ETHEL S DISCOMFORT 4
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Ethel 1921 free porn video
Ethel's Pa was telling a story. "A man comes into the garage wanting a new horn for his Dodge. The old bulb was torn. Well, we have horns; but they don't fit his brackets..."
"What did he want with a horn?" Ma asked. "Dodge cars don't need them. They have 'Dodge, Brothers' written clearly on the front."
"Oh, Nellie," Pa said, but -- at least -- he dropped the story. Ethel couldn't decide which was worse, Ma's jokes or Pa's stories. Pa was fascinated by anything mechanical, which was fine when something went wrong with your typewriter. Unfortunately, he thought his family shared the fascination. Ethel didn't.
She returned to work after dinner. Mr. Warren, the lawyer for whom she worked, ate lunch at noon and dinner in the evening. The Grangers ate dinner at noon. And Mr. Warren was older than Pa. He'd been born in the nineteenth century, but -- unlike her parents -- he'd was aware that he was living in 1921 now. She took the long way home from work to pass by the railroad depot. They sold the New York Times there, and Ethel would see if anyone was advertising for an office worker. She wanted to work in the city.
Some of the advertisements only had telephone numbers. She wrote to several which gave addresses, and two responded. "I'll write you a recommendation," said Mr. Warren, "but I'm disappointed. I'd hoped to keep you as an employee."
Ma's disapproval when Ethel told her that she was going into the city for interviews was much stronger. "All that way? You have a job here."
"Ma, I want to work in the city." She wanted to live in the city, too.
"But it's so far from home," Ma said. Ethel thought that was the greatest advantage. "Rochester is a city."
"Rochester," said Paulie, "is a one-horse burg." He looked jealous that she was escaping, but he wasn't standing in her way.
"You wouldn't say that if you'd ever shoveled out stalls in the borse-car barns," Pa said. Even Rochester had outgrown horse cars. Ethel was glad that none of her friends had heard that joke. Horse droppings weren't funny, and only farmers (and Pa) thought they were.
Ethel had been saving money, and she bought her ticket to Manhattan whatever Ma thought. She stayed at the YWCA residence, and bought another paper. She could try for other interviews while she was in the city. It was a good thing she'd made that plan. Neither place where she'd scheduled an interview looked like they would take her.
Empire Insurance Agency, on the other hand, had two openings for women who could type and file. "Our business is expanding," Mr. Lucas told her, "and Miss Davis isn't the first girl to quit to get married."
Ethel was surprised when he offered her the job. Most of the women she'd be working with looked prettier and more smartly dressed.
Rose, the friendliest of her new fellow workers, helped her find a room in a rooming house. Rose told her a little that Mr. Lucas hadn't. Mary Davis had left to get married, but two other girls had left since then. "You are more than pretty enough," Rose said when she expressed her anxieties. "Being more smartly dressed than women are in Rochester isn't all that hard. I'll show you around the department stores after you get your second pay."
She went back home the first weekend. Empire Insurance, like many businesses in Manhattan, only worked a half day on Saturday. She returned with a trunk containing all the clothes she felt she could wear in Manhattan. The weather turned hotter, and she and Ruth -- who lived across the hall -- agreed to keep their doors open while they were inside for cross-ventilation. The work was demanding for the first two weeks, and then became deadly dull. The salesmen were fresh by Rochester standards, but she learned to laugh with them. After a few barbed comments from her, they began to treat her with a little respect. The pay was by check, rather than in cash. She signed it over to Mrs. O'Malley, the rooming house owner. It more than paid her rent, and Mrs. O'Malley gave her the rest back in cash.
Her rooming house didn't permit men on the premises, which she made a point of telling her mother. Henry Schwartz, who had always treated her more respectfully than the other salesmen had, asked her out to dinner one evening. She felt quite the sophisticate eating "dinner" an hour after her family ate "supper." Henry was polite and entertaining during dinner and while walking her back.
"Mrs. O'Malley doesn't allow men inside," she said when they got to the rooming house door.
"I know," said Henry. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her. She was a modern girl; she'd been kissed before. But not on a first date.
She mentioned that to Rose the next day when they were where they couldn't be overheard.
"Well, if a man buys you dinner, he's entitled to a good-night kiss."
"Not in Rochester," Ethel said decisively. Then she reconsidered. Boys didn't buy girls dinner in Rochester -- not until they were serious about each other. Most relationships were ready for a little discreet kissing before the boy bought the girl an ice cream.
But Rose wasn't listening for her second thoughts. "This isn't Rochester."
