Story: A Simple Act of Delegation. Chapter 8.

By Jackie J

Debbie said good night to Mrs. Brown and smiled after removing her overall and putting it in her locker before pulling on her puffer jacket and heading out of the office block. Her cramped room was only a ten-minute walk but she headed for the metro like she did many evenings after her shift. Miss Jackson had never used public transport, why would she, Miss Jackson having an expensive company car to drive?

Debbie dabbed her saver card at the entrance along with the milling crowd and stood on the platform looking up the line. Propped on her heels she clutched her furry purse and waited.  

Managing to find her seat she looked across at her fellow commuters, was he here again? Debbie had no real reason to be sharing the carriage but her reasons were no less important to her than those eager to make their homeward journey. Debbie looked at the mix of travelers, old, young, some smart, some like herself and she was aware of others looking at her who looked away when she caught their eye. In her persona she was anonymous just like she had imagined before Mrs. Ross helped her, one in a crowd, nothing special just a worker on her commute. At the central station more joined the carriage than left it and Debbie was becoming aroused and stood to let an elderly lady take her seat and joined the standing crush swaying with the movement of the carriage. Debbie did nothing when the first stray hand touched her bottom, an elbow brushed against her breasts then she felt an erect penis confined within its trousers press against her thigh. Packed tight in the carriage she had nowhere to go and just stood. A tall guy pushing past to leave at the next stop smiled at her and unknowingly pressed the chap with the excited tool firmly against her. She didn’t look, she didn’t care this is why she was on the metro, she felt cheap, sullied, used, but above all ignored, she was nothing, of no value, excepting for a gratuitous grope. 

Debbie left the metro at Dalton Street and stood in the station entrance panting softly, was it wrong what she was doing what she had done? The cold air chilled her moistness and tugging her arms around her, with a grin on her face, she paraded herself down the street looking at the shop displays. This was a smart part of town and Miss Jackson would frequent the expensive wine bars and restaurants in this exclusive enclave but Debbie? Debbie was a voyeur of a life past and chuckled at the looks she got. She wasn’t a hooker but her look, her cheap skimpy clothes she was obviously low end so why else would she be in this part of town? No fancy restaurant for Debbie and she queued with others at a burger van parked off the main avenue. A hot dog in hand she strolled past high end shops not to consider the displays but to admire her reflection. 

Was Debbie distressed, fearful or regretful with all the humiliation and degradation she had willingly heaped upon herself? The loss of status, the company car and apartment, her possessions and some would say her dignity and from her often nightly displays perhaps that was true, no, far from it she still craved for more. She lived in a cramped bed sit, now worked as a cleaner in the offices where she held rank and privilege being a senior executive, her salary had been slashed to low wages but she still she craved more to slake her thirst, her lust for continued debasement to be truly worthlessness in the eyes of others for all freewill to be stripped from her.

The following day, much the same as the last, Debbie clocked on and slipped off her shabby puffer jacket before removing her nylon overall from her locker, her name posted on the locker scribbled on a piece of card that was roughly taped to it. Debbie was still waiting for her own overall and the one she had been given probably two sizes too large, the rubber clogs fitted well much like the cap.

Mrs. Brown appeared in the locker room whilst Debbie was turning back the long sleeves to free her hands.

“O’ Debbie you are still wearing one of those short skirts like the secretary’s are made to wear, Mrs. Ross’s dress code is so demeaning for those girls and you don’t need to wear one you are just a cleaner.”

Debbie giggled and twisted the hem of her tiny skirt and lisped her reply whilst buttoning up her overall.

“I like wearing these skirts Mrs. Brown.”

Mrs. Brown sighed.

“And those things in your face you can’t even speak properly with those stud things in, why you will be wearing a collar next like someone’s pet.”

 Debbie giggled and made her way to her trolley. Debbie held many skills that now lay buried along with her past life and the only skills she would be utalising for her first tasks of the morning would be to clean the six executive wash rooms, then the four staff toilets and the public area of the reception.

