Factory Girl

Long ago...

The factory used to produce automobiles in great numbers, but when the war started that industry, along with almost everything else changed. Now the manufacturing facility made airplane parts and along with the product most of the employees changed. Gone were the able bodied men that used to work the assembly lines, and the few older men that remained were joined by women. Women that wouldn't have stood a chance at jobs in the plant before the war were now essential to the production, although the wages they made were only a fraction of what was paid in the past.

Bernadette Cole, Bernie to her few friends, was a supervisor in the plant, chosen because she was a gruff and no nonsense woman and not because of charm she did not possess. What counted was production and management made it clear that if workers didn't care for Mrs. Cole's demeanor, they were free to hit the road because despite the low pay and physical work, there was always someone else willing to take their place. Besides, there was a war going on. The poster on the outside wall by the employment office said it all, with Rosie the Riveter making a muscle while the sign implored WE CAN DO IT!

While the wiry Bernadette Cole had the muscle and chiseled features to pass for Rosie, Dorothy Olsen was nothing like that image. Meek and shy, the soon to be 20 year old looked more like she belonged in school or perhaps in a clerical position, and in fact before war broke out she was planning on going to go to college. A falling out with her mother had her out on the streets and on her own, not a good thing at any time but especially now.

"You're lucky I don't throw your slutty ass out the window instead of ushering you out the door," Dorothy's mother said as the girl packed what she could in a tattered suitcase. "Every time I think of what I saw I want to throw up." It had been a case of bad timing but Mrs. Olsen didn't care, so Dorothy left and after finding a horrible apartment in a wretched neighborhood - all she could afford given the few dollars she had saved - Dorothy went job hunting.

After days of failing Dorothy ended up at the former auto factory, and after filing out the application - padding her skimpy resume with bogus things out of desperation - Dorothy ended up in the office of the Personnel Manager, a dead ringer for Teddy Roosevelt who sat behind the desk and looked at the application in his hand like it was a warm turd.

"You have no experience in anything we do here," the miserable man growled as he shook his head, although in fact nobody had experience in anything going on in the factory after it was retrofitted. "It's physical work too. Stand up and let me get a look at you."

Dorothy did as she was stood, posing in the worn shapeless dress that hung on her gaunt frame, a feature that did not go unnoticed by the director who glanced at his watch and grunted.

"Not much to you but skin and bones," he appraised while looking the teen over. "Can't see you being able to lift things."

"I'm stronger than I look sir," Dorothy lied as she brushed her mousy brown hair away from her face, and although she was appalled by the way she was being looked at, that would pale in comparison if she ended up doing what a lot of other women were doing out of necessity.

"Go pick up that plant," he said while pointing to a heavy looking potted plant in the corner. "Put it over in the other corner."

Dorothy nodded and hurried over to the plant, trying to get a grip on the ceramic planter, and as she lifted she prayed she didn't drop it. Trying her best to make it look effortless Dorothy smiled grimly as she waddled over and put it down, and kept smiling when she was told to go put it back where it had been.

"Not bad," the director said as he motioned for her to sit back down. "I'm not sure. You realize of course that there are a lot of gals that want these jobs."

"I know sir, but I'm willing to work hard and I'll do anything to get this job," Dorothy insisted as she watched the barrel chested man in the bow tie stand up and walk past her towards the door, and the click of the door lock resonated in the office and made the girl shiver.

"A lot of girls say that," the man said as Dorothy felt his presence at her side, and then he put his hand on her bony shoulder and added, "but do you mean it?"

Dorothy was only mildly shocked when she turned to see that the man had exposed himself and was wiggling his vein riddled organ in her face. A few seconds later the man was complaining, "Haven't you ever done this before?"

If the teen was able to speak she would have said that she had done it before, many times against her will, and she didn't like it then any more than she did now. That was why unlike her mother, Dorothy didn't hold her breath for news of how her old man was doing overseas and in fact may have been hoping just the opposite.

"I must be getting soft in my old age," the Personnel Director said as he put himself away and bursa yabancı escort zipped up after coming to orgasm, "but I'll take a chance on you."

"Thank you," Dorothy mumbled as she tried to get the taste out of her mouth.

