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From: anon584c@nyx.net
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Subject: {ASSM} rp  "Ethel 1921" {Uther} (MF hist 1st)[1/1] <*>
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Date: Fri, 29 Apr 2005 16:10:02 -0400
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===================

If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by 
law to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go 
do something else.

This material is copyright, 2004, Uther Pendragon.  All rights 
reserved.  I specifically grant the right of downloading and 
keeping one electronic copy for your personal reading so long as 
this notice is included.  Reposting requires previous 
permission.

If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail them to 
me at anon584c@nyx.net.  

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as 
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination 
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly 
coincidental.

                           #  #  #  #

                           Ethel 1921
                       by Uther Pendragon
                        anon584c@nyx.net


Ethel's Pa was telling a story. "A man comes into the 
garage wanting a new horn for his Dodge.  The old bulb was torn.  
Well, we have horns; but they don't fit his brackets...." 

"What did he want with a horn?" Ma asked.  "Dodge cars don't 
need them.  They have 'Dodge, Brothers' written clearly on the 
front." 

"Oh, Nellie," Pa said, but -- at least -- he dropped the 
story. Ethel couldn't decide which was worse, Ma's jokes or Pa's 
stories.  Pa was fascinated by anything mechanical, which was 
fine when something went wrong with your typewriter. 
Unfortunately, he thought his family shared the fascination. 
Ethel didn't. 

She returned to work after dinner.  Mr. Warren, the lawyer for 
whom she worked, ate lunch at noon and dinner in the evening. The 
Grangers ate dinner at noon.  And Mr. Warren was older than Pa.  
He'd been born in the nineteenth century, but -- unlike her 
parents -- he'd was aware that he was living in 1921 now. She 
took the long way home from work to pass by the railroad depot. 
They sold the _New York Times_ there, and Ethel would see if 
anyone was advertising for an office worker.  She wanted to work 
in the city. 

Some of the advertisements only had telephone numbers.  She 
wrote to several which gave addresses, and two responded.  "I'll 
write you a recommendation," said Mr. Warren, "but I'm 
disappointed. I'd hoped to keep you as an employee." 

Ma's disapproval when Ethel told her that she was going into 
the city for interviews was much stronger.  "All that way?  You 
have a job *here*." 

"Ma, I want to work in the city."  She wanted to live in the 
city, too. 

"But it's so far from home," Ma said.  Ethel thought that was 
the greatest advantage.  "Rochester is a city." 

"Rochester," said Paulie, "is a one-horse burg."  He looked 
jealous that she was escaping, but he wasn't standing in her 
way. 

"You wouldn't say that if you'd ever shoveled out stalls in 
the borse-car barns," Pa said.  Even Rochester had outgrown horse 
cars.  Ethel was glad that none of her friends had heard that 
joke.  Horse droppings weren't funny, and only farmers (and Pa) 
thought they were. 

Ethel had been saving money, and she bought her ticket to 
Manhattan whatever Ma thought.  She stayed at the YWCA residence, 
and bought another paper.  She could try for other interviews 
while she was in the city.  It was a good thing she'd made that 
plan.  Neither place where she'd scheduled an interview looked 
like they would take her. 

Empire Insurance Agency, on the other hand, had *two* 
openings for women who could type and file.  "Our business is 
expanding," Mr. Lucas told her, "and Miss Davis isn't the first 
girl to quit to get married." 

Ethel was surprised when he offered her the job.  Most of the 
women she'd be working with looked prettier and more smartly 
dressed. 

Rose, the friendliest of her new fellow workers, helped her 
find a room in a rooming house.  Rose told her a little that Mr. 
Lucas hadn't.  Mary Davis *had* left to get married, but two 
other girls had left since then.  "You are more than pretty 
enough," Rose said when she expressed her anxieties.  "Being more 
smartly dressed than women are in Rochester isn't all that hard.  
I'll show you around the department stores after you get your 
second pay." 

