Vang's Ascent to the Pa Position

In one of the top Finance Agencies in Melbourne that specialised in servicing wealthy enterprises from Asia doing business in Australia, the Saigon-born Vang sat at her desk. Her eyes were glazed, lost in the figures in front of her: unable to concentrate as figures tumbled in a kaleidoscope of Excel cells. Her stomach churned and her mind was elsewhere thinking of the rumours of staff cutbacks that were circulating. She was worried she would be one of those handing in their ID lanyard. Worry shot through her as she saw Mr Billings making a beeline for her desk. The office grapevine suggested that her department was next to face cutbacks and she knew she well down the pecking order of required workers. At 35, she was worried about her future.

"Vang, can you come into my office?" His voice had a menacing tone that made every head in the open-plan office swivel in her direction. Jim Billings's nickname was 'Butcher Billings' because he made the cuts. He was a man of few words, and when he did speak, it was usually to bark orders or, as office folklore said on two occasions in his 20-year career in upper management, give qualified, reserved praise. He had never called her into his office for anything other than an unemotional warning she needed to produce better results, because results were all that mattered in the cutthroat environment that he micro-managed.

Somehow, she rose from her chair and followed him. A few colleagues gave her sympathetic glances, but the other Vietnamese female in their open office plan area, Hong, looked happy as she sneered at Vang heading to the guillotine. Smiling to herself, her eyes followed Vang whose round-bellied 34C 30 34 body was draped in a baggy trouser suit, as she was sure Vang was going to be sacked.

Mr Billings' office was a stark contrast to her own crowded, open-space ant colony, with its sleek, modern furniture and wall of windows. She stood in front of him waiting for the axe to fall. He leant back in his chair, his eyes dissecting her. "Vang," he began, his impersonal tone like a British judge wearing the black cap announcing the death sentence, "You will no longer be working in the General Admin department." Vang's heart sank even though she was expecting it. He continued, "I've noticed your dedication and hard work here. You obviously followed my advice which is essential for progress in this company." He paused. "I'm offering you a promotion. You'll be my PA, my Personal Assistant."

She stared at him, stunned. A promotion. How? This was the last thing she had expected. He went on to explain the responsibilities and perks of the new role and the potential for bonuses as they worked together as a team within the company. Vang listened, trying to keep her expression neutral, her thoughts racing. This was a lifeline she hadn't seen coming, and she wasn't about to let it slip through her fingers. She nodded: her voice unsteady as she accepted. "Thank you, Mr Billings. I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

Her second meeting with Butcher Billings occurred the following week. She walked into his office and he gestured for her to sit and stated the most important aspect of the PA job "Your loyalty to me will be paramount, Vang," he said. "Forget the company, it's about us now.

She thought this unusual, but she nodded solemnly, eager to prove herself. "I understand," she replied, not knowing what he meant.

He leant forward, his elbows on the desk, and steepled his fingers. "I know what you're thinking," he said, his gaze unwavering. "What will your husband think of you working weekends and late nights?"

She felt a blush creep up her neck, her thoughts racing to her ex-husband who had left her for a younger woman. "It's not an issue," she stammered. "Work is my priority." She thought of how he had ignored her for sex and flaunted his women in front of her, deriding her lack of sex appeal. It wasn't because she was anti-sex. In fact, she was sexually frustrated and her constant daydreams made extreme niche sex sites on the net seem tame. But being separated at her age and plain looking she knew no Vietnamese man would be interested in her.

"Ah," Mr Billings said, his expression unreadable. "Well, then there's nothing to worry about. We can focus solely on the job at hand." He continued, "But I expect your undivided attention and loyalty as we secure new contracts for the company. Vang. Are you willing to give that to me?"

"Yes, Mr Billings," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "You have my complete loyalty." The rest of his briefing was admin stuff. They would share this office, they would travel together around Australia and overseas, Admin would have her credit card ready and her new pay started from tomorrow, as did their first assignment.

The next day, Mr Billings greeted her with a smile that never reached his eyes. "It's begun. We have been given first crack at the biggest possible contract the company has ever had. We have a dinner meeting with the Liu Corporation tonight," he said, his voice brisk. "They're a Chinese company, and we need to make a good impression and have no mistakes. I want you to go shopping for a new dress. "Something," he said looking down his nose at her shabby outfit, "more appropriate."

Vang's stomach lurched at the thought of the expense, but then she remembered her new credit card and his words to cover all expenses in getting a new contract. At the local shopping centre, she picked out a sleek black dress, the halter neckline showing off her 34C tits, but unfortunately, also her full belly, plus the material was stretched across her broad arse.

But when she presented her choice to Mr Billings, his smile was forced. "Good attempt," he said, his eyes raking over her. "But I think we can do better if we are going to impress." He took her to a boutique that catered to a nightclub clientele. The dress he selected was cream, the neckline plunging to her navel and the hem barely grazing her upper thighs. She felt semi-naked just holding it, but he seemed pleased. She slipped it on, feeling the fabric clinging to her ample curves and she felt a new woman, but unsure whether it was suitable for a plain-looking, solid-bodied Vietnamese like her.

