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The Bank of South Bumlee
by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com
When you enter the Bank of South Bumlee, you feel as if you have
stepped back in time. The building is flat on the ground, red
brick with massive white trimmed casement windows. There is a
waiting area with coffee, comfortable couches, magazines, and
a wooden treasure chest filled with trinkets to amuse children.
There is also a huge metal scale by the door near the exit, inviting
you to stand on it to get an accurate account of your weight.
Possibly, the hope is, that you will deposit your money and weigh
less as you leave, then you did upon entering.
The tellers are friendly and welcome you as you walk in, calling
many of the patrons by their first names. It feels very small
town. I had seen the bank from the outside many times, and had
decided to move a large portion of my savings there, in support
of these older more quaint establishments, plus the interest rate
was great.
I looked around for a place to sign in, hoping the wait to see
one of the managers wouldn't be too long. There was nothing to
sign, just the couches and coffee area, so I had a seat and waited.
I waited exactly three seconds, when a young woman, perhaps twenty-five,
smiled and asked me to join her. She had long brown hair, and
long fingers and long eyelashes, and I also noticed she had a
very shapely behind as she walked ahead of me and into her small
office area.
There were about five such office areas. It seemed to me, that
the areas with windows were the higher-ups, and the ones without,
were the lesser executives. This young lady obviously was working
toward a window and a raise in pay.
I took an envelope from my coat pocket and showed her the paperwork
which said my money was withdrawn from my former bank and should
have already made it's way to this one. She instantly reached
to her left and pulled out a few yellow papers, looked them over,
then scooted her chair under her desk, placed her long fingers
flat on the blotter, and frowned at me with a worried expression.
My money hadn't arrived yet, the mail must be delayed, she was
very sorry, she didn't know what to say!
During this short period of time, I had already scanned her office
area. It was impeccably neat and organized. Her paper clips, pens,
phone, printer, computer, all placed to best advantage. If something
had crossed her desk concerning my money, I had no doubt she would
have seen it.
Still, I frowned. She scooted back her chair, seemingly a bit
frightened, and managed to croak out that she would speak to her
supervisor.
I leaned back in my chair and acted impatient. It gave me something
to do.
This was when things started to get good. Her supervisor marched
in. I say marched, because that is exactly how she walked. This
woman was obviously someone with more than one window in her office.
She was round as she was tall, with short curly blond hair, and
fingertips that could have scratched you till you bled, and she
drummed her fingernails on Marie's desk as Marie once again flipped
through the small pile of yellow papers.
Oh yes, I knew her name was Marie by this point, because when
left alone I had continued to look around and had noticed a small
stack of business cards, and realized that the long fingered girl
with the luscious behind and the exceptionally organized office
was Marie, Marie Derry, assistant manager at the Bank of South
Bumlee.
I sighed and tried to look upset as the bank manager tried to
explain how the mail from one side of South Bumlee can sometimes
take weeks to reach the other side of South Bumlee. I raised an
eyebrow and mentioned that my letter had been postmarked just
one day before I received it, which was six days ago!
Marie then picked up the phone and started dialing my former bank.
I watched her nod, frown, and blush and a few moments later she
hung up the phone and explained to her supervisor that she had
made an error typing the form three weeks ago, and my money had
been sent to the wrong bank. Marie looked way more upset than
you would expect, I mean, so what if she doesn't get an office
with a window for a few more years, right?
This was when I started to realize that this bank was old fashioned
in more ways then just appearances. The supervisor with the sharp
claws snapped her fingers and Marie got up from her chair, her
hands flew to her bottom, and she glanced at me with a look that
instantly made the hair rise up on the back of my neck and something
else start to rise as well. I hadn't seen a girl look at me like
that, since my Uncle Vince had spanked my cousin Joanne for kicking
me in the groin at my tenth birthday party. Could it be that Marie
was going to get spanked?
The supervisor sat down in Marie's chair, which I now noticed
was unusual for this type of modern computerized office. It was
hard backed, with no seat cushion, and no arms. Marie started
to cry, and say she was sorry as the Supervisor pulled Marie across
her ample lap, and raised up the girl's long flowered skirt.
Yes! Marie with the luscious behind was going to get a bottom
warming, right here, right now, in front of my very eyes! I swallowed
hard and tried to look crestfallen that all this was happening
and mumbled something about how important it was to be careful
with large sums of money.
Marie started to sob and kick her legs as the Supervisor lectured
and swatted Marie on her panties. They were adorable panties,
a pale pink with a small trim of white lace at the edge. My mind
wandered to the moment Marie had chosen those panties to wear
this morning as she dressed for work, and wondered if she knew
they would be exposed for all to see at the bank today. Such intimate
details as your panties..visible....one small layer of thin protection
from....
Then I was riveted back to the moment at hand, as the Supervisor
stopped smacking and tucked her fingers into the waistband of
Marie's panties. Marie started to screech and yell, promising
to be good, promising anything if only Ms. Longcrop wouldn't spank
her on the bare!
I crossed my legs and tried to look stern, and disappointed. Ms
Longcrop lowered Marie's panties slowly, and her slightly pink
bottom came into view. It was the perfect behind, just as I had
assumed from seeing it through her skirt earlier. There were two
dimples near the top, and her bottom flared out into a well padded
rump curving out pleasingly from her small waist. The plumpness
bounced delightfully as Ms Longcrop spanked it, not too wiggly
and not too firm, but just right. Marie started saying "oof" and
"ouch" and "oooo" and by this time a crowd of patrons had come
over to the doorway to watch.
I adjusted the crease in my suit pants and folded my hands as
if this was all perfectly normal. When in South Bumslee, as the
saying goes...
By the time Ms Longcrop had finished making Marie's bottom a bright
red hue, I was near ready to sign over my entire fortune to this
bank, but then I realized, that perhaps, I should do this slowly,
one small deposit at a time. Yes, that was the plan.
Marie stood up, and carefully raised her panties, smoothed down
her skirt, then came over and stood near me. She apologized, very
sweetly, I might add, for the typo, as I stood and shook her trembling
hand. I offered her my handkerchief and she took it and dabbed
at her eyes. She promised to have my handkerchief laundered if
I would stop by next week to pick it up. Oh, this was great.
As I left the Bank of South Bumlee, after hopping on the scale
to check my weight, and then opening the door for a lady about
to walk inside, I smiled to myself. Yes indeed, there is something
to be said for the old fashioned ways.
© 2003 by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com, not to be reposted or distributed
without permission |