She went back home the first weekend.   Empire Insurance, like 
many businesses in Manhattan, only worked a half day on Saturday. 
She returned with a trunk containing all the clothes she felt she 
could wear in Manhattan.  The weather turned hotter, and she and 
Ruth -- who lived across the hall -- agreed to keep their doors 
open while they were inside for cross-ventilation.  The work was 
demanding for the first two weeks, and then became deadly dull. 
The salesmen were fresh by Rochester standards, but she learned 
to laugh with them.  After a few barbed comments from her, they 
began to treat her with a little respect.  The pay was by check, 
rather than in cash.  She signed it over to Mrs. O'Malley, the 
rooming house owner.  It more than paid her rent, and Mrs. 
O'Malley gave her the rest back in cash. 

Her rooming house didn't permit men on the premises, which she 
made a point of telling her mother.  Henry Schwartz, who had 
always treated her more respectfully than the other salesmen had, 
asked her out to dinner one evening.  She felt quite the 
sophisticate eating "dinner" an hour after her family ate 
"supper."  Henry was polite and entertaining during dinner and 
while walking her back. 

"Mrs. O'Malley doesn't allow men inside," she said when they 
got to the rooming house door. 

"I know," said Henry.  Then he took her in his arms and kissed 
her.  She was a modern girl; she'd been kissed before.  But not 
on a first date. 

She mentioned that to Rose the next day when they were where 
they couldn't be overheard. 

"Well, if a man buys you dinner, he's entitled to a good-night 
kiss." 

"Not in Rochester," Ethel said decisively.  Then she 
reconsidered.  Boys didn't buy girls dinner in Rochester -- not 
until they were serious about each other.  Most relationships 
were ready for a little discreet kissing before the boy bought 
the girl an ice cream. 

But Rose wasn't listening for her second thoughts.  "This 
isn't Rochester." 

And, Ethel realized, she wasn't a girl any more.  In New York, 
she was a woman.  Rose could tell her how a woman behaved in New 
York. 

When she got her second paycheck, she took it around to a bank 
to establish an account.  The next day, Mr. Lucas asked her out 
to dinner.  He drove her to the restaurant from work in his REO. 
The restaurant was nicer than the one Henry had taken her to, and 
the waiter greeted Mr. Lucas by name. 

After he had ordered for them both, Mr. Lucas asked her, "Is 
the work what you expected?" 

"I don't know that I was expecting anything.  The people in 
the office are pleasant.  My last job, my first out of high 
school, was working for an attorney in solo practice." 

"Enjoying the difference?" 

"Enjoying being in New York.  I will say that I did more 
typing for Mr. Warren, and less filing." 

"Well, insurance sales involves a huge amount of filing.  You 
realize that the company keeps as many records as we do.  So do 
the customers, if they are sensible -- not that most of them are. 
Anyway, I don't have much typing to do which doesn't involve 
taking dictation." 

"I know Gregg.  I took it in school." 

"Maybe I'll test you out.  Enjoying the work otherwise?" 

"The work is fine.  I'm really enjoying being in New 
York." 

"There is nowhere else to be.  What do you think of the 
meal?" 

"It's delicious."  And, if not up to her ma's best, it 
was. 

"Too bad we can't have some wine with it, but this place won't 
serve it." 

"This place?  Isn't it illegal?" 

"All sorts of things are illegal." 

They talked of many things until their food was finished.  He 
drove her home and stopped on the street.  When he got out of the 
auto to help her down from her side, she knew that a New York 
girl accepted a kiss from the man who had bought her dinner.  He 
held her head while he kissed her, and then he helped her up the 
stoop to the outside door. 

She took a stenography pad to work on Monday, just in case.  
Mr. Lucas called her in to take a letter.  When she had typed it 
up, he marked all over the letter to show her how to do it over.  
He marked the second draft much less and actually signed the 
third one. 

"Oh, Rose," she whimpered, "I so wanted to be a typist.  Now, 
he'll never dictate a letter to me again." 

"Nonsense," she replied.  "He wants his correspondence to look 
a certain way, and he's showing you how to do that.  He wouldn't 
take the time if he didn't expect to dictate more letters to 
you." 

Those words were consolation; Rose's help shopping that night 
was more consolation.  She came to work Tuesday looking more like 
a New Yorker and less like a hick. 

Sure enough, Mr. Lucas dictated another letter.  She took 
extra care with it, and shook nervously while she handed it back 
to him.  He glanced at it perfunctorily before signing it.  
"Don't put it in the envelope yet," he instructed.  "Leave plenty 
of time for the ink to dry." 

She did as she was told, stopping on her way to lunch to mail 
the letter in the lobby.  Wednesday, he dictated a large number 
of letters in the afternoon.  She brought most of them to him for 
signing a half hour before quitting time.  "Did you finish them 
all?" he asked when she knocked on the door of his private 
office. 

"No sir.  But I thought you would like to sign these now.  
I'll have the rest ready for you in the morning." 

After finishing the letters Thursday morning, she went back to 
filing.  He didn't seem to have more dictation for her until late 
afternoon on Friday.  "This is a personal letter," he said when 
she'd brought her notebook in answer to his summons.  "Close the 
door." 

She did, and went to sit on the chair at the side of his desk. 
"I don't think I can get this done tonight," she said. 

"That's a shame, because I need an answer tonight."  Did he 
intend to send a wire?  It was too late to have the letter even 
delivered tonight.  She poised her pencil over the pad, however, 
and waited for his dictation. 

"Miss Ethel Granger," he began.  Her pencil was taking the 
notes without any participation from her mind.  "Empire Insurance 
Agency.  Would you do me the honor of joining me for a late lunch 
tomorrow, Saturday August twelfth.  Very sincerely yours, Joseph 
Lucas.  Now, do you think we might receive a reply?" 

"Yessir." 

"And what would the reply be?" 

"I'd be honored." 

She wore what she thought was the best of her new outfits to 
the office the next day.  Mr. Lucas drove them across a bridge to 
Long Island and out into the country.  They ate in the dining 
room of an inn.  Ethel felt terribly daring sipping the wine Mr. 
Lucas ordered.  Not only was it illegal, but her parents were 
Methodist.  She'd never seen anyone take a drink in her house 
growing up. 

They talked briefly about the office.  "You've enjoyed the 
typing, then?" 

"Yes, Mr. Lucas.  I hope that I've dealt with the letters to 
your satisfaction." 

"'Joseph,' please.  You do a great job." 

Soon, though the conversation turned to his private life.  
Ethel didn't think she should hear about this, but it wasn't her 
place to stop Mr. Lucas.  Apparently, he was unhappy in his 
marriage. His wife -- "Could you believe that we had a romance 
once?  We were young and gay and in love, and we expressed our 
love for each other" -- seemed to be only interested in the 
children and the house these days.  "And in spending money.  Oh, 
she can be contemptuous about the agency with which I make that 
money; but spending it -- that part interests her." 

He ate slowly and talked a good deal.  Her ma would have 
called it dawdling over the meal.  He topped up her glass twice, 
though it wasn't half finished either time.  The wine tasted 
sweet, and the more she drank, the more she liked it.  When he 
had ordered dessert, he filled her glass once again and then his.  
"There's an inch left," he said. "Drink a little, and I'll fill 
your glass again.  We don't want to leave any, do we?" 

Well, she'd been trained to clean her plate.  She drank half 
the glass.  He poured the rest of the bottle into it.  The 
dessert was apple pie with ice cream. It tasted delicious; but 
when she'd eaten it and finished the glass of wine, she was quite 
full. 

There were houses and other businesses around the inn, but 
much of the drive back was through empty farm country.  Mr. Lucas 
turned off the paved road onto a rutted dirt road that ran under 
some trees.  When he'd stopped the car, he turned to her.  "This 
has been a marvelous afternoon.  Thank you for coming with 
me." 

"Thank you for taking me." 

He took her in his arms and kissed her.  Well, New York girls 
kissed a man who'd taken her out to eat.  His hand on her breast 
was a new experience, but -- once she got over her surprise -- an 
exciting one.  The kiss went on and on; her excitement grew. 
Finally, the engine died; and Mr. Lucas had to get down to crank 
it.  They drove back to the city.  When he'd stopped in front of 
her boarding house, he helped her down and kissed her lightly 
outside the door. 

For the next week, she took more than half the letters Mr. 
Lucas dictated.  Much of her time was spent at the typewriter or 
in Mr. Lucas's office.  Sometimes, after the dictation, he would 
complain more about his wife. 

That Friday, he issued another invitation for lunch the next 
day. "Do you want to cancel, sir?" she asked Saturday.  "It looks 
like a rainstorm is coming." 

"I have the REO closed up.  We won't get drenched.  Didn't you 
bring a raincoat?"  So she had.  Still, people didn't go driving 
in the rain, though it *would* keep down the dust. 