Mr Billings nodded approvingly as she modelled the cream dress. "Perfect," he murmured. "But we can't forget the shoes." He led her to another store, where a wall of towering heels filled the display shelves. His eyes scanned the options before settling on a pair of stilettos, "These will do nicely," he said, handing them to her. The heels were at least four inches, making her wonder how she would walk in them. They selected three more outfits each more sluttish than the last.

Back at her small apartment, she received a DHL delivery. It was from her new boss and a note said. 'We forgot these. Important we impress the Chinese tonight." Inside the box from La Figure Lingerie was a collection of thongs, garter belts and quarter-cup bras: all her size. Vang couldn't resist the urge to try on these and the clothes. The lingerie clung to her, a second skin that made her feel like she had never felt before and that she never imagined she would wear. She stood before the mirror, modelling what she would wear that night and imagined herself before the Chinese delegation, their eyes widening with desire as she sashayed into the restaurant on her towering heels.

As always, her fantasy grew more vivid, her hand moving to cup her hanging tits. She closed her eyes, picturing the room full of powerful men and women, their gazes locked on her. In her mind's eye, she saw the women's hands straying under the table, their eyes glazed with lust as they watched her every move. The men's cocks grew hard, straining against their pants. As she fantasised, she slipped a finger into her wet pleasure cave. With each stroke, her fantasy grew more intense. She stepped out of the cream dress and the delegation couldn't get enough of her, the women's fingers working furiously under their skirts, their eyes never leaving her. The men's faces were a mask of hunger for her. She pictured herself strutting around the table, her movements showing off her minuscule thong, her full breasts swaying with every step. Her arousal built, her hand moving faster as she lost herself in the daydream.

And she came very hard, collapsing onto her bed, her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. But it was only a dream. The real Vang could never do something like that.

The limousine ride to the restaurant drew meeting the Liu entourage closer. She realized her dress was a size too small, but Mr Billings had insisted, his eyes gleaming as he watched her struggle to get comfortable in the restrictive fabric of the body-revealing garment.

He broke the silence and spoke. "I have done my homework due to the extreme importance of this contract for us," and he added as an afterthought, "And the company." Mrs Liu controls the company. Her husband is a figurehead. He is a name, nothing more. She has control of the reins and a taste for power and pleasure. Do not be surprised if I indulge her."

"What do you mean?" she queried, unsure of what he was alluding to.

"According to my sources, and I trust them, she is an addict," he said, his voice low and measured. "Sex is her addiction. And she has a huge appetite. Do not be alarmed if I flirt with her. It's all for the contract." He turned to look at her, his eyes cold and assessing. "And remember, Vang, your role is to make sure she remains satisfied as, at the moment, we are leading the race for the Liu contract. Follow my lead, and we will be well rewarded."

By the time his Mercedes Benz Z class pulled up to the elegant eating house, Vang was panicking. Could she handle this? Inside the restaurant, she experienced sophistication for the first time: the low murmur of refined conversation and the clink of silverware on fine chinaware, the uniformed waiters gliding like robots as they weaved around the crowded tables. She could see what had to be the Liu family already seated at a round table, their eyes acknowledging them as a waiter guided them to the table.

Mrs Liu, a woman in her early 30s with a body that was younger than her years was dressed in a figure-hugging Cheongsam or, as the Mandarin-speaking Chinese say, 'qipao' that showed all. Her smile was false and painted on her face in the way very rich people have. She gestured for Vang to sit beside her. "Ah, Mr Billing's new assistant," she purred, her eyes assessing Vang's outfit and mentally calculating its price and sex value per $. "I've heard so much about you."

Mrs Liu leant in close, the scent of her expensive perfume reaching. There was no subtleness, no small talk. "So, tell me," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr, "How is Jim in bed?" The question hit Vang like a sledgehammer, leaving her floundering for an answer. She felt a flush creep up her neck, but before she could stammer her response, a relative called Mrs Liu away, leaving Vang to gulp down some water and steady her nerves.

She took out her phone, her hands trembling, and typed out a question and sent the text off. The reply came back almost immediately: "Tell her I'm a Sexual God and Superman combined. Do everything to win the contract." Attached were photos of a nude Mr Billings, his penis thick and quivering and far bigger than most porn stars. She stared at the images in shock. Her boss was hung like a horse.

When Mrs Liu returned and looked at Vang questioningly, Vang took a deep breath and in her own words repeated Mr Billing's message, feigning shyness. Mrs Liu leant closer. "Oh, really?" she said, in an excited voice. "That's what I hoped. I can't wait to find out for myself." Mrs Liu left Vang and descended on Jim, kicking an underling out from the seat beside him. The dinner progressed with Vang's mind racing, trying to keep up with Mrs Liu and her boss's rapid-fire exchange of words and glances that seemed to have nothing to do with the business at hand. She felt out completely of her league.

