Alexas Executive Interview

SYNOPSIS: Alexa Miller charges her boss with sexual harassment, requiring him to endure an invasive interview and screening process administered by a beautiful and manipulative examiner.

NOTES: This work of fiction contains some sexual depictions, as well as tickling and foot fetish-oriented content. Characters are 18 or older, and similarity of characters to actual people is coincidental.

Originally posted April 2009

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Dylan Tyler walked by my cubicle on the morning of April 1st. At only twenty-five years old, he was the executive of Able Transport, a national-level shipping company. Compared to me, the single and apartment-dwelling Alexa Miller, I think that most readers would presume that Dylan Tyler was far more successful.

"Miss Miller," he said tentatively, worried about interrupting my focus on Excel.

"Adjusted incomes for March, Mr. Tyler," I said without a beat, swivelling to face him. He nodded and took hold of the papers, glancing a little lower than necessary. My bare feet, which I was idly stretching under the table, were the momentary focus of his attention. Once again I allowed him to believe I didn't notice. Each day was a test on him.

Two hours later, he would hear the page to his office phone from the front desk secretary, asking him to report to Conference Room D.

Waiting beside me in Conference Room D was my good friend, though I had referred to her in recent times as my lawyer and investigator, Miss Jessica Rodgers. She adjusted her light blue collar and glasses, taking a last read over one of her papers.

As Dylan entered, I saw him notice the room's furniture had been pushed to the walls, leaving ample room for one plasma presentation monitor, several chairs (including the special one which was intended for him), and a trolley of miscellaneous equipment.

"Miss Miller?" he addressed me, confused. I kept my mouth shut.

"Come in, Mr. Tyler," said Jessica. "Close the door, please."

He did so, but not before a moment of hesitation. Jessica continued on to introduce herself.

"My name is Jessica Rodgers. I represent Miss Miller in her sexual harassment charge against you."

I was watching closely for Dylan's reaction. His eyes widened and raised in astonishment to meet Jessica's, and I could see his mind begin to work as he sought to collect his thoughts. It was promising. Jessica was acutely aware of the fear with which all males in business had been increasingly indoctrinated regarding sexual harassment in recent years, and it would be our primary psychological tool against him.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, and then turned to me. "Miss Miller, I--"

"Please talk directly to me," said Jessica, with a tone suggesting little patience. "I will speak for Miss Miller."

He paused.

"I'm not aware of why a sexual harassment charge would be made against me," he said calmly.

Jessica held his gaze.

"Sit down, Mr. Tyler," she said, indicating the recliner-like chair. He walked warily around to occupy it. Jessica was so talented. In less than a minute, she had clearly gained control of the situation. The three of us were soon arranged in a triangle, with myself furthest from the others. Jessica took a breath.

"I'm going to try to be reasonable with you," she said, and Dylan's eyebrows relaxed a little. He would choose the smoothest course he could find, and I think Jessica was counting on that.

"You have been acting inappropriately toward Miss Miller since the start of her employment. It is not something to take lightly, Mr. Tyler, as you know. You have been suggestively and repeatedly staring at my client's feet since the start of her employment here."

Dylan blinked. This was a crucial moment, and it was interesting to see his poker face.

"What?" he said after a moment. But I think he realized that the moment was slightly too long. Jessica was an expert at reading mannerisms, and she wouldn't have missed the anxiety in his face even if she hadn't already investigated him.

"Do not insult my client, Dylan," she said, pushing up her glasses. He stiffened slightly at the first usage of his given name. "My client has kept a record of the isolated incidents, including the most recent at 11:05 this morning."

He looked at me. I played my poker face as well.

"I'm..." he started, about to talk to me. But he remembered his instruction, and turned back to Jessica.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but such a small number of... glances isn't enough to..." he started in defence. His defence wasn't very good.

"Have you ever visited the web site 'justwomensfeet.com', Mr. Tyler?" Jessica asked.

Dylan went silent.

" 'coedfeet.com'?" Jessica continued, picking up a paper and reading from it.

" 'ticklingforum.com'?" she asked. "These are only a few of the sites a recent warranted investigation revealed in your work laptop's browser history. You can check the rest of the list to see if any of the others ring a bell. I trust I don't need to begin reading the names of the YouTube videos you seem to have explored."

