The New Intern

It was Samantha's first day at a large media company in New York City, and she was sitting quietly in the lobby, sitting ramrod straight on a sofa. She smoothed her professional skirt down over her knees to banish any wayward wrinkles.

A pretty blonde receptionist smiled at her.

"You know, I was an intern here too," the woman said. "I'm Jenny."

Samantha smiled quickly at Jenny and returned to her nervous fidgeting.

"Don't worry, you're going to be fine," Jenny said, and return to her email.

Her email read: "Patrick, your intern is here. I think you'll like her. Looks just like Meagan - but younger."

Jenny's manicured finger quickly pressed send, and she turned back to continue speaking with Samantha.

"He'll be right up, don't you worry. How do you like the office so far?"

"Oh, it's great. I can't believe I'm here." Samantha burst out into a self-conscious smile, revealing a beautiful grin. "This is totally my dream job. I can't believe I made it!"

Jenny said nothing, just smiled.

An older man, mid-40s, with salt and pepper hair came quickly down the stairs tucked towards the back of the building.

Samantha stood up, taking a deep breath.

Walking over to her, Patrick looked over every inch of her body: her petite frame, her perfectly cut dark hair, bangs dipping over dark-brown eyes. It was the kind of body that never could quite look professional - though she had tried, it was painfully obvious to any man that her cheap skirt and shirt covered a body that had been made by some sort of generous higher power - she was small enough to curl up at his feet, thin enough to pick up, breasts falling into delicate, tender teardrops. And beautiful eyes to look up at him while ---

"Samantha," Patrick said, reaching out his hand, "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Patrick, I'll be your supervisor. Come with me."

Samantha grabbed her bag and grinned quickly at Jenny. As Patrick lead her to his office, he stretched quickly.

"Late night?" Samantha asked, eager to please.

"Just a sore back is all," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

In Patrick's office, she sat down at the chair opposite his desk. Patrick leaned against his desk, examining the exquisite creature in front of him. He couldn't start his heart from beating quickly.

"So you're our new intern?"

"Yes, sir. I just want to say, it's a huge honor. I've brought my---"

Samantha opened her bag and fumbled around to find a resume, neatly pressed in a folder. She handed it to Patrick immediately, who put it on his desk without looking at it.

"Actually, sir, if you'd take a look--"

"I know what's on that sheet of paper," Patrick said, frowning at her. "Every intern that comes in these doors has been confirmed to be academically gifted, maintaining extracurriculars, and excellent interpersonal skills. I don't need to know that."

He stood up, stretching his arms behind him.

Although Samantha was nervous, looking down, she looked up just in time to make a second of eye contact - his light blue eyes poured into hers, scanning her for some sort of answer, where he had neglected to ask the questions.

His back muscles, barely visible through his shift jacket, took Samantha by surprise. For having a little gray hair, he seemed more youthful than any other man she'd ever met. His energy, this time, was focused absolutely on her.

"What's something that sets you apart from these other interns?"

"I'm sorry?"

"This." Patrick tapped the resume on his desk with his finger. "What makes you better than this?"

The silence in the room permeated. It was an answer that Samantha didn't know how to give.

"This.... Fucking POINTLESS sheet of paper. Show me how you are not this, Samantha."

Hearing her name mentioned, rather, yelled, by this man made Samantha nervous.

"Is this just another internship to you?"

"No, no, sir," she finally managed to stutter out. "No, I'm very excited about this opportunity. Being your assistant would mean everything to me."

Patrick sat down at his desk. The two were now separated by an expansive, undoubtedly expensive wooden desk.

"Do you even know what being my assistant entails?" He asked her, never breaking eye contact.

Samantha crossed her ankles at the knee, started to smooth down her skirt, as Patrick cleared his throat.

"I'd assume just...administrative tasks?"

He stared at her, incredulously, as she began to fidget even more.

"Samantha," he started, "What do you know about this company? You do realize that we're the most out-there media company in the world, you understand that, right? The last thing we need around here are just-out-of-college kids with no life experience. I thought you were better than that."

Patrick rolled his eyes and started to stand up.

Samantha, paralyzed in worry, watched as he started to leave the room.

"Wait," she said, "What do you need? What do you want?"

Patrick raised his eyes, turned around, and sat back behind the desk.

"Well, that's something, at least. What I need is someone who is devoted to me. Entirely. Someone whose first priority is always me. Making my life easier. Better. More. Do you understand that?"

Samantha nodded, eagerly.

"Someone who can anticipate my needs. Who understands how to calm me after a long day. Who can understand what I'm thinking with a simple look. I was someone who can take care of me - business, personal, everything. I'm willing to pay you a good amount - I know it's not an easy job."

Samantha looked at the man across from her: in certain light, he looked vulnerable, needing a woman by his side who would help him with the particulars, who would be his partner in business, in life.

"I can do it." Samantha said, suddenly.

Patrick's eyebrows shot up.

"What makes you say that?"

Samantha stood up, smoothing her skirt again. She slowly, heels muffled in the soft shag carpet, over to his side of the desk.

"You said, when we were walking up here, that you had a sore back," she said.

She placed her hands on his back softly.

"I know how to fix that."

At first applying gentle pressure, Samantha explored Patrick's back and shoulders, her hands quickly skimming over his wiry muscles, his strong back, his collarbones, his well-formed shoulders.

"Here it is. Do you mind taking your sleeve down?"

Patrick did as she asked and sat in his undershirt as Samantha went to work on the knot in his shoulder.

A man, walking by Patrick's glass office, observed the massage and raised his eyebrows at Patrick, who winked back.

