I’m Dating Our Mailgirl Ch. 06

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This story is a continuation of I’m Dating Our Mailgirl. The 1st 5 chapters of that story should be read first for context. All characters are 18 or older and are completely fictitious as is Seahawk Industries. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.


Olivia and I had not really set a definite date for my “defilement” in the bargain with her to save the mailgirls’ hair. Unless Joyce had talked to her to tell her she could not use my body as her personal amusement park, I was sure visions of mutual cunnilingus still danced in her head. I had a legitimate excuse for seeing Joyce to find out if she had talked to Olivia. Yesterday had been a momentous event in my life. I had cemented my life as a concubine. Somehow seeing my lover seemed appropriate. But I didn’t want to appear too desirous of making every little excuse to see Joyce. I certainly had no desire for that.

Mid-afternoon, I went up to the HR suite, As I approached her office I wanted so much to tell her secretary to announce that her concubine was here to see her, but I decided to low key it and just ask if I could have 5 minutes with “Ms. Parker.” Better to keep things on a formal basis. I’m sure it would become clear before too long that I was to be accorded certain privileges because of my new relationship with “Joyce”. Her secretary want into her office and came back out 3 minutes later. “Ms. Parker said I should schedule and appointment when you can see her.” An appointment, AN APPOINTMENT! I certainly didn’t expect that slap in the face. Boy have we got a few things to iron our about our relationship in the workplace. I retreated, “Just ask her if she has had an opportunity to talk to Olivia — Ms. Wallace — about that matter we discussed last night.


I was so absorbed in my own chaotic life of the past 2-1/2 days, I really didn’t think I was going to have too much trouble dealing with the loneliness of tonight. I still had 1/2 a liter of Jim Beam which I was sure would easily get me through the night.

When I walked into my apartment, I guess I was back to “normal”. I wanted to throw off my clothes and sit out on the balcony. I was so unoccupied with the thoughts of what 7 and 9, 16, were doing this evening, I had a chance to reflect on how I was going to handle 9 and the news this weekend. I knew it was not going to be a pretty scene. I knew I didn’t want to tell her Thursday night when we went to the Loading Dock. We would have too much to catch up on to be distracted by the latest news. She had left plans open for Friday night. When we made plans last weekend to get together for this weekend we were both under the assumption she was to be shorn during the Friday evening shower and that we would leave for the weekend immediately after meeting up in the viewing area of the fish bowl. Maybe I needed to take her to a high end fancy restaurant for a romantic meal. But there was the risk she would create a scene in such a public venue. Or maybe it would be better having a quiet meal at home. It would be tough throwing together something after work Friday, but, of course, we would not be eating together Saturday. Brunch Saturday? Either in the apartment or at one of the brunch buffets? What to do. What to do.

I still hadn’t made any decisions when I decided to go to bed. Jim Beam was still in bed with me. 9 didn’t call me, but I wasn’t completely surprised. I didn’t read anything negative into it.


I was starting to get suspicious of Olivia. I wondered if she was still playing games with me and 9. I went into work early Thursday. Hey, what the heck, as long as I’m here I might as well head to the fishbowl. I wasn’t completely surprised to see both Rose and Olivia there, but they weren’t there together. Rose was there when I came in and Olivia came in later. I had kind of positioned myself near Rose, in order not to appear to be avoiding her. And then Olivia came in and joined us.

She started right in. “So, Monica, I hear that you’ve upgraded your social circle.” No response. “When you said power was the ultimate aphrodisiac you decided to go right to the top.” No response.

Rose looked at her, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard? I’m surprised since the office grapevine has been burning up with the news. It seems that young Ms. Monica is Joyce’s latest romantic interest.” The office grapevine was burning up? I hoped that was just Olivia’s exaggerating her own self-importance. The mailgirls were well wired into what was going on at Seahawks because of the universal access to all areas. I certainly hoped she didn’t hear about Joyce and me “through the grapevine”.

“What? Since when?”

I told her, “She asked me for a date Tuesday night.” Boy, was that an oversimplification.

Rose persisted, “Does that mean young 9 is out?”