Dylan was somewhat whiter than a moment ago. His eyes avoided both of ours.

"Uh..." he said, blank-faced, and then closed his lips.

"My client has had to endure the direct impression -- direct, Mr. Tyler -- that you objectify her, sexualize her in your mind. Are you asking Miss Miller to continue working with you while you, what, fantasize about tying her up and tickling her feet?"

Jessica ended at a small crescendo, and the words hit Dylan sharply. His eyes stayed locked on whatever part of the room he had chosen.

"Do you know how easily we could win a court case with just this much evidence? This is not just a friendly series of glances, is it, Dylan?"

Jessica's eyes rested softly on his. She would not move them until Dylan offered an answer. It didn't look like an easy moment for him, and he stayed silent for almost half-a-minute. It must have seemed much longer to him, and his fingertips actually twitched with adrenaline. I don't think anything like this had ever happened to him.

"Miss Rodgers, I am... extremely sorry," he finally said, trying to rekindle his composure using his most heartfelt tone. "I assure you, I was genuinely not aware of... the explicit nature of my..."

He tried to finish his sentence, but words failed him. I could tell he wanted to explain directly to me, but he still dared not address me. He began again.

"I assure you, I am completely capable of acting appropriately. There is no problem here, Miss Rodgers. It won't happen again."

"Thank you," said Jessica, pushing her glasses up a little. "But it's a little late for that."

Jessica leaned forward and calmly placed her hand on his wrist.

"I already have a court summons for you," she said, indicating an envelope." Invoking the Sexual Harassment Investigation Act passed last year, I plan to bring you into the courtroom in view of the jury and open public, and subject you to a sexual deviancy analysis. It wouldn't be the best thing for your company's media presence, would it, Mr. Tyler?"

Her tone, though I hadn't noticed when Jessica had done it, had changed from that of a strong professional to something more like that of a sympathetic friend. She had already succeeded in taking him down a significant number of pegs, and it bordered between painful and fascinating to watch her utilize her conversational expertise to pull him back toward her. When she had placed her hand on his wrist, she had brought her own sexuality into the mix; another asset that she was practiced at utilizing. By the time her real plan began, Dylan would have a slight unconscious attraction to her.

The attraction to me was important too, but that didn't need to be planted. In my stillness, it was hard for me not to stretch my feet and toes, in their shoes, in covert celebration.

"But like I said," Jessica continued, "I am going to offer you another option. I have a background in psychology and sexual deviancy, and I'm qualified to administer some of the tests I would require you to take during the court session. I can test you here, now, with your permission. If you choose this option, then I will keep this matter away from the public court entirely."

Dylan was listening closely, and seemed greatly relieved at those last words.

"I would be very grateful," he said believably. She was so good.

"Very well." said Jessica, slowly. "I must make it clear that we will still be suing for the quantifiable emotional damage that you have caused Miss Miller already. I'm sure you understand."

Dylan nodded quickly.

"You claim that you are completely capable of acting appropriately."

"Yes. Of course," he said.

"The question is," she intoned, "whether you are telling the truth. These tests will provide the answer. If you demonstrate that you are capable of disinterest in situations similar to yours and Miss Miller's, then we will settle on a sum of one thousand dollars exactly. That is a very generous offer, considering the duress my client has experienced already, I think you will agree."

Dylan nodded with intent eyes and closed lips. Jessica was offering the diplomatic solution that he was seeking, and he would protect that option at all costs.

"If, however, the tests reveal that you are likely to continue behaving inappropriately, and that Miss Miller has any valid complaint about your conduct, then the settlement will be much higher indeed, depending on the severity suggested by the results."

I may have smiled minutely when she said that, but neither of them noticed.

"If you agree to these conditions I have proposed, please sign at the bottom of this form," Jessica concluded, handing the prepared document to him. It was a single, double-sided page with relatively small text. Dylan analyzed it with reasonable speed, breathing slowly, and finally signed and returned it.

"Thank you, Mr. Tyler," Jessica said, placing it aside and inserting another page into her clipboard. "Remove your right shoe and sock, please."

"... I beg your pardon?"

"I'm going to begin by asking you a few questions, during which I'm going to be stimulating and observing automatic responses in your feet."

