believe that she was telling the other that. But it seemed somehow appropriate.

Annette stared at newest mailgirl, the way that she stood, shielding her pussy from full view, her shoulders slightly hunched and shook her head. "I can't see it, but if you say so," Annette smiled at June.

"Maybe I'll get to see you in action," Rosemary told Shane, grabbing his crotch through his pants. While she stared over at June who avoided her eye contact.

"Don't do that!" Annette snapped at Rosemary. "You'll get him started. Not that he needs an excuse."

June suddenly grew assertive. She rounded on Kimiko who was settling back in her usual place over in the corner, away from the action. "Hey Kimiko," she called over to her, "have you got up to anything with our resident service man here?" Or was she just trying to deflect. After all, Rosemary had goaded Shane to fuck June in front of all of them. Which she was not sure about. Well, maybe...

And Kimiko did not seem interested in spilling her experiences. But the others knew. "Tell her Kimiko," Annette demanded.

*

Pam was wanking on the landing when Rosemary came through the Level 6 door, from the executive suite, to descend back to the mezzanine, with Trisha following behind, doing her job. Rosemary looked at her, watched her nonchalantly work on herself with a toy from the dildo station like it was the most natural thing for an employee to do during the working day. She shook her head. "I still can't believe that attractive intelligent women like you would do this, work naked in a job in this day and age."

Pam eased a little further down onto the dildo and smiled with satisfaction at the journalist. "Yet here you are, like us. What are you really looking for?"

Rosemary stood defiantly over the mailgirl who kept on pleasuring herself. "I'm trying to find out what makes you tick."

Pam smiled up at her beckoning her closer, indicating that Rosemary should sit and join her. "But something is making you tick too, isn't it?" she told the reporter. "What are you finding out by experiencing it yourself?" Pam seemed genuinely interested in that. Rosemary agreeably sat next to her and Pam offered her a dildo that she must have had by her side. Rosemary started at that, not sure whether to accept it.

"Don't worry," Pam assured her, "I haven't used it yet."

"Were you expecting me?" Rosemary asked accepting the sex toy like it was a dangerous item.

"No," Pam assured her, "I just hadn't decided how I was going to use it yet. Since I had the other one. And knew what to do with that."

Rosemary placed the dildo near her lips. Carefully she ran it along her slit before pushing it just a little way in.

"That's it," Pam applauded, "only, what, six inches to go." She watched the other woman start to pleasure herself with the device. "You turn it on there," Pam indicated. "Now what is going on in that head of yours? What are you really trying to find out?"

Rosemary leaned back against Pam and sighed as she fully embedded her dildo. "There is a freedom about all this, isn't there? I guess that's why you do it." Pam did not answer, choosing to just watch and let Rosemary go on with what she was doing to herself, Pam suspecting that Rosemary had only just begun. While she worked the dildo against her most sensitive parts, Rosemary tried to arrange her thoughts. "It's like going to a dress-up party, being something, someone other than yourself. Like I said it's the freedom. I feel I could do anything."

Pam looked over to Trisha who was filming all the proceedings and gave the camerawoman a raised eyebrow, a look of curiosity which Trisha returned. Neither of them could work out what the outcome of Rosemary's visit would be. It certainly did not look to either of them like something that would be on a television current affairs show at 6.30pm, in the evening.

Rosemary seemed to Pam to be in her own world as she got herself off with the dildo and with her fingers. Which allowed Pam to ponder further, what Rosemary was up to? The mailgirl extracted her own dildo and carefully placed it pointing upwards on the stairs, then got up from her spot on the landing easing herself next to Trisha who kept filming the reporter from as close as she could get good framing of Rosemary in action.

Pam placed a hand on Trisha's shoulder to lean up close so they could talk privately. "What do you think she's up to?" Pam asked the camera operator while Rosemary spread her legs giving her observers a clear view of exactly what she was doing with the dildo. She was also muttering something about the future of work.

"I have no idea," Trisha admitted in an equally sharp whisper, holding the camera steady careful not to miss anything. "This wasn't the plan."

"What was the plan?" Pam whispered back.

"To get a few shots of Rosemary being a mailgirl, to see what the reaction of the fabrics would be to her delivering their messages, get another interview with your boss and get out."

"And?" Pam asked. She still had her hand on Trisha's upper arm so they could easily whisper into each other's ears.