“I’m perfectly Eryaman Escort capable of multitasking.” And with that curt remark I moved away. 9 had just come in and she was on the other side of the fishbowl from 5 where Rose and Olivia were standing. I took advantage of the placement to move away. 9 and 10 were together again. I guess the great hair scare had really produced some strong bonding. Neither of them performed cunnilingus on the other, but their fingers each did a lot of exploring of the other’s cunt.

When the show was over, Rose asked me if I needed to come by her office “for anything.” I told her I was good. I wanted to get down to the coffee shop in the lobby. I grabbed a bagel and coffee and sat at a table in the lobby area in front of the shop. Sure enough, at 7:03, 9 came out of the elevator carrying a delivery pouch. They placed a collar with leash around her neck. Once more the female security guard guided her by placing her hand on her buttocks, but instead of just guiding her, she actually grabbed a nice chunk of flesh, not hard enough to hurt her, but she got a fistful. They exited through the front door. They came back at 7:27 and she got on the elevator. At 7:44 she reappeared. They went through the same procedure. No other mailgirl had to make an outside delivery during this period. I was convinced Olivia was playing games with her, and indirectly with me. I had to get upstairs to my office.

At 5:00 I went back down to the lobby. The Hawk’s Nest was still open serving sandwiches and such to people who might be working late. I took a seat at a table in the lobby area. Sure enough, in the 3 hours until 8:00 4 deliveries were made by mailgirls to neighboring buildings. 9 made 3 of them.

A little after 8, the mailgirls started coming down to the lobby on their way home. This was the first time I had been around at closing time. 7 of them came down together in an elevator on their way home. I was surprised to see 5 of them naked. Two more were dressed in something they would usually wear to go home. They gathered around the security station. They were laughing and cutting up like any employees on their way home at the end of the day. They all paused while one of the security men put collars around two of them and attached leashes. They all exited the building, still laughing and cutting up with the security guard leading the pack clearly toward the warehouse. 11 was in the group, naked but unleashed. I caught up with her and joined the parade. “11, what is going on here?”

“Oh, hey, Monica.” We are just all going back to the warehouse.”

“Where are your clothes?”

“Oh, that? Well, we just kind of kept making discoveries this past week, and now here we are. We figured that since we were moving naked to the other buildings surrounding the Seahawk building, what difference would it make if it was just after work — or actually just before work too, in the morning. People don’t know our work schedule. The warehouse is just a block beyond our official territory. Security was a little concerned about our being naked, both in terms of our safety and also about being stopped by the police. So they started “volunteering” to accompany us. They suggested we wear the collar and leash just to make us look official. Well, like tonight they didn’t have enough collars and leashes to go around, so a couple of the ‘lucky’ ones got the collars. But it turns out if doesn’t matter for the rest of us.”

I noticed two police cars parked in front of the warehouse as we approached it. 11 pointed to them, “It turns out we didn’t have to worry about the police. They come by every evening and morning for their own little show.” I saw 4 policemen standing in front of the warehouse, including one attractive woman officer. They just tipped their hats as we all passed by.

“Good evening, ladies. Sweet dreams.”

A couple of the mailgirls went over to them and caressed their faces. “Thank you, officers.” And with that we went into the warehouse.

I continued chatting with 11. “And the same things happens in the morning?”

“Yea, some of the girls are still uncomfortable walking naked back and forth between here and work,” she pointed to a clothed 4 and smiled at her and caressed her arm. 4’s returning her smile and kissing 11 showed that 4 didn’t mind the implied dig. “And some of us just like to change up our routines.”

I asked, “What about 9?”

“Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve seen her put on a stitch of clothes since Tuesday evening. Have you, Kayla?”

When 4 confirmed her observation, I now had learned another mailgirl’s non-numerical name. 4, Ms. Blowjob in my mind previously, was really Kayla.

“9 was right behind us. She should be coming in any minute.”

As I waited, I was drawn like a magnet over the the large bed in the center of the room. The sheets were freshly changed. I wondered if 16 had done that this Sincan Escort morning to remove all the pussy juice from them from the previous night’s activities. How considerate of them, I snarkily wondered to myself. My eye’s wandered down to the clipboard hinging from the foot of the bed. There was a signup sheet. It was 3 columns and 8 rows. The labels in the 1st row read “Date” “Mailgirl 1” “Mailgirl 2”. Sure enough in the rows labeled Monday Nov. 4, Tuesday Nov 5, Wednesday Nov 6 were written in 9 under Mailgirl 1 and 7 under Mailgirl 2. All the other blanks were filled in with other names. I flipped the page and saw a partially filled in sheet. Monday Nov 11 and Thursday Nov 14 were empty. 9 came in the door and I quickly dropped the clipboard.

