Well. I had certainly had an interesting few weeks. If not for the huge problem with the credit card machine, my week would have been damn near perfect. I received a call just as I prepared to hand my day over to the bank, and immediately recognized the sexy voice on the other end of the line. It was Jen, the owner of the store. She and her mismatched-husband owned the store, and came around every once and awhile to "make suggestions" and change things around on us. Typically, the day-to-day dealings were taken care of by Jens's parents, who lived near the store.
With her parents on vacation, Jen had been forced to come in and check the financial balances for the week. I had only seen her on three occasions, but all had been a treat. She was tall, only an inch or two shorter than me, with long legs and a bronze tan that only came from a bottle or a bed. I had always had a thing for curly hair, and her dirty blond waves were just my style.
After several minutes with a bank clerk, I convinced them to fax me the numbers necessary to reconcile the deficit from the weekend. However, being at our smaller store, I was forced to give them a fax number for our main line. I left, explaining to the other clerk where I was headed, and spent a few minutes on the road. Entering the main branch, I gave a mock salute to my coworkers busy behind the counter before heading into the back room and searching for the fax machine, which I had never seen, only had the number from a large contact list posted on the wall. Failing to find it, I considered the possibility that it was in the house, most likely the office that contained our safe and change box.
Rushing through the back door and into the office, I was surprised to see that it was already occupied. Jen hadn't told me that she was going to be there, just to call her when I got everything done. But there she was, in all of her glory, with a stack of bills and paperwork spread out on the desk. She glanced up, just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.
"Hey, how are you?"
"Uh, fine. I came to pick up the fax the bank sent over." I had struggled to get that much out. Seating in the leather office chair, her attire left little to the imagination. She had on a denim mini-skirt, open white blouse, and cork high heels. She would have turned heads on any college campus, despite the fact that she was in her late thirties and the mother of two. Standing up on those long toned legs of hers, she began to explain to me that the fax machine didn't even work, and was abandoned under the desk. Great. I had driven down for nothing. But with the view I was getting, I didn't complain.
"I think it may still work, but you have to switch over the phone lines and warm it up. There may be something else you have to do, I haven't used it in a long time." She bent over to look at the machine, and I stared down the back of her skirt. I could see the edge of a white thong, and was thankful that I had chosen baggy shorts to wear to work that day. Surely she didn't know what a view she was giving me, but she took a generous amount of time looking at a fax machine that didn't work. As she straightened back up, I quickly averted my eyes to hers.
"You know, I decided to hire you over the other applicants for a couple of reasons. You're outgoing personality, knowledge of the area, and that nice cock of yours." This last statement took me by complete surprise, and rendered me speechless. Suddenly I remembered the rather tight dress slacks that I had worn to the interview.