Samantha dug her graceful fingers into the muscles of his shoulders, finding the knot.

Patrick relaxed his shoulders and groaned.

"That feels amazing," he said quietly.

In a matter of minutes, his back was feelings much better. Samantha gently tapped his shoulder to signify that they were done.

"See?" she said, happily, "All taken care of."

Patrick stood up to face her. He said nothing. Samantha looked down to his hips and saw his erection for the first time, proudly straining at the seams in his pleated pants.

"That's not good," she whispered, quietly.

"I'm going to need you to take care of that, too," Patrick said, while staring her in the eye.

"I guess I could-" Samantha began to speak, but was cut off by Patrick.

"We'll do it this way this time," he said, and brought Samantha to the front of his office.

He grabbed her hands and pushed her up against the glass wall separating his office from the rest of the cubicles.

"Turn around," he said, his voice growling with lust.

Samantha slowly turned around, resting her forehead on the glass partition. She saw Jenny closeby, surrounded with her soon-to-be coworkers, who had all gathered, waiting for a show.

Her hands held together by Patrick, she turned around.

"Patrick?"

He didn't respond, and instead, used his other hand to pull down his pants in a hurry, taking his underwear down with it. Next was her skirt, which he pulled down and kicked to the side.

His cock immediately sprung free of its confines, sticking out at a 90 degree angle. Even from her position, Samantha could see that he was massive.

"Patrick??" She asked again, turning around.

Patrick spit on his free hand, his other one still holding hers against the window.

Jenny sipped her coffee innocently.

Samantha turned back around and rested her head against the glass. She closed her eyes, waiting for Patrick's massive cock to enter her as the rest of the company watched.

Instead, she felt nothing. And then, a finger playing at her wet slit - wet, yes, because it was soaking now.

Instinctively, Samantha arched back against the finger, trying to take it within her. Patrick laughed.

"Not yet," he said.

His deft finger traced up and down her slit, playing with the outer folds of her vagina, gaining liquid lust. Samantha, desperately, tried to hump his finger inside of her, or grind on him so that her sensitive clitoris could get some of the attention, but Patrick was too smart.

He teased her like that, his slick finger sliding in between and around her pussy. She'd never been so wet before, not even with her boyfriend. A small teardrop of pussy juice began to drip from her pussy, and it was the least she could do to quiet her moans.

"What was that, Samantha? You'll need to speak up. Our interns need to be masters at communication."

Samantha, overstimulated, couldn't hold back her moans and now had the courage to let them out freely. She whined, whinnied, as his finger escaped her clitoris time and time again.

"She's a loud one," someone commented.

Patrick retracted his finger for a moment, and Samantha felt the cold reality of this situation - being stimulated, almost brought to orgasm in front of an office full of strangers, humiliated - until her pussy felt the warm slickness of his tongue.

She bucked back at him, dignity lost in the haze of lust and the pure red hotness of her pussy being eaten so well. His tongue licked at her innermost folds, and she arched her back to force more of her pussy into his face.

He got even closer to her, somehow, and his tongue finally entered her pussy, which made her moan even loader.

"Please?" She asked, breathlessly, "please please please." '

Patrick's tongue came out from her pussy.

"What did you say?" he asked, "I don't think they can hear you."

"Please fuck me," Samantha said, face planted against the glass. "Please, please, please fuck me. I need your cock in me, I need it right now."

"With all these people watching?" Patrick asked, and indeed, people had crept closer to the other side of the glass to watch what was happening.

Jenny was even playing with herself underneath her skirt.

"With these other people watching, I don't even care!" Samantha cried.

With that, Patrick took a step back. He rubbed his cock on the folds of her pussy to lubricate it, and then faced her ass.

He carefully pulled apart her voluptuous, solid ass cheeks and saw her pussy staring back at him, begging to be filled.

"Quickly, please," she begged.

Patrick held his dick with one hand, and carefully guided it to the entrance of her pussy. Already, he could feel her animal-like heat, her arched back trying to meet him in the desire to be filled as soon as possible.

He slowly, slowly, put the head of his cock into her pussy, and Samantha. She began to back up on it, forcing herself backwards on his cock.

"Slowly, slowly," he reminded her, "It's a lot to take on your first time."

Samantha, sweating and gasping for air, stopped halfway, and then grunted as she pushed herself back onto him, feeling his cock filling her up so wholly.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she muttered nonsensically.

Patrick slowly pulled out halfway, and nursed his cock into her again. Her knees bucked with the effort of standing upright, of receiving his cock like this.

She opened her eyes on the second thrust to see everyone looking back at her. Her need for cock then was so desperate, so primal, that she could not close her eyes, only stare at the thirty-something people in the office as they watched her bounce on her boss' large cock.

She made noises - loud, desperate, pleased noises that echoed through a now quiet office. She slammed herself back on the cock, Samantha, time and time again before she froze.

She gasped for air once more and drove herself back on him, taking him to the hilt. She began to come, wildly, desperately, squirting on his cock as the office workers cheered.

The force of her orgasm brought her to her knees, her squirt pooling in the shag carpeting of her bosses office as she made unintelligible noises and squealed.

Patrick quickly grabbed her, shoved his cock into her mouth, and came down her throat, gasping.

He took his cock out, and Samantha swallowed.

Patrick took a deep breath and walked outside his office, cock still hanging out.

"Jenny?" he asked, "Can you let the cleaning crew know that we're done in here?"

And with that, the office people returned back to their cubicles, turning their back on Samantha, still squatting on the carpet, squirt and juice from her pussy pooled below her, still gasping for air.