Dylan looked oddly apprehensive. He suddenly complied in a systematic fashion, and I watched closely as his bare foot was revealed.

"Now, just relax your leg, just like that. Good."

Jessica's remote control, which she held in full view, was put to its first use. She pressed a single button.

Dylan was unaware of what was happening until it was too late. A padded, flexible strap protruded from the chair's leg, encircled Dylan's ankle, and automatically tightened until it held the limb securely. The chair's leg itself pivoted up in a deliberately slow motion, straightening Dylan's leg and raising the sole of his foot.

It was at this moment that I began to experience the first feeling of reward at this endeavour. Jessica's skill was remarkable, but watching Dylan while his bare foot was brought helplessly into position was even more fascinating. The sole of his foot looked boyish and cute, and as it was finally presented directly toward Jessica, and I saw him repress an attempt to struggle. He was embarrassed by what was happening. I felt my body produce an involuntary surge of wetness which surprised me, and I hid it.

"Good, Dylan," Jessica said with a more nurturing tone. "Now, can you scrunch your toes together, please, as hard as you can?"

Dylan awkwardly did so.

"Now flex your toes back as wide as you can," she said.

Dylan did that, too. It was so cute, the way his vulnerable bare foot looked in full presentation, trapped as it was, while he still wore his complete suit.

"Aah!" Dylan gasped suddenly, and his foot clenched and jerked to the side, trying to pull out. Jessica held a shall metal instrument the approximate size of a pencil, and she had just run the tip up his sole. She nodded approvingly at the response.

"Look at me, please," she said. Dylan did, nervously.

"Good, Dylan. How long have you been attracted to women?" she said, resting the tip of her instrument just above his heel. He gasped at the stimulus.

"Um... since the normal... you know, since I was about 13."

"All right. Stretch your toes back again for me, please."

He did so again, and I watched closely. I could see his eyes tensing slightly, preparing in dread for her to zip the item up his sole again.

"What do you find most attractive in women?" Instead of using the tool, she removed it, and began tapping the nails of one hand regularly just below his toes, more lightly and slowly than one would rap their nails on a table.

"Oh -- don't move your toes, Dylan," she said, as they reflexively closed to defend the area she had been stimulating. He tried to splay them again, but he looked like he was having trouble. His anticipation of Jessica's stimulation was exacerbating his defensive instinct. It took him about ten seconds to regain control and comply.

"Good, Dylan. Now, what you find most attractive in women?"

"Um... I mean, I... work with them a lot, so I admire their skills, and..."

"How old were you when you first noticed you were sexually aroused by the thought of being tickled by women?"

She resumed the tapping under his toes as she said it, and Dylan bit his lower lip. The corners of his mouth twitched, and I could see he was working hard to keep his toes back.

"Uh... well, I don't really... I mean... that's really personal..."

"Dylan, please smile for Miss Miller."

Jessica held Dylan's big toe, and firmly dragged the tip of her metal instrument around his heel in circles with firmer pressure. Dylan immediately winced and smiled broadly, simultaneously emitting an involuntary half-squeak. He looked at me, and I smiled back at him.

"That was very kind of you, Dylan. Now, please answer the question," she said, beginning to stroke his sole very lightly with alternating fingernails, just enough to forestall his ability to keep a straight face. "How old were you when you first noticed you were sexually aroused by the thought of being tickled by women?"

Dylan fell once again in a state of awkward silence, but this time it was tainted by an twisted smile that tried to overtake him.

"Dylan, one of the interesting things about this series of questions is that when the examinees choose not to answer, they find themselves starting to laugh."

"Mngh!!" Dylan grunted suddenly, biting his lip happily. Jessica had manipulated his foot in some way, but I was watching his face and had missed it.

"And they just love to laugh so much, that they keep laughing and laughing, even if they try to stop."

Jessica had continued to tease his skin in some way, and Dylan was struggling visibly. He suddenly emitted a powerful giggle which sifted through his nose like a gust through a bush, and I kept focused on his face with great interest.

"Miss Miller; why don't you ask Mr. Tyler to begin laughing for you?"

I looked at Jessica with excitement, and she nodded at me to affirm it. I smiled inside.

