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From: "richard mercer" <writerscramp40@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} NEW from WritersCramp40-Training the Twins Book 1,1-8 (MFfm,Rom,nc,most codes)
Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2002 20:10:09 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Training The Twins Book1_1-8.txt" begin>

FROM THE AUTHOR:
Firstly the usual stuff
WARNING
This novel covers a wide range of explicit sexual practices,
so if you are offended in any way by stories with strong sexual
content that you may consider abhorrent were it practiced in
real life, please cease reading now and delete the file.
If you are under 18, you have no right to read any further
and MUST delete NOW!
LEGAL STUFF
This story is Copyright by the author who retains all rights
whatsoever over publication in any form. It must not be
published on any pay-site or used in any publication for
profit without the author's written approval. The file may
be reposted to Newsgroups but must not be changed in any way,
must be posted in its entirety and must contain this
note  "FROM THE AUTHOR" in full.
GENERAL
All names are fictitious and do not intentionally relate to
any person, either living or dead. Most stories by the author
are book-length size and the first chapter or two are usually
taken up "setting the scene" so to speak. If they are not
read or given just cursory glance, the atmosphere that is
intended may well be lost on the reader. Anticipation of what
is to come can give as much joy as "getting there".
All my stories are archived at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/WritersCramp40 where you will
find zipped files in MS Word9 and Text formats and
uncompressed Text format.
I would indeed appreciate comments and constructive suggestions
and may be contacted at writerscramp40@hotmail.com
***********************************************************

TRAINING THE TWINS (C) February 2002
BOOK ONE OF TWO
(Mgg,MFfm,Rom,coerced,nc,1st.time,teen,spk,menst,bdsm,etc)

Sexual Fantasy Fiction
By Writer'sCramp

Synopsis:
Sally Gordon blackmailed into providing sexual favours to her boss to save
her much-needed job, is rescued by a stranger she meets in a bar. Unbeknown
to Sally, the stranger, wealthy Jeremy Saunders has had her in his sights 
for several
weeks and knows everything about her and her teenage family. His motives
seem entirely honourable but Saunders has a much darker side that he slowly
divulges.
There is much romance here, entwined within an erotic story that centers on
Saunders coercing Sally and her twins to give themselves up entirely to his
domineering needs.
The group that forms The Covenant emerge only slightly in this first of two
books; the second book still a long way from completion will cover the
installation of the Saunders Family within the Covenant, a pseudo-sexual
group using the siblings of each family for their illicit pleasures.

The Characters:
Sally Gordon, aged 35, divorced 7 years, blue-eyed blonde, attractive, shy,
little self-confidence.
Samantha Gordon, her daughter aged 13/14, blonde and pubescent, shy.
Wesley Gordon, her son aged 13/14, dark haired, twin of Samantha, shy but
intrigued with female anatomy.
Vincent Gamble, Sally's boss
Jeremy Saunders (Jerry), Sally's new found friend and future husband,
dominant and demanding once he becomes irreplaceable.

The Covenant Members:
Fellows Family:
Benjamin, aged 45, a doctor specializing in cosmetic surgery,
Faith, his wife, aged 42,
Bethany, aged 16, shy and extremely self-conscious, long blonde hair,
Aimee, aged thirteen, demure and easily embarrassed, light brunette.

Borack Family:
Izador, aged 47, a so-called minister of religion,
Franzescha, his wife, aged 31, fresh and willing, dark hair,
Marie-Louise, aged 14, brainwashed from an early age to obey implicitly,
black hair,
Christopher, aged thirteen, wimpish,
Lee-Anne, aged twelve, cheeky and attempts anything but careful not to upset
parents.

	*********************************************
All my books are available for download in Zipped Word9 & Text formats
and uncompressed Text format from:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/WritersCramp40

Comments are sought and welcomed at writerscramp40@hotmail.com
Please take the time to let me know what you think of my stories.
I DO need your feedback.
	*********************************************

