Frankly, I was dismayed to learn that the new accounting department head was to be hired from outside the company, rather than from within. This was because, to my thinking, the best candidate was, well, me. As it turned out, though, from the moment Angela swept into the building to take up residence in the large corner office, it was clear that she up to the job. She had about her a no bullshit, take charge manner - but at the same time let the staff know that we would operate as a team. The women admired her for her obvious self-made professionalism. And so did the men, that and the fact that she was drop dead gorgeous.
Apart from her Stanford MBA, her assets were green eyes and auburn hair on a tall, curvaceous figure. She tended to wear conservative business suits but the skirts were always well above the knee, and her silk blouses always snug. As much as her looks, what made her so desirable was her way of looking at you as if what you said was the most important thing in the world to her.
From the start she instituted a practice that initially seemed archaic. Everyone was to refer to her as Miss Harris. This does not often happen on a office wide basis anymore. But with her stunning looks and personable manner, this served her well by putting some distance between her and her staff. I already felt the distance. Angela Harris was 10 years younger than me. While she was beautiful with a outgoing personality, I am, to be brutally self-honest, average at best and shy. Since my divorce seven years ago from a brow beating harridan I had slowly withdrawn from the notion of ever developing another relationship.
Miss Harris was so far out of my league that I never even considered being anything other than being part of her staff. But still it was so difficult not to allow my eyes to sweep up her legs or to lean closer to her to catch her scent. As the months went by I spent my time doing my job to the very best of my ability; for when I did well I'd be rewarded with a smile and that feeling of special intimacy that she would convey with her eyes or a touch. Conversely, on the few occasions I did not perform to Miss Harris' expectations, she was quick with a sharp rebuke, a flash of those eyes; she would spin around and walk away, her heels tapping out her displeasure.
This management style was not directed at me exclusively. People naturally enjoyed pleasing her and so it became apparent that the office was running smoother than ever. I found myself doing little things I'd never do for another boss. I would go downstairs and get her coffee in the morning. Increasingly, Miss Harris would ask me to get her dry cleaning or go to the shoemaker to get a heel fixed. As time went on, in private, she started calling me Jon instead of Mr. Brown. To my chagrin, when I called her Angela, I thought she was going to hit me. Instead she coldly handed me enough extra work to keep me at the office until midnight. Despite this, my devotion to Miss Harris continued to grow.
One afternoon Miss Harris asked me to stay late to finish a report she needed for a meeting the next day. She gave me her address and asked me to drop it off at her apartment when I was done. So that night I found myself in her apartment reviewing the report. When she was done she got up from the table and sat down on her living room couch.
Miss Harris patted the couch next to her. "Jon, come and sit here." As I sat next to her I could not help but let my eyes linger on her breasts. She was not wearing a bra and beneath a silk blouse her silver dollar sized nipples were erect and clearly visible. In a stern voice she said " What are you looking at? I stammered " I'm sorry" I lowered my head. After a moment, like a jerk, I rushed on " Miss Harris you are so beautiful. I can't help it. I love you. I'm sorry." Instead of getting angry, she surprised me. "I know that, silly . Come here." She opened a button and guided my head to her breast. In a trance, I closed my eyes and nuzzled her. After a few moments she said, " OK, now Jon, I want to talk to you. Kneel down here on the floor. Put your head on my lap. Comfortable? I was in bliss. Her skirt was halfway up here thighs and I could smell her perfume and a hint of musk. I nodded my head.
"Good. Now here's the thing. We both know a guy like you isn't going to attract someone like me." Facedown in her lap, I nodded again. "But we have the start of a unique relationship. You obviously enjoy doing my bidding and I like having a no nonsense relationship based on my needs. I won't beat around the bush-- I want a servant who obeys me without hesitation. What you get is the opportunity to be around me. While that may seem to be enough for you now, I also realize you may want more. We will never have a "normal" sexual relationship, but I think I can offer you some excitement. What do you think.?"
