Agony Aunt by G. C. Scott Page B

right foot. I’ll tell you what you can eat or drink, and you’ll do whatever I say. Understood?’ She accompanied this order with her most severe look.
    Victoria sighed and nodded, not wholly with regret. She liked Harriet to be firm with her whenever they met. Bill did the same for her at other times. As she often said, a girl really needs to be treated strictly.
    ‘Have the waiter bring the menu now,’ Harriet ordered. When it came they studied it in silence. Harriet decided on a large tossed salad for both of them, and signalled the waiter to take their order. Victoria was still studying her menu, and looked up in surprise when Harriet told the waiter what they would be having.
    ‘I’d like –’ she started, then stopped abruptly and looked flustered when she felt the touch of Harriet’s foot beneath the table. The waiter was looking expectantly at her. Haltingly she said, ‘That’s all right. The salad . . .’ Her face was slightly red with embarrassment, and the waiter gave them both a queer look as he took the order.
    Harriet paid no attention to him. Looking at Victoria, she said, ‘Now tell me exactly what you’re wearing underneath that nice tweed suit.’ The waiter gave them an even queerer look. He looked as if he would like to stay and listen to the conversation, but Harriet waved him away. ‘Begin now,’ she told Victoria, even before he was out of earshot.
    Victoria reddened and said, ‘The usual . . .’
    ‘No, you’re not,’ Harriet contradicted her. ‘If you were dressed normally you and I wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation about sex in the afternoon.’ Harriet emphasised the word slightly, and her voice carried. The waiter looked back as he heard the magic word, but there was no excuse to return to the table in the hope of hearing more.
    Victoria became even redder of face, hesitating until the waiter was further away. In a low voice she began, ‘I’m . . . that is, Bill gave me a new leather bra last week. It’s not . . . not an . . . ordinary one. There are little prickers sewn into the cups around the nipple area. They prick me whenever my nipples get erect.’ Victoria drew a sharp breath.
    ‘Like now?’ Harriet interjected dryly. She was well aware of Victoria’s propensity to become excited as she was made to reveal these details. The trick was to act as if they were being dragged out of her under interrogation and the threat of pain. ‘Go on,’ she ordered the other woman.
    ‘It’s rather tight, so I know it’s there even when I’m not . . . erect.’ The last word came almost as a gasp.
    Harriet judged that Victoria was erect just then, or close to it. ‘Go on,’ she repeated. There had to be more. Victoria did not dress as most women did. She liked to feel her clothing touching her erogenous zones, exciting her subtly and secretly even when she merely went out for a walk or to the shops.
    ‘I don’t have any pants on,’ Victoria said, perhaps hoping that this revelation would satisfy her inquisitor.
    Harriet nodded. ‘I’d hardly expect you to be wearing any. You’ve been told often enough about that.’ She waited expectantly for Victoria to continue.
    Reluctantly, Victoria continued her recitation. ‘The usual – stockings and suspenders. Just as you require.’
    ‘Is that all? Nothing more exotic? Nothing inside you to make the afternoon more interesting? Surely you could think of something, couldn’t you? Didn’t Bill have any suggestions?’
    ‘Well, he bought me a leather waist belt with a thong that goes between my legs. He called it a saddle strap. When he makes me wear it, he pulls the thong really tight, so it’s uncomfortable to sit. I thought of wearing that, but as I knew we’d be sitting down to eat –’
    ‘You didn’t think you could stand that discomfort? And you, a card-carrying masochist? Whatever is the world coming to when you avoid a bit of sexual arousal because of a little pain?’