BOOK ONE
Chapter One
	"Mrs. Gordon, please report to Mr. Gamble's office
immediately," Sally heard the PA crackle. What could be wrong now,
she wondered as she hurried quickly towards her boss's office. She
was conscious of many eyes following her progress and sighed. Mr.
Gamble wasn't the easiest of bosses and she had heard other girls
complaining at the way he looked at them and treated them when they
were called to his office.
	Sally had also experienced his wrath once before, not
long after he gave her the project she had been working on for several
months. She was reporting her progress when he
almost screamed at her for not getting the project off the ground
quickly enough. This was despite the fact she had been given no help
and little instruction at all except a few sheets of hand scribbled notes
from Mr. Gamble. So she had to start from scratch on something she
knew little about.  At the time she thought she was progressing quite
well but the way he treated herwas an absolute shock.
	"I gave you the job because I thought you were good
enough to handle it," he had roared. "And now you're trying to tell me
you haven't even begun to program the data base. What's the bloody
good of paying a woman who doesn't do anything? No, you just shut
up," he roared when she tried to explain. The outcome was that she
spent much more time after hours at work than she should ever have
been expected to, especially when Mr. Gamble knew she had the two
children at home on their own.
	She had left his office that time with a sinking feeling
that she was about to be sacked but nothing more happened and she
was pleased that just last evening, she handed her one hundred and
fifty page report to Mr. Gamble as she left for home. He wasn't one for
compliments but she was sure he was pleased her task had been
completed.
	So, she fully expected to at least receive some
accolades for a job well done. In a time frame of just four months she
had reprogrammed the Company's whole financial package on the
Group's main frame and had received nothing but praise from all those
who were using the new system. It had been operational for two weeks
and everyone loved it. Her final task was to prepare a detailed
instruction manual covering every aspect of the new system and that
was what she left with her boss last night. Once he was happy
the report would be produced in book form for all users.
She knocked on his door and heard the instruction to
enter.
	"Don't sit, this won't take long," he said gruffly as she
attempted to sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk. It wasn't the
beginning she had anticipated.
	She looked at him with surprise.
	"What's the matter? Looking for a pat on the head or
something?"
	"No, Mr. Gamble, I am just pleased the project is
finished," she mumbled, all the confidence she had built up in her
mind dissolving in an instant.  Then she felt even more self-conscious
as he just sat and looked at her, not into her face but at her body. He
was almost leering as his eyes travelled over her. She knew how men
undressed women in their minds but had never experienced it like this
before, as he blatantly swept his gaze from her breasts to her legs and
hips.
	What should she do? Call him a bastard and storm out
felt right just then, but she knew she could never do that; her job was
too important. She bit her bottom lip, looked aside and then began,
	"Mr. Gamble, I..."
	"Shut up. I never asked for your opinion," he stated
defiantly. "I was just wondering what you were hiding under those
clothes of yours," he told her with a smirk.
	"I... It's not..." She began but couldn't complete her
objection in the face of such deliberate harassment.
	"It's not proper? Is that what you wanted to say?"
	"Yes... No... I mean..."
	"I always thought you were a bimbo and you're proving
it. Thank you."
	"I have to go," she stammered and turned to leave.
	"You just keep your pretty little legs together and stay
where you are, girlie. I haven't finished with you yet. So, you thought
you were smart leaving your report on my desk last night? I knew you
were looking for my accolades. Well I don't give them to staff that I
pay to do a job. I expect a good job and you should expect to do a
good job for me. So you've finished your project, and about time, I
might add, so that's all there is to it. I don't intend to even thank you."
Sally had no idea how anyone could be so callous. How
could anyone speak like that when she put her heart and soul into the
last four months? She stood there dumbfounded.
	"So, you've finished the job. Well, unfortunately we
don't have any position for you now. Rosemary Sexton was employed
to do your job while you worked on the project and she has proven
herself a dozen times more efficient than you ever did. Besides, she
gets paid a lot less than you. So, we have no further need for your
services. You may go. Personnel will mail a check in the next few
days for this last week."
	Sally couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd
been sacked for no reason and after all the effort she had given the
company...
	"Mr. Gamble, you can't do that. I've worked for the
company for over seven years and no one has ever complained about
my work. I expected to return to my previous position when I'd
completed the financial reprogramming, not get sacked. You can't
mean it, surely?"
	"I never jest about sacking someone, Mrs Gordon. The
fact of the matter is we have no room for you to continue with us.
Good-bye." She saw the glint of pleasure cross his face as he said the
final good-bye.
	"But what am I to do? I have a mortgage, you know that
and there are the children. Mr. Gamble, please, you can't do this to
me," she said, her voice cracking several times with the horror of her
situation.
