"So Mr Smith, what brings you to Australia?"
For six months now I'd cyberfucked John Smith, alias Eli HorsePeter, on Skype. I called him Eli. He called me Tiger. When he wasn't calling me 'you hot slut', that is. He didn't know my real life identity. But I discovered his. And I was itching to try him for real. Cyberfucks are all very nice, but there's nothing like the taste of cum in the morning. So I had to get him over here and make him think it was HIS idea. Men like to think they are in charge. Ever noticed that?
Arranging a job offer for him with my firm wasn't that hard. He had an impressive peer reputation in his field. I Googled it. I'm smart that way.
I studied the papers on my desk. "Resume of John Smith". I pretended to consider it hard, like it mattered. The man in the visitor's chair stared at me. He tugged at his tie like he wasn't used to wearing a suit. Very tall, suntanned, big strong outdoor hands. Who would have thought. I'd expected big from his deep resonant internet voice, but even I was surprised.
I looked up suddenly and caught him staring at my breasts. "What brings you to Australia?" I asked again.
"That's personal." He almost snapped at me, then he looked away.
I smoothed down my short black skirt. Hmmm, so it was a woman that caused you to come here. I almost smiled. Almost.
"I think you have a temper, Mr Smith."
He sat forward. "Now that makes me real mad when people say things like that."
We eyed each other. Stalemate. I thought he would get up and leave.
I coughed and looked at my notes. "You will be occupying a sensitive position. I have to know I can trust you."
"You can." It was almost a grunt.
I pulled my chair round to the side of my desk. Big pieces of furniture can be a barrier to communication. Then I felt unprotected under those intense eyes. I crossed my legs and picked up my clipboard.
"Well, Mr Smith...John. In Australia we are not formal in the workplace. We call employees by their first names. Well John..."
"Employee? Does that mean I'm in?" There was a wry twist to his mouth. He was hoping, in spite of his tough-guy stance. He was talking to my crossed legs and sheer black stockings, not me.
"Not so fast." I recrossed my legs and felt my black skirt slide up even farther. He must have seen my suspender tops that time. I rather thought he had by the way he shifted on his chair.
"You understand the duties of the position? What I require?"
"Hmm. Yeah I read all that." Those eyes didn't miss a thing. "I'm your man."
I fiddled with the papers on my clipboard, and tried to focus on the words in front of me. "That remains to be seen. Why do you want the job. What interests you?"
You interest me his eyes said.
I felt my face getting hot. "Because I have to tell you there's a lot of local interest too ...Australian applicants."
"You try an American and you'll never go back. By American I mean me of course..."
Really his arrogance was intolerable. I slid my glasses to the end of my nose and fixed him with one of my special stares. It's won me negotiations many times. The I'm-going-to-spank-you schoolteacher look that makes some men rock hard in an instant. I figured he was one of those men.
"We'd like to know more about you... for our files."
He squirmed like his boxer shorts were hurting him. "Such as?"
"Information, statistics. Yours."