It did rain before they got to the inn.  She got out at the 
door and waited for him while he parked the car.  She was quite 
content to dawdle over this meal, watching the rain through a 
window.  This time the wine was champagne, and it came in a 
larger bottle.  She sneezed after her first sip.  Mr. Lucas 
seemed to enjoy the faces she made trying to keep the bubbles out 
of her nose.  He kept urging her to drink it.  Despite the 
weather, they chattered happily.  She was finally getting used to 
being with Mr. Lucas. 

The rain was worse at the end of the meal than it had been at 
the beginning.  "We can't go out in this," said Mr. Lucas. 

"Will they mind if we wait here, Mr Lucas?"  The dining room, 
which had never been full during their meal, was nearly empty 
now. 

"'Joseph, please.' They need to rearrange the room for dinner. 
I have the solution." 

He asked the waiter for a bottle of tonic water, and then paid 
the bill.  When she got back from the ladies' room he hadn't 
returned yet.  He came up to her from another direction dangling 
a key.  "Come with me." 

She couldn't make an objection with the elevator operator 
hearing everything they said, but she did worry.  She'd never 
stayed in a hotel.  Certainly, nobody she knew took a hotel room 
because rain had delayed their trip. 

She tried to express this while Mr. Lucas was fitting the key 
into the lock.  "Too late to worry about that.  I've paid for the 
room.  Come on in and get comfortable." 

He opened the bottle of soda water and poured some into two 
glasses.  When he brought a flask out of a pocket, she knew what 
it was.  "Mr. Lucas!"  That was illegal.  For that matter, the 
wine she had drunk so openly during lunch was illegal as 
well. 

"Just a little," he said, "to flavor the soda."  He poured 
equal amounts into both glasses and handed her one.  It didn't 
improve the flavor, but she sipped a little to be polite.  When 
she set her glass down, he set his down as well.  He took her 
into his arms to kiss her. 

A little flustered, she stepped back when he released her and 
reached for the glass again.  She was a New York city girl, after 
all.  A man who bought you lunch was going to kiss you.  She 
didn't *care* what her ma would think; her ma was a stick in 
the mud.  Even so, she felt awfully compromised.  She might not 
care what her ma would think, but she knew what her ma would 
think. And this was her boss; Mr. Warren would never have thought 
of kissing her, not even a peck on the cheek.  Mr. Lucas not only 
kissed her on the mouth, he held her body when he did. 

On the other hand, and she took a longer sip while she thought 
about this, the kisses had been more than a little exciting. Even 
his hands on her body had been exciting, and that had been more 
exciting in the REO.  Probably, that was all he intended -- the 
same kisses as in the auto.  It was just that the auto would be 
terribly uncomfortable right now.  She took a deeper drink and 
made up her mind.  She put the glass down so Mr. Lucas had no 
obstacle. 

When he kissed her again, Mr. Lucas hugged her to him holding 
her derriere as he did so.  He squeezed there, then let her go to 
turn her around.  His kisses on the side of her neck were 
exciting. When his hands stroked her up belly to hold her 
breasts, it was more exciting; but this was definitely wrong. She 
stiffened.  "Mr. Lucas!" 

"Joseph, please." 

"Joseph, then. What sort of a girl do you think I am?" 

"A modern girl.  A twentieth-century, New York, woman.  You 
know how to work in the modern world, and you're learning to 
enjoy yourself in the modern world, too."  Well, that was true.  
So Ma wouldn't approve; Ma didn't approve of lots of things.  She 
took up her glass again.  Held like this, she could still drink.  
"Let me freshen that for you," Mr. Lucas -- She didn't want to 
think of him as 'Joseph' -- said. 

He poured her more from the flask, nearly filling the glass 
before he added a little soda water.  When she held her head back 
to drink, he couldn't kiss her neck.  He licked and kissed the 
top of her left ear instead.  He pinched her nipples.  "Ow.  That 
hurt!" 

"Did it?" he asked.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to hurt you.  
My fingers must have pressed the harsh cloth of your jacket 
against them.  Let's hang up our jackets."  There was a closet 
with hangers.  He hung up his jacket and hers.  She sipped from 
her drink when he came back; she didn't want him holding her 
again quite yet.  Instead, he caressed her shoulders from the 
back. 