	"Personal commitments are not my concern, the
profitability of the company is."
	"But what am I to do? I've worked here ever since my
divorce, no-one will give me a job at my age."
	"Then you'll have to go on the dole," he said matter
of factly as he picked up other work on his desk and began to read it.
Sally stood there for what seemed like an hour, then
with a cry of desperation, turned and hurried towards the door.
	"Oh, Mrs Gordon, there may be one way we could still
retain your services. I'm not sure for how long but it may be of help to
you."
	"Yes?" She asked with hope as she turned back towards
his desk. "Please let me have the position, Sir. I promise I'll do it
well."
	"It's something you can do at home in your own time.
A little project I've been working on for some time. Do you think you
could work without supervision, Mrs. Gordon?"
	"Oh, yes, of course I can," she agreed readily.
	"It's something of a personal project, one of those
things I think about on my own time but if you'd like to be involved,
we may be able to keep you on at your present salary scale. As I said,
it's rather a personal matter though."
	"Please let me do it, Mr. Gamble."
	He looked at her steadily, this time in the eyes, for at
least a minute, studying her face, and then moved to a cupboard
behind his desk.
	"You will need this," he said, placing a box on his desk.
He opened the box and removed what looked like camera equipment
from it. "It's the latest in self-developing photography, very expensive
and you'll be accountable for any damage. But I expect you can take
out some insurance against damage if you wish."
	"Oh, I only have a cheap camera myself, but people do
say I take excellent photographs. Yes, I'm sure I can manage this with
a little practice," she said eagerly, wanting him to see her enthusiasm.
	"You will need to purchase the film yourself but on the
salary you make, that shouldn't bee to hard."
	"Oh," she gasped. How mean can you get, she thought
but had no intention of showing her disgust at his penny-pinching
attitude. "Yes. Yes, I can do that, Mr. Gamble. What is it you want me
to photograph?"
	"Why, you, Mrs. Gordon," he said looking at her impassively.
	"Me? What do you mean?"
	"I mean, Mrs. Gordon, you can leave here now and
we'll post your final check or you can remain on the payroll and
produce one film per week of photographs of yourself. Of course, they
won't be like the photo's you are so apparently famous for, these have
to be of a special nature. Do you understand now, Mrs. Gordon?"
	"A Special Nature? You mean ... Oh," she gasped as
the dread of it finally rested in her mind. "Oh, you don't mean it, Mr.
Gamble," she said, gasping for air. Her mouth was dry and she could
feel her heart pumping against her chest as the enormity sank in.
	"Come, come, woman. You don't think you're the only
female to ever be placed in this position, do you? They're just
photographs, after all."
	"But you want me to be naked."
	"Oh, not always. I'm sure we can work out many ways
to take your photograph with out having to be naked all the time. But
this first time has to be quite special. What I expect is to see a set of
twenty photographs starting off with you in the clothes you are
wearing today and then a fresh photograph each time you remove
another article. You must not use the article to cover yourself in any
way, but you must be holding each garment to show you have just
removed it. The last six photographs must be completely nude,
showing off your... shall we say, your womanly aspects. And don't
think you can present me with a whole lot of rubbish with your body in
just one corner. Oh, no, your body must cover the entire photo each
time and your face must also be very clear. I want the last six to
include a close up of your tits, your pussy and your arsehole."
	He threw an envelope towards her. "Take a look at
these. That's how I expect your photo's to turn out."
	Without even thinking she took the series of photos out
of the envelope. There seemed to be several different women and she
gasped when she saw Rosemary Sexton looking straight at the camera
as she posed and pinched her nipples. Another woman she had never
seen before was holding up a pair of panties and her other hand, or
rather her fingers, were pressing into her vagina. All the photo's had
been taken at close range and just as he said, their bodies covered the
whole of the photo. She thought she was going to faint but when she
saw the final photo she shrieked in despair. A naked woman was
sitting on a settee with a boy about twelve years old. He was sucking
on one of her breasts and she was holding his erection, and appeared
to be masturbating him.
	"It's her son," Gamble said with a smirk. "She was only
too happy to show me what they get up to in the privacy of their own
home. Ha, ha, ha," he giggled with glee.
	"Noooo," she cried out. "I can't. I won't do it." She was
weeping loudly and could hardly see anything for the tears that were
filling her eyes.
	"O.K., I can understand that. So, this is your last day
with the company then. Pity, really. I always wanted to see you
undress for me. Oh, well, there's always others."
	"How can you expect me to do things like that to my
son? It's obscene."
	"Please yourself then. Anyway, I haven't asked you to
frig your son have I? She just wanted to do that, to please me, she said.
Well, it looks as though you don't want the company to continue it's
generous support so you might as well leave right now."
Sally looked up into his eyes and slowly turned towards
the door.
	"Just in case you change your mind, I'll leave the
camera on my desk until closing time today. You have time to
think it over before you leave. If you collect it, then you are still on the
payroll, if not, you go your own separate way. Good day, Mrs.
Gordon."

