The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Thomas S. Roche
Thomas S. Roche’s short stories have appeared in more than 400 anthologies, magazines and websites. He began writing and publishing in his late teens and has written, edited or co-edited more than ten books, including an erotic BDSM series as N.T. Morley, the Noirotica series of erotic crime noir anthologies and the short story collection Dark Matter. He also blogs about sex, drugs, cryptozoology and occasionally podcasts erotic fiction at www.thomasroche.com. His recently published the horror novel The Panama Laugh, a science fiction zombie apocalypse about viral media, military contracting and LOLZ. He has also been a blogger, marketing executive and web reporter for more than a decade, having written regularly for Techyum.com, TinyNibbles.com, Night-Bazaar.com, Gothic.net, GettingIt.com, WriteSex.net, GoodVibes.com, 13thStreet.com and many other websites. He is a community sex educator in San Francisco with San Francisco Sex Information, a non-profit educational organization.
Mammoth Books presents
Matching Skirt and Kneepads
The Best of Thomas S. Roche: Six Erotic Stories
Edited by Maxim Jakubowski
Constable & Robinson Ltd
55–56 Russell Square
London WC1B 4HP
www.constablerobinson.com
First published in the UK by Robinson,
an imprint of Constable & Robinson Ltd, 2012
Copyright © Thomas S. Roche, 2012
The right of Thomas S. Roche to be identified as the author of this
work has been asserted by him in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A copy of the British Library Cataloguing in
Publication Data is available from the British Library
EISBN: 978-1-47210-051-1
Contents
Acknowledgements
Memorandum
The Isle of the Dead
Black Lily
Pre-Party
Matching Skirt and Kneepads
The Tale of the Mouth Congress
Acknowledgements
“Memorandum” © Thomas S. Roche, 2003. First published in Good Vibrations magazine. Reprinted in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 4 (as N. T. Morley), edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2005), by permission of the author.
“The Isle of the Dead” © Thomas S. Roche, 2000. First published in The Mammoth Book of Erotica (new edition), edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2000). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Black Lily” © Thomas S. Roche, 1996. First published in The Mammoth Book of International Erotica, edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 1996). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Pre-Party” © Thomas S. Roche, 2008. First published in Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. Reprinted in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 9, edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2010), by permission of the author.
“Matching Skirt and Kneepads” © Thomas S. Roche, 2007. First published by Alt.com. Published in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 8, edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2009). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Tale of the Mouth Congress” © Thomas S. Roche, 2008. First published in The Mammoth Book of the Kama Sutra, edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2008). Reprinted by permission of the author.
Memorandum
N.T. Morley
Notice of Disciplinary Action
To:
Audrey Chivas, Executive Assistant
From:
Tabitha Kelly, Office Manager
Date:
1 September
Re:
Violation of Office Dress Code
cc:
All Staff
It has been brought to my attention, Miss Chivas, that you have violated our office dress code on numerous occasions since being hired by the firm on 10 August. When you accepted employment at our firm you read and signed a copy of our office policies and procedures document, including our office dress code on page 14. Nonetheless, you have continued to violate our dress code.
I have listed the documented violations below; each was brought to my attention by a senior partner in the firm.
1) On 11 August, your skirt was measured by Mr Armando Stern to be eight inches above the knee. On that day, you also wore pumps with four-inch heels, a clear violation of article 8 of our office dress code. A first-level warning was issued.
2) On 12 August, your silk slacks were sufficiently snug that Mr Stern was able to see your panty lines, and his comments on their visibility met with, by Mr Stern’s report (and as I witnessed first-hand), a careless dismissal of Mr Stern’s concern. That is wholly unacceptable. Furthermore, on that day your leopard-print brassiere was quite visible through the tasteless lemon-yellow top you wore. Again, this behavior is unacceptable.