She ran over to me and kissed me passionately, “I was worried when I didn’t see you back at the building. I was afraid . . . . No, never mind.” I didn’t want her to finish her sentence, either. Not right now.

“No, babe. I didn’t remember our agreeing on our plans for the evening other than going to the Loading Dock. I started talking with 11 and I just walked back here with her. Them.”

“You and 11 seem to have become BFF’s since Tuesday evening.” I ignored that little dig and resumed kissing her.

“9, I’ve got what may seem like a really weird request. You’ve told me that whenever you eat your gruel, it takes you to a happy place. What with all the estrogen and antidepressants they load in there, I want to go to that happy place. Can I have a bowl of gruel?”

“Yea, sure. You’re right. That is a real weird request.” She went over to the stockpot containing warm gruel that food service must have delivered just before 8:00. She ladled out a small bowl and handed me a spork.

“Oooh, that stuff is awful.”

11 came over to be helpful. Or was she just still in her Tuesday evening 42nd floor mode. “Here, put some brown sugar on it. That’ll help it go down. We can’t add that at work that they still haven’t figured out a way to regulate us completely here in the warehouse.”

She was right, that made it a little better, but just marginally. I almost gagged as I tried to down a few mouthsful. “I sure hope this stuff really works miracles after all this.” I ate about 1/2 a cup. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Silly, it’s not a miracle drug that works instantly. It really does have to have a cumulative effect. Over time.” Was I embarking on a journey of permanent dependence on gruel to supplement my regular diet? I didn’t have to decide that now.

I got up and grabbed her by the hand. “Come on, let’s get to the Loading Dock. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Put on some clothes. Let’s start with the hair. Tell me what you and the mailgirls thought when they didn’t shear 1 and 2 Monday evening. I guess they, and the rest of you, went in there fulling expecting to be shorn.”

She was talking as she dressed but she only took about 1 minute to put on jeans and a pullover. She continued to talk as we walked. “There was a printout of an email posted in the dressing room Tuesday morning announcing the postponement of the shearing.” We arrived quickly at the Loading Dock. I order a glass of wine for myself, I still had to drive home, and a Dos Equis for 9. I ordered potato skins, wings, and a small plate of nachos. I checked with 9 to make sure my choices were alright. “You know whatever you order is alright with me. She leaned over and kissed me. We were sitting on the same side of the table in a booth.

“What about the new territory?”

“We were all surprised when we were told but nobody really had a problem with it. Heck, naked in the Seahawk building, naked in all of downtown. What’s the difference. Besides, like me, most of the girls are starting to find complete nudity quite liberating.”

“But what about the collar and leash? Don’t you find that degrading?”

“Personally, I found it quite erotic and stimulating. And being escorted by a security guard, the only thing better would have been a prison guard.”

I shook my head.

“Haven’t you noticed that you seem to make a lot more of the deliveries outside of the building than any of the other girls?”

“I don’t mind. It breaks the monotony. Besides they realize it takes longer to make the deliveries and they allow for that. So even though it is a longer delivery, there’s actually less of a chance I’ll get a demerit.”

“How do you like having Olivia as your new boss?”

“Yea, I saw her name on the email they posted for us Tuesday morning explaining the new hair policy. It was from her with that title. when did that happen?”

“You didn’t even realize before then that she was the new Supervisor of Mailgirl operations? Boy, they really do keep you in the dark. She has been since 7:00 AM Monday. Unofficially, she took over last week. She was responsible for all of these new policies. I think she is trying to punish you, Etlik Escort or me, but giving you all the out of building deliveries.”

9 laughed out loud, “Please don’t throw me in the briar patch.” Being from the South, I immediately recognized the reference to Brer Rabbit and the fox where the clever brer rabbit pleaded for the fox not to do exactly what he wanted him to do. He achieved the desired result and the gullible fox did it thus giving the rabbit his freedom. I chuckled. Olivia the fox was outfoxed by the mailgirl.