And, Ethel realized, she wasn't a girl any more. In New York, she was a woman. Rose could tell her how a woman behaved in New York.
When she got her second paycheck, she took it around to a bank to establish an account. The next day, Mr. Lucas asked her out to dinner. He drove her to the restaurant from work in his REO. The restaurant was nicer than the one Henry had taken her to, and the waiter greeted Mr. Lucas by name.
After he had ordered for them both, Mr. Lucas asked her, "Is the work what you expected?"
"I don't know that I was expecting anything. The people in the office are pleasant. My last job, my first out of high school, was working for an attorney in solo practice."
"Enjoying the difference?"
"Enjoying being in New York. I will say that I did more typing for Mr. Warren, and less filing."
"Well, insurance sales involves a huge amount of filing. You realize that the company keeps as many records as we do. So do the customers, if they are sensible -- not that most of them are. Anyway, I don't have much typing to do which doesn't involve taking dictation."
"I know Gregg. I took it in school."
"Maybe I'll test you out. Enjoying the work otherwise?"
"The work is fine. I'm really enjoying being in New York."
"There is nowhere else to be. What do you think of the meal?"
"It's delicious." And, if not up to her ma's best, it was.
"Too bad we can't have some wine with it, but this place won't serve it."
"This place? Isn't it illegal?"
"All sorts of things are illegal."
They talked of many things until their food was finished. He drove her home and stopped on the street. When he got out of the auto to help her down from her side, she knew that a New York girl accepted a kiss from the man who had bought her dinner. He held her head while he kissed her, and then he helped her up the stoop to the outside door.
She took a stenography pad to work on Monday, just in case. Mr. Lucas called her in to take a letter. When she had typed it up, he marked all over the letter to show her how to do it over. He marked the second draft much less and actually signed the third one.
"Oh, Rose," she whimpered, "I so wanted to be a typist. Now, he'll never dictate a letter to me again."
"Nonsense," she replied. "He wants his correspondence to look a certain way, and he's showing you how to do that. He wouldn't take the time if he didn't expect to dictate more letters to you."
Those words were consolation; Rose's help shopping that night was more consolation. She came to work Tuesday looking more like a New Yorker and less like a hick.
Sure enough, Mr. Lucas dictated another letter. She took extra care with it, and shook nervously while she handed it back to him. He glanced at it perfunctorily before signing it. "Don't put it in the envelope yet," he instructed. "Leave plenty of time for the ink to dry."
She did as she was told, stopping on her way to lunch to mail the letter in the lobby. Wednesday, he dictated a large number of letters in the afternoon. She brought most of them to him for signing a half hour before quitting time. "Did you finish them all?" he asked when she knocked on the door of his private office.
"No sir. But I thought you would like to sign these now. I'll have the rest ready for you in the morning."
After finishing the letters Thursday morning, she went back to filing. He didn't seem to have more dictation for her until late afternoon on Friday. "This is a personal letter," he said when she'd brought her notebook in answer to his summons. "Close the door."
She did, and went to sit on the chair at the side of his desk. "I don't think I can get this done tonight," she said.
"That's a shame, because I need an answer tonight." Did he intend to send a wire? It was too late to have the letter even delivered tonight. She poised her pencil over the pad, however, and waited for his dictation.
"Miss Ethel Granger," he began. Her pencil was taking the notes without any participation from her mind. "Empire Insurance Agency. Would you do me the honor of joining me for a late lunch tomorrow, Saturday August twelfth. Very sincerely yours, Joseph Lucas. Now, do you think we might receive a reply?"
"Yessir."
"And what would the reply be?"
"I'd be honored."
She wore what she thought was the best of her new outfits to the office the next day. Mr. Lucas drove them across a bridge to Long Island and out into the country. They ate in the dining room of an inn. Ethel felt terribly daring sipping the wine Mr. Lucas ordered. Not only was it illegal, but her parents were Methodist. She'd never seen anyone take a drink in her house growing up.
They talked briefly about the office. "You've enjoyed the typing, then?"
"Yes, Mr. Lucas. I hope that I've dealt with the letters to your satisfaction."
"'Joseph, ' please. You do a great job."
Soon, though the conversation turned to his private life. Ethel didn't think she should hear about this, but it wasn't her place to stop Mr. Lucas. Apparently, he was unhappy in his marriage. His wife -- "Could you believe that we had a romance once? We were young and gay and in love, and we expressed our love for each other" -- seemed to be only interested in the children and the house these days. "And in spending money. Oh, she can be contemptuous about the agency with which I make that money; but spending it -- that part interests her."
Kaidence
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