Having loaded her trolley Debbie shuffled to the elevator and set off for the top floor. Debbie didn’t mind if the car stooped on its way for someone to enter, which it often did, and at the third floor it came to a halt and a smirking Jill Sandiford stepped inside.

Debbie didn’t mind the superior condescending look she was given in fact it would get her day off to a good start. Jill had joined Sapphire and Ross when Miss Jackson did and like Miss Jackson had applied for many promotions unfortunately not with the same success. Whilst Miss Jackson was elevated to an executive role Jill remained at a managerial level. Jill now had the opportunity to look down on what remained of Miss Jackson, Debbie, Debbie the cleaner. 

Jill left the elevator on the fifth floor and Debbie was soon pushing her loaded trolley along the seventh corridor the first of her executive washrooms.

Other cleaners used a mop and bucket but stretching on her rubber gloves Debbie was down on her hands and knees. Mrs. Brown had given up trying to dissuade Debbie from doing this but had given up trying. The toilets, hand basins and floor tiles were always gleaming so what did she care.

Debbie truly had pride in her work leaving each toilet roll with a neat fold never a smear left on any bowl or trough. Nothing would raise the feelings she so deeply desired than staff or hopefully one of the executives coming in to use the facilities and seeing her at a dirty bowl or trough or scrubbing the tiles on her hands and reddened knees. Debbie was not disappointed on the third floor. Miss Sinclair’s new secretary entered and sneered at Miss Mop hard at work.

“Good morning DEBBIE, I hope you have made my toilet nice and fresh for me to pee in.”

Debbie looked up and spoke in her lispy voice.

“Yes, Miss I have just finished cubicle two I will clean it again when you have finished.”

Miss Jackson had refused Joanne a job when she and Jane Simpson applied to be Miss Jackson’s secretary. Miss Jackson choosing Jane so she was going relish this, little knowing that Debbie could want for nothing more.

Stepping out of cubicle two having spat in the bowl and tossed in a dirty tissue Joanne looked down on the pathetic kneeling Debbie the same woman how had, in her refined accent, told her in no uncertain terms she was unsuitable for the position that she had applied for.

“Clean? You call that clean, you stupid cow? It’s filthy! Get in here and clean it properly.”

Debbie never raised herself from her hands and knees and crawled into the cubicle picked out the tissue and wiped the bowl before crawling back out.

“Sorry Miss, it is clean for you now.”

Joanne, smirking, returned to the cubicle and shut the door. Finished she dropped a tissue on the floor when leaving.

“Pick that up girl, this place is a fucking mess I have a good mind to report you.”

Debbie sighed in perverse pleasure having been admonished by a mere secretary of the company. The very secretary she had wanted to be, the secretary to Miss Simpson. 

The catalyst for Debbie’s current existence those months ago had been fleeting at best having been transferred to the cleaning staff by Mrs. Ross whilst Miss Simpson was away on a course and, with the cleaning staff Debbie had remained. Mrs. Ross had not returned or been seen at the company since the day of Debbie’s agreed transfer and Miss Phillips, who now seemed to be running things, believed cleaning duties would suit Debbie Langtry perfectly. Jenny Phillips having no different thoughts on Debbie Langtry’s eventual fate than the currently otherwise engaged Mrs. Ross.

 Miss Phillips of course was right she knew her stuff being quite the expert regarding the subjugation and control of submissive personalities once they were out of their box and having exposed their vulnerability. Jenny Phillips and Jane Simpson, who were now as thick as thieves, which is probably a very apt description of the duplicitous pair, had monitored Miss Jackson’s self-inflicted demise and decent into the menial grubby life of Debbie. Time was approaching when their humbled and humiliated executive would be ready to take up her new position and a surprise was waiting there for her.

