Nathan Silvers: A librarian_s training

"Yes, it's a weekend training scheme."

"For me, Mr. Pincher?" Gillian Smith gasped, peering at her boss a little suspiciously through her glasses. "Why me?"

"We decided that you were, uh, you were, ready for new ideas," Joe finished lamely, looking out the open window. "Some people have their eyes on you, you know, and so they thought that it would be a good idea for you to attend this seminar for training." He shuffled some papers on his desk. "I assume you can go this weekend?"

"Well, yes," Gillian said uncertainly, pushing her straight blonde hair back out of her eyes. "I suppose so."

"There's a flight at five," Joe said, handing Gillian a ticket. "A car will meet you at the airport."

"Yes, Mr. Pincher. Thank you," Gillian said, and then left his office, feeling very strange about the whole thing.

Joe Pincher couldn't have recommended her; he didn't like her at all. But then, he was a real creep, the sort of boss who licked the boots of his boss whenever the area manager appeared to check the library. And the last time Mr. Harper came in, Joe had stood close to Gillian as she worked, telling Mr. Harper what a bad employee she was. And now this.

Gillian felt uneasy as she got back to work, putting books back on the shelves.

Of course, one of the reasons Joe hated her was that she wouldn't date him. Gillian shivered at the thought of the times he'd trapped her in an aisle and tried to feel her tits.

Other men had approached Gillian because she was beautiful, but she deliberately dressed as dowdily as she could and never used make up.

"Gillian," Joe said, coming up behind her, "Since you'll be leaving early on Friday, you can stay late tonight and do my shift. I have a date."

"But, Mr. Pincher, that's not fair! I did…"

"Do it, unless you want me to fire you and save them the trouble of paying for your training weekend," he sneered nastily at Gillian.

Gillian nodded her head and wept a little when Joe had gone.

That Friday night, very nervous, Gillian caught the flight, a small commuter one, then she was met at the airport by a young, fresh-faced, brunette-haired girl.

"Hi," the brunette said, "I'm Alda; I'm taking you to the seminar."

"Oh, thanks," Gillian said and sat beside her, clutching her purse.

"I'm Dean's girl Friday," Alda said with a giggle, as she drove out of the airport.

"Dean?"

"Dean Harper; I do everything for him." She giggled again and Gillian saw that the girl's already short skirt was riding up her shapely thighs as she shifted around in the seat. And the top of her blouse was open just a little more than it should have been. Gillian would never have allowed her cleavage to show.

Soon they were on a small winding road, and Gillian got nervous all over again.

"Where is this place?" she asked.

"Oh, a special hotel," Alda replied, giggling again. "Out of the way; quiet, you know, so that people can concentrate on what's going on. If you know what I mean."

Gillian didn't. "What's this all about?"

"Oh, it's a weekend for people who show promise," Alda said airily.

"But I've always been told how bad I am."

"I think Dean makes his own decisions," Alda said, driving up to a small hotel that was surrounded by tall Douglas firs.

Alda led Gillian in and showed her to a nice clean room on the second floor.

"I'll leave you to tidy up," she said, running her eyes over Gillian's plain dress. "They'll call you in about half an hour."

"Thank you." Gillian sat on the bed, then stared out the window.

She had a shower and changed; though she put on a dress that was just as sensible as the one she had traveled in. It was shapeless and the hem hung to well below her knees. She sat on the bed and waited, her stomach turning over with nervousness.

The phone rang and she grabbed it in a second. "Yes?"

"Dinner," said a man's voice. "Come to the bottom of the stairs and I'll meet you there."

"Yes," Gillian said breathlessly. She got up and grabbed her purse.

She recognized Dean Harper at once. He looked so handsome and commanding. His tall frame, broad shoulders, and dark hair seemed to loom over her, as he politely escorted her to the dining room. She shivered, as his cold gray eyes ran over her as she walked into the room.

The dining room was small. There was one table set and only Alda and another woman were at it.

"More people arriving later," Dean said as they sat down. "This is Rose Hudson; she's on the committee with me."

"Hello," Gillian said nervously, avoiding the other woman's eyes.

Rose was a stringy, good-looking blonde, whose hair had obviously been dyed. It was teased out around her face, lending a strangely sexual air to her whole look.

Gillian was almost too tense to eat. Both Dean and Rose asked her questions and she did her best to answer them, but she was constantly blushing and wishing she could hide behind her straight blonde hair. She played with it constantly, and even Rose remarked on how lovely it was.

"Genuine blonde hair," she whispered, "you're very lucky."

Gillian blushed and drank a little more wine.

Dean filled her glass again. "To make you relax."

Later, she refused a brandy and sat waiting for what was going to happen.

"Well," Dean said, "let's head for the conference room."

He led the way, and Gillian found herself between Rose and Alda. It was almost comforting to have two women there to protect her.

The hotel was fairly modern, but the conference room was done in a medieval style. There were suits of armor, and along the wall were swords and chains and whips. Along one wall, there was a cage, and a strange piece of apparatus that Gillian didn't dare go and look at. It had a frame and straps hanging all over it.

"Still in working condition," Rose chuckled, running her hand over it. "A torture rack. You see, you can hang the victim by their hands and feet, and turn them any way you want. Then stretch them." She smiled. "But we're much more civilized now."

"Yes," Gillian said, and then waited for them to sit down around the large sturdy table that also looked as if it had come out of the middle ages.

"I expect you're wondering why we brought you here," Dean said, standing close to Gillian and looking her right in the eyes.

"Yes, sir," Gillian said, looking down at the floor.

"Sometimes I have employees that haven't realized their full potential. I like to help them realize it." He stared at Gillian and waited.

"Ah, yes," Gillian gasped. "I didn't know. Mr. Pincher said that…"

"Mr. Pincher wants you out; you know why?"

"No," Gillian said, shivering.

"Because you wouldn't fuck him."

Gillian stared and her head jerked.

"You don't think you're good enough for that rat-faced little jerk, do you?" Dean asked.

Gillian didn't know what was going on. Rose was sitting down finally; crossing her legs in the long, tight, white leather dress she wore. The slit at the side showed more of her thigh than Gillian thought decent.

"Well, we're gonna show you that you're a lot better than that," Dean said. "We're gonna teach you all about sex and that. You didn't think this was a library discussion, did you?"

He grinned as Gillian went white and backed away, clutching her purse harder. "I-I don't like sex, Mr. Harper."

"Dean," he corrected.

"Please, Mr. Harper, no! I don't want to! I'm sorry; I can't do that!"

"If you don't, I'll let Joe fire you."

That twisted a knot in Gillian's guts. Her parents would kill her if she lost this job, and she didn't know what she'd do then. Even at twenty, she didn't know how to look after herself. But she couldn't do anything as depraved as have sex, or whatever it was they wanted her to do.