"We got all those, except we haven't had the interview yet. I honestly thought that's all that we were coming in here for." Trisha pointed back to the door they had come through. Rosemary was now riffing about female empowerment, getting sex the way that they want it. Trisha eyed her performance with keen eye for the production. She leant over close to Pam. "You don't think that you could go down..." she wondered. "Get her to cum so we can move on."

Was the camerawoman uncomfortable around naked mailgirls, Pam wondered. Was she getting affected? Pam ran that hand of hers on Trisha's arm down her side and straight into her pants. She reached inside Trisha's underwear, felt the top of her bush. Then she reached just that little further.

Which triggered a response. "Not me," Trisha stage whispered, "her!" Pam pulled her hand back with an apologetic look. The camera woman smiled regardless. "Thanks anyway," she grinned, "you almost had me." Pam grinned back and immediately slid her hand down where it had been, this time just a fraction lower. Trisha let her do it for a moment then shook her head. "Sorry, but one of us has to remain professional," she determined. "Do her, if that's all right?" she tried.

Pam reached that little bit lower into the other woman's pants, just into the top of Trisha's slit, just for a quick feel, then another one before she was out. Pam was still close enough to give Trisha a consolation peck on the cheek before she turned to the reporter to work out the best way to take things with her to the next level. And noted that Trisha did not flinch when Pam riffled her fingers along the camera person's arm as she took a step towards the reporter.

Rosemary squeezed her eyes closed, her head thrown back as she concentrated on cumming, on her own pleasure, now thrusting the dildo as fast as she could. Pam abandoned the camerawoman and sidled towards the squirming reporter. From her modelling experience Pam sensed Trisha's best camera angles, where she needed to stand to be in shot but not obscure the other woman's performance. Although she stood back, Trisha had all of Rosemary in shot, the thrusting of her crotch, her legs splayed wide, breasts glistening and eyes tight shut to concentrate on fucking herself.

Pam came into frame from the side and knelt next to Rosemary, between her legs but wary of obscuring the camera. A dark thought suddenly came to her mind. She covered Rosemary's hands with her own so that she was controlling the dildo. At first Rosemary tensed but then she relaxed as Pam controlled the rhythm the way Rosemary wanted. Without warning Pam slipped it out of the other woman and into her bottom. Going for broke, Pam pressed it in and out with the same tempo that Rosemary had been attacking her pussy.

Rosemary did not miss a beat, moaning as Pam pressed the object in. She was beyond caring for anything other than her own wants. And now with the reporter's pussy open and exposed, Pam leaned down and, from the side, began to tongue her. She knew that Trisha was happily capturing it all.

Even better for Rosemary, her hands were free to press down on the back of Pam's head. "Yes," she cried out, "yes, Peter, like that!"

Pam wondered for a moment who the fuck is Peter? Well whatever, she decided. I'll be Peter if she wants Peter. She glanced up at Trisha who had clearly just realised something, no doubt worked out who Peter was. Pam did not care. She found that she was getting into it, getting wet herself, not caring about the nagging thought at the back of her mind that the pornographic display that she was now part of with Trisha filming it diligently, what could it possibly be used for?

But that worry dissolved when she reached over to where she had left her own dildo. She needed that so badly now. And soon she was coming from her own work at the same time that Rosemary came, loud and high on her own sensations.

*

Jackson was ten minutes early. Lauryn was five minutes late. Even though Jackson was the only patron in the restaurant, their waitress led Lauryn to Jackson's table like she did not want her to get lost or something. The waitress helped to settle her in, like certain standards had been maintained.

Jackson smiled at her friend. "I don't know how a restaurant that gets 16 out of 20 can be empty at seven o'clock on a Thursday night."

Lauryn smiled back as she flicked through the menu. "Maybe it scares everyone off. Except for us."

Jackson nodded. "Let's take advantage of it." She waved to the waitress who came over to take their orders. Alone again, Jackson could concentrate on the former mailgirl sitting across from her. "Tell me everything," Jackson insisted.

Lauryn rolled her eyes. "Yes, people have seen Harada on my CV. So yes, I get the questions. 'What's it like to have mailgirls in your office? Did you use them? Don't you find it demeaning?' All the sort of questions you would expect."

Jackson nodded. "No one's guessed? Or suggested?"

Lauryn smiled confidently. "No, they assume that a BA who can dress herself in casual office wear and who can log in to a computer, open spreadsheets and send emails could never have been a mailgirl." She gestured down at what she was wearing, nothing outrageous or suggestive. "Mailgirls, Lauryn continued, "are 'them.' And they've decided that I'm clearly not them, I'm one of us. But of course they ask me questions all the time about it. The men and of course the women."

Jackson smiled. "You secret ex-mailgirl you! And what did you say to that?"

Lauryn laughed. "Of course I used the mailgirls..."

"... but not in the way that they think." Jackson shook her head at how predictable people could be.

Lauryn nodded. "Indeed."

They had small talk to catch up on, updates by Jackson on who at Harada was doing what. Except for Kimiko, a subject Lauryn was careful to avoid to save her friend from any awkwardness. But Lauryn wanted to know about the other mailgirls. After all, she had some deep roots there, they both knew that she could not just let go.

Then Jackson got serious. "I found out the whole story about your new place," she divulged. "Famechon took you at face value as a BA, they liked your credentials for the job. But apparently when someone at Famechon was validating your background they clicked that we are the mailgirls company. Realising that both companies were somewhat similar, your bosses thought about it and decided why not? Apparently Harada has a good reputation in the industry. Both for its work and for its mailgirls." Jackson thrust her breasts forward, mocking a proud pose. "We are the industry leaders!"

"You have to be the leaders when you're the only one," Lauryn chortled.

Soon to get competition, so we'll have to lift our game, somehow. Anyhow, Famechon have no idea about you-know-what, that's what Belinda told me."

Lauryn thought about it for a moment. "Why then didn't she tell me?" she asked. "The mysteries of HR, I guess."

Jackson shrugged. "She thought it would be better if I told you. I don't know, maybe my bedside manner or something." They both laughed at that. "It's cool. Come on, you just have to convince your new colleagues that you know how to work with naked women. You can help them understand how to treat mailgirls with respect and all that. You don't have any reason to let on that you were..."

Lauryn nodded. "Well, if you put it like that..."

The waitress was suddenly with them, a listening look on her face. "No," both of the patrons told her sharply. She recoiled. "I was only going to ask you if you want dessert," she stammered.

Jackson laughed, then Lauryn. "We better look at the menu," Jackson decided. The waitress smiled and retreated carefully.

Jackson shook her head. "I thought she was going to ask..." she started.

Lauryn grinned back. "Not everyone is going to ask you if they can be a mailgirl too," she stated out loud.

"Or ask what it's like," Jackson continued. She then circled back to her earlier information. "The way that Belinda framed it, they will probably come to you for suggestions about how it can work, how you fabrics are supposed to treat and respect your mailgirls, that sort of thing. I think it can all work."

Lauryn gave Jackson a dangerous smile. "So I'm supposed to know how to treat a mailgirl? That could be, um, a revelation. Hopefully you can show this Business Analyst the respect that she deserves."

Jackson bowed her head in mock submission. "That can be done," she agreed. "But tell me, what do you miss about it? Anything?"

Lauryn looked carefully at how far away the waitress was. "Well, there was the constant getting off. I never would have thought that I could cum so many times in a day. And then the next day. And the next..."

Jackson looked caringly at her friend. "But even though you never really accepted the, well, lifestyle."

Lauryn squirmed a bit. "Well yeah. Maybe it was guilt, I don't know. Or just a sense that the constant exposure, and I'll admit, the constant buzz down there. Well it wasn't something meant for me. Does that make any sense?"

Jackson thought about it. "Well, a little. I mean I can't believe how quickly I got into the whole swing of it. Now it's just natural for me. I almost feel weird like this. I would be comfortable being naked in here now and happily wanking away. Getting pleasure from my work!" She stared seriously at Lauryn for a moment then gave her a big grin. "I can't believe I feel like that. Who would have thought that was me?"

Lauryn grinned back. "Go on, do it."

"What? I couldn't."

Lauryn felt a little bit naughty. But she pressed. "Come on, you said it would feel natural to you." She even reached over the table and took Jackson's hand in hers, even started to caress her palm. Jackson looked worriedly around the room and caught the eye of the waitress who thought that she had been summoned for desserts. She started to walk over. Lauryn did not let go of Jackson's hand as the waitress walked up to them.

*

Monika pushed a second bar table up next to the one that they already had. Much more room for their drinks now. "It's a good niche," Pam noted, "it's almost private."

June looked over to Annette. "Is this all that's coming?" she asked the mailgirl they looked up to when Jackson was not around.

"I tried the others, but didn't get an answer from any of them," Annette told the other three. "Not even from Jackson. She's either sick or up to something."

