by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 36
The following day at work I got a call from Delmore thanking me for inviting him to my little dinner party. He also thanked me for sharing my old photos with him. What he couldn’t thank me for were the memories I had kept for myself.
I casually asked him if he’d seen Little John, hoping he wouldn’t detect that I was a bit lonely, maybe even ignored. I even hinted that much right before the dinner party, but Delmore, pretended to be deaf. So, I mentioned that it would be nice if a certain so-and-so paid more attention to a certain beautiful and popular white girl. I said: Delmore, if he’s forgotten whom I am, have him take a look at Page 6 in the NY Post today…I hung up and got back to more pressing business at hand.
It had been a long hot day in our midtown 57th St. offices and the air conditioning decided it needed a challenge; it broke down. Not only was the heat insufferable, but I was terribly hot and sticky. We were all getting delirious and each one of us, at some point during the day, wanted to pull off our skin, but we had some very prestigious buyers in town so we all had to act proper and correct, as if the temperature were not a degree over 60 and the humidity well under 40.
Like a good soldier, I pretended to be comfortable in my black trim skirt and matching jacket. A tapered white tank top hid beneath; I wore a black brassiere just to be naughty. I was strapped with little a pink string panty and garters, and I was just terribly squirming for relief. Pulling at my panty was like pulling at a stamp.
We were finishing up with one of our buyers when my mind was interrupted by that secondary layer of running thought, and it just wouldn’t leave me alone so I decided to give it some priority – – I hadn’t been spanked for nearly two weeks and my bottom was getting a bit restless. What it needed was a good hot hand to cool it off. I had called Mr. Farrelli and asked him if he’d attend to me, but he was going to Italy for ten days. My voice trailed at the end of our conversation to let him know how ripe and terribly needy the situation was, but all he had to say was: Plans are plans. There’s not a thing I can do about it… I wished that I had never let him know about my secret little business. He was beginning to take advantage of me and I was sure that he got great pleasure in denying me.
But more frustrating was that I had gone over to Little John’s twice hoping that he’d handle me, but he too was busy, and so he left his gorgeous little plaything in her fancy Chanel business suit all alone in his foyer as he went back to his ugly street whores. It was terribly humiliating. I was sure that I heard them all laughing at me. So you can imagine how lonely I felt sitting in my office having to imagine someone tugging my panties down and giving it to me hot and hard, and then telling me to put my hands to the wall with my gorgeous long legs wide apart to finish me off.
I felt so rotten with these thoughts, and it’s not that I don’t have moments of salvation, but mostly I spend my time in the grip of some awfully voracious corruption. (It’s because of these hectic modern times — at least I’m told that.)
And with that, daydreaming has become my devil. It keeps me from getting work done while I’m at the office. Yet, I needed to be spanked and there was no one around. You have no idea what it is like when it comes upon you. It beholds you and grips your spirit like a viper. So I decided to do something about it. Something improper. Something incorrect. Something shameful, if need be. Yet, something that would rid that gripping viper, if only temporarily. And unless you understand spoiled rich pretty white girls, you’ll never understand me. This is what I did….
