Short Story
The Project
I was happy being a mardy common slut
Georgie says I am a work in progress but I believe I’m the finished product.
After two years of being honed and polished I feel I have earned the right to move on. My rough edges have been smoothed. I know the difference between similes and metaphors and I am good in the kitchen. I grow wonderful vegetables and always ensure a steady stream of cut flowers to adorn the rooms of this elegant country house. I know literature, both ancient and modern and can even construct stories of my own. I am no longer the tart I once was and I’m grateful to Georgie for turning me into a respectable young lady. I am now more than ready for the next stage.
It’s true, when I first moved in I showed a certain resistance to her ways. I was pleased to be chosen but I wasn’t going to roll over and make it easy for her. I was happy being a mardy common slut or a trollop, as she called me.
During these two years, contrary to regulations, I have become her companion rather than merely her project. She’s been like a mother to me at times and that’s not just because she’s at least twice my age. Though she can be stern, her looks, character, and energy have enthralled me. She is of modest height, pale skinned with vibrant red hair cut in a bob and when she catches the sun she is adorned with freckles. I love her.
She has provided me with a very comfortable existence. I have a large room with a window overlooking the moat. There is an elegant fireplace, a four poster bed and a fine mahogany table.
I am actually on the bed at the moment with Georgie. We’re both in our cardigans and tweed skirts, cream blouses, stockings and brogues. My small breasts get sort of lost in the uniform but hers really push out. They demand to be felt and I’m never backward in coming forward, if you know what I mean.
I start the ball rolling by slowly undoing the buttons of her cardigan. She feigns insouciance as she leafs through my leather-bound log book which rests upon her lap. My name is embossed on the cover. Leah. It’s not my real name. That’s Ali.
‘I’ve completed all the tasks haven’t I? There are no gaps?’
‘We may have to go over one or two again. I want you to get top marks so when you leave here, eventually, you will be assured of a bright future.’
‘The world will be my oyster? Is that what you mean?’
Georgie says nothing. She puts the logbook to one side and helps me with the unbuttoning process as I am being unusually clumsy.
‘You’re all fingers and thumbs Leah.’
‘I thought that’s what you liked.’
She ignores me. I can tell her heart isn’t in it today.
We content ourselves with a hug and a little gentle mutual masturbation. Before I came here my cunt was shaved but now I have a bush as verdant and lush as Georgie’s. She calls it my Black Forest and there is nothing she and I like better than when she decides to go exploring. I extend the imagery by calling it my Black Forest Cherry Gateau. But today our humour, like our energy, has evaporated and after some lackadaisical fingering we both have miserly orgasms.
How different from the early days. I’d been lying in the bath thinking about my new life. And how recently Georgie had put her arm round my waist when I’d been staring out of the window feeling sorry for myself. She’d drawn me to her and I’d felt the firmness of her breasts. I thought about all this, in the bath, as I circled my clit and fingered my soapy cunt. When I came my eyes opened and there she was.
‘Room for another one?’
‘I never heard you come in.’
‘I’m not surprised the noise you were making. You look happy though.’
‘I am.’
‘Well budge up then.’
She lay against my chest and I caressed her breasts. Enjoyed feeling their weight as I cupped them in my hands.
‘Nobody will hear us,’ she would say. ‘We’re miles from anywhere.’
She’s sleeping now and I wonder if she’s thinking dirty thoughts. I hope so because I want her to sleep the sleep.
I creep out of the room in my underwear, holding her key. She always keeps it in her cardigan pocket. So predictable. Down the stairs I go. Silently, like a ghost. I have trained myself to avoid all the creaks.
Once in her office, I find my old clothes. Jeans, a crop top, leather jacket and high-heeled shoes. And my handbag containing my mobile which is as dead as a dodo. Also in the handbag is a surprisingly large amount of money and a note which says,
Dear Ali, Yes, the money is all for you. Take it and escape! I knew this day might come and it hurts me more than I can say. Just remember, I will always love you.
Georgie wakes up to find me gone but then sees me by the window.
‘Good morning Leah. For a moment I’d thought you’d left me.’
She smiles, and my heart melts as I walk slowly back towards her.
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