"By the way," June added, "I like your dress." Annette laughed and raised the hem which sat at her heels right up, showing the other mailgirls a lot of bare thigh. She dropped it rather than reveal if she had anything on underneath. She was also looking over June's shoulders. Of course a group of four vivacious women would attract sneak peaks, hopes of connecting, and looks of interest from the other patrons.

Annette suddenly brightened up and then waved at someone she recognised. It was Kimiko who came over holding a glass, looking as assured as she joined the rest of the mailgirls who were all quietly enjoying being in public, being dressed, and sharing their secret knowledge of their workday routines. No, the world did not have to know.

"Glad you could make it," Annette greeted the late arrival. "But what are you drinking?"

Kimiko sipped her drink and shrugged. "Straight coke," she admitted. "I'm not a drinker."

Pam leaned down to give Kimiko a peck on the cheek. "Where's Mrs Ogawa?" Pam asked her. This was after all a chance to catch up on events that they did not discuss at work before they got onto their main issue.

"Oh," Kimiko updated the others, "she got called back to Tokyo. But she's going to be back soon."

"It must be hard for her here not knowing the language?" Annette asked.

Kimiko gave her a deep look. "How do you know that she doesn't know English?"

The other mailgirls' expressions dropped. "Oh," Annette and Pam gasped. They had not thought of that before. What if Mrs Ogawa was bluffing about only speaking Japanese.

"So can she speak English?" June asked, for the definitive answer.

"I have spoken English to her," Kimiko admitted, "I've tried, but I don't know if she understands or not. She's not one to give much away."

The others looked hard at Kimiko, all their stares saying 'you're not one to give much away either.' Unperturbed, Monika addressed Kimiko, looking straight at her, no getting away. "What do you do there in your corner, on your laptop," she came at it directly.

Kimiko did not seem fussed by Monika's question. "We're not going to be mailgirls forever," she stated. "Mostly it's study, keeping up with things in my profession so I'm ready for that day. And you know that my previous job was in the finance department, so there's a lot to keep up with there, it keeps me occupied." She looked around their faces, sensed a lack of response. And smiled. "Sorry, that it's not any more exciting than that." She smiled wider. "I don't know what you think I was doing." And left that to hang in the air.

Since the others could not think of any reply to that, they changed the topic to the one that was fresh in their minds. Monika verbalised it first. "What was Rosemary up to?" she asked the others.

Kimiko looked surprised. "I thought she just came in to get some more mailgirl footage she can use in another segment where she raises it as a big scare?" She obvious had not been paying attention. Or maybe they had not crossed paths during the day.

Annette looked over to Pam. "Tell her what you told me," she urged Pam. "Then let's try to see if we can make any sense of it."

Pam checked her phone and smiled at the others. "I can do better than that," she revealed, looking out into the wider bar area, from where Kimiko had just come. She waved over to the bar, and the subject of her interest came towards them. Pam gave her a more than friendly kiss on the cheek. "You should all know Trisha," she told the others. Kimiko at least looked blank. "Rosemary's cameraperson," Pam reminded Kimiko, and the others.

"Hi," Trisha started carefully, still wary of Pam's hand on her shoulder blade. Where it had been in their encounter on the stairs.

Not that Pam cared. "Does Rosemary know that you're here?" she asked her guest.

"Hell no," Trisha laughed.

Pam held onto Trisha as she addressed the others. "Some of the stuff that Trisha shot of Rosemary and me, it was pretty..."

"... pornographic," Trisha jumped in, straightforward. That raised eyebrows. Well, why not?

"There we were on the stairs suddenly. And I had a spare dildo," Pam explained. Like that was a normal thing. Which for mailgirls, well...

"Was it a set-up?" June asked, fairly enough. Pam and Trisha looked to each other, both shook their heads. "Well, what do you think her plan is, in that case?" June asked.

Pam shrugged. Trisha looked around the group, judging if she could trust them. Evidently she did. She took a deep breath. "Well, she seemed pretty happy with the stuff we shot when we reviewed it at the end of the day. Let's face it, she pretty much filmed a porno. I think she sees a niche in the market, to film a real, a hardcore Mailgirls Down Under."

Annette pulled a face. "She's going to need our consent."

Trisha shook her head. "Not if it's mostly her. But I have a suspicion." She looked around the group for support again, realised that she had already gone too far if she could not trust them. "Rosemary's actually not all that smart. I reckon she's been taken in by the tales of women making fortunes on Only Fans and the like, and she reckons that she can leverage off her fame as a well recognised TV presenter into a career doing that and make even more money than she's making now."

