Jane Moves On

It must have been a month or more after Jane finally moved out from Dick's place and back to her parents with Kitty before I heard from her again. Then I got a video-call: she looked as bright and desirable as ever, but obviously puzzled.

It turned out that Jane had landed a call-centre job, but the hours were sh*t and the timetable changed every two weeks. Her mum and dad were working folk and although her dad was night shift, he needed to sleep during the day, and being responsible for Kitty was an imposition. She needed a regular 9-5 job Monday to Friday.

"Uncle," Jane said [that's what she calls me]. "I have asked at work for a 9-5 job, but they are few and far between, and those peeps that have them hang on to them, so the chance of getting one of them is slim or even impossible. There is another avenue, however," she continued. There was a pause and some throat clearing. "I need your advice," she stated. "I have been talking to my colleagues, who are mainly girls. There is an unacknowledged rumour that our VP's and MD appoint their Private Secretaries on other factors other than their clerical skills. The pay is apparently much better, and it is obviously a 9-5 job. What do you think?"

My dick almost leaped out of my shorts as I envisaged the Jane I had briefly sampled being screwed over some VP's desk wearing black underwear that I immediately linked to that scenario, featuring suspender belts and no panties stuff. OK. She had asked a question and the ball was in my court. "Hell, yea," I responded as my first reaction, "But seriously the question is really , what do YOU think?"

"Thanks, uncle, for that endorsement," Jane replied. " It COULD be fun and it certainly will pay well, but what will peeps think of me?" she continued.

"Fuckem...er...the detractors: you got about 10 good years starting now to play that part. You cannot revisit this 10 years from now: it's a now or never deal. If you need to bail out for whatever, just close and lock the box, and move on. For me, I would find you even MORE desirable than I already do. Go fuck, gal. Go fuck 'em!"

Jane looked so relieved at my response, not surprisingly, as it synced with her own gut feelings too. "You know I could never ask MY dad stuff like this, he would kill me!" she exclaimed.

"I know," I chuckled, "But then he has never fucked you either: he has NO idea what he is missing!" I continued.

Jane could not suppress a hearty laugh. Then she got serious again. "Look, uncle, I need to make a decision: I hear that the VP Human Resources has lost his Private Secretary unexpectedly. It is rumoured her hubbie got wind of the deal she was on. The underground has it that any wannabes have to let their supervisor know by this Thursday lunch latest of their interest in the job, which is unadvertised. If they are short-listed they will be booked in for overtime Saturday morning and the VP will stroll around and take it from there around 10 a.m. It is now Tuesday and so I have to act."

"Jane," I started, "I have your back. Go for it. Suck it and see!"

Jane grimaced at my pun and replied, "You are right. The decision is a no-brainer. I am simply being a scaredy-cat. Thanks! Gotta go!"

So the next day Jane advised her Supervisor of her interest, and the following day she received notification that she was booked in for Saturday morning. Butterflies in her stomach and a certainty that there would be now a wet patch on her undies. Now what? What to wear? Had to be professional-looking but sexy too. Jane decided on a black semi see-through bra, matching suspender-belt and panties. Black sheer stockings. A short pencil skirt above the knee in graphite grey [no eraser] with a 6-inch slit at the back so she could still walk, and a lightweight pure white long-sleeved blouse with tiny frills at collar and cuffs. She thought about a choker, but then that would have been TOO obvious, and so a black bow would have to suffice. Just the shoes now. No question but black stilettos with 4-inch anodised silver heels. Must be new so that the bright yellow/orange leather rise between the sole and heel was as clean as a whistle. Never know who might see them. Done. Friday afternoon would be best for the shopping as she had been given time off to compensate for Saturday.

Jane's head was in a whirl again: sure she wanted the job. Sure she was willing to subject herself to being a sexual object, BUT she had some sort of misgivings about how to fit the role: she was not simply a piece of meat from the butcher that you paid for by the kilo: she had wit; she had class and she was most certainly NOT simply a high-class hooker, or was she? "OK. Enough for now. Just keep those ideas forefront on the day," Jane decided.

Friday afternoon eventually arrived and Jane excitedly did her shopping exactly as she had pictured. All tried on and perfect fit. She finally added a Gucci 1955 Horsebit Messenger bag so she could carry her shoes, although it cost her, but the effort was very necessary, she considered. Now home and early to bed to be fresh for Saturday.

07:30 Saturday morning and Jane was already showering. She dressed on auto as she knew exactly how and what she was going to wear, but her mind was still in a whirl on how she was going to play this day. She knew that she was highly likely going to be fucked and by a stranger too. This gave her strange butterflies in her stomach which she knew would signal a wet patch in her panties. That reminded her and immediately she grabbed a wad of toilet tissue and stuffed it between her legs: that graphite grey mini-skirt would be unforgiving if she leaked and THAT was not going to happen. Finally she donned her regular flatties and put her brand-new stilettos in the bag so she could put them on at the office. All set so off to work we go!

