THE BOSS'S SLUT - PART I: THE BEGINNING
CHAPTER 1: THE PROPOSITION
It happened the way it always happened. My smartphone made a discrete ‘beep’. I turned away from the computer monitor on my desk, woke my phone up, and checked the text ID. Sir. It could have been much more. It could have been Mr. Charles Woodburn, CEO & Chairman of the Board. That’s who Sir was.
I opened the text to find the message I often received from him. ‘I need you in my office.’ I smiled as I stood immediately and retrieved my jacket. It didn’t matter what I might have been working on, important or mundane, it was all the same in comparison to that expression of need. The message wasn’t a request; it wasn’t a demand or suggestion. The message was merely a statement, a statement that didn’t required any consideration or evaluation or prioritization on my part. The statement was simplicity. He needs me. I need to know nothing more. I am slipping my arms into my jacket sleeves and reach for my tablet in case I might need it.
My high heels click and clack on the hard floor as I exit my office on the 10th floor past my secretary and others in their cubicles on my way to the elevator for the 11th floor, the senior executive level. The nameplate on my heavy wood office door says, Tina James, Executive Accounts Director. I am that. I manage the accounts that Mr. Woodburn personally oversees for special clients of our financial institution. But, I am also much more. I swipe my badge along the side of the floor buttons to allow me access to the 11th floor. The 11th floor is very restricted. Normal, everyday business transactions and decisions don’t frequent there. Only the most important and critical issues, decisions, and strategic clients reach into those offices.
As the elevator begins its slow ascent from 10 to 11, I catch my reflection in the high gloss door. The familiar tingle increases as I consider the potential of his need. Sometimes it is professional, some potential client or a pitch to an existing one. Sometimes, though, the need is personal. Those are my favorite.
Stepping out of the elevator I swipe my badge at the double doors immediately ahead of me in a wall of glass separating the 11th-floor occupants from the activities below. That was the singular impression I once had, too. Now, as I step inside I am again struck by the weight and power that emanates from these offices. This floor contains the Board Room, separate offices for the six board members when they are in the building, offices for the COO and CFO. The personal assistants for each are station outside their offices, which are separated down the hallway due to the size of each office along the left. On the right is a smaller conference room, a telecommunications room, and the formal Board Room. I am intent on the furthest office down the hall and the largest, Mr. Woodburn’s.
I knocked on the door and wait quietly. I glance at Trudy, his personal and very discrete assistant. She gives me a knowing smile and I return it. I stand on both feet with equal pressure. My back is straight and shoulders pulled back, which has the effect of pronouncing my breasts in front of me. My business suite today is black and consists of a jacket over a semi-sheer buttoned, white blouse. My skirt flirts with propriety for my position in the financial industry. It ends just below mid-thigh, which might be considered several inches too short for anyone else.
Mr. Woodburn’s voice is clear and direct. I grip the handle as I smile again at Trudy and push the heavy door into the room. I walk into his office, the door closing automatically behind me. Mr. Woodburn, even in the quiet and subdued nature of the 11th floor always has his door closed. I walk directly to the front of his desk between the two visitor chairs. He pushes himself back against his chair, his elbows on the arms of the executive chair, his fingers steepled at his lips, and his gaze not leaving me. His jacket is off and hanging in a closet along the inside wall.
Without a word from either of us, I remove my jacket, fold it and lay it over the back of one chair. My fingers then move to unbutton each cuff of my blouse, then work the buttons from top to bottom on the front. My eyes are in contact with his. I pull the blouse from my skirt, unbutton the final button and slide it off my shoulders and arms. I place it over my jacket. My hands move to the back of my waist, unclasp and zip, then wiggle out of the tight-fitting garment, which is also placed over the same chair. For a moment or so, I stand perfectly still, my hands comfortably at my sides. I am naked except for the thigh-high stockings and 4-½ inch heels.
He is watching me intently, longer perhaps than normal, but I wait with patience. He nods, almost imperceptibly, which is the reason for my close attention to his face and eyes. With that nod, I move to the side and sit in the other chair. I cross my legs comfortably as though I were some other female employee or visitor fully clothed in his office. I wait for him to declare his need.
“Do you know what today is, Tina?”
“Today, Sir?” I puzzle over that. Was there something significant about today that I neglected to remember. I doubted that. I am meticulous about the details with Mr. Woodburn. I slowly shook my head, my long, blonde hair moving across my right shoulder, which I move back behind my shoulder. I am sitting with a straight back, again with my shoulders slightly pulled back to enhance my breasts, no part of my back against the back of the chair. There may come a time when he desires me to slouch in the chair, but he will indicate that. “No, Sir, I’m sorry. I assume you don’t mean ‘Tuesday’ or ‘the 6th’.”
He chuckled, “No, dear. Should I take it as a positive thing or a negative that you don’t remember that one year ago today you started your new position for me?”
I smiled in return. I hadn’t registered that. “Very positive, Sir. I have enjoyed serving you in every way. I was simply unaware so much time had already passed.”
He smiled his knowing, always confident smile. “Perhaps this might be a good moment to recall our agreement, my dear.”
I continued to watch carefully his eyes, face, and hands for any slight indication of for me to react to. “Yes, Sir, if you wish.”
There it was. The first two fingers of his right hand separating into a ‘V’. Time for the slouch. I leaned back in the chair and raised my knees over the arms of the chair, fully exposing my smooth, hairless, leaking pussy to his view. He gazed at my pussy for several moments, his eyes moving and holding at my breasts and nipples before finally rising to my face.
“We agreed that you could stop this at any time you wished without hard feelings. I would make sure there was a job inside the company if you desired to stay with us. It would be the same as it was for Trudy a little over a year ago.” I smiled. Yes, Trudy may have stopped being his mistress, but she never REALLY stopped.
I flexed my Kegel muscles to make my pussy wink at him. He caught the movement and smiled. “Sir, I can’t imagine why I would desire to leave this position with you. You have provided me with a position that is the fulfillment of who I am. Before I accepted this position and your patient training, I was an empty shell. You have filled me with the understanding of what and who I am.” My eyes glanced down for a split second. “Sir … I hope you are not leading up to indicating your displeasure with me …”
He laughed. It was not a soft chuckle, but a boisterous laugh. “Silly, slut! Displeased with you? It is a good response, however, a true slut’s response wouldn’t you say?”
I recited the mantra of my training, “Sir, a true slut never assumes anything, but only seeks to improve her devotion and skills constantly, never expecting to completely attain her master’s full pleasure.” He smiled.
A full year since that day. I couldn’t believe it. It seemed like only moments ago that I was sitting in this same chair about to change my life.
* * * * *
I sat at my desk on the 2nd floor of the building minding the business someone put in front of me. I was a lowly account specialist handling the mundane accounts that are a dime a dozen to an institution like ours but the livelihood of the people who bring them to us. I had been with the firm for five years and the only reason I could see why I hadn’t risen any further in the organization was that I wasn’t cutthroat and scheming like most the other account managers, which appeared to be the way to get noticed. I was invisible in the organization. Necessary. Needed, even. But, invisible.
Imagine my shock, then, when my monitor chimed that I was scheduled for a meeting with Mr. Woodburn, the CEO, in 15 minutes. Imagine the worst-case scenarios that raced through my mind because there couldn’t possibly be a good case scenario. I didn’t really believe even my manager’s manager knew who I was. Why Mr. Woodburn?
“Tina James?” I looked up to the voice standing at the opening to my cubicle. “I’m Trudy Michaels, Mr. Woodburn’s Personal Assistant. You are aware of your scheduled meeting with Mr. Woodburn?”
I numbly nodded my head and gazed at her like a deer in the headlight we would see on the quiet country road back home. She was maybe not quite 30 years old, about a year younger than me. She was trim and maybe a couple inches taller making her 5’ 7”. She wore her brown hair to her shoulders. She had a very pleasant face.
“What … is there some mistake? There must be some mistake. Why would Mr. Woodburn want to see me?”
She smiled warmly, which was a little reassuring. “There is no mistake, Miss James. I made the schedule myself at his direction.” I just looked at her. “Miss James, I need to escort you upstairs. The 11th floor is restricted to limited access.”
I shook my head and leaped from my chair. “Of course, sorry.”
At the elevator, I noticed she used a different badge to punch the 11 button, then using it again to enter the office area. She indicated a chair by her desk. “It may or may not be a few minutes. I assure you he is aware of the time and your meeting with him. He will let me know when he is available.” She said it in such a way that it didn’t allow any room for discussion, but her soft smile was again reassuring.
Her phone buzzed. She listened a moment, set the phone back down, and stood up. “Mr. Woodburn is ready for you now.”
She showed me into the office, which was huge, lots of wood, plush carpeting, a small conference table, and sitting area to the side by the windows overlooking the city.
“Miss James.” He was already moving from behind his desk to meet me. I heard the door close behind me. He was in his early 50’s and maybe an inch over six feet tall. He had a toned, athletic appearance, which was reinforced by the easy way he moved across the office. He was quite attractive, more so in person than the impression I had from his picture on the website. His hair was brown with graying at the temples. It was a little longer than you normally see on executives of his stature.
He directed me to one of the two chairs in front of his desk and he returned behind it.
“I think there might be some mistake. Perhaps there is another James in the company?”
He opened a folder in front of him. I couldn’t see what it contained, but there were several pages. He perused the first two pages.
“Well, let’s see here … Tina Marie James, Accounts Specialist on the 2nd floor under Mary Robertson. You are age 30, 5’5” tall, 120 pounds,” he looked up with a smile, “sorry my dear for the personal information. I have been told how sensitive women can be about their weight.” He chuckled and I laughed with him. He continued, “Long, wavy, blond hair extending down the back.” He nodded. “Okay, the oldest child of three to Harold and Agnes James who are farmers near Lamont, Iowa.” He looked up, “Lamont, Iowa?”
“The northeast corner of the state near the Minnesota border. It’s all of about 500 people in the town. It just serves the surrounding farms.” He nodded. He didn’t really seem that interested and I flushed at the recognition that I gave him so much information about something that meant nothing to him.
* * * * *
He looked at her sitting comfortably in front of him. Yes, he could reread the information and the reports another dozen times, but the woman in front of him was the rough shell of what he could bring out from within her, like a butterfly from the hard chrysalis. He read the details about her family and debated again if it would be helpful or harmful to bring them out. It was possible there was information from his investigator on these pages that even she hadn’t opened her eyes to. This whole attempt could turn well or bad in the next few moments. Several women had appeared through his screening process, most of them younger, but none had shown this kind of potential. Not since Trudy had he found a woman of such potential and Trudy had not been anything as alluring as this woman. The personal nature of the information could offend her as privacy-invasion or reinforce suspicions that had haunted her.
Nothing had changed. His only course of action, if she was to be the one, was to plow forward to show her what she was. He always recognized the risk of using personal information. Whether to find her or understanding a large, potential client, knowing as much as possible had its rewards, how it was used could pose risk.
* * * * *
He had been studying the sheets in front of him and was now studying me. I wondered what it was he was considering. He already provided enough details to convince me I had to be the Tina James he wanted to talk to.
He was reading a report, “Raised in a strict, quite conservative farm home and devoutly aligned with a small very conservative Protestant group, which wielded considerable influence and control over the couple dozen family groups in the area. The mother was very subservient to the father.” He looked over the pages at me. He seemed to be gaging more than my confirmation of this information about myself. I was shocked at how much he knew about a low-level employee like me from a nothing town and background.
“How … why do you know so much?”
He smiled disarmingly, “My dear, I make it my duty to know what I need to know about people I may be dealing with.” He again was reviewing information while he was clearly considering both the information and what it meant. Then he sat back. “Are you happy here, Miss James?” The question was such a surprise. It came out of nowhere and seemed incongruent from the talk leading up to it. I stammered. It was the kind of question I might expect during a perfunctory performance review with my direct manager, a question asked of all employees, though the answer would be ignored. My eyes flitted around the room and his desk while I searched for some way to safely answer the question. “The reason I ask is you have been here for five years and you haven’t yet advanced much. Yet, when I look at your work quality and comments from clients you’ve served, your performance has been stellar. Clients seem to love you. Not a single negative comment. Usually, we accept some percentage of negative comments regarding Accounts people pushing products the client didn’t want. You, on the other hand, have a good record of adding products but you avoid the negative impression. Yet, you haven’t been promoted.”
“I …” I had the distinct feeling he already had an impression of why. If my performance was so good, could my attitude with male co-workers still get me disciplined or fired?
“I understand you are divorced. That’s personal and I am sorry for your experiencing that. It has some relevance, however, I think. But, there appears to be a carry-over to relationships with male co-workers and males in social settings.” How could he know that! Okay, the male co-workers might have risen to someone’s attention, especially if the petty pricks weaseled a whiny complaint. But … my dating life?
“I am going to be completely honest with you, Miss James. I am constantly searching for uniquely qualified people I feel I can work with very closely. I have a position in mind that will report directly to me and to nobody else. Perhaps you can imagine that I have the opportunity, responsibility really, to bring in very large and lucrative accounts to the company. These accounts are very important to the company, but also to me as how they are handled reflects directly on me with the men coming to me. The person I am looking for would manage those accounts personally, exclusively, for me. Can you understand, now, why I need to know in depth the person I would have in such a position?”
I was about to respond when his phone beeped. What I hadn’t noticed was his other hand pressing a button on his smartphone placed alongside the open folder.
“Excuse me.” He listened for a moment, then covered the mouthpiece, “I really need to take this.” He winked conspiratorially, “One of those accounts.”
The door behind me opened and Trudy indicated for me to join her outside the office. My god! I walked out of the office in a daze. He was talking to me about a promotion. God, it had to be a huge promotion to handle his accounts.
“How’s it going in there? You understand why he wanted to talk to you privately?”
I shook my head in disbelief. I sank into the chair in front of her desk without knowing I was doing it. “Partially, I think. We were interrupted by the call. I thought I had to be in trouble.”
She chuckled. “If you were in trouble, it would have been handled down on the 2nd floor.” I looked up at her, still not believing what I had just heard inside the office. “Mr. Woodburn always knows what he is doing. He is meticulous about knowing everything he can about every situation he intends to be involved in. That includes who he is working with.”
I looked at her hard, seeing a possible ally for the moments that might follow after he finishes his call. “You’ve worked with him for a while?”
She smiled. It was an unusual moment that she quickly controlled. “Yes, very closely.” She leaned forward and I found myself doing the same. She glanced down the row of executive offices and assistants outside them as if she didn’t want to be overhead despite the separation between offices. “You aren’t used to these kind of men, are you?” It wasn’t a demeaning comment, but an observation on her part. I shook my head. A small-town country girl in the big city and high-powered company, I was way over my head on the 11th floor much less the idea of working for him closely.
“Would you like a few hints that might help you with him?” I nodded eagerly and glanced at the door as if it might open any minute. “He is a man who understands the very nature of power and he knows how to wield it. He will be in control of every situation he finds himself in. Despite what someone else might feel about being in control, he won’t put himself in a situation where he doesn’t know something or have something that will give him the edge; then it is up to him to manage that edge. Whether it is him personally or someone he is entrusting to manage it for him.”
She looked intently at me to let that sink in. I would be that person he was entrusting. But, I don’t have that kind of power. It is the very reason I haven’t had a promotion. I don’t have that element inside me to leverage office politics to my favor. That deficiency within me is what I have been fighting within myself and my relationships. My father, my husband, my male co-workers, and most of the males I meet socially. My life experience with men is controlling men who exude strength in a way that stifles my singular existence, experience, and joy. I was fighting that with every fiber of my being, but it was getting me nowhere. Now, here is another very strong male. Maybe the ‘big city’ I belonged in was Dubuque, with a total population of 58,000.
She saw the worry and disappoint growing across my face and posture. “What are you thinking?”
I looked at her, “A small state country girl lost in the big world …” I sighed, “I’ve been fighting strong, controlling men my whole life. I don’t know that I can handle someone like Mr. Woodburn.”
She laughed and leaned back in her chair. “Believe me when I say this, he probably knows you better than you know yourself. He doesn’t make mistakes about people that will matter if he puts them in orbit around him. There is no question about it, Tina. He is a large mass that holds everything else within his gravitational effect. But, for those he deliberately places closely in orbit around him, that strength and control are different.” I looked at her quizzically. The very idea was foreign to me. “The controlling men you are fighting are those that stifle your life and intend to bend you to their will, to shape you into something they imagine.” I nodded. “What they see in you is compliance and they want to take advantage of it.” Yeah, my mother. “What he sees is potential. He uses his strength and controlling nature not to stifle, but to bring the full potential of you out. I can speak from experience with him. People think that to grow and thrive they need complete freedom and release from reins held by others. He will hold the reins, but loosely in his hands like a skilled rider on a horse needing training. He’ll allow freedom but is always ready to make corrections with the reins. Sometimes, more reinforcement might be required with repetition and training on specific elements that leads to understanding. The end result, though, is a release of full potential.”
I was shaking my head, again. “But why? There must be a couple dozen other accounts people out there who have exhibited more political ability to play the game.”
She laughed. “Very true and he knows it. But that is just the thing, he doesn’t want people next to him who play games and act specifically for a political gain. He wants to completely depend on and trust those closest to him. I know. He pulled me out of the secretarial pool.”
“So, you’re saying what he started talking to me about is something very real and he has already decided he wants me for it?”
“He doesn’t do anything without being sure.” She could see me carefully considering all that. “But …”, which got my attention, “there is always a price. He is very supportive and will reward devoted service, but he will expect a lot in return. I mean a lot.”
Her phone beeped and she checked the message. She stood up and I did as well.
* * * * *
“Sorry for that, Miss James. That’s what we are here for, though.” He moved a notepad to the side and reopened the folder. “Now … where were we?”
“You were describing a position you have in mind and the need to have the utmost trust and commitment from the person in that position.”
“Yes. Trust. Commitment. And, devotion.” He looked at me hard, glanced at the sheets in the folder and seemed to make a final decision on something. I realized I was holding my breath. From the comments from Trudy, it seemed this might be my job if this meeting resulted in the confirmation of his previous analysis.
When he started talking, I was shocked at the depth of personal information and knowledge he had and sought confirmation about. He probed into the nature of the relationship of my father and mother. He probed into the religious influence in my upbringing and how that affected me today. He probed into my failed marriage, what I thought the cause was and how the experience affected me now. He probed into my current relationships with men, both at work and socially. I was at first put off by his probing into my life, but I remembered what Trudy had said about his style and need for complete trust. I decided to go along with his probing to see where it took us.
My feelings about the process began changing as he questioned and I answered or clarified. I could feel a process behind his approach. This wasn’t merely showing me how much he already knew and intimidation. He was after something. I could decide later, after all this, if pursuing this position was what I really wanted. I was sure I was going to learn more about his style on top of what Trudy had already given me.
The shock went deeper when he asked me deeper, more personal questions about my parents. I admitted I knew nothing about how they met or their romance leading them to marriage. He showed me a report, a birth certificate, and a wedding license. My mother had become pregnant with me by my father. She was wild and “easy” as the term was used then. Both families made sure the two got married. The tight, controlling, and conservative religious element of our lives was punishing and controlling of my mother and me. I had heard of the expression ‘the sins of the father’ but this was ‘sins of the mother’. It was expected that without rigid, tight interventions I would follow the same path as my mother.
Some of this my mother had apologized for when I was getting ready to leave home. Some were still new to me. It helped explain, though, the choices I had made in my life, the kinds of men I was programmed to seek out and attach myself to. My husband had been of the same ilk as my father. It was ironic that the man who was looked to for “straightening out” my mother and controlling me was the same man who was equally responsible for the problem.
It also provided some satisfaction and relief in the final realization that I wasn’t perverted in my desires. I had kept them private, even though they came out easily. My husband found my desires and needs sexually to be a perversion of our upbringing and the nature of the holy nature of marriage blessed by God. I saw it as a bodily need to be fulfilled, but I was fighting my entire life to overcome it. The men who I interacted with weren’t worthy of me. I had wondered, struggled with those intense feelings. Men at work were manipulative and always playing games, always with motivations they resisted divulging. Men in social situations were similarly manipulative but it was easier to identify what they were. Their needs were basic. Any who had interest in a prolonged relationship found my reserved and compliant nature to be an opening to control. That control, though, was stifling, restrictive, and limiting like my experiences with my father, brothers, and husband.
The more the discussion with Mr. Woodburn progress, the more I saw the difference in the man from the others. This was a man of real power and control. In him, though, I felt the ability to be guided and directed in ways that would be freeing and empowering. She saw what Trudy had shared with her. Mr. Woodburn’s strength and control could release a person’s potential.
He was smiling at me from behind his desk. It was as though he could read the monitor of my mind as all those thoughts and realizations passed through me. He could see my understanding and acceptance. Our eyes locked. How could I not trust and follow someone who went to such lengths and effort to know and understand who I was? He seemed to see that, too.
“May I call you Tina?”
“Of course.” It wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t offer me to use his first name. But that was for the better. If he was to lead me fully, this couldn’t be a casual relationship.
“This position has never been attempted here, certainly not at this level. Despite the job description, I have prepared for Human Resources, the real performance of the position will be an evolution between us as we learn to function as an intimate team for the clients and accounts.” I nodded. He passed me a written job description, which I skimmed. As he indicated, it was common language for managing accounts except for the references to working directly for and at the discretion of the CEO on accounts and assignment directed by him. Following that was a sheet with benefits and compensation. It was staggering compared to what I was currently getting. It also spoke volumes about the man. He could have offered a fraction of this and it would still have seemed exceptional. My office would be located on the 10th floor where all senior executives resided who weren’t on the 11th. Other benefits were also increased dramatically: medical, vacation, personal free days, profit sharing, and incentives.
I was flabbergasted and ready to take the job, whatever it might be, right there. He apparently read that in me, too.
He smiled knowingly at me. He buzzed Trudy who quickly entered the office and strode to stand at his side. “Before we get too far into formally offering the position and you accepting if that might have been where this was going …”, he smiled, “I want Trudy here to witness the rest the of the discussion. No offense, Miss James, but we don’t yet have that understanding of your commitment and devotion. I need Miss Michaels for a witness of my words and your responses so we don’t end up with a ‘He said, She said’ legal conflict.”
“Legal conflict? Mr. Woodburn, I can assure you …” His hand shot up to stop me.
“The conversation is going to take a very different turn here, Miss James. Some women would take severe offense to it, though my judgment of you is that you won’t. Nonetheless, I prefer to err on the side of caution.” I nodded. I looked up at Trudy and saw her wink at me. “What I have described so far is the official, public job I want to offer to you.” I looked at both of them confused. She smiled widely. “The other part of the job is what makes it so particularly difficult to fill with the proper person.” He leaned back and looked up at Trudy. “How many have we offered this job to?”
“How difficult has it been to try to fill it?”
“Exceedingly, Sir. In fact, in all honesty, I was thinking it would never be filled. Yet, there she sits.”
He smiled and turned his full attention to me. “The other part of the position, my dear, is to be my personal slut.” He let that comment hang in the air for a moment. I know my expression reflected the complete shock of what I had heard. He continued as if it was a minor extra condition added, “You understand that can’t be an official position or job requirement, but it will be very real. You will be my personal slut, not a company slut.”
“Mr. Woodburn … you said slut … you mean … sex … as part of the job?”
He smiled and let it settle over me. “Yes, sex of a wide-ranging variety. You will be devoted to the job as Executive Accounts Director handling the biggest and most strategic accounts for the firm, and you will be just as devoted to me as my slut.” He was skilled I realized in his presentation. He gave these stunning comments as if in casual conversation, then waited for the full impact to take hold before continuing. By doing that, it didn’t overload the senses and emotions. I found myself letting each statement settle in and achieving some level of acceptance before he continued.
“These two elements of the position are critically tied and fused. There are particular clients with accounts that some ‘special attention’ can reap huge benefits.”
“Sex. Sex with you and with clients.”
“Actually, sex as I direct it. When, where, how, and with whom. Remember the devotion part? I will have very specific rules, expectations, and criteria for dressing, standing, sitting, walking, sucking, and fucking. You are a woman who has been frustrated and denied of her desires for too long. You yearn for release and the freedom to be what I am offering you to be … a true slut.”
My head was spinning. My mind was struggling to keep up with all that was being said and the implications of it all. But, there was no doubt about how my body was reacting to it. If my mind was grasping for something to hold onto, my body was screaming to be touched. I felt my body tingling from my pussy to my nipples and up into my scalp. I focused on what I could.
“Excuse me, but you seem very comfortable with this, Trudy. Can I ask your role in this?”
She looked down to Mr. Woodburn and he nodded. I noticed the entire time she stood straight, her feet together and her weight balance between them, and her shoulders were back having the effect of projecting her breasts forward. She giggled.
“I was you. Well, not really. I was really Mr. Woodburn’s mistress as his personal assistant.”
He slipped a hand onto her butt, “She is very good … at both jobs. But, she desires a significant reduction in her mistress duties. Trudy, as it happens, has a boyfriend she is very serious about. I am very happy for her. You, like her, have the opportunity to leave the position whenever you feel it has become too much or for any reason. No hard feeling. As with Trudy, I will make sure you will be taken care of by the company.”
“You really were … are … used to be …”
She giggled and he told her to show me. She immediately began unbuttoning her blouse, pulling it from her skirt, removing it and placing it on his desk. She undid the clasp on her skirt, lowered the zipper and let it drop to the floor. She stepped out of it, placing it on the desk. I was fascinated as her hands moved behind her, unhooking her bra, and dropping it on the desk. Her panties were last. She was left in thigh-high stocking and heels. She resumed her position alongside Mr. Woodburn.
I found him watching me. “She is very comfortable being naked in this office. You will be, too. I can see it.” I blushed profusely. I could feel the heat flowing through my upper body and face. “Stand up, Miss James.” Shocking to me, I did. “Remove your dress.” I looked at him, then at Trudy who remained standing comfortably. I unzipped the back of the dress and lowered it down my body. He studied me, reached into the middle drawer and came out with scissors. “Take off the pantyhose and cut them to shreds. You will never wear pantyhose again. I like stockings but they are to be thigh-highs like Trudy is wearing or stockings with garters.” I did as I was told, now standing before them in bra and panties. Mine were not sexy lace like Trudy’s and I could sense another comment from him. He shook his head. “Take off your bra and panties.” I did, leaving me naked. He smiled. “You are beautiful, Tina. I love your body.” I blushed, again.
He offered me the chair, again. I sat, discretely crossing my legs. He asked, “Tina, do we have a need for Trudy to further witness our discussion?” I smiled and said no. Trudy got dressed and strode past me, winking as she did. “Now that you understand much of the full scope of the position, I would like you to consider this offer over the weekend and give me your answer at 9:00 AM here.” He thought for a moment as if a new idea came to him. “Let’s do this. Arrive here at 9:00 AM. When you enter the office, you can give me your answer physically. If you undress to stockings and heels upon entering, I will know you are accepting the position. If not …” I nodded. “Then, do you have any immediate questions?”
I was sitting in this man’s office naked in the final moments of an interview for a job I had no knowledge of only hours ago. Did I have any questions??
“Mr. Woodburn, Sir, the slut part notwithstanding I wonder about the handling of the accounts. I imagine the accounts are being physically handled by accounts personnel somewhere downstairs. If these clients are to be truly managed at a special level, shouldn’t we have a small staff to oversee and review the day-to-day processing?”
He chuckled and the biggest smile I had yet seen spread over his face. “My dear … ‘the slut part notwithstanding’ … your first question is about managing the accounts … I love it!” He came around from behind the desk and held out his hand to me. I took it and stood up in front of him. “We have no agreement, but may I kiss you?”
I smiled and nodded. He didn’t move, however. It flashed into my brain with that moment of awkwardness the realization that if I move forward with this I am his slut. Does he take his slut or does his slut avail herself to him? I put my hands on the sides of his face and kissed him on the lips. It was a good kiss, a lover’s kiss, but not a slut’s kiss I guessed. I wrapped my arms around his neck and devoured his mouth. His hands were on my bare back, one sliding down to my bare butt. He squeezed one ass cheek, but that was all.
I broke the kiss and took a half-step back from him. My body was flushed, my body was super-heated, my body was tingling with excitement, and I was aching for him to touch my pussy, for him to feel how I was responding. But, there was time for that on Monday. Until then, I truly needed to decide about this.
This story will have many chapters as Tina fully discovers her dual roles in the company and with Mr. Woodburn. I hope you enjoy it as it unfolds.
I know it is not required, but I would appreciate a comment when negative votes are cast for my own benefit in developing stories. Thanks in advance.