"Mr. Tyler?" I said to him kindly. I had momentarily forgotten that I was supposed to look detached, but it felt fine. It was, after all, a precious moment.

"Dylan, look at Miss Miller when she's talking to you. You've admitted you're in her debt; I suggest you treat her as politely as possible."

His eyes met mine with trepidation. Jessica had plenty of control over him, and it was a greatly amusing spectacle, the way he fought not to squirm. It inspired me in the proper direction; I let my face harden, as though to seem unimpressed that he wasn't taking this entire process more seriously, and if he knew what was good for him, he would sit up straight and look me in the eye properly.

I think the message took. He blushed as he tried not to squirm, and I was momentarily convinced that he was actually intimidated by me. Of course, it made sense when I thought about it. Jessica was the lawyer, but to his knowledge it was me who had the impetus to bring this legal action against him.

"Mr. Tyler," I ordered, "laugh, please."

His eyes widened halfway through my request, and within one second, Jessica had applied her fingernails to his foot -- again, I couldn't see exactly how -- in a way that completely defeated his attempts at composure. His hips twisted in the chair, and his face spread into a juvenile torrent of delighted laughter. He suddenly appeared remarkably more like a little boy, and he reached in futility for the strap at his ankle. Jessica caught his eye, cooed him slightly, and caused him to collapse into even more intense reactions, removing his ability to reach at all.

It was highly erotic to watch. Dylan Tyler, the CEO of Able Transport with corporate superiority over hundreds of employees, transformed to a helplessly laughing child by Jessica's effortless touch.

My mind raced. I hadn't fully realized the gift Jessica had given me by letting me "ask" Dylan to laugh. I felt like I had power over him, now that Jessica's had "made" him obey me. He felt it too, and I was confident that the feeling would stay with him like a mating scent.

I was tempted to speak out loud; to coo him and tease him, saying "what a cute, laughing boy you are," or "thank you for so kindly obeying my request, Mr. Tyler," or, "what's the matter, Mr. Tyler? Are your bare feet ticklish? You can't be completely controlled by a girl, can you?"

I didn't speak out loud, but I certainly thought it, and I loved the feeling.

Dylan was trying to articulate a request for Jessica to stop. It was even more fascinating to watch at this moment, since Jessica was idling on the single technique of tickling directly under his left toes with the lightest of stimulation from her nails. She was smirking with placatory amusement. She had him.

"Okay, please!" he yelled again. "Since I was--"

"Keep laughing, Dylan..." sang Jessica lightly, and he melted helplessly back into guffaws.

After furious repeated attempts to somehow untrap himself, he simply lay back and to one side with nothing to do but laugh. It was so beautiful.

Jessica finally calmed him down until he was merely gasping, and asked again: "how old were you saying?"

"Since I was... nine..." he said.

"Can you tell me about what happened to you then?" Jessica asked with the same calm.

"There was... a book I was reading... a fantasy book..." he said between gasps, "and the main character was lost in the woods, and was tickled by... a group of fairies."

"I see. Why didn't he just run away?" Jessica asked gently.

"He... couldn't..." he said. "They... several of them held him down."

"And what did they do to him?"

"The main fairy came up to him and said they were... going to have some fun with him," he recited. The tone of his voice became more child-like as soon as he began to quote the character, and his chin lowered slightly.

"And some of the others began to--" he started to wince and try to hold back another giggle. Jessica had continued to stimulate his foot while he spoke, and now she began lightly exploring the entire sole as he talked.

"-- just... began to tickle him. Tickle his feet, and eventually all over."

"Did reading that turn you on?"

Even though that had been alluded to since his arrival, he still reacted with concentrated shame at the direct question. His eyes dropped to the floor and his face reddened.

Presently, he tensed. I supposed he was waiting in expectation of another period of tickling at his inability to answer.

"Thank you, Mr. Tyler," she said, suddenly regaining the practiced tone of a lawyer, "this has been helpful, but I think that's all we need from you." I offered you the potential settlement of a thousand dollars, but I'm seeing indications of behaviours that will continue to endanger my client in the workplace. After what I've seen so far, I'm going to be requesting a settlement in the range of at least fifteen to twenty-five thousand dollars. Now, please remove your left shoe and undo your pants."