Turning up at the office on a Saturday morning dressed to the nines was an obvious giveaway and was confirmed by glances and sideways comments , but even warm smiles. So what? They most knew anyway and if she got the job, they would all know soon enough.

It was 9 a.m and so Jane had an hour to kill before she could expect anything to be happening. She was not part of the regular shift, and so the Supervisor had left her some customer complaints to research that did not need any interaction. Perfect. She got stuck into the list and that took her mind off the upcoming possibilities and the next time she looked up it was already ten minutes to ten. "Oh my God I need to dash to the bathroom before anyone comes," she mumbled to herself and dashed off.

In the bathroom Jane removed her panties and the wadge of tissue but she still did not trust herself to keep her skirt from staining, and so she put in place an internal tampon for safety, then back to her seat. Back to her seat and two final jobs: the first was to take out and put on her stilettos and then replace them with her flatties in the bottom of her Gucci bag, and secondly to put her panties in the same bag BUT with a tiny bit protruding and the zip a teeny bit open. She had a plan in place.

Ten o'clock came and no-one had arrived. It was now five past the hour. Jane was feeling disappointed. Had they found someone else? She had noted a couple more of the girls looking dolled-up as she came in. Had they selected one? Suddenly there was a voice at her elbow, "Jane Allcock?" spoke the voice. Jane spun around quickly on her secretary's chair and found herself looking up at a very cheerful young man in a grey suit and floral tie, prolly late 30's she surmised.

"Yes, that's me," replied Jane with an eager smile, looking up to the young man.

The young man placed his left hand on the office cubicle partition and leaned towards her offering his hand. "I'm Paul Turner, the HR VP. I understand you're looking for a 9 to 5 job. Am I correct?"

Jane paused briefly to tell herself to cool it: she had a lot to do before she could let her head go crazy. "That is absolutely correct, Mr.Turner," Jane responded and took his hand with both hers in a gentle handshake.

"Can we make it Paul and Jane from now on, as the Sunday names get tiresome," said the VP. Jane nodded in response. "In which case, Jane, let's go back to my office and complete the paperwork," he continued.

Paul turned on his heel and Jane grabbed her bag and followed him, quickly switching off the PC as she rose.

Jane and Paul headed for the lift-hall and when the lift arrived, Paul selected an unmarked button which took them to a floor very close by. It turned out to be simply a corridor with a number of doors along the left side only. No names.

Paul paused at the first door, and it opened automatically, showing entrance to an office suite. "This is the front office where you would work," said Paul. "Next to your desk is my door," he continued. "Shall we go in?" he said, opening his office door and showing Jane the way forward.

They moved inside, and Jane was greeted by a large office with a huge mahogany desk on the left and a large comfy-looking white leather sofa on the right with a coffee table in front. She tried to ignore images arising of what may have happened on that sofa, and the images were not unpleasant and causing her tummy to flutter. She started to have wild images of herself and Paul on that same sofa, but quickly squished them: THAT would happen in its own time, and she needed to think on her feet for now.

Paul moved around his desk and settled into a large high-back leather office chair, and indicated the one opposite for Jane which was also a black leather office chair but no high back.

Jane quickly looked around noting there were several doors off the office at the back and took her seat facing Paul. She carefully placed her bag on the desk with the open corner pointing towards him.

"Jane, are you still happy with what you have seen so far?" asked Paul.

"Very happy indeed, Paul," Jane replied.

"Then I need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement," he continued. "This is to protect us both, that is our Company and yourself, from any possible repercussions in the future. It is not foolproof but it is the best we can do. Usually we leave this until after the interview, but the MD and myself have concluded that we need you into our inner circle forthwith. The salary is £40,000 and you start Monday. Please read and sign," continued Paul.

It did not take Jane long to read and sign the agreement which she then pushed back to Paul. "A couple more things," said Paul, "On Monday we need to set you up with access: that is by index finger in the main lift and by eye contact for the office. One more thing, your office hours are 9 to 5 Monday to Friday unless we have arranged with you a Saturday visit, in which case you finish 12 p.m Friday. Saturday is from 10 until 1 at the latest. There is a Saturday bonus of £200 in your bank on the following Monday, for work in my office, and £300 if for another VP or the MD. There may be occasional needs outside this by mutual agreement and negotiation. We recommend you use the private lift around the corner outside which only comes to this floor, on a Saturday. It is eye access for the door and lift only," Paul concluded.

Jane then spoke looking directly at Paul. "Paul, I know I have already signed the agreement but there is one more thing to resolve which is between you and me. I know what the job entails and I am ready and willing to give it 100% but I am no hooker: I do not need the money THAT badly. In other words, I need to be treated as an equal. Monday to Friday I am Jane Allcock, your Private Secretary, but Saturdays I am Miss Ex and your, or whoever else's, equal. OK?"

Paul looked down for a second lost in thought, then looked up with a broad grin, "OK, Jane, That's a deal," said Paul offering his hand.

Jane stood up. "I'm going to the bathroom now," said Jane, "When I come back, expect Miss Ex," Jane continued, as she turned on her heel and strode off to the bathroom.

TO BE CONTINUED