Kimiko grunted. "Any career she has on Only Fans is not going to be anywhere near as long lasting or ultimately lucrative than if she sticks with her journalism. Sorry, it's the accountant in me escaping. But it's not a career path." She smiled to lessen the impact.

Trisha was not fazed. "I don't think she's thought through it that far."

Monika summed it up. "So it's going to be just her, she gets to do her mailgirl thing around the office. And then she puts it out and gets a lot of free publicity based on her public fame. So there won't be another segment on TV?"

Trisha smiled at Monika. "Oh I think there will. There will either be a flaccid follow up to the last one. You know something that promises a lot but doesn't deliver. Or I think something along the lines of how our star reporter got sucked into this decadent lifestyle and look what happened to her, something to kick off her new gig."

The mailgirls mulled over that for while. Trisha felt emboldened enough to ask some questions -- the usual ones -- about how the mailgirls did their jobs, how they were treated, why they agreed to do it in the first place.

Pam took it on herself to answer most of Trisha's questions. So at first Trisha did not realise that it was just her and Pam and they were at the back of the recess, almost in a private room of sorts. "We have some unfinished business," Pam breathed into the other woman's face.

"I don't know what you mean," Trisha answered, nonplussed. What did she owe them?

"I think you do," Pam smiled. She slid her hand down the front of Trisha's pants, down to the top of her panties. Back there again.

"Oh that," Trisha remembered. "I thought we were done with all that." She looked hopefully at the other woman, who had not shifted her hand up or down, just kept it there against the flat of Trisha's belly. She tensed.

Pam smiled warmly at Trisha. "You only have to say the word," Pam suggested. She played with the elastic of the other woman's panties.

"The word," Trisha trembled. Their lips moved close together at the same time as Pam's hand went that crucial centimetre lower.

"I know somewhere we could go," Pam whispered, so close to Trisha's cheek.

"Take me there," Trisha whispered back. "Please?"

Pam took her hand out of the other woman's pants, took her hand and walked the two of them out into the night.

*

By the light of the moon, Jackson worked the key into her door and stepped in, followed by a grinning Lauryn.

"What does a mailgirl do when she's inside?" Lauryn laughed.

"I don't know what you mean?" Jackson tried, knowing that would not work with a lover who had known what to do with her since their student days.

"I think the mailgirl knows what to do," Lauryn shot back. Jackson quickly stepped out of her clothes. Lauryn nodded. "That's better."

"Do you have a message for me?" Jackson asked her visitor, lazily flipping one of her own nipples.

"How about you make me a cup of coffee?" Lauryn quickly decided. "And of course one for yourself, if you want." Lauryn knew that she could not stay in that role for very long, at least with Jackson. It was hard to play the boss when they knew each other's minds and bodies so well.

Jackson realised that too. "Is it just me or is it the mailgirl thing -- it hasn't left you yet?" She stood provocatively in the doorway to her kitchen. "Have you?" Jackson challenged.

"Too soon to tell," Lauryn admitted. "I guess I'll find out when they start the mailgirls at the new place."

"You could always say that you were uncomfortable with them at Harada, that's the real reason that you left."

"Which is kind of true," Lauryn agreed. It was a secret between the two of them that Lauryn had found the mailgirl thing at Harada hard which was why she wanted a way out. "White, no sugar," she called out as Jackson disappeared into the kitchen. Lauryn make her way to Jackson's couch.

Lauryn was stretched out on the couch although sitting up against the armrest when Jackson appeared with the coffees. "Come here," she beckoned so Jackson placed the mugs down on the coffee table in front of them and leaned back against Lauryn allowing the clothed woman to hold her from behind, play with her exposed breasts then feel her down below.

"My God you're so wet," Lauryn exclaimed, her fingers deep in Jackson's pussy. "Is it me?" she demanded. "Or has it been a while?" Lauryn looked hard at her friend's face. "Same man problem?" she asked more gently.

Jackson sighed. "I so need a fuck. But I just can't find a man."

Lauryn gripped her friend tightly around the waist. The sex could wait a moment. "Same problem. You can't find THE man," she noted.

Jackson grunted some sort of agreement. "I don't see why I should have to drop my standards. Being with you set them pretty high."

