Her Second Job

This is the fifth story in this series. Once again, I've fallen in love with my own characters. I hope you have as much fun reading about Denise Hines and her boyfriend as I've had writing about them. This story will make much more sense if you've already read Her Second Job chapters 1 -4.

While the series was inspired by things which really happened many years ago, this story is complete fiction. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. Comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable, are always welcome. Thank you for reading.

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Denise and I were fired by Sparks, Herman & Mann in mid-August. We still hadn't found regular jobs by year end. We were still dancing naked in New Bethel each weekend. That earned us enough to live on, barely. Of course, it was the dancing which got us fired.

To keep us and the bar's regular customers from getting bored, Danielle had choreographed a couple new dances for us. I feared we were, at least, pushing the Department of Liquor Control's limits. Both new dances had my hands on Denise's breasts several times. Danielle had conceived moves for Denise that "accidently" brushed my dick.

The new dances had different endings. In one, I stood at center stage with the audience to my right. Denise was on her knees in front of me with her face about an inch from my dick. The other ending had me squatting at center stage with my hands together, palms up, in front of my chin. Denise jumped on me with one leg over each of my shoulders and her ass in my hands. Once I caught Denise, I stood and made a complete circle, ending with my front and Denise's back to the audience. It took some time, and a few bumps and bruises, before we got that one right.

In the ending with Denise in front of my face, I realized that, if I raised my arms a little, I could reach her pussy with my tongue. Since my head was between her legs, I figured no one would see my face. The first time onstage, I was licking Denise's outer lips as I spun us around and held her in front of the audience.

Backstage after that dance, Denise was laughing. "That naughty man!" she said, pointing at me.

"What'd he do? Alicia asked.

"He was licking my cunt lips as he held me up in front of the audience!" Denise said.

"Did you enjoy it?" Kurt asked.

"Well, yeah," Denise replied, "but he's going to get us in trouble."

"No one can see his face," Kurt said. "this is one time that, if it feels good, do it." It was Kurt's liquor license.

Denise retaliated, sort of. When we did the dance ending with her kneeling in front of me, she started surreptitiously blowing on my dick. She made it tough for me to get off stage before I got a hard-on.

Denise had moved into my apartment. Her apartment was much nicer than mine, but mine was cheaper. We spent very little on the holiday that year. But, living with Denise, what greater gift could I get? I felt bad that I couldn't give her something nice like she deserved.

I was glad, that year, that neither Denise nor I had much family. I was an only child and I'd lost both parents in a private plane crash during law school. Denise's parents had been older when they had her. Her mom had died of cancer while she was in high school and her dad had a fatal heart attack her senior year of college. Denise had a brother, David, who was about ten years older than her. He was career Army and had been deployed overseas for a long time. He called her two or three times a year and she sent him letters, mailed to an address in California.

New Year's Eve fell in the middle of the week that year. Kurt didn't think it was wise to have nude dancing that night given the excessive drinking that attends the holiday. Without dancing, the bar didn't do that much business, so Kurt decided to close for New Year's Eve. Instead, he and Danielle hosted a party for everyone who worked at the bar.

I had assumed that we were going to Danielle's and Kurt's party until, on December 29, Denise told me that she'd told Danielle we couldn't make it. I guess I gave her a perplexed look because Denise said, "Harry, with everything that's happened, I just want to spend the night with you. We'll end the old year together and I'll start the new one with the person who matters most to me." When the most beautiful woman alive says that to you, you just say "of course we will."

We decided to do without electric lights that night, instead lighting candles around the apartment. We made an early dinner with Denise wearing only the apron I'd given her for Christmas. After dinner, we sipped wine, talked, and explored each other. I was very familiar with all of Denise's body by that point. I still found it infinitely fascinating. Denise's mind is even more beautiful than her body and I was torn between touching her and listening to her. I compromised and did both.

Denise wanted us to make love at midnight. We got in bed about 11:30. We usually made love with one on top of the other. That night, we lay on our sides facing each other. Denise raised a leg, guided me in, and put her leg back down on my hip. There was something nice being together on the same level. We kissed, nibbled, and made love very slowly. Once we heard the church bell and fireworks at midnight, we got more energetic. Simultaneous orgasms were the beginning of our New Year.

