The Intern, Part Two
Guess who stopped by my office the next day at quitting time? She knocked lightly on my door jamb and asked, "I wondered if I could come in for a few minutes--if you don't have to run home right away, that is." She seemed a little unsure of herself and nervous. I guess I would be too in her place.
"Sure, come on in, have a seat, and tell me what's on your mind."
She closed the door behind her and sat down. Yesterday's skirt was what I think they call a pencil skirt. Anyway, it didn't have any pleats and more or less hugged her hips and legs. Today's, which ended about two inches above her knees, was pleated. She sat demurely, legs together, hands folded in her lap. She was the picture of innocence; an onlooker would never guess what she'd been doing twenty-four hours before.
"Please tell me if I'm being a pest," she began, "but I really was serious about what we discussed yesterday. If it's convenient--if you have a few minutes before you leave--would you mind helping me improve over yesterday?"
I had nowhere to go but home, to a microwave dinner, beer, and mind numbing TV. So what do you think?
"Sure, I have time to help." I got up and walked around my desk. She rose from the chair and knelt.
"Kneeling is only part of a blowjob. What's the other part?" I demanded. I was happy to help, but I'll be damned if I was going to let her get away with half assed cocksucking; there are enough girls out there already who think putting it in their mouths is all they need to do. The world doesn't need more like them.
"Kneeling and topless," she said, still on her knees.
"And so?"
"My breasts are too small. I don't like for guys to see them."
"Who says they're too small?" I demanded.
"Well, nobody's actually