"John, may I ask you a question?"
I picked my head up from my desk to see the always welcome vision of Candace Bosch standing in my office doorway. Candace was an assistant buyer for women's dresses in the department store, undoubtedly the hottest of the hotties who worked in the main office. I was the distribution manager whose primary responsibility was to assure the many shipments coming in from all over the globe were received, processed, marked, and shipped to the individual store locations as quickly as possible.
It was a high-pressure, fast-paced responsibility that I enjoyed for many reasons, not the least of which was that it put me in a position where many beautiful young women, whose quotas and bonuses were based on their merchandise sales volumes, relied on my ability to get their products on the shelves in the most expedient manner.
While I strived to be professional at all times, I confess that over the five years or so that I have held this position that I had occasionally succumbed to a discreet, um, personal favor, to alter my judgment regarding which buyer's delivery might receive some priority treatment.
I'm not proud of that revelation necessarily, and so for the last few years, I had been loyal to my girlfriend, Sherry, herself an assistant buyer in women's shoes. Sherry was a knockout, tall, lean and buxom, a splendid combination, but the lack of variety and innovation in our recent sexual escapades had made me contemplate straying.
Candace would be high on my list of potential possibilities were I ever to regress from self-imposed monogamy, and for that reason, I almost went out of my way to keep the relationship between Candace and myself strictly professional. Indeed, I had almost been aloof to Candace, which went against my normal gregarious nature. Apparently, she had noticed, unaccustomed to a man not fawning over her at every opportunity. Hence, today's inquiry.
As beautiful as Candace was, and her beauty could certainly not be questioned, she bore a resemblance to Molly Sims when Molly decided to dye her hair platinum blonde, she wasn't exactly the sharpest blade in the tool shed. I was used to at least daily visits by Candace as she struggled to organize her spreadsheets that each assistant buyer utilized to track their individual department's shipments.
Most of the young assistants were recent college grads who were ambitious and aggressive piranhas on the fast-track to high-fashion buying careers. Candace was now in her tenth year as an assistant, virtually unheard of by someone still employed.
The unsubstantiated yet widely believed rumor implied she was still retained as an employee solely because she moonlighted as an unofficial 'ambassador' at the chairman's many social events, the proverbial eye-candy. Oh, yes, and the rumor went on to imply that she was fucking the chairman's son, Bill Hearn, the senior VP of Operations, my direct boss. So, the risk-reward aspect of any dalliances with Candace held many potential consequences.
I nodded pleasantly at Candace and smiled, trying hard as usual not to let my gaze lower noticeably to her delectable body, today's attire being a simple but tasteful sleeveless pink blouse and a pair of conservative white capri pants that held Candace's incredible ass, which I already looked forward to observing when she did leave the office. It was a daily highlight of my day.
Little did I know that my anticipation of Candace's seemingly innocent question on this particular day would open the door to unforeseen opportunities. She glanced quickly over her shoulder to assure that no one else was approaching the office.
"Why don't you ever hit on me?"
This unexpected inquiry certainly got my undivided attention. Before I could gather my wits, Candace followed up with, "Have you ever thought about fucking me, John?"
"Only about a thousand times," I thought. What I said, though, trying to be cute, was, "That's two questions, Candace."
Candace remained still, unabashed, her lips pursed slightly, staring at me intently. "Well then, answer them, please."
I swiveled away from my keyboard and let out a mighty sigh, which was really designed to buy a few extra seconds time before replying, as I was acutely aware of the gravity of my responses. I decided to try a diversion disguised as candor.
"Candace, you're gorgeous, sensational, every guy wants you, you know that." She did not smile, instead she looked a bit confused, her lightly freckled button nose wrinkling slightly. "Well, then, why not you?"
I squirmed in my seat, my brain sending messages to my tongue that my cock was intercepting as sheer bullshit.
"Well, for one thing we work together."
She folded her arms across her firm chest, my eyes riveted to that very location.
