Ada’s new Job

Ada’s new Job

It’s summer 1936 at Clegthorpes Champion Mill in Yorkshire England

Ada’s new job

Ada had only started as Mr Clegthorpe’s secretary on Friday. Before that she worked in Shrimptons on the sweet counter mainly, and then for Allenby’s in Sebastopol road as a telephonist for a bit.

“Miss Arleigh, a word in your shell like if you please,” Mr Clegthorpe asked mid way through Tuesday morning, as Ada struggled to remember what Mr Clegthorpe asked her to type in the letters he dictated..

“Mr Clegthorpe?” she replied.

“A little bird says you were not entirely truthful when you applied for t’ job,” he said slipping back into Yorkshire dialect.

“Am I not giving satisfaction sir?” she asked hopefully

“Satisfaction, satisfaction, this letter, half of it is twaddle and the rest is bollocks,” he said waving a badly typed carbon copy at her. “Bugger me what must Keedles think if we can’t even spell their name right, It’s got a bloody K not a bloody T to start.”

“Sorry Mr Clegthorpe, it won’t happen again,” Ada apologised.

“Too bloody right it won’t, you’re bloody useless, collect the things and get out you’re fired,” he snapped.

Ada nodded sadly.

“Nowt to say for the sen?” he asked, “Can’t type to save thee life, can’t take dictation, thee’s never been to Bradford Technical College in the life let alone graduated with a certificate in secretarial services has thee?”

“No,” she admitted sadly.

“So what was thee playing at?” he asked, “Surely you didn’t expect to get away with it?”

“It were me Dad’s idea, we needs the money since our Albert were laid off when Foundry shut down, Dad’s on short time,” Ada explained.

“But you can’t do the job you daft bint, what did you think me Secretary did,” he asked, “Shorthand – Typist , that’s what advert said.”

Ada thought a moment, .“Dad said I’d do alright, he said to drop me knickers and bend over the desk if there were any trouble.”

“What so as I could smack thee ass?” he asked.

“No do me,” she said hopefully, “Dad said you only employed Celia Jarvis because of her big tits.”

“Big tits and shorthand and a hundred words a minute typing,” he said, “Bit of how’s thee father is quite pleasant but I need’s someone who can do the bloody job.”

“Sorry,” Ada said sadly.

“Anyroad, why didn’t thee follow thee Dad’s advice?” he asked.

“What?” Ada queried.

“Bend over the desk and drop thee knickers?” he asked.

“Bit late now thee’s sacked me,” Ada replied.

“I suppose,” he agreed, “Mind you if thees any good there might be a job in hospitatlty for thee.”

“You just want thee wicked way wi me,” Ada replied.

“You bloody suggested it,” Clegtorpe replied, “I never thought much of Celia’s knockers, great wobbly sweaty lumps, mind you her shorthand were spot on,” he said, “Nice firm ass and pointy little tits, now that gets me heart pumping.”

“Oh,” she replied.

”I bet thee has daydreams about an overweight balding bloke of getting on for forty wi a big fat wallet poking his dong up inside thee don’t thee?”

“Um,” she said.

“Bloody nightmares more like,” Clegthorpe laughed.

“It would be like doing me Dad,” Ada admitted.

“Exactly,” Clegthorpe admitted, “And like me screwing me daughter, she’s about your age and body.”

“Me Dad’s taller,” Ada admitted.

“You want to do it then lass?”

“No Mr Clegthorpe, I don’t.” Ada admitted.

“I’ll tell thee Dad as you wouldn’t drop thee knickers, say as you was sacked a cause of it,” Clegthorpe warned.

“You wouldn’t,” Ada came back, “Would you?”

“Obviously not if thee was to come and sit on me dick and bounce about for a bit,” Clegthorpe offered.

“Do I keep me job?” Ada asked.

“Don’t be daft but it’s worth ten bob,” Clegthorpe offered.

“I suppose,” Ada agreed.

“Drop thee knickers then and bend over desk,” Clegthorpe offered, he waved a fiver under her nose, “Don’t suppose thee has any change?”

“No,” Ada admitted.

“Knickers down then lass,” he said.

“Hadn’t tha best bolt the door?” Ada suggested.

“Oh no might miss summat urgent,” Clegthorpe warned, “Knickers!”

Ada pulled up her skirt and gripped th waist band of her old white cotton knickers.

“Bloody ‘ell is they hand me downs from thee Grand mother’s mother,” Clegthorpe asked.

“No,” Ada said, “From stockwells.”

Ada bent over the desk taking her weight on her elbows.