He kissed her right ear, which tickled, and then her neck.  
When he reached the neck of her blouse, he reached around to 
unbutton her blouse.  He pulled the collar aside to make space 
for his kisses.  He kissed the bun of hair on the back of her 
head before starting down the left side.  He unbuttoned the 
blouse more and kissed farther onto this shoulder. 

Suddenly feeling dizzy, she set her glass down.  He turned her 
and took her into his arms.  His tongue explored her mouth, 
increasing her feeling of dizziness.  Without quite letting her 
go, he moved back and kissed her forehead.  "Ethel," he said, 
"lovely Ethel." 

He turned her again and held her breasts while kissing the 
back of her head.  "Let me take this," he said.  After she 
shrugged out of her blouse, he lay it over the back of a chair.  
Now, only her slip was between his hands and her breasts.  His 
kisses on her neck and shoulders were exciting, though.  Or maybe 
it was those hands on her breasts. 

When he turned her to face him, his kiss went on and on.  His 
hands roved all over her before taking her hands in his.  He 
stepped back a little to put her hands on his top shirt button. 
Although she fumbled at thee buttons, he wasn't even slightly 
impatient.  "Let's take care of our own," he said.  He sat on a 
chair to remove his shoes and stockings and then his trousers. 
Ethel hung her skirt and her slip on the back of another chair. 
"Lie on the bed," he said suddenly.  "I'll take care of 
those." 

She removed her shoes before lying down.  He carefully removed 
her left garter and that stocking.  He lay the stocking over her 
slip before coming around to remove the other one.  He was still 
dressed in his shirt when he came back to kiss her again.  His 
kisses moved down from her mouth to her breasts.  When he sucked 
at her left nipple a thrill went through her.  Another 
accompanied his kiss to her right nipple.  At first, his hand on 
her thigh frightened her, but soon that provided some more 
thrills.  His finger stroked her under her knickers while his 
mouth sucked her nipple. 

Then he broke away.  He went to the closet before sitting on a 
chair facing her from a foot away.  "Come to me, Ethel." 

She couldn't say, "No, you come back here."  While she got out 
of the other side of the bed, he stood and pushed down his 
underwear.  When he sat back down on the edge of his chair, she 
could see his manhood.  He brushed aside the tails of his shirt 
and slid a translucent sheath over it. 

When she stood in front of him, he pushed down her underwear. 
Now she was naked.  "Step out of them," he said.  Put your legs 
on either side of my knees."  His hand went back to her crotch, 
more open to him than ever like this.  "Step forwards," he said. 
"Now sit like that." She tried.  He adjusted his manhood until it 
was parting her lower lips.  "Go down a little more," he said. 
She bent her knees until he seemed to be pressing into her.  It 
wasn't going in.  "Fast is better," he said.  He moved his feet 
back.  "Sit down harder." 

When she started to, he rose beneath her.  There was a brief 
pain, and he was in her.  She yelped.  "Now," he said, "hold on." 
She clung to his neck while he shuffled the short distance to the 
bed.  He leaned over, depositing her on the bed with her head on 
the far edge.  Kneeling there above her, he pulled almost out of 
her before driving back.  This time it hurt even less.  He 
repeated that several times before groaning and lying heavily on 
her. 

"Are you all right?" she finally asked.  He rolled off 
her. 

"I feel wonderful.  And you?" 

Her?  She hadn't been the one who groaned.  The truth was that 
she felt a little sore down there, and her head was beginning to 
ache.  "I'm all right." 

"Sleep for a bit," he said.  He got up to remove his shirt, 
undershirt, and the sheath.  He got a handkerchief from his coat 
in the closet to wipe his manhood and then to wipe her.  He lay 
down beside her, too close for the muggy day. 

Even so, she did sleep for a while.  When she awoke, he was at 
the open window.  "The rain has stopped," he said.  "Let's have 
dinner before driving back."  Her head really ached now, but she 
didn't see any way to talk him out of this plan.


The End
Ethel 1921
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
2004/08/17
2005/04/29


Thanks to Denny for editing this. 

For another story of another woman's first experience of sex 
in another time and under other circumstances:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/Gjt/sch_01f.htm
"Honey Bee" 

This story is indexed under:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/etc.htm
etc -- stories not otherwise clasified 

The index to almost all my stories is:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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