	Sally rushed to the toilet and thought she was going to
be sick. Her mind was numb with the enormity of what her so-called
boss had proposed and she knew she had to calm herself and think
clearly. After she managed to get her emotions under some semblance
of control, she went into her office and closed her door.
	He's a pig, she thought. How could anyone force her to
do what he wants? He's blackmailing me. That's a crime and I could
report him to the police. Yes, I could do that. But I would still lose my
job anyway. Oh, how could I pay the mortgage without a job? And a
good one at that. Welfare wouldn't give me two thousand a month,
which is what I have to pay the bank. I couldn't even live on the
money welfare pays. And the kids? How will they take it? Their Mom
sacked, nothing in kitty and the bank forcing them to live on the
streets. But if they saw their mother posing for photo's like he wants,
they would hate her anyway. Thirteen-year-old kids don't think of
anything but themselves, their clothes, their school, their allowance,
their own rooms and what their friends think. How could she ever
cope with their demands if she lost her job?
	If she didn't keep this job, she could never afford to
keep the house and car, never afford the private education for her kids;
never again live the lifestyle she had come to enjoy. Not that there was
too much going for the lifestyle, she told herself, because there were
very few she could call friends and no-one she could talk intimately to
about her loneliness. Sure the kids were great to have around.
	Samantha and Wesley were good kids and there was a reciprocal love
between them but they were kids after all. She couldn't talk about her
desires and dreams, especially the sexual ones, the personal things she
would love to discuss with a close girlfriend. She couldn't even talk of
such things with her ex-husband when they were married because he
was simply a big bore. A quickie in bed every Saturday night until he
splattered her vagina with his seed then rolled over and went to sleep.
She never once enjoyed the intimacies she had expected when they
were married. Not once.
	Now, seven years after their divorce, she read romance
novels and had only her hand under the bedclothes at night to provide
relief on those rare occasions when something in her books brought on
sexual arousal that needed soothing.
	No, she couldn't talk of personal things to her kids and
yet she loved them so much she knew she couldn't let them down.
	"Oh, god, why do these things always happen to me? She said aloud
and found herself on the verge of tears.
	Now Mr. Gamble wanted to force her to carry out
things she knew she just couldn't do. Before that, her husband who
made her life a misery during theirseven years of marriage by continually
whining about her inadequacies, particularly her performances in the
marriage bed, when he was really the guilty party. But to object or
complain to him usually meant a slap across the face or even
humiliating acts that more than once sent her to the lavatory to vomit.
	She desperately wanted to leave him almost as soon as the marriage
was consummated but then she fell pregnant and had no choice but to
keep the family together. Before him was Billy Stevens who in their
last year in college together, romanced her and soon bedded her for
several weeks only to throw her away once the year was over. She
learned later he did it for a bet and every guy in their class heard in
detail, every act they had carried out together.
	But worst of all were the memories of her high school
days when her father... No, she mustn't even think about that or the
horrors would re-invade her mind again.
	So what was she to do? Walk out and destroy all she
had worked so hard for, destroy her kid's futures and leave her
practically penniless? Or should she just give in again? Give in again?
	Oh, god, how can I not give in? she thought. Two choices, one to walk
away for once in her life and thumb her nose to the scoundrel or
simply comply but in doing so, keep the lifestyle she had
become to enjoy.
	Sally knew the answer and she laid her head on her
desk and wept. She never heard the door open but felt a hand on her
shoulder.
	"Sally? Sally, it's me, Rosemary. Are you all right?"
	"Wha...? Oh, Rosemary, I never heard you come in.?"
	"I know what it's about, Sally. When I saw the way you
left his office I knew exactly what he said to you. He's doing it to me
too."
	Sally looked up into the younger girl's face. "You
know? Oh, yes, I guess you do. I say your photo."
	"You saw...? Oh, my god, did he show you the photo's
I took of myself? Oh, the bastard."
	"No, just one. And he wants me to do the same. I've got
no choice, Rosemary."
	"Neither have I. But at least I'm saving as hard as I can
and think I won't need his job in another twelve months. Then I'm
going to kick him in the balls with my stilettos."
	"Twelve months? You have to do it for twelve more
months? How can you do it, Rosemary? Knowing he's holding so
many photos of you."
	"I've decided I just don't care. If he wants photos of me
and my sister doing things, so what? Once I've got enough money to
get my sister off the hook, we simply start a new life and forget him. I
really don't care if her jerks himself off looking at them. Hope it gives
him a heart attack."
	"You take photos of your sister? Oh, my god, he's a
bastard. How come your sister lets you?"
	"Because she knows it's our only chance to save what
we need."
	"At least I don't have a sister so I'm on my own."
	"But you've got a son and daughter. Pretty soon he'll
want them in the photos too, believe me."
	"Nooo," she cried out as though she'd been stabbed in
the heart. "Never."
	"He makes sure it just keeps getting more deviant every
week. He wanted us to do things with our dog but we both refused
bluntly and he backed down."
	"But I need to keep this job for years. I've got a
mortgage and the kids cost me a fortune," Sally wailed.
	"Look, I can't make up your mind for you," Rosemary
said in a soothing voice. "But you have to decide very soon, by
tonight, would be my guess. Am I right?"
	"Yes, before I go home."
	"Well, the first week is the worst but it does get easier
giving him new photos.  The worst bit is listening to him talk about
what you are doing as he looks through each new set. He's a
manipulating vicious bastard, all right. Just use this advice to help you
make your final decision. Either run the gauntlet and leave him right
now and weather the storm of trying to find a good job quickly. Or do
what he wants but all the while keep copies and try to tape his
conversations with you. You never know, you might be able to
blackmail him yourself. Sort of reverse psychology, don't you think?"
	"Is that what you're doing?"
	"Yep, right from the second meeting. I haven't found
any new job yet but it has been only four months. He gave me your job
and the next day decided to sack me unless... Well, you know exactly
how he does it."
	"Yes, I do now."
	"Look, if you want to talk any time, leave a note on my
e-mail. Call me Rosie and I'll know it's you, no one else calls me that.
We could get together in the evenings sometime if you'd like."
	"Tha... Thanks, Rosemary. I'm feeling so sick in my
stomach, I think I want to vomit but I can't. Thanks for your concern."
	"It's OK. Just take it a day at the time. I know what's
it's like to be dependent on a job so badly. You'd do almost anything
to keep it, just like me."
	After Rosemary left she sat for a long time, staring into
space.  But finally she knew what she would do.