"If you can't cut the mustard, out the door you go," he cautioned. "If you can handle it, then bully for you and all the better for the country."

"Who knows? If you excel, there may be opportunities for promotion, but we'll talk about that when the time comes," he concluded, and with that Dorothy was hired, albeit with a bitter taste in her mouth for more than one reason.

***

Although Dorothy's introduction to her job at the auto production plant turned parts and munitions factory was horrible, the work itself was bearable despite the repetitive nature of the teen's tasks, but what made the days enjoyable of her was her supervisor, Miss Cole. Miss Cole was probably in her 40's or 50's. making her old enough to be Dorothy's mother, but even though she seemed skinny she was tough as nails.

There was nothing soft and cuddly about her boss, and it seemed most all the other woman on the line hated her, but Dorothy thought she was great. Sure, she could be surly and short tempered, but the teen had no problem getting along with the older woman. Maybe it was because she reminded her of her Aunt Claire, but whatever the reason Dorothy looked up to her supervisor and did everything she could to stay on her good side. Working hard, doing what you're told and keeping your mouth shut was all it took, and that was something Dorothy Olsen was good at.

***

Bernie Cole started her beat up pickup truck and winced when she saw how low the gas tank was, and because of the rationing it was going to have to last until next Tuesday. Those few gallons, along with a rear tire that lacked much resembling tread, were the only thing that kept her from being like the most of the rest of her workers, walking to and from work or depending on public transportation.

"Or like Dorothy," the butch supervisor muttered to herself when she saw her newest employee pedaling out towards the street, riding a bike that looked older than she was, and while Bernie figured it beat walking, it wasn't by much.

The kid was cute in a way, a little raggedy looking but judging by the far from accidental gropes Bernie had given her, not bad at all underneath her crummy clothes. The supervisor considered the possibilities as she neared the girl - it was Friday night and she was horny as ever - making an evening run to her local hangout a probability, but when the bike lurched and Dorothy jumped off before crashing, her mind was made up.

"Hell of a bike," Bernadette snapped through the open window as she watched the girl trying to put the chain back in place.

"It always does this ma'am," Dorothy replied. as she struggled with the chain.

"Where do you live?" her supervisor asked, and when she gave an address in a sorry neighborhood at least 4 miles away she shook her head. "Can't take you all that way."

"I know - the gas - but this is okay. I can walk it home."

"It'll be dark soon. Throw that piece of shit in the back and climb in," Bernie instructed, the suggestion more like an order, and just like they were still at work Dorothy complied.

"I'll take you to my place. I've got tools you can use - maybe feed you. It's up to you, unless you got plans."

"Plans? Me. Gosh no," Dorothy responded, and her boss proceeded to take her to a neighborhood that, while far from prosperous was much better than where Dorothy lived.

"My bike," Dorothy said when they got out of the truck and went towards a brownstone that had seen better days.

"What about it? Nobody's going to ride off on it, that's for damn sure," Bernie commented. "Somebody who steals that piece of crap would have problems way worse than yours. How the hell do you ride that thing 8 miles a day?"

"Besides," Bernie continued as she took the teen's shoulder and herded her up the stairs. "Everybody on this street knows that's my truck and knows what would happen to them if something disappeared from it. Come on in. I'm hungry and tired."

***

Dorothy said nothing as she gratefully wolfed down something akin to a stew with some sort of mystery meat involved. Since it was better than her usual dinner of white bread and Good Luck margarine the teen enjoyed it, especially since her boss had butter. Honest to goodness butter, and biting into the bread almost brought tears to Dorothy's eyes as she savored the flavor while mopping up the bottom of the bowl.

"That was so delicious," Dorothy gushed after finishing. "I'll do the dishes."

The teen brought the bowls and spoons to the sink while her host left the kitchen area and to another room, and as she washed the dishes Dorothy looked around the apartment which was sparsely furnished with a worn couch, lamp and a beautiful looking radio that bursa sınırsız escort was softly playing what sounded like Harry James. This was like life used to be for Dorothy before the war came and the old man left. Nothing lavish but in retrospect was like a palace.

Dorothy had finished washing and was drying the silverware when Miss Cole returned, and the teen was startled when she saw that her boss had taken off her work shirt, leaving her wearing a man's wife-beater with nothing underneath, and Dorothy was shocked to see how slender her boss was, although her shoulders and arms were muscular in a wiry way.