Debbie having finished cleaning all the toilets pushed her trolley into the main reception and started her first task of emptying the bins. Polly behind reception smirked remembering the surly Miss Jackson, head held high, diamond studs gleaming, long auburn hair flowing behind her sashaying through reception flaunting her designer clothes now swathed in a oversize cheap grubby pink nylon overall, rubber clogs, piercings to her face, stupid dangling earrings with furry balls on the end and spikes of bleached blonde hair sticking randomly from beneath her baseball cap. Polly shook her head picking up an incoming call, could that really be the same woman, what a fucking mess.

Debbie was sweeping and mopping by the revolving main door entrance when a group of well-dressed visitors arrived two handsome young men and three elegant ladies all ignoring the cleaner and making their way to the reception desk. 

“Good morning, or is it afternoon?” 

It was twelve fifteen and the collected group and Polly laughed politely.

Polly put on her smiling face and stood straight to speak in her affected voice.

“Good afternoon Madame how may I help you.”

“Janet Laidlaw and my team from Ellison and Simpkins, we are here to meet with Miss Simpson, Miss Jane Simpson, she is expecting us we have an appointment.” 

Polly rang up to Miss Simpsons’ offices and announced the arrival of her visitors.

“Take seat with your team Miss Laidlaw Miss Simpson’s secretary will be down directly to take you up to the offices.”

Debbie looked up briefly hearing the name and Janet Laidlaw looked at the cleaner staring across towards her and politely smiled before joining the others taking seats in the waiting area.

Having swept and mopped Debbie had only one job remaining to clean around the vending machines by the waiting area were Janet Laidlaw and her team were sitting. The same Janet Laidlaw that Miss Jackson had met twice, once at these offices some six months ago and the Christmas before at a cocktail party to celebrate a record year for the company. Parking her trolley Debbie approached the machines to wipe them down and tidy around. 

Debbie again accidently caught Janet Laidlaw’s eye when she turned from the machines and a questioning look fleetingly crossed Janet Laidlaw’s face before joining back in the conversation of the group.

Having finished her cleaning Debbie shuffled across reception pushing her trolley hardly able to contain herself Janet Laidlaw from Ellison and Simpkins a major account of Sapphire and Ross an account managed by Miss Jackson, Janet Laidlaw who begged Miss Jackson to help the company resolve their tax issues. Janet Laidlaw who had heaped praise on Deborah Jackson had practically blanked her.

A clear educated voice rang out across reception to Debbie like a screaming siren.

“You there with the trolley, wait.”

Debbie turned. Janet Laidlaw was less than three feet away and both starred at each other and Debbie spoke in her lispy voice.

“Yes Miss.”

Debbie was weak and moist with emotion willing this elegant ex associate to recognise her, shame her, ridicule her, scoff and mock.

“Here girl a wrapper put it in your trolley save me leaving it in the bin you have just emptied.”

Debbie’s was breathing heavier and just stared.

“Yes, Miss thank you Miss.”

Debbie took the chocolate wrapper and turned pushing her trolley perhaps a little quicker toward the janitor’s doorway and was gone leaving Janet Laidlaw staring after her before returning to her seat.

After her meeting with Miss Simpson, with her team packing things away in the meeting room and sat drinking coffee together she could not help but ask. The startled team heard a yelp of laughter from their boss then her astonished high-pitched proclamation of disbelief.

“My goodness, Jane so it was her I thought, but then I heard the girl speak and the way she looked, how she was dressed, excuse my language but fuck me, Deborah Jackson who would have thought it?”

“When I received her letter, I thought it was odd but this, well I can’t believe it Miss Deborah Jackson head of compliance now a fucking cleaner, shit. Like you say Jane I suppose just a simple act of delegation.”

Both girls laughed out loud.

Debbie never knew or got to know of Jane’s revelations to Janet Laidlaw and on subsequent visits of Janet Laidlaw the cleaner Debbie Langtry was no longer in service at Sapphire and Ross she had moved on in the next chapter of her willing subjugation. 

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