Chapter Two
	She tapped on his door.
	"Come."
	With great hesitance, Sally entered the pig's abode
once again. "I...   I've come for the camera."
	"Have you now? What changed your mind? Hey? I'm
not sure I want to give it to you now," he said in a rough voice.
	"Oh... Oh, please, Mr. Gamble. I really do need the
job." She hated herself for pleading but she had to.
	"Go and lock the door," he said gruffly.
	"Lock... Oh, no, please don't do anything to me. I'm a mother."
	"You're a fucking woman with tits and a cunt, that's all
you are. Now do what your told or you can get out."
Sally began to cry silently as she locked herself in with
this animal.
	"Now why should I let you continue to work for me?
Tell me that."
	"Because... Because I will do as you ask, Mr. Gamble."
	"Then come here, no around the desk, beside me."
	Sally hated herself and felt her heart pounding just as it
did earlier. She hated herself and she hated him.
	"I'll give you this last chance. Do what I tell you and
you can take the camera. Hesitate or object and it's all over.
Understand?"
	"Yes."
	"Yes, sir. Don't forget that in future, bitch."
	"Yes, sir."
	"Remove your panties and hand them to me."
	"Yes, sir." She found herself slipping her hands under
her skirt and pulling the cotton garment down her legs. She could feel
the cold breathe against her skin as she did so and her head was
pounding as if someone was hitting her from both sides with a
cardboard box. She knew she was blushing because her face was hot.
She handed the garment to him without looking at his
face but knew he was smirking.
	"Look at me, woman."
	She watched as he sniffed her womanly odours.
	"It smells of sex. Have you been screwing around,
bitch?"
	"No. No, sir."
	"Playing with yourself, then?"
	"Playing...? Oh, no, sir."
	He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer so her hip
was pressing against his chair.
	"Don't you move, not one inch." She then felt what she
knew she was going to feel. His hand was slowly creeping up inside
her skirt, between her legs. And then he cupped her pussy. But instead
of his finger penetrating her vulva as she fully expected him to, he
took a handful of her pubic hair and held it tight.
	"Don't you dare make a sound," he warned and slowly
pulled harder. It didn't hurt at first but he was strong and soon a
burning sensation erupted across the whole of her pubic area. He was
trying to wrench the whole handful of hair away from her body. It was
one of the most painful feelings she had ever known. Tears soon
welled up yet the hurt grew worst. Surely he would pull the very skin
off and then she felt the first hairs give way and what seemed like a
substantial part of her fur being ripped out.
	"Oh," she gasped with pain. She just couldn't help it
and fell partly against his desk, leaning over it while the pain slowly
dissipated.
	"Shit, you don't know the meaning of pain, sweetheart.
Look, this is all that came out," he said with a laugh, holding up a
clump of hairs about a half inch across. "The panties and the hairs are
for my collection. Maybe I'll get you to autograph them when I have
them framed."
	Sally burst into tears, not at the prospect of what he said
but at the thought that he could do anything he liked and they both
knew she would let him.
	"Now take the camera and look after it. I expect you to
bring the photos to me personally tomorrow morning. Don't let me
down, bitch."
	She grasped the box in both hands and made for the
door.
	"Hey. Thank me for being so nice to you, bitch."
She looked aghast but saw he was waiting.
	"Thank you, sir," and then she escaped.
	All the way down in the elevator, she cried in silence,
the tears running down her cheeks. How could she go home and face
her kids like this? she thought and soon found herself wandering the
shopping mall, not registering anything she saw. It was as though she
was in the middle of a bad dream. But every now and then, reality
returned and she knew it was all very true.  She passed a boutique and
decided a new hairdo might make her feel better. Yes, at least that
would help and she could sit and think in silence for a while.
But it seemed just minutes before she heard the girl say,
	"There you are madam. Is that to your satisfaction?"
	"Wha... Oh, yes, thank you very much," she said
automatically as she handed her credit card over in payment. The new
hairdo was nice but the thoughts running through her mind were still
as bad as ever.
	I need a drink, she told herself and for the first time,
entered a bar all by herself. On the few occasions she had been inside
a bar, she was always with friends, usually girls from work, but never
alone. She eased herself onto a barstool away from any of the drinkers,
mostly men with loud voices, and ordered a gin and tonic.
	Why was everyone staring at me? she thought
self-consciously as she looked around. But she couldn't see anyone
taking any interest in her at all. Well, so far, so good, she sighed and
then jumped as a man sat on the stool right beside her and ordered a
scotch. She kept her eyes down and sipped her drink silently.
	"Nice day," he said with a smile.
	"What? Oh, yes, I suppose so," she said with
disinterest. In that split second she saw he was relatively young, maybe
a few years older than herself, quite handsome and had a wonderful
smile. Now why did she notice all that? she asked herself as she
returned to her own solitude.
	"Would you like to talk about it?" He asked in a quiet voice.
	"Talk ab... Talk about what?"
	"Whatever's bothering you? It helps, you know. By the
way, my name's Jeremy Saunders, or Jerry, if you prefer."
	"Oh...," she whispered and felt a blush rising on her
face again. "Look, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking for company..."
	"And I don't want to force myself on you. Please don't
think that, but it is true that when you have a problem, it helps to have
someone to talk it over with. I'm a good listener."
	"I... Look, Mr... Mr.," she began but couldn't
remember his name.
	"It's Saunders, if you prefer that."
	"Mr. Saunders, I don't know why you think I have a
problem but..."
	"But I can see it in your face. You've been crying and
you've just had a hairdo to buck yourself up. Did it work?"
	"Oh," she gasped at his perception. What she didn't
know was that Jerry Saunders had been watching her for over a month
and had nothing to do with the proposal that Gamble had put to her
earlier in the day. Saunders had other plans for Sally after her
particulars were conveyed to him by one of his informants. "How did
you...? How could you...?
	"It wasn't very difficult to see the troubled look on your
face from the moment you walked in here. If you don't want to talk,
it's your decision but I'd like to help if I could."
	"It's something I can't talk about," she said in a half
whisper. "It's personal."
	"Oh, personal. That bad is it?"
	"Yes," she answered sharply and then added, "Sorry, I
didn't mean to snap at you. It's not your problem."
	"Just tell me the outline then, no details."
	"I don't even know you. For all I know you might be in
it with him," she said, unable to look at him as she made the
accusation.
	"Oh, so there's a man involved. Bit of a bastard, is he?"
	"Yes," she admitted.
	"Has he dumped you?"
	"Dumped...? No, it's not someone like that. I don't
have a partner just now."
	Saunders smiled for he knew she had divorced her
husband several years ago and was living alone with her twins. Yes, he
knew quite a lot about Sally Gordon.
	"So, what have you done, had your hand in the
Company's till or something? Been caught out?"
	"Nooo," she moaned aloud. "I'd never..."
	"You certainly don't look the type, I must say."
	"Look, I'm sure you're a very nice man, Mr. Saunders,
but please leave me alone. There's nothing you can do to help me."
	"You may be surprised, young lady. There, see, I don't
even know your first name. But I may be able to help."
	"I couldn't even begin to tell you, Mr. Saunders. Really
I couldn't. Look, I must go, now. And my name is Sally."
	"Then, let me drive you home, Sally. I promise I'll be
on my best behavior."
	"No, no, I'll be all right."
	"Live nearby, do you? You shouldn't be travelling on
the train this late at night."
	"Late? How late?" She became quite frantic.
	"Almost half past ten."
	Oh, what will the children think? Oh, I must go," she
said leaving the bar quickly and racing for the mall exit. Then she saw
the rain. It was pelting down and she would be soaked before she went
a dozen steps, let alone the several blocks she had   to go.
	My car is downstairs and I would be happy to drive
you," a voice said behind her. She glanced around to see the smiling
face of Jeremy Saunders and she burst into tears for no reason at all. It
was just all too much.
	Oh, I've had a terrible day," she blubbered as he took
her elbow and led her to the lifts.
	"I won't ask you again but if you would like to get
things off your chest, figuratively speaking, of course, I'd be a patient
listener," he said consolingly as he opened the car door for her.
	Sally simply couldn't answer. She gave him the address
and sat in silence as the car travelled along the rain swept streets.
	"Thank you, Mr. Saunders, you have been very kind. I
must go now, my children will be worried."
	"You're very welcome," he said as he held out his hand
expecting her to clasp it in a handshake. She hesitantly did so and
found he let it go immediately afterwards. "Look, Sally, take my card
and ring me if there is anything I can help you with. I promise I am a
very confidential listener."
	"Thank you," she said taking the business card without
looking at it. She thanked him again and said good-bye then hurried up
the entrance of her building. Saunders didn't even stay to watch which
apartment lit up for he already knew exactly where she lived including
her phone number along with her kids names, ages and the school they
attended. He would most definitely talk to her again in the next day or
so, no matter whether she rang him or not. And he suspected she
would not be the one to make the first move.

	When Sally walked inside there was no sign of the
twins. Neither was watching TV and there was no sign of squabbling
between the two thirteen year olds, something that had begun to
develop quite rapidly over the past few months.
	"Sam, Wes, I'm Home," she called out towards their
rooms.
	"Where have you been, Mom?" Samantha demanded as
she came from her room. Wes soon followed from his room.
	"Oh, it's been a rather hectic day," she tried to explain.
	I had a few drinks with some of the girls after work and time just
seemed to vanish."
	So how did you get home without getting wet? It's
pouring outside.  Oh, by the way, you owe me twenty five bucks. We
had to get pizza delivered for supper."
	Oh. Oh, yes all right, I'll pay you back," she said not
wishing to get into a war of words with her daughter which would be
the final straw to a very bad day. It's just their way of growing up she
told herself.
	What's in the box, Mom?" Wes asked.
	Box? Oh, This? Just something I'm doing for work,"
she told him, sure he could hear the lie as she told it. "Nothing
important." At least he seemed not to notice anything untoward. So
she added, "Look, I'm very tired and it's well past your bedtime so I
think we should all go to bed, don't you?"
	They pecked their mother's cheek with a goodnight kiss
and went to their rooms. Sally never entered the twin's rooms these
days for they both made it clear that was their territory alone. At least
it meant she didn't have to clean up after them either. Wesley's room,
she was quite sure resembled a disaster zone but then, boys seemed to
revel in their own mess. Samantha was more prim and proper and
refused to let her mother see her naked or even in her underwear. That
had been quite a shock to Sally at first, a snub that hurt for many
months after the first time Sam objected when she walked into the
bathroom while Sam was showering. So she gave them their privacy
but it meant too, a moving away from the close personal relationships
she had with her children when they were just kids. She thought back
to her own early teen days but those memories were still so very real
she quickly changed her mind and retired to her own bedroom.
	Oh, god, I didn't buy a film," she gasped out
aloud when the reality sank in. No film, pouring with rain and no
possible chance to get one tonight. Oh, what will Mr. Gamble say? She
threw the box containing the accursed camera on the bed then threw
herself down beside it and wept silently until she could feel the
wetness of her tears on the pillow.  Was there nothing that would go
right for her?
	She opened the box and took the camera out. It looked
very complicated and she thought she would never have been able to
use it in any case. But the more she looked the simpler it became.
Automatic focusing and exposure, a coupled in-built flash, automatic
film winder and even a remote triggering device. One press of that
button and the photo was taken. She turned the unit around several
times, focusing on various parts of her room and then found the photo-
counter. Three, it said. What did that mean? Was there a film still in
the camera? Three already taken or three left?
	There was a tag attached to the back with a square
obviously from the box the film came in, showing the make, the film
speed and the number of photos, in this case, twenty. What should she
do? Open the back and see if there was still film inside? No that would
destroy any that still remained. She decided she would assume there
were still three photos left, try to take them as best she could and
explain to Mr. Gamble why she hadn't taken the twenty he wanted.
She set the camera on her dressing table and focused on
the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. From that she
calculated where she would have to stand to have her whole body in
the photos and put a coin on the spot she would stand. Then she used a
pillow to cover up the crack at the bottom of her door so the flash
would not reflect into the twin's rooms. She closed the curtains and
laid a blanket right over them to stop any light getting out.
Removing her coat, she took the remote and stood on the marked spot.
	How should she pose? Smile, look unhappy, which was her truest
emotion or look bemused and straight at the camera? She tested each
in the mirror and decided on the last choice, just the hint of a smile
with hopefully, sadness that may make him relent. But she knew he
would never do that.
	She wore the same outfit he saw her in today, then
pressed the remote button. The flash surprised her with the intensity and
she stood stock still expecting a cry of consternation from the twins.
	But nothing happened. The light had been contained within the
room. The camera whirred and the print was pushed out the bottom
where it sat, slowly producing her image. If it weren't for the fact that
this was to be given to her boss, she would have been quite proud of
the result. The colour was almost natural and there was little over-
exposure from the flash. She breathed a sigh of relief.
	 For the second shot she removed her blouse and held it
in one hand that she rested on her hip, at least her bra was still
covered by the chemise she wore over it. Flash. Still no response from
the kids. She felt much easier and didn't even bother to wait until the
print became developed. Now what? Remove the Chemise and show
herself just wearing her bra, or remove the skirt so he could see her
legs all the way up to her panties. Oh both were as bad as each other.
	At first she was tempted to remove just a shoe and hold it up but she
didn't want to run the risk of upsetting him on the first day, especially
when all she might have to offer him was three photos. So she
removed her skirt and held it over her arm as she stood side on to at
least let him see the profile of her breasts. God, she felt awful, violated.
	But feelings vanished quickly after the third photo
when a red light began to flash on the top of the camera. She looked at
the film counter and it said "0." The film had run out so instead of
seventeen photos, she only had three to produce tomorrow morning. At
least she was satisfied those would show him she could use the camera
and pose the way he wanted even if all he saw was her
underwear. Those thoughts produced more silent tears as she realised
she had become bound to this degenerate for heaven knows how long.
	How could she ever agree let alone convince her children to
participate in his filthy games? Then Rosemary's advice came back to
her; copy everything she gave him and tape their conversations. How
on earth could she do that? The copying was easy, she had a machine
in her office but how do you tape conversations. Her dictation machine
was far too large to carry it into his office and she had no idea where
to get anything smaller. At least she could keep copies and make a
diary of her conversations with him, including the things he did to her
when she locked his door for him. For she wasn't naive enough to