3) On 15 August, your skirt was, as estimated by Mr Spankett, six inches above the knee. Miss Chivas, I would like to point out that such a skirt is decent by perhaps four inches. I was out sick with bunions that day, but I have a reliable report from Mr Stern, Miss Beck in Accounting, and George, our Federal Express delivery person. In addition, Mr Spankett was kind enough to provide a Polaroid he took that day, and I am appalled. I have enclosed said Polaroid here. Coupled with the four-inch heels you wore that day, not to mention the blatant display of what could only have been a push-up brassiere underneath your rather filmy blouse, this outfit presented a wholly unprofessional picture of our firm. A second-level warning was issued at this point.
4) On 22 August, your dress was black in color, decent, again, by perhaps four inches, and was coupled with knee-high lace-up boots with the Doc Martens tag clearly visible at the back of your calf. I admire your forward-facing fashion sense, as I admire your attempt to be accepted by the “in” crowd. But we are a place of business, Miss Chivas, not a Marilyn Manson concert.
5) On 23 August, though your skirt was of acceptable length, your red lace panties were clearly visible underneath when you bent over during your rather ill-advised and lengthy session of filing in the lower drawer in Mr Grimm’s office. Polaroid enclosed.
6) On 25 August, you showed up to the office with your hair in pigtails, a white blouse thin enough to show your brassiere underneath, and a plaid skirt which came, again, eight inches above the knee. When asked to retrieve a file from the bottom drawer of Mr Harshass’s desk, you reportedly turned away from him, bent over fully without kneeling, and displayed your white panties to him most shamelessly. Again, Mr Harshass thoughtfully provided a Polaroid, which I have enclosed. A third-level warning was issued, resulting in your being docked a day’s pay, to which you responded with a shocking display of disregard for the disciplinary process, stating (and I quote): “Ah, mother-fuck, I guess I’ll have to make up the difference giving blowjobs down on the waterfront.”
7) On 26 August, when working a Saturday to help Mr Stern prepare for a client meeting, you arrived at the office dressed in hot pants, a halter top and platform clogs. Again, as reported by Mr Stern (and demonstrated by the enclosed
Polaroid), your panty lines were clearly visible under the shorts, though you didn’t see fit to wear a bra under the halter top. I should perhaps clarify here that our office dress code is to be followed even when the position demands weekend work.
8) On 28 August, you returned from taking your lunch hour in the company gym without changing out of your exercise clothes, shamelessly displaying the fact that you wore a white leotard that had become rather moist with sweat, and therefore almost entirely transparent. A fourth-level warning was issued, resulting in this memorandum.
Miss Chivas, let me take this time to commend you for your excellent work on many other fronts. Your willingness to help out with client meetings has been quite admirable and has led to a number of important accounts being exceptionally serviced by this office. The senior partners have repeatedly commented on your willingness to lend assistance in whatever way is needed. However, your interpretation of the company dress code clearly needs extensive correction, which I offer forthwith:
1) As stated in our policies and procedures document, skirts for employees who measure five feet three inches (as you do) are to be no less than eight inches above the knee; measured from the torso, hems are to remain decent by no more than two inches or (preferably) less. Heels on all shoes worn to the office will be no less than six inches, except on casual Friday, when five-inch heels are permitted.
2) Silk slacks, as you well know, are to be worn without panties underneath (except on casual Friday, when a thong may be worn). Furthermore, you know quite well that employees with D-cup or smaller breasts (yours were measured to be a C-cup) are not allowed to wear brassieres. On that day, this undergarment entirely disguised your nipples, which should have been erect and clearly visible throughout the day, as stated on page 16 of our office policies and procedures document. Also, animal-print clothing is strictly forbidden at this time. If the firm institutes a “Trailer Trash Thursday,” you’ll certainly be the first to know. Lastly, when Mr Stern offered his rebuke of your wearing panties with these slacks, proper office behavior and our specific policy required you to remove the offending panties immediately in front of him and feed them into the office shredder.
3) Again, a skirt six inches above the knee is decent by perhaps four inches and therefore a full two inches longer than is permitted by our dress code. Additionally, I must reiterate that heels are to be six inches, not one bit less. Lastly, wearing a blouse as see-through as you wore on that day, Miss Chivas, you should have known better than to wear a push-up bra. While I admire your desire to display your breasts as attractively as possible, you know full well that such displays of your fetching knockers are required by our dress code to be much more blatant than is provided by a push-up bra. If you are in need of some support, Tamiko in the mailroom has volunteered to provide you with her particularly skilled incarnation of breast bondage. Simply visit her on the third floor before you report to work.
4) Our policy clearly states that black outergarments are unacceptable, as they do too much to camouflage what lies underneath. Furthermore, wearing flat-soled boots is well beyond the scope of acceptable dress at our firm.
5) While red lace panties of the style you wore might be, arguably, allowed to slide on a casual Friday (given their little red hearts and bows on the sides), again, panties are expressly forbidden on all other days. Additionally, Mr Stern found your shameless display entirely distracting, as he was attempting to spank his secretary Julia at the time.
6) While your kinky little schoolgirl fantasy is commendable, I made it quite clear in your job interview that the only schoolgirl who belongs at Stern, Stern, Grimm, Spankett & Harshass is a shameless slut of a schoolgirl. While your skirt was quite attractive, it was entirely too decent for the office, and wearing a brassiere is unacceptable in all circumstances regardless of how visible it is through your blouse. Furthermore, shamelessly displaying your white panties to Mr Stern strikes me as another example of your willful disregard of our policies. As mentioned in earlier paragraphs, Miss Chivas, you should have been entirely nude under that pert little outfit of yours.
6a) As a supplementary note to Item 6, I should like to remind you that any income you derive from giving blowjobs down at the waterfront should be provided to me in cash (and preferably not in wadded-up little $1 bills) for laundering through the corporate account. We can’t be too careful about those IRS sons-of-bitches, Audrey, now can we? They certainly don’t appreciate the value of a good blowjob the way our firm does.
7) I should perhaps clarify here that our office dress code is to be followed even when the position demands weekend work. I applaud your adhering to our dress code by eschewing a brassiere under your halter (which would have been unflattering in any event), but you violated our dress code in two ways: first, by wearing panties under those skintight little hot pants (did you get them at Next to Nothing? I’ve been thinking of picking up a pair of those myself) and second, by failing to wear high-heeled shoes. Your platform clogs, while presenting an admittedly cute ’70s trailer-trash picture of your whorish little bitch self, Audrey, were again inappropriate for the office, even on a Saturday.
8) As you know, the co-ed company gym is to be used only when fully nude. I should note that you looked adorable with your nipples poking out of that tiny little leotard thing, but please, in the future, remember to strip naked before mounting the stationary bicycles – and don’t forget to wipe down your equipment afterwards.
Audrey, please let me reiterate that your job duties on other fronts have been performed with great skill and enthusiasm. Mr Stern frequently comments on the quality of your oral skills, and his secretary Julia particularly likes the way you always come when she spanks you. I, myself, have had the distinct pleasure of feeling you up on numerous occasions, and your juicy little cunt never fails to open right up to my mercilessly thrusting fingers. Furthermore, you look particularly eye-catching when you lift your skirt, drop to your knees and take it doggy-style; I think all of Stern, Stern, Grimm, Spankett & Harshass’s partners will agree that you have the finest ass in town, and you never hesitate to give it up. Mr Spankett, in particular, has commented that if you weren’t a shameless little cocksucking whore he’d love to take you home to Mother.
But I must take this opportunity to ask you to reflect on whether full-time employment as a paid submissive in a private brothel for poontang-obsessed billionaires is truly your longterm career goal. While I admire your love of spankings and your unthinking devotion to taking it in those filthy little holes of yours whenever possible, not to mention providing orally for any rampaging hard-on that appears in front of you regardless of the identity of its owner, I question whether the willfulness and cheek you’ve shown in your tenure here isn’t indicative of an unwillingness to wholeheartedly adopt a submissive posture. Perhaps you are what educated office managers call a “smart-assed masochist.”
In that event, despite your disciplinary record, I question whether you wouldn’t do better assuming a leadership role at Stern, Stern, Grimm, Spankett & Harshass. Julia and Tamiko have both expressed the desire to feel that firm hand of yours on their behinds – in Tamiko’s words, to “See if that horny little cunt can give as good as she can get.” I concur. Your impressive showing in the recent catfight with Antoinette over who would get the last Pixie Stick in the company snack room certainly displayed a propensity for uninvited dominance, and once you had the little slut in a headlock you did show an estimable appreciation of the finer points of forced cunnilingus, not to mention great skill at the old “pile-driver.” Furthermore, your skilled application of your throbbing sex to the little bitch’s mouth despite her crocodile tears really demonstrated an ability to turn any administrative situation to your advantage. The result was a full acceptance of her defeat by Antoinette; in fact, the girl saw me immediately afterwards and when I threw her over my lap for disciplining I only had to spank her three times before the little vixen exploded in sobs of orgasm.
In short, you show a talen
t for exerting your own will, even in the face of resistant employees. I think you would make an excellent apprentice for me, Audrey.
Should you prove open to such an altered career path here at Stern, Stern, Grimm, Spankett & Harshass, I must caution you that along with the vastly increased salary and many career perks (frequent tongue-jobs from your subordinates being not the least of them) comes a great deal of responsibility. It will require improved commitment on your part, not to mention an intense program of mentorship in which I will teach you a great deal about administering punishment to horny little sluts who think they know it all.
Audrey, I hope the choice is clear.
Please report to my office at 5:00 p.m. for further discussion of this matter.
Cordially,
Tabitha Kelly
Office Manager
THE ISLE OF THE DEAD
Thomas S. Roche
THIS IS NOT a true story: What I’m about to tell you concerns a goth high priestess named Lucrezia Borgia. Of course she’s not the Lucrezia Borgia – well, not unless you believe in reincarnation. Even then it seems unlikely. This particular Lucrezia Borgia is one hot goth bitch with a foot-long schlong, who sings a real nice dirge and fakes one hell of an orgasm on stage. She’s got kind of a weird thing going with death, but don’t worry, she’s not a necrophile or anything. Just a little unusual. Oh yeah, and speaking of death, rumour has it she blew Keith Richards once, but that must’ve been years ago.
L.B. and the Deathtones, live at the Orphanage: Lucrezia, my reflection. Six foot five, if she’s an inch. Hovering above the audience, moaning out her best Linda Blair impression, dancing with the currents of sandalwood-scented mist from the smoke machines. Cleavage deep and white with silver ankh delicately swaying from one breast to the other. Tight black rubber dress, laced up the front, strapped down in back. Tight across the crotch, not quite showing what everyone wants to see. So short that you’d almost think you could get a glimpse of her cock if she had one, which is what keeps everyone wondering. Fishnets at half-mast, mid-thigh, sans garters. High-heeled deathrock boots. Lucrezia is a Thing of Satan, and damn is she proud of it. Heaven help the poor fucker who calls her a chanteuse. The Deathtones, generally speaking, do their lead singer justice. Lizzie Borden: five foot two, stretch jeans, lace bra delicately cupping little tits, stainless steel rings forming a gauntlet around her face. Gibson SG with a Slow Death bumper sticker across the front. No visible tattoos or genitals – rumour has it she’s post-op, the old-fashioned way. Mata Hari: Birth female? Who knows? Who cares? Gorgeous like no one else in the band, traditional gothgirl–wraithboy accoutrement: thick red lipstick, whiteface, black bob. Steinberger bass turned up to maximum distortion, eliciting a rumble not unlike that of an earthquake. Sleazy Johnson: only guy in the Deathtones, which would really fuck things up if he wasn’t an FTM. That gets you a lot of mileage, even in San fucking Frisco. Tight black jeans with the outline of a thick cock visible, white T-shirt, non-Euclidean geometry tattooed cruelly up and down both arms – don’t look too close! Flattop gelled flawlessly, wrap-around Lou Reed-style shades, jetblack hormone-induced Satan-goat framing an evil seductive smile that, had it been present at Gethsemane, might have made things go a bit differently. Slamming the drums like he’s really pissed off at them, but doesn’t see the need to work up a sweat.