After dessert, Mr Billings excused himself, and Mrs Liu returned to Vang. "Do you have any photos of Jim," Mrs Liu queried. Vang wondered if she was making the right decision but she pulled out her phone and handed it over, watching as Mrs Liu's eyes widened and her smile grew more predatory. "Mmm," she said, her voice thick with lust. "I see why he was so eager."

As the night went on, Vang watched from the sidelines as Mr Billings and Mrs Liu grew closer. The way she leant into him, her hand resting casually on his thigh, sent a jolt of something unidentifiable through her: perhaps jealousy? Anger? She told herself it was all an act, that Mr Billings was playing his part, plus she was nothing to him, but the sight of him all over her was hurtful.

As the evening drew to a close and the business talk grew more serious, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the couple. Mrs Liu's hand was now firmly on Mr Billings' crotch, her fingers moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He threw his head back with a groan, unheard in the chatter of restaurant noise. Finally, when the Liu entourage left, Mr Billings nodded, and she knew it was time to leave. In his car, he smiled at her. "You did well, Vang," he said. "Your jealousy act was quite convincing."

He suggested they go to his penthouse to discuss the final details of the contract. She nodded, knowing her new job was not 9 to 5. Inside the opulent 15th-floor penthouse her boss poured them both a glass of expensive whiskey. "To new beginnings". She took a small sip. With her lack of knowledge of fine things, it could have been a can of cheap bourbon and coke. "Now," he said, "Let's talk strategy so we can get the contract finalised before Rob Wooton and his PA, Hong, finalise the one they are working on. If we land ours first their news will be buried in the wastebin. The opposite if they land theirs before ours."

The mention of Hong's name caused her to tense. The 25-year-old Australian-born Vietnamese had made it her mission to make Vang's life hell since she had joined the firm. She was considered the most attractive woman on the staff, and she used it to manipulate everyone around her. But what infuriated Vang the most was the way she boasted about her conquests, the way she flaunted her sexual prowess and degraded Vang's lack of sex appeal for her own amusement.

Vang felt the anger bubbling up inside her, her hand tightening around the glass. "We can't let them win," she said through gritted teeth. "Hong thinks she's untouchable, but she doesn't know what we're capable of."

Mr Billings' smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with something that sent a shiver down her spine. "Exactly," he said, leaning closer. "We'll make them look like novices. Tomorrow, I need you to take Mrs Liu on a tour of Melbourne," he instructed. "Show her the sights, make her feel welcome. Do whatever she wants, and remember, this is all for the contract."

"But I..." she began, her voice trailing off before saying she didn't know how to converse with someone from a totally different social class to her.

"You'll do as I say," he insisted. "Trust me, Vang. This is for the greater good. That is mine and yours. Tomorrow night we'll meet Mrs Liu again. By then, you'll have secured your place in her favour, and we can finalize the contract. Do you understand? Give her a great tour so she is in a good mood for the final meeting tomorrow night."

As she nodded her understanding, her thoughts drifted to her cream dress and the photos on her phone. As they parted ways, Mr Billings took her into a firm but surprisingly brotherly hug and she felt his erection press against her briefly. Her body, the clothes she was wearing, the photos, Mrs Liu's overt flirting with him, her husband leaving her for another woman all betrayed her, and she pressed into him, craving the contact she had been denied for so long.

His hand found a breast, his thumb brushing over the fabric of the dress, then inside to cup a hanging tit and then fondle her already hard nipple. He had seen her pointed nubs sticking out against her dress material, but touching it convinced him his PA's nipples were the biggest he had ever seen. She gasped as his fondling continued and his other hand slid down to cup her buttocks. The shock of his touch sent a jolt through her and her body responded instinctively.

Her world shrunk: the only sound their ragged breaths. She received a searching kiss that she returned passionately. She felt his hand slide up her thigh, his fingers teasing the lace of her thong, and she knew she was his to fuck. But as quickly as it had begun, it ended. He pulled away. "Good girl," he murmured, patting her shoulder. "Now, go home and get some rest. You have a busy day tomorrow." With a final nod of his head, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing, wondering what she did wrong.

The hug had been his test, and she had passed it with flying colours. Jim had thought it may have been harder to get to this stage. Now he had to play his cards correctly so that instead of just casually fucking her, make her totally dependent on him and then use her in many ways to help win contracts and propel him into the Board of Directors.

Vang half turned away then her needs overcame her. She rushed to him, wrapped her arms around him and said she was his to fuck. He led her into the bedroom of his penthouse, his hand fondling her rounded arse. "Let me show you how much I appreciate your loyalty, Vang," he whispered. He laid her gently on the bed, He kissed her neck, his hands roaming over her body, exciting every part he touched. She watched him push her dress above her waist, his mