Before I knew Katherine, I rarely took naps and didn't appreciate them much. But since I've known her, that's all changed. I love naps and greatly appreciate them, not just as little rejuvenators but as an emotional and mental respite from my life as her submissive, which, while amazingly rewarding, can be stressful.
This morning's nap was especially welcome. I wasn't so much concerned about the interview today -- Katherine as much as said I had the job -- as I was unsettled by all the recent changes in just about every aspect of my life. A new working situation was one more item on the pile. Little did I know how big this particular item would turn out to be.
I'd left myself plenty of time to get ready; being stressed over time was one thing I didn't need today.
Coming out of the shower, I looked at the outfit Mistress had chosen for me to wear today: Beautiful white blouse, a black leather skirt, probably a little bit too short to be considered totally businesslike, black stockings, garter belt, matching pushup bra, no panties I noted with half a smile and a bit of chagrin, and the shoes, which left 'businesslike" for dead in an alley somewhere. Black patent leather ankle strap pumps with 6" heels and a 1½" platform. Sexy as hell, I had to admit.
I was going to look like the world's hottest receptionist, or a high-class call girl. I laughed to myself -- receptionist with a steel collar. I checked my phone again; it should take 12 minutes to get there. I got dressed, checking myself a bit more obsessively than usual, looked around the house to make sure everything was in order, and got going.
I knew the building. Lakeview Tower more or less dominated the skyline in this part of town. While the architecture was nothing special -- tall with lots of glass and black matte metal -- what it lacked in uniqueness it made up for in size. Lakeview Tower was
big.
The HT Agency occupied the 22
nd
through 25
th
floors. The current president and CEO, Rick Travers, was the son of Hank Travers, the founder and the "HT" in the company name.
My research told me that HT represented hundreds of models across in lots of countries across lots of industries. The agency could get you a baby, a cat, a Boy Scout, a soccer mom, all the way up to the highest of high fashion models. From what I read HT made scads of money because they knew how to make money in every possible niche. The company remained privately held, so much of the exact nature of its business practices remained the subject of speculation.
What was not in question was that Rick Travers had inherited his father's genius for identifying the right opportunities and making money. By all accounts, the company continued to be wildly successful.
I didn't know was how Mistress and Rick knew each other, and had wondered about this a bit. Mistress had described Rick as a friend and didn't elaborate further, which was my queue not to ask further. I imagined (hoped) that Rick Travers would be more forthcoming.
Rick's office was on the 25
th
floor. I walked into the building and headed for the elevator banks, vaguely conscious of eyes on me here and there. I had gotten used to the occasional stares at my collar, but today's apparel I'm sure was creating more reasons for some people to check me out.
I found the right elevator bank and, double bonus, an elevator came right away, and I was the only one waiting.
The elevator ride was fast. The doors slid open and there was lots of glass and marble. I pressed the button by the double doors. A male voice responded.
"Can I help you?"
"Candy Blackwell to see Mr. Travers. I have a 1:30 appointment."
Then silence. I looked down at myself, thinking about the old adage, "dress for the job you want." This thought made me laugh a bit nervously as I waited.
The door buzzed and I pulled it open and walked in. A young man in a nice suit led me through a vacant small outer office and to big double doors with the name RICK TRAVERS on a an elegant but rather plain sign. Simple and unpretentious, it seemed. A good sign, perhaps.
The young man smiled and opened the doors. I went in and Rick Travers got up from behind the desk, thanked the young man, and met me halfway.
I heard the doors closing behind me a Rick shook my hand. "Candy, thank you so much for coming." He was impressive to look at. He looked to be in his late 30s, 6-2 perhaps, in good shape but not overly muscular. Dark slightly wavy hair that didn't yet need help staying dark. A winning smile. A good-looking man. Throw in rich, successful, and apparently nice and there wasn't much to not like.
I thanked him for seeing me and he walked me along the huge windows on one side of his gargantuan office. I paused a moment to admire the spectacular view of Indian Lake. It's good to be the CEO, I mused.
He showed me to a seat and settled in behind his desk.
"Katherine tells me great things about you, Candy." There was no hint of whether he knew anything about the nature of Katherine's and my relationship. As far as I could tell he wasn't at all fazed by my collar, but that could've meant, or not meant, anything.
I crossed my legs, mindful not to let the skirt ride up too much, given my panty-less state. "Katherine is very kind, Mr. Travers." I smiled a little, fighting the urge to look down.
Rick smiled an inviting smile. "I'm sure it's all well-deserved, Candy. And please, call me Rick in private. We don't stand on ceremony here; that goes all the way back to when my father founded this place it's been that way. In front of visitors or clients you can be more formal."
I nodded. "Yes, Rick. Thank you. I understand." It felt funny calling him Rick, but Candy is nothing if not agreeable!
Rick turned his chair a little, towards the windows. "I've known Katherine a long time. Her parents and mine were friends. Katherine and I practically grew up together." He turned his chair back towards me.
"Let me talk about what we do, what I do, and what I need you to do here." I nodded eagerly. All that would be good to know.
"As you probably know, we supply modeling talent to just about anyone for just about anything."
He left a little silence, as if wanting me to say anything I might know about the company, so I shared what I'd learned through my research, as succinctly as I could. He listened, keeping his eyes on me. I could tell that Rich Travers was a man who does a lot of listening and is good at it. Or at least is good at making you think he's listening.
Rick complimented me on having done some research.
"What I do is keep this place running and growing. The less I have to deal with the former, the more I can concentrate on the latter. But I do what's needed when it's needed. I hire good people and trust them to do a good job, and they come through for me."
He paused a moment. "They're well compensated, of course. That helps with the results."
We shared a brief chuckle.
"I need you to manage the flow of traffic here. To deal with the non-stop flow of people and information trying to reach me, weeding through it all, so that I can deal only with the really important stuff."
I frankly wondered if I was qualified for that and Rick seemed to be reading my mind. "You have no idea how you would go about doing that. You wonder if you are qualified for this."
I swallowed a little. "Yes, Sir, I mean yes, Rick. That crossed my mind."
That smile again. "Don't worry, Candy."
He looked me over, almost imperceptibly. "You're totally qualified." I blushed slightly at this as some of my "qualifications" were clearly visible.
He got up and walked over to the windows, turning a moment to admire the view. "That's one important facet of the job. There are some others."
I listened intently as Rick turned around, expecting him to elaborate. Just then my phone dinged. I was going to ignore that when Rick said, "you'll want to get that."
I looked at him, confused, then at my phone. The PC291 app was blinking. I opened it:
RICK TRAVERS
0797 1838
Rick looked at me. "0797 1838," he said.
I couldn't breathe for a moment. "Yes, Rick. That's the code." I struggled a bit getting the words out. I tried to focus on breathing normally.
He smiled again. This time his smile conveyed no salesmanship, only a sense of entitlement, triumph, and satisfaction. It was suddenly and overwhelmingly obvious what the other parts of me new job might be.
Rick leaned back against the windows. "Come here, Candy, and kneel," he said. It was not so much a command as an invitation with no alternatives. I went to him and sank to my knees. I looked up and he looked down, the obvious being stated without a word.
I undid his pants and fished his cock out. It sprang out, rapidly hardening. I closed my eyes and went to work, some part of me disengaged, but another, stronger part totally in the moment, inescapably so.
He was pretty big, on the thick side. I sucked and licked, and slowly I warmed to the task. The moment came when I realized that I actually
wanted
to be doing this. Sucking off a hot guy I'd just met, solely because Mistress had given him leave to demand it of me, was incredibly hot.
I worked his cock over firmly, lips clamped to it, worshipping it. I grabbed the backs of his thighs and sucked harder, hungry to taste him. My cunt oozed from the excitement of doing this; I imagined Mistress sitting in her office, visualizing exactly what was going on at this moment and smiling with satisfaction. That thought made me shudder and get even wetter.
I heard him getting more excited and that increased my hunger tenfold. I kept at it, almost possessed with the need to take his load in my mouth. I could tell from his sounds and his bodily reactions that he would explode any moment.