"Something wrong?" Miss Cole asked, breaking the now-blushing girl out of her trance after realizing she had been caught staring.

"Oh - uh - no ma'am," Dorothy mumbled as she nearly dropped a fork.

"Getting dark out," Miss Cole remarked as she went over to get the sheet used to cover the window, and Dorothy watched the sinewy muscles in her arms and shoulder ripple as she reached up to hook the fabric above the glass.

"I thought I heard a plane flying real low last night," Dorothy said.

"Ours or theirs?" Bernadette quipped. "You got a boyfriend?"

"Me? No," Dorothy replied. "Never had much luck with boys."

"Who the hell does?" Bernadette responded. "Girlfriend?"

"Huh?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she repeated with a hint of annoyance. "These aren't trick questions."

"Sorry. No. No girlfriend or anybody," Dorothy answered, not wanting to get involved in a conversation about her Aunt Claire, and after her hostess grunted a reply Dorothy asked where the washed stuff went.

Miss Cole opened the cabinet next to the sink and pulled out the drawer for the silverware and as the teen put the things away she hazarded a glance at her boss who was leaning back against the kitchen counter watching her, unconcerned that the white cotton tank top left little to the imagination. Miss Cole was practically flat-chested, the slight swells of her bosom and the pointy nipples poking into the fabric, and the sight made Dorothy think of her Aunt Claire who also had a slim build but was like Rita Hayworth in comparison.

"There!" Dorothy said as she hung the dish cloth on the cabinet handle.

"You're going to spend the night," Miss Cole said, and it was hard to tell whether it was a question or a command until she added, "Well?"

"Uh - sure ma'am," Dorothy finally responded.

"One thing has to go. This ma'am crap. Okay for work but we aren't at work."

"Okay. What should I..."

"Bernadette. Bernie. Anything but ma'am," her hostess said as she went over to the radio and turned up the volume, cursing when the music stopped and somebody started droning on about the news of the day, causing her to change the station until she found the Andrews Sisters. "Too tired to listen to that bullshit."

"Want to make yourself useful?" Bernadette asked as she plopped down on the sofa and without waiting for an answer said, "Rub my feet. They're killing me."

"Yes - Bernadette," Dorothy replied, catching herself before incurring her boss's wrath, and after looking around knelt at Miss Cole's feet.

She was handed a tube of some lotion, told not to use too much, and then her supervisor stretched her legs out. Dorothy undid the laces of the work shoes and eased them off, the scent of her boss's feet wafting up to meet her. The teen then peeled the white socks off, and as she did Miss Cole hiked up the legs of her baggy work pants up near her knees. Dorothy felt the older woman's eyes on her, watching for a reaction as she exposed her skinny calves which were coated with a heavy growth of black hair right down to the ankles, but Dorothy just put a little lotion in her palms and rubbed them together before massaging her boss's callused right foot.

Seeing her boss with hairy legs did not totally shock her because like everything else these days, razor blades were as scarce as nylons and after scraping her own skin with a dull blade for weeks Dorothy herself had given up shaving, although she looked nothing like Miss Cole. More likely, the teen mused to herself, Bernadette never bothered with a razor even when they were available and it was clear she was neither ashamed or apologetic of her natural appearence.

"Ah! That's it," Miss Cole sighed as she wiggled her toes, and after the teen finished rubbing in between the toes she went to the other foot and rubbed enthusiastically as she tried to please her supervisor, almost reveling in the submissive task she had been given.

After Dorothy massaged both feet up to the bony ankles where the hair began, she looked up and began rubbing a little further up. Miss Cole nodded her approval and even offered some praise.

"You've done this before," Miss Cole said as she stretched her arms up to the sky before linking her hands behind her head. "Haven't you?"

"Yes," Dorothy replied, and she was görükle escort tempted to add that this was very similar to those nights back and home when her mother was out and her father had her perform the same task.

Dorothy's father had looked eerily like her boss in some ways, especially with the wife beater shirt and armpits nearly as bushy as his had been, and the flatness of Miss Cole's chest added to the irony as Bernadette looked down at her submissive employee.

