I never liked giving orders. But the Chambers account was becoming a huge responsibility, and my boss made me hire an assistant. So I endured five forgettable interviews with mediocre applicants, just to keep up appearances. I figured I’d roll a die and pick one when I got to six.
Then she walked in.
The first thing I noticed was her glossy red hair. It fell past her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face, gray eyes, and pouting lips. She wore a dark gray business suit that matched her eyes; the skirt cut a few inches above the knee.
We shook hands. “Serena Hawthorne,” she said, introducing herself.
To make things more casual during the interviews, I had chosen not to sit behind my desk. We took chairs facing each other in a corner of my office. Unfortunately, that meant her legs were clearly in view when she sat down. She crossed them and her skirt immediately rode up to reveal half of her thighs.
I had always found very pale skin to be somewhat unattractive, because of the way it revealed the veins and blood underneath the surface. But Serena’s milky skin seemed flawless. Although I looked her in the eye, my view was out of focus. My consciousness was inexorably drawn to her legs and the black pumps that hugged her feet.
Normally I would start the interview with a brief introduction of the firm and the work associated with the Chambers account. However, the way my mind was working, I thought it would be better if I let her do the talking. “Ms. Hawthorne, why don’t you tell me what qualities you bring to the position of administrative assistant, keeping in mind that you would be working for a marketing executive.”
“Well, I have been in marketing for three years since I graduated from college.” Her voice was throaty and deep for a woman. “At Hanson, Eads, I handled two major accounts as an admin assistant. I have that reference right here.” She handed me a letter.
I glanced over it, my eyes flickering discreetly from the paper to her legs. She was well built, not fat at all. Her calves had a fine curve, and her thighs were solid.
“But you’re considering leaving Hanson, Eads?”
“Yes, I want more responsibility. I’m looking for more of a leadership position.” She uncrossed her legs and switched. I couldn’t miss the sight. Her legs were magnificent. “Do you mind if I take off my jacket, Mr. Brandon?”
“Sure.” It was a hot day outside. I tugged at my collar.
She wore a plain white blouse underneath. The top button was undone, exposing her throat. I could just see the outline of her bra underneath, and the swell of the breasts it embraced. Her skin was like porcelain.
“You understand that you’d be working under me. I guess I’m concerned that you might find yourself in a similar position to the one you have at Hanson. Although I am willing to give you as much responsibility as you can handle, this is another assistant job.”
Serena nodded. “I’m looking at a other jobs. I interviewed down the street at Reynolds last week. That’s an entry-level associate position. I want to consider all of my options.” Her shoe dangled from her foot as she flexed it.
“I see. Well. Oh… have you ever had a difficult work situation with a colleague or superior? And, if so, how did you handle it?”
“Mmm… One of the men I worked under at Hanson used to make passes at me all the time. Brush up against me, make sexual innuendos, you know, that sort of thing.”
“What did you do?”
“I confronted him in a private place. I told him that working with me could either be a pleasant experience or a very uncomfortable one. After that, we never had a problem again.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That was the end of it?”
“Well, I was holding his testicles at the time. But yes, he was extremely polite after that.”
“I can’t believe you would do that to your boss.”
“Usually, I get along well with people. But I learned that sometimes you just have to take control of a relationship. He could have fired me, or disciplined me, but he didn’t because he wanted me badly enough. I do good work.
“He was sort of like you,” she continued, uncrossing her legs and standing up. “Just a little more forward. Always leering at me, obsessed with what I was wearing under my clothes.”
“I… I think you have the wrong idea, Ms. Hawthorne.”
She walked towards me, her hips swaying, and her eyes locked on mine. My gaze dropped as she began to raise her skirt.
“Really, Mr. Brandon? You haven’t been trying to look up my skirt for the past ten minutes?”
“No.” I said, hastily focusing on her face again. “Ms. Hawthorne, this is completely inappropriate. I’m going to ask you to leave.”
She stood in front of my face. Whatever fragrance she wore was subtly sweet, like apricots. Its heady odor filled my nostrils, and began to have an effect on me. She ran a pale finger along my jaw.
“Ask me, then,” she said softly. “If you want me to leave.” She pulled the hem of her skirt up to her waist, and my vision was filled with her pantied crotch. A black silk thong. I imagined I could smell her wetness.
I said nothing. I was frozen. If I thought she was playing games with me, I would have thrown her out myself. But this was no game.
“Or is this what you want?” She nodded at her pussy. “You’ve been looking for it for some time now.” She spoke in a low voice, drawing my head gently down into her groin. “Look closer.”
My nose butted against her panties. She rubbed it up and down her slit – I felt her lips through the smooth fabric. “That’s it,” she coaxed, placing a hand in my hair.
I moaned unconsciously in response. Ashamed, I silenced it, and it came out as a whisper, a silent breath of desire. Her scent – the perfume and her womanhood - was overwhelming, intoxicating.
I don’t know how long she stood there, urging me on, rubbing my willing face into her pantied pussy. But eventually she backed away and went to the door, locking it.
“Why don’t you show me just how much responsibility you are willing to give me, Mr. Brandon? Or can I call you Gerald?”
I stood up and undid my tie. My cock was straining against my pants. “Gerald is fine.”
She slid off her pumps and approached me again. As I moved to kiss her, her hands pressed on my shoulders, softly pushing me down to my knees. She kept pushing, more firmly as I hesitated. I was unsure what she wanted. She guided me into a prone position on my back, and sat, straddling my crotch. I glanced at the door. There was a window next to it, but it was thick glass. If someone looked through it, all they would see were indistinct shapes. “The window,” I said.
She drew my head back to lock eyes again with her. “Don’t worry,” she said simply. Her hand glided from my temple to my lips. I opened them automatically, and she slid her finger inside my mouth. I sucked on it gently. She never seemed to look anywhere but straight into my eyes. Her pussy ground slightly on my throbbing cock.
Pulling her finger away and tugging up her skirt again, she rubbed her covered cunt. Then she brought her hand back to my mouth. Her fingers went back and forth until I smelled and tasted her warmth on them. Then she slid her hand into her panties, fingering herself slowly. When she drew her hand out again, she anointed the tip of my nose with her juices, before she thrust into my mouth again.
“Do you want more?”
