My name is Lucinda, and am called Lulu because Lucinda is a mouthful. I am twenty-one, and after having failed my A-levels I tried accounting, and failed the certification. I was told that I am lazy, and I can't deny it. I have a year to retake my accounting certificate. I figured that working at a small accounting firm will help me prepare for that second chance.
After a month, the two ladies who created that firm had taught me plenty. They also gave me a few books to read about early accounting, and when they realized that I hadn't read them. I said soz, and who cares about Mesopotomomo accountants. They laughed, and teased with asking when was the last time I tasted my father's belt. I blushed, and didn't tell them that I have never been spanked.
Warmer days had returned, and with short sleeves, I was quite surprised to see that they both have the same discreet tattoo on their upper left arm, a galloping horse with a simple monogram of M&A. I figured that it means their first names Maria and Anna. The second monogram was more complex. At first I couldn't figure out the intricate interlacing letters. I tried drawing it, and after a few attempts, I deciphered BTH7.
A few days later, I added two and two when a gang of tugs tried to steal their precious vintage Mustangs. I noticed that the galloping horse decorating the front grille of their convertibles are similar to their tattoos.
I had never seen girls fight as they did, and at their age they were no longer girls. They decked two, but they were outnumbered. I grabbed the first thing I could find, and charged with an umbrella. I hadn't done more than distracting the other two hoodlums, but that was enough for them to kick their asses.
Back into the office they offered me a drink, and it wasn't lemonade. I had two, or one too many, and brazenly asked about their tattoos.
"OK, we owe you one, and we'll tell you, but please keep that story for you!"
I had a finger across my lips, and listened with dancing eyebrows.
"We were much younger, and we were juvenile delinquents. We stole cars and sold them for spare parts at shady garages. One day we stole a convertible Mustang, and we hadn't spotted its tracker. We were arrested and given a choice, Juvenile Reform School or a year in jail. The judge advised that we take the reform school so that we learn a trade. We agreed, and had to choose between seamstress, hairdressing and accounting..."
For a few seconds I was speechless, but curiosity helped me recover, and I further questioned them. "What's BTH7?"
"Butt Tanning House number 7 was how we called Juvenile Reform School n° 7"
This time I remained speechless!
"Yes, they tanned our butts till we got our accounting certificates!"
"They saved us!"
"Ah!"
Tongue in cheek they added. "Its obvious that your father has never tanned your bum!"
"On her bare bottom!"
I felt quite silly, and that night sleep didn't come easy. You are indeed lazy, and you are going to be a receptionist all your life, and you will marry some dumb truck driver!
Next day, after a difficult day with the telephone ringing nonstop, and rude people always complaining, I decided. Whatever it takes I don't want that life.
After having closed the 'shop's' rolling shutters I found them, and blurted. "I need help, I don't want to be a gopher all my life."
They gave me a drink to perk me up. and promised to make a few phone calls.
Sleep didn't come any faster that night. Have you thought that you might get your bum tanned! So be it!! Berthie had her butt caned, and she's about to be an assistant bank manager, and she drives a new Mini Cooper.
Next day they had made numerous calls, and told me that I could volunteer to join their old Juvenile Reform School.
Lucinda
To be continued...
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