think his transgressions under her skirt today would be the last he did
of that. In fact it ran through her mind that she could very soon
become his own personal whore, his sex slave. What did he do to
Rosemary? She wondered. Could she ask Rosemary something like
that? Maybe she would if he continued to feel her up behind closed
doors. Surely Rosemary wouldn't let him do that to her.
	She changed into her nightdress and slipped between
the sheets, her mind awash with questions and hate and doubts. And
this Mr. Saunders? What about him? At least he made no move on her
at all. Not many men would act that way with a woman obviously in
distress. But how could she ever ask for his help in such a delicate
matter, namely being blackmailed into taking nude pictures of herself?
She turned the light back on and rummaged in her bag for the card he
gave her.
	"Jeremy W. Saunders, Attorney-at-Law, Saunders and
Saunders. It gave his address and telephone number. A Lawyer?
Maybe he could help her. Then just as she was about to switch the
light off again, her phone rang.
	"Sally?"
	"Yes, who is this?"
	"It's Jeremy Saunders, Sally. Look I'm sorry to ring you
so late at night but I couldn't help but be concerned for you. I know
you are in trouble somehow and I honestly would like to help you if I
could. Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help?"
	"Mr Saunders...? But... But how did you know my
number? I never told you." Sally now had grave doubts about the man.
	"If I've overstepped my mark, I apologise. After I
dropped you off I got to thinking and returned to your building and
looked up the tenant's directory. Do you know you are the only tenant
in that whole building that has a name starting with S? So I took a
gamble it would be you and rang. Are you very annoyed with me?"
She could almost hear a lilting challenge in his voice
daring her to rebuke him.
	"Oh, I see. You have been busy, haven't you? Is that
what lawyers do? Look into peoples private lives?"
	"Of course. Wouldn't win a case if we didn't. But there
is something about you, Sally Gordon, something that disturbed me.
Please don't get upset but when you walked into that bar tonight, you
looked like a little girl who had the whole world's problems squarely
on her shoulders. I think you have some problems that you can't
resolve yourself and I'd like to help you overcome them."
	"And what would your fee be?"
	"This is not work, Sally. Call me a Good Samaritan if
you like but if I can help, I will."
	"Do you know where I can obtain a listening device to
record someone's conversations?" The words came out before she
even realised she had spoken. "Oh, I didn't mean to..."
	"It sounds serious, Sally. Please talk to me about it."
	"I... I can't. It's too embarrassing."
	"The moment you start talking, it will all come out at
once. The first sentence is the worst. Do it, Sally, tell me and let me
help."
	"Oh," she wailed aloud and then remained silent for a
long pause, her mind in worse turmoil than before. How could she
speak of such intimate things to a total stranger? And yet, he has
always been the true gentleman, well for the short time she knew him,
he had. He never interrupted her thoughts, just let her weigh it all up.
He was sure she would begin in just a few seconds and if she did, he
was halfway towards the eventual goal he had set for this very
attractive woman, this very attractive woman with twin thirteen year
olds, especially the girl, Samantha.
	"I'm being blackmailed," she said simply and then it all
came out.
	Saunders couldn't believe his luck. He had been
working on ways to win her over for well over a month now and had
drawn a blank on all fronts other than trying to pick her up somehow
and slowly win her confidence and affections. But this opportunity
was just too good. He listened intently, letting her say whatever she
wanted, just adding an 'um' or 'I see' at times to let her know he was
on her side and still listening.
	When she finally stopped he had the whole gist of her
employer's deviant little game and was sure it would be easy to send
him away with his tail between his legs. This was just one of many
similar cases he had dealt with professionally and it would be an
absolute pleasure to show his target just how good he was by
destroying someone like this Gamble.
	"Sally, I have to talk to you before you go to work
tomorrow. Can I drive you? It won't take long to tell you how we can
get rid of this mongrel and I promise you it will have no effect on your
job security. Can you believe me when I say that, Sally?"
	"I... I think so." Oh, what was she getting herself into?
How could anyone get someone as strong as Gamble off her back? He
held all the power and if she was to stay employed, she couldn't see
what could be done. Yet Jeremy was so persuasive.
	"Then I'll call for you at seven in the morning. Now,
I've thought a few things through. I want you to wear slacks tomorrow
and the next bit is a little delicate but I want you to wear a sanitary pad
under your panties..." He hadn't finished the sentence when he heard
a loud gasp from her end of the line. Quickly he cut in, "Now listen
carefully, Sally, I'm not asking if your period is here, I just need you to
have some padding between your legs. I'll explain it tomorrow. Don't
get excited, it's to fool your sleezebag boss if he tries anything
tomorrow morning. Understand now?"
	"Yes, I guess so," she replied hesitantly. "But he said I
wasn't to wear slacks, just skirts."
	"Then he might rant and rave a bit and you can
apologise and promise never to disobey him again. By the end of the
day, he won't be your problem any more, or your friend's either. Oh,
and make sure you bring those three photos but not the camera. You
might just find that will become a present to keep, from the not-so-
generous Mr. Gamble."
	"Mr. Saunders, do you really think...?"
	"I have met several men like Gamble in my time and
they've all gone to water when confronted. But you'll have several
things I want you to do before you see him tomorrow, that's why I
want to meet you so early. See you at seven, then. Goodnight, Sally."
	She heard the line click as he hung up the phone.

	She slept fitfully that night, waking up at the least
sound, her mind still in turmoil wondering how this man Jeremy
Saunders could ever help her solve the situation she found herself
in. Was it just coincidence that he happened along the very day
Gamble had proposed his dirty little scheme to her? Oh, if only she
knew more about Jeremy before he started to do the things he
promised. Is he really so confident or is he just a bumbling fool trying
to help out? But she became more assured as the night slipped by, on
the subject of his abilities. He never showed any lack of understanding
or ability in the several conversations she had with him so far. And if
he could rid her of this terrible situation she would be eternally
grateful to him, she promised herself.

END OF PART 1

	*********************************************
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