Lauryn kissed her friend's cheek. And then her mouth. "So my fault. Right." Lauryn held her friend tightly for a moment wondering what she was going to do with her. So many choices.

*

On the mezzanine, Jan looked at her app. "Has someone new started?" she asked the others. No one seemed to know. "I have a message from someone in the office next to Mitch's." She looked again. "Interesting. I thought it was generic Harada Industries. But it's actually someone called Harada." She looked over to the usual corner. "Kimiko, do you have any idea?" Kimiko looked up and shrugged. Suggesting strongly no. Jan looked again. "Young Harada," she read off the app. "Does that mean anything, Kimiko?"

This time Kimiko looked engaged. "That's one of my uncles. But don't ask me, I have no idea what he's doing here."

Jan smiled bravely. "Guess I'll just have to find out." She strode to the exit, ready to climb the stairs. If Young Harada was Kimiko's uncle, then he was one of the owner's sons. What was he doing unannounced in an office in their Melbourne building. She guessed that she would find out, very soon.

The mailgirls were not yet to know that Young Harada had arrived unannounced in the Melbourne office. He had appeared in the office that day and gone straight to see Lindsay Davenport to tell her that he was to be part of the Australian management team. Lindsay knew enough of the company politics to guess that Mr Harada must have wanted his younger son out of his hair for a while. No doubt the boss had some hope that Young Harada would go back to Tokyo a better company man than he left. You could always hope. Lindsay had Shane escort him from her sixth floor office to the vacant one on the tenth floor.

Shane was canny enough to assure Young Harada that he wasn't being shovelled out of the way, that Stuart Broad, another of the management team was on the eleventh floor and the HR Head who was also part of management was on the ninth. "It's designed for management to stay in touch with the staff, close to them," Shane assured him.

But Young Harada was quite idle when Jan knocked on his door. He had not ventured out to meet the staff outside. What, he wondered, should a manager be doing? He instructed the mailgirl to enter. Jan, tall, blonde, slim-hipped, pert breasted and of course naked, strode in to face the new manager. He sat behind his desk, a little sweaty, a little pudgy, a little unshaven. Not at his best after the flight, Jan wondered. Or was this normal?

"Come in and sit on my desk," he told the mailgirl.

"I thought you had a message for me to deliver," Jan asked primly, aware that prim did not work much in her state.

"That can wait," the manager told her patting the desk.

"Why do you want me there?" Jan asked. She stood her ground, well out of reach.

"So I can see if you're wet when you spread your legs," Young Harada told her like it was part of normal procedure.

Jan crossed her arms to hide her breasts. "I'm sorry, it doesn't work like that here," she tried gently.

Young Harada felt he could not back right down. "Mr Harada said I could have any of the mailgirls here," he told the mailgirl without really looking at her.

Jan shook her head. "Mr Harada was talking out of his arse." She was still being careful, not too forceful about how far this new arrival had crossed over the local boundaries. The owner's son and all that too.

Not that Young Harada picked up on any of that. "Oh, you're funny," he cackled. "Talking out of my arse. I like that!"

Jan took a step back but smiled. "You weren't supposed to understand that," she admitted.

Young Harada kept his calm. "I think you'll find that I can follow your idioms. I did my research. I watched a season of Home And Away."

Jan laughed. "You poor bastard."

Young Harada got into the act. "She'll be right, mate," he recited emphasising each word, killing the nuance.

Jan laughed harder. "Stop it, just stop it!" she pleaded.

"Why cobber?" Young Harada responded.

Jan shook her head. "No one here talks like that," she insisted.

"But I'm funny," Young Harada insisted, "stone the crows, look, you are laughing."

Jan crossed her hands over her chest again. "Listen," she tried, "we talk normally here. Just use the English that you had before you started on your misguided linguistic crusade through the worst of Australian culture. Can you promise me that?"

But before Young Harada could answer, Annette burst into the office. She gripped Jan by the arm and smiled at Young Harada. "How're they hanging mate?" she asked him. Then looked to Jan. "Kimiko told me what he might be like. I eventually got something out of her," she whispered to the other mailgirl. "So I thought you may need some support."

Annette looked over to Young Harada who grinned back at her. "Two of you at the same time!" he exclaimed, excited now.

Standing back with Pam, Annette gave the new manager a patronising smile. "I think we need to explain the Melbourne rules to you," she warned him. Arms crossed, her stance suggested that there were indeed rules that he would have to learn. And for the first time, the smile on his face faded just a little.