"So, tell us your name and one interesting thing about you."
I always hated the first day at new jobs. I hated ice breakers even more.
"Um, I'm Zach. I just moved back from Los Angeles. And one interesting thing about me? I'm a writer, I guess."
"A failed writer," quipped Bobby, the company's VP and the middle child of the construction company's founders. Bobby carried himself with the arrogance that could only be found in a man who had everything (including his career) handed to him on a silver platter.
A woman in an orange baseball cap, whose brunette ponytail poked out the back, lightly slapped Bobby on the arm.
"Stop," the woman said.
"Sorry, Zach," Bobby lied. "We like to make jokes around here."
The woman turned around and looked at me. She had striking hazel eyes accentuated by her mascara. Despite her casual attire, she was one of the most beautiful women that I had ever seen.
"I'm Vanessa, Bobby's wife. I help with administration."
Of course she was Bobby's wife. Beautiful women always went for rich assholes.
"I'll try to keep him in line," Vanessa said.
"And she will fail," Bobby retorted. "Alright, let's go around the room and everyone introduce themselves. Name, what you do, all that jazz."
Everyone told me their names and positions, which I promptly forgot. I couldn't stop thinking about Vanessa.
As the introductions continued, she slowly turned her body. She was wearing short athletic shorts, and I couldn't help but steal a few glances of her toned legs.
I couldn't be sure, but it appeared that she glanced at me a few times as well. Maybe I was creeping her out...
As the meeting came to a close, Bobby instructed me to get logged into my new email and the company software.
"Vanessa will come get you to pick out your company gear in a little bit," Bobby informed me.
The meeting dispersed, and I went back to my cubicle. I attempted to log into my email and the company software, but none of my passwords worked. I told my manager.
"Oh, my God. This always happens," my manager responded. "I'll call IT. Sit tight."
I was left to sit alone in my cubicle with nothing to do. I flipped through the employee handbook, got bored, pulled out my phone, and began to look at Instagram. After mindlessly scrolling for about 15 minutes, a voice startled me.
"Hey, are you ready?" Vanessa asked.
"Oh, sorry," I stammered.
I tried to quickly hide my phone.
"It's okay. I won't tell."
"Thank you."
Vanessa smiled.
"Follow me."
I followed Vanessa past a long row of cubicles, down a hallway, and to a door that appeared to lead to a storage closet. On the wall next to the door hung a nameplate that read "VANESSA MCCORMICK."
Vanessa opened the door. Inside was a windowless room full of piles of t-shirts, hoodies, jackets, and baseball hats. In the middle of the room was a desk with a computer on it. The walls were covered in pictures of her wedding day, of her sisters, of her parents, of her kids, and, of course, of Bobby.
"Sorry for how it looks. Bobby said that I had to take the storage closet since I was the newest member of the family."
"I like what you've done with it."
"Do you really? I tried to make it a little less drab."
Vanessa began to sort through the clothes.
"So, you can get one black t-shirt, one green t-shirt, a hoodie or a crew neck, and a jacket or a vest."
"I'll take a hoodie and a jacket. I'm a medium for all."
Vanessa stared me up and down for a second.
"The measurements are a little strange on these."
She picked up a roll of measuring tape from her desk.
"Do you mind?" she asked.
"N-No," I stammered. "Of course not."
I found it odd that t-shirts would have nonstandard measurements, but I went along with it.
"Perfect!" Vanessa said. "Go ahead and hold your arms out."
I obliged.
She measured from the tip of my left middle finger to my left shoulder. I caught a whiff of her perfume. My mouth watered.
Vanessa then did the same to my right arm.
"Do you lift weights?" she asked.
"Sometimes."
"I can tell."
Was she flirting with me? No. She couldn't be.
Vanessa walked around to my back and measured my chest. Her breath was warm on my neck. I became instantly erect. It felt like my cock was about to burst through my khakis.
"There we go," Vanessa said.
I tried to adjust, re-arranging my erection to run down my left leg.
"Thank you," I responded as I prepared to rush out.
"Well hold on."
I desperately needed to go sit somewhere and calm down.
"It's just that-- Well, sometimes we give out winter pants," Vanessa said. "Usually, it's for the guys out in the field. But sometimes Bobby will make the office folks go out and observe a job site. If it's cold, you'll definitely want to have a pair of these."
"I see."
"Just two more measurements. Promise!"
Vanessa first measured my waist.
I tried to think of something - ANYTHING - to make my erection go away. But with her hands brushing against me, nothing worked. "Is it okay if I measure your inseam?"
"Um, yeah. I mean, of course!"
Vanessa crouched down and measured my right inseam.
I looked straight ahead at the wall and tried to control my breathing.
She then switched to my left leg.
I gulped.
As Vanessa measured, the back of her hand pushed up against my cock and held for several seconds. She then stood up, looked me in the eye, and bit her lip.
"All done," she said.
"Thank you."
I hurried out of the office, certain I would be getting fired on my first day.
Somehow, despite getting visibly erect in front of the boss's wife, I managed to not get fired.
One month in to the job, I was tasked with leading the reorganization of the company warehouse.
In the twenty years of the company's existence, they had never bothered to track inventory or designate bins to store their equipment and material. It was a complete and utter shitshow.
I worked with the shop superintendent, Eduardo, to implement something of a system. I designated spots for equipment, while he ordered his men to move the equipment around. Eduardo had the personality of a caffeinated toddler. He wore me out, but he was a good time.
One Friday afternoon, as we were organizing the detour signs, Vanessa and her son came in.
Eduardo saw the kid and yelled, "George!"
Eduardo loved kids because he was one. He held his arms out like Frankenstein and growled, slowly staggering after George.
George screamed and ran away.
"Hey, Vanessa," I said. "Haven't seen you in a while."