"Here. Help me off with these," she said as she arched her butt off the couch and undid her pants, and Dorothy dutifully pull them down off the skinny limbs while glancing at the full cut panties which were unable to contain the older woman's pubic hair.

Dorothy felt the sweat bead up on her forehead as she rubbed Miss Cole's legs up to her bony knees, the long semi-coarse hairs fluttering between her fingers as she rubbed upwards. The scent - an odd mixture of Bernadette's feet and sex - made the younger woman shiver but in a strange way, as if she was stroking a wild untamed animal instead of a woman. Dorothy lingered for a long time on her legs and would have continued if her boss didn't interrupt her

'Stand up," she was instructed, and after Dorothy got to her feet was told to take her clothes off. "Let me get a look at you. These uniforms hide a lot, don't you think?"

"Not ashamed of yourself, are you?" the teen was asked when she was slow to react.

"No," Dorothy answered. "Kind of modest."

"Not with me," Miss Cole declared, and after Dorothy shed her work shirt her boss continued. "Your interview with Andrews? Did he make you strip?"

"Strip? No," Dorothy answered.

"He didn't fuck you?" Miss Cole said bluntly.

"Mr. Andrews? Omigod no,"

"You didn't get the job for nothing," Bernadette concluded. "You suck his cock?"

"Thought so," Miss Cole said when Dorothy said nothing, slumping her shoulders before lowering her work pants.

"Didn't want to," she finally mumbled.

"That bra - it's a disaster. What is it, your old lady's hand-me-down?" she was asked, and after Dorothy nodded Miss Cole replied. "Figured. Too bad because you've got a big pair on you and that contraption ain't flattering. Take it off."

Dorothy took a deep breath before reaching back and unhooking the bra, and after shrugging it off her shoulders tossed it aside and put her arms across her chest, a move that was rejected by her host.

"Damn. You must be a C cup, maybe even a D," Miss Cole opined, smirking when she saw the teen's nipples pop out under the scrutiny. "Those panties are falling apart."

Dorothy carefully took the undies down, careful not to make the rip along the elastic waistband worse, and then she was naked, standing there like a piece of meat while Miss Cole examined her protege with eyes that showed a lot more emotion that the rest of her face did. Then she got up and motioned for Dorothy to follow her to the bathroom, and after they got there Miss Cole went into the medicine cabinet and pulled out a toothbrush still in its wrapper.

"You know what this is, right?" she asked her underling when the teen looked confused.

"Yeah. Of course. Mine is so worn down that.."

"Well this is your lucky day," Miss Cole said as she handed her the toothbrush, and after nodding towards the mouthwash and toothpaste on the sink she said, "Brush and then use the Listerine, and then brush again while I try not to think about Andrews putting his cock in your mouth."

Miss Cole then left, and after she was gone Dorothy looked at herself in the mirror, a shaken version of her usual self. It was clear she was expected to go to bed with her boss, and while she knew she could simply walk out of the place, that would likely mean losing her job but that wasn't what kept her there vigorously brushing and rinsing until her gums were sore.

Dorothy wanted to be there, just as much as she had wanted to be with Aunt Claire, and the fact that Miss Cole was far less feminine that her aunt was didn't faze the teen at all. Truth be told she reveled in seeing Bernadette nearly naked and as she gargled she felt her pussy get moist with anticipation.

***

"Good girl," Miss Cole declared as she grabbed Dorothy as soon as she entered the bedroom, her hand clutching a fistful of her hair as she leaned the teen into the wall and kissed her violently, her tongue dueling hers while grinding into the buxom girl.

Stepping back from the out of breath girl, Bernadette's hands went to Dorothy's breasts and kneaded them roughly before taking the taut nipples and twisting them lightly while savoring the girl's reaction.

"Something tells me you liked my tongue in your mouth more than the cock of that son of a bitch Andrews," Bernadette opined as she twisted the plump nipples a little harder before letting them go, turning towards the bed and yanking the blanket down, revealing ghostly white sheets over a mattress that didn't look as lumpy as the one Dorothy slept on.

Without speaking Miss Cole lowered her panties and stepped out of them, running her hand through a dense black jungle, and Dorothy noticed that even though her supervisor had so much hair down there she could still faintly see what seemed to be very plump labia in the thicket.