After we made love, Denise and I lay there, facing each other and listening to the noises from the street. Finally, Denise said, "Promise me something Harry."

"I promise," I said.

Denise giggled. "You don't know what I want."

"For you, I'll do anything," I replied. "What did I just promise?"

"You promised me, "Denise said, "that we'll spend every New Year's like this, just us, making love at midnight. You know I love people and I love showing off, but I want us to start every year reminding each other that we are the most important things in each other's lives."

"That's easy," I said. "I was afraid you wanted me to do something difficult like find a job."

Denise moved her face closer to mine. "Every year for the rest of our lives Harry," she said. We'd never talked about our long-term future together. In the back of my mind, I thought that all good things come to an end and that Denise would eventually leave. I knew how seriously Denise took commitments. What she'd just said made me happier than I'd ever been.

I kissed Denise for a long time. When we ended the kiss, I said, "for the rest of our lives." We made love again. Denise got on top this time. Her gorgeous face became more beautiful when we made love. That night, she also looked happier than I could ever remember.

I got a call during the first week of January from a woman named Vanessa Gibson. "I'm a lawyer and have my own office," she said. "I know Lena Mann. She told me what her husband did to you and Ms. Hines. I think I may have something for both of you. Will you send me your resumes?" Denise e-mailed our resumes to the address Ms. Gibson gave me. A couple of hours later, Gibson called back and asked us to meet her at her office the next day. We didn't have anything else going on.

We assumed we were going for a job interview, so I wore a suit and tie. Denise wore a dark wool skirt, jacket, beige blouse, and low heels. Vanessa Gibson's office was on the third floor of a rehabbed brick building in an area just north of Downtown called "The Overlook." The Overlook had been a slum for decades before it had started gentrifying rapidly about ten years earlier. There was an art gallery on the first floor of the building.

Vanessa Gibson met us in front of the elevator on the first floor and we rode up together. I later learned that she was 12 years older than Denise and me. She was about my height with curly black hair and cute but intelligent-looking face. She was slender which was emphasized by the dark purple dress she wore. It was one of those dresses that wrap around the body, secured by a belt. She wore heels but no hose. I thought I saw her nipples pushing against her dress and wondered whether she was wearing anything under the dress.

We went from the elevator into a small anteroom with doors in front of us and one each to the right and left. Mounted on the wall was "Gibson Law Offices." Vanessa Gibson opened the door to our right and led us into a typical conference room.

Once we were seated, Gibson said, "I know Lena Mann through my dad, Seth Gibson. He's a tax partner at SHM." I recognized the name. "He thinks you were treated pretty badly by his firm, by the way, although his understand of what happened is a lot different than what Lena told me. I know about your dancing and I'm totally ok with that."

Gibson leaned back for a moment, then straightened. "To understand what I do," she said, "you need to know a bit about me. I got my bachelor's and master's in sociology. My focus was on sexual behavior. I got very interested in what I call 'non-traditional means of pleasure.'" She laughed. "I probably got too far into it. I've been tied down and had my bare ass whipped in front of a room full of people. Thank god that didn't leave any lasting marks. I'm proud of my ass. I spent six months stripping in a full nude club in Atlanta. That was a blast. What I noticed was that people sometimes had legal issues arising from their sexual activities. Most lawyers either weren't interested or were condescending and judgmental to people whose sexual conduct was 'perverted.' I've had my own firm for ten years now. The firm exists to serve people in that space where law and sexuality intersect. I represent clients diligently, compassionately, and without judgment; treating them as people rather than perverts."

Gibson took a sip of water before continuing. "I represent a wide range of people. Strippers, club owners, porn producers, porn performers, escorts, and just regular folks whose quest for pleasure has created issues. We handle just about every area of law except tax: from copyright to tort to criminal. The common thread in our cases is that there is some sexual conduct involved. I have this office and one in Chicago. I prefer to spend most of my time in Chicago but the woman who handled this office left me at the end of November to get married, so I need someone here."

"How do you make money?" I asked.

"Good question," Ms. Gibson replied. "Club owners and pornographers often make a lot of money, and a surprising number of wealthy folks have kinks that produce legal issues. I bill them hourly and love them. I do things like revenge porn cases on contingent fee. A private foundation gives me some money to help escorts and street hookers, particularly women forced into the life. I have more than enough work like that in Chicago. This city doesn't generate as much interesting work, so I also do a standard practice, primarily plaintiff's personal injury, consumer fraud, etc. Thanks in part to Dad, I've got more of that work being referred than I can handle. I'd like someone to take it on so I can spend most of my time in Chicago. I'm offering you that job."

Gibson went on to outline her terms. She'd guarantee us each $50,000/year salary and pay all expenses. If the office made a profit over its expenses, she'd share that 30% to her and 70% to us.

"Why so generous?" I asked.

Gibson smiled, "The thirty percent is mine for generating the work. Seventy percent is yours for doing the work." She paused before adding, "Mr. Stone, you know that we are ethically prohibited from sharing fees with non-lawyers?" I nodded. "That out of the way," she said, "I assume that anything paid to you is really going to both you and Ms. Hines."

"Absolutely," I confirmed.

"Are you two interested?" Gibson asked. I looked at Denise.

"Very interested," Denise answered.

"Great!" Gibson said. "Stand up, take your clothes off, and I'll show you the office."

I'd never stripped naked in a job interview before but, given what Gibson had told us, I wasn't too surprised by her instructions. I looked at Denise. She had taken her jacket off and was stepping out of her shoes. I got my suit off quickly. Denise is most beautiful naked. But I think it is very sexy to watch her undress, especially when she's wearing "professional" clothes.

When we were both nude, Denise and I stood facing Vanessa Gibson. She looked us over for a moment. Denise reached out and took my hand. Suddenly, Gibson undid her belt, shucked her dress off, and stepped out of her heels. As I'd suspected, she was nude under the dress. She turned to open a door in the wall behind her. She was right. She had a very tight, perfectly shaped ass.

We followed her into a high ceiling room, narrow from side-to-side but long front-to-back. There were a couple of desks and credenzas arranged in L-shaped configurations. Computer monitors stood on both desks. File cabinets and a large copy machine stood against the far wall. A large worktable sat in front of the desks. The front wall had four large sash windows that ran almost floor to ceiling. Across the street, I could see a room with people in it. Four upholstered chairs sat in a semi-circle by the windows.

"This is the working office," Gibson said. She pointed to a door at the back of the room. "There's a small apartment back there that I use when I'm in town. Full kitchen, sofa, separate bedroom, and a bathroom with a small shower. The shower can hold two if you like each other. You'd be free to use the apartment whenever you want. Just wash the sheets."

Gibson walked to the chairs by the window, waved to someone across the street, and sat down. Denise and I sat in chairs facing her. Gibson said, "I usually work nude if we don't have strangers in the office. I wouldn't require you to do that, but I'd appreciate it if you did. I assume we can switch to first names since we're all naked. Denise, in addition to being paralegal, I'd expect you to manage the office. Keep the books, manage the trust account, keep Harry on schedule, make sure the office has all necessary supplies. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Denise said immediately.

Vanessa stood. "Ok," she said, "you want to get dressed, go home, and think about it?"

I looked at Denise. She nodded her head affirmatively. I knew that didn't mean go home and think about it. "We'll take the jobs Vanessa," I said.

Vanessa clapped her hands. "Great! When do you want to start?"

"February 1?" I proposed.

"Exactly what I was going to suggest," Vanessa replied. "I'm excited. From what I've learned about you and what I've seen today, I think we'll enjoy working with each other."

"One other thing," Vanessa said. "I own this building. That's a separate business from the law practice. I've got two tenants: the art gallery on one and a photographer on two. Denise, would you be my building manager: collect rents, pay the taxes and water bill, get anything that breaks fixed? I'll pay you another $ 1,200 per month for that."

"Certainly," Denise replied.

The building had a gated parking lot next to it. Vanessa had given us the code so we could park there when we came for our interview. As we walked back outside, dressed, Denise took my arm. Smiling, she said, "Vanessa would appreciate it if we work nude in the office? I think we've found perfect jobs."

"I'm sure the guys across the street won't mind the upgrade from Vanessa to you," I said.

Denise punched me gently in the ribs. "I saw a couple of women over there," she giggled.

Vanessa approved of our nude dancing but wanted to ensure that it didn't conflict with running the practice. Lena put her in touch with Danielle and Kurt. Denise and I danced that Friday. We were sitting nude backstage having a drink after the midnight show when Kurt made an announcement.

"Friends," Kurt told the room, "I'm happy to report that Denise and Harry have paying, full-time jobs again." That brought a round of applause. "However, because they're taking on added responsibilities, they won't be able to dance all the time." That brought boos. "Denise and Harry will be dancing every other weekend, subject to circumstances. I'm also pleased to announce that Annie and her boyfriend Colin will dance on the alternate weekends. They will debut next Friday. To promote that, we're starting an 'Is Annie a natural redhead' promotion in the bar. Customers will write down whether they think she is or isn't. Everyone who gets it right, and is here when Annie shows us next Friday, gets a free drink."

I looked at Annie, who was standing, clothed, by the door to behind the bar. She was smiling. She said, "A couple of you know. Don't tell anyone!"

Denise leaned over to me and said what I was thinking: "We'll have to be here for Annie's debut."

Kurt wasn't done. "One obstacle to letting Annie dance has been replacing her with a female bartender I can trust." Kurt pointed to a slender brunette who was sitting in a corner. "This is Brie, who will tend bar when Annie is dancing. I think I can trust Brie. She's Danielle's niece."

Brie stood up. She was elegantly dressed, for the bar, in a skirt and tight sweater. "It is wonderful to meet you," she said in a cultured voice. "I'm looking forward to becoming a co-worker. Hopefully, I can follow in Annie's footsteps and graduate to a job on stage with a lot less on."

Danielle leaned over to Denise and me. "Brie's my older sister's daughter. She's got an Ivy League degree in English literature and wants to write. She's also an experienced bar tender. Elaine and Ray, her parents, think working here will give her material to write about. Knowing Brie, I think she's looking for an opportunity to show off her bare tits and ass. She and I have things in common."

Vanessa had cases waiting, so I "hit the ground running" in February. I expected crap but she had good cases. I knew Denise was competent, but she went further up in my estimation that first month. She ran the office, handled the money, kept me on schedule, and did a substantial part of the work on the cases. She did all that without ever nagging or losing her patience.

Denise got a call on her cellphone in the afternoon of the first Monday in March. I don't eavesdrop her calls, but even the photographer a floor below heard her yell "Great! That's wonderful! I can't wait!" She ended the call and turned to me. "That was Dave! He's in Hawai'i. He's being rotated back to the States and gets almost three weeks' leave. He's flying here Friday."

I was very happy for Denise who hadn't seen her brother for about four years. I was also worried about how her Army officer brother would react to our jobs since we worked nude most of the time in both. I thought could keep Dave out of the office by claiming we had client confidential papers lying around. Denise would have to handle the dancing.

We were waiting for Dave outside security when his flight arrived Friday afternoon. Despite his civilian clothes, I thought the close-cut blond hair, very erect posture, and measured walk called him out as military. I also noticed that several women watched his progress along the concourse towards us.

Denise gave Dave a very affectionate hug. When she finally let go, he turned to me. I was expecting a hard ass routine. Instead, Dave gave me a friendly smile, extended a hand, and said in a soft voice, "Harry, Denise and I don't talk often but she writes a lot. Her letters over the last several months have been all about you. It's good to meet you."

I didn't think Denise had told Dave about our dancing. I also knew she hadn't asked Kurt for the night off. There was no way Denise was simply going to no-show Danielle and Kurt.

In the car from the airport, Denise questioned Dave about where he'd been and what he'd been doing. "I've been a lot of places most Americans don't know we have forces in," Dave said. "I've seen things I hope most Americans never know. If I told you more than that, I'd probably get orders to kill you." The dancing didn't come up on the drive. I waited to see how Denise would handle it.