We both realized we had to get up early in the morning so we called it an evening around 10:30. I told her, “Since I walked her with the mailgirls, my car is still in the parking garage. Let me walk you to the warehouse”

When we got to the warehouse, I decided that was something that I had been thinking about for 2 or more weeks, and this was as good an opportunity to do something about it as any. We got to the warehouse and I just invited myself in. The mailgirls all greeted us. 12 and 13 were in the central bed. They weren’t going at it, and they certainly weren’t asleep. They were kind of like a couple of 10 year old girls at a slumber party just talking and messing around, but in a non-sexual way. 6 and 8 were sitting on the edge of the bed. I decided to have a little light chit-chat with 6 and to obliquely comment on how she seemed to be doing much better. I complimented her on her hair now that it was growing out. She blushed and thanked me. 8 was massaging 12, just rubbing her legs, her arms, her stomach, her buttocks. 6 appeared to be massaging 13. She continued to talk to both me and 13. She was massaging her calves and thigh. “There baby, does that feel better? Poor baby, you’re just having a lot of trouble betting use to all the exercise. Are those cramps gone? Let me help you feel better.” She massaged her feet and kissed her toes and the soles of her feet.

I said to 9, “Come her, 9. I want to look at something.” I grabbed the clipboard and the attached pen. “It looks like there are a couple of openings next week on Monday and Thursday. What if we were to do this?” I filled the mailgirl 1 space with a perfectly formed 9. I paused, then I said, “and what if I were to do this?” I wrote “Monica” in the mailgirl 2 space.”

“I don’t understand. You’re not a mailgirl.”

“But can’t I share a bed with my lover?”

It finally dawned on her what I was suggesting. She squealed, “Oh, Monica, you would be willing to do that?”

“Willing, I would revel in it.”

“Here, in the warehouse, in front of all the mailgirls?”

“I think I’m ready for this. No, I know I’m ready. I have to do it. I don’t want to go back to the last 3 nights but this is something I have to do to exorcise my lingering memories of you and, uh, you know, 7.”

She took the clipboard, “There’s still one more opening.” She wrote in “Monica” under mailgirl 1 on Thursday. She handed me the pen and with a flourish I wrote in 9 under mailgirl 2. She kissed me passionately.

“This past weekend, we talked about my going to the fishbowl Friday to watch you being shorn. We talked about you making a triumphal entry into the spectator area to meet me with you head held high, your hair shorn and your body on intractable display. Well, your hair won’t be shorn, but I think that’s how I’d like to see you tomorrow to begin our weekend.” She kissed me again.


In view of everything that had happened this week, Friday was rather dull. The only eventful thing was when Joyce’s secretary, Melissa, called me. “Monica, this is Melissa Rivera, Ms. Parker’s secretary. Ms. Parker wanted me to tell you she will arrive at 6:00 Saturday night at your apartment building. She doesn’t want to have to come up to get you and she doesn’t want to sent her driver up, so she will text you and you can come down and you can leave for the Opera.” Doesn’t want to have to come up to get me? What the hell kind of 1st date is that? I would think she would be leaping out of her car to come up and escort me down. She doesn’t want to send her driver up? Was I being too sensitive or was I being treated like a hooker. Boy, we were going to have to “tweak” these protocol. “Great, I’ll look forward to it.” I guilefully replied.

At 7:45, I went to the fishbowl. The crowd really was sparse since it was late on a Friday before the weekend and not many people were sticking around. Also, there was not a show like the hair shearing had promised to be. 9 came out looking particularly radiant. I had not requested a particular mailgirl for her to “perform” with and I was curious to see who she would choose. It was 6 who looked particularly animated. This in view of her earlier psychotic break. They went into the shower and seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time washing each other’s hair. 9 had her iconic red hair that 6 really seemed to enjoy lathering up. 9 was quite playful with 6’s still quite short hair that was still in the process of growing out. 6 seemed to laugh and they frolicked as her hair was washed. Then they moved on to each other’s cunt. I couldn’t wait to stick my nose and mouth down here after the time 6 spent making it so fragrant with body wash. 9 then moved down to 6’s pussy with her mouth as if to give it the ultimate inspection.

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