Teaching Nancy

Nancy sighed as she closed the car door behind her. She had been delivering dry cleaning for nearly four months now, a fairly easy job, but still dreaded her last delivery. Most of her customers were fairly wealthy, snobbish, and made a point of being quick and polite with her, if not a little brash. No customer had ever really made her feel uncomfortable; not like Gregory Burgess.
Nancy tucked her dark hair behind her ear before starting the car and glancing in the rear-view mirror. She didn’t exactly try to make herself look ugly when she made the delivery to Mr. Burgess, but she avoided makeup. It wouldn’t have really been possible anyway. She had never really felt like she was beautiful, but she knew she wasn’t ugly. Her dark hair had a hint of red in it, and came down to the small of her back. It swept decidedly across her forehead and curved around her ears. Her eyes were a startling green, surrounded by thick eyelashes that batted in a careless, bored sort of way. Away from Mr. Burgess, she tended to be a very relaxed, mellow young girl; her eyes and body language showed it. However, as soon as she pulled up in front of his expensive complex, her narrow shoulders tensed, her collarbones protruded and her throat contracted as she swallowed. She wrung her hands and looked down at her bare legs. She didn’t have to wear shorts, but it was dead in the middle of August; the hottest month of the year. She rubbed her hands over her thighs, and bit her lip. She glanced one more time in the mirror, letting go of her thick bottom lip before stepping reluctantly out of the car. She felt exposed before she had even reached his door, noticing for the first time that day the way her shorts rubbed against the soft flesh of her inner thighs and inched up with each step.
Mr. Burgess had never actually harassed her, exactly. If he had, she certainly would have reported him. The last thing Nancy was capable of was letting someone walk on her. She felt a little shallow for a moment when she wondered if she would feel different were he attractive. Mr. Burgess was an older man; she guess him to be in his late forties. He wasn’t obese, but had a big gut that hung over his trousers, and stretched out the buttons of his shirts. He had large hands and forearms, covered in dark hair. She shuddered slightly at the thought of him, as she stepped up to his door. She rearranged the dry cleaning in her arm, to knock on the door. She stood quietly for a few moments, and used her free arm to wipe the small amount of sweat collecting above her lip. She had begun to notice something that was beginning to disturb her the most about the whole situation. Although her instinct was to run away at that moment, despite her being generally repulsed by Mr. Burgess, something began to happen as it had the past few weeks standing there waiting for him to open the door. She began to feel aroused, and could feel her pussy dampening at the thought of him. Her heart leaped when his door swung open then, and he smiled at her.
“Come inside, dear. It’s hot out.” He turned and walked away, leaving the front door open.
“Well…I can’t stay. I’ll just drop these off somewhere and be on my way.”
“Isn’t this usually your last stop for the day?” Mr. Burgess called out from the kitchen, where a cabinet door was open and then shut.
“It is, but…where should I put these?”
“Oh, just a moment and I’ll take them. “ She stood nervously, and shifted the weight of the dry cleaning in her arms, before Mr. Burgess came out from behind the kitchen. He held a glass of ice water.
“Here. One for the road,” he said, handing her the glass and extending another to take the dry cleaning.
“Oh,” she said, awkwardly handing the bundle to him, and taking the glass of water. Normally, she would not have taken any beverage from a strange man, least of all Mr. Burgess. But just as the thought of him had begun to arouse her, other strange things had been happening. As the months had gone by, each time she visited him she felt more and more compliant with his offers of inviting her in, chatting, taking glasses of water and walking her out to the car. She had declined nearly all advances at first, but she found herself agreeing, nodding and passively complying with most things he suggested.
“Take a seat,” he said, at that moment before sitting down in a chair himself. Well, maybe that’s a good sign. At least he’s not asking me to sit next to him. She turned and shut the front door, before crossing the room to sit on the couch opposite him. She crossed her legs, and her foot began pedaling nervously, bobbing up and down.
“Stop that,” he said casually, giving her a smile and glancing at her foot.
“Oh. Yes, sorry. Nervous habit.”
“Of course, dear. So how was your day?”
“It was fine. And yours?” She responded before taking a sip of the ice water. It felt wonderful sliding down her throat. It really was too hot. His apartment was cool, and she felt her nipples stiffen and the flesh of her thighs rose into goose bumps.
“It was great.” He ran his eyes from her lips down to her breasts, pausing there for a moment, before continuing down her legs. She felt a moment of clarity at that moment, and she looked about her nervously, and then stood.
‘I really need to be going. This is my last stop, but I am awfully worn out. I’m ready to get home.”
“Oh, I insist you stay for just a little while longer. Just finish the water, cool off for a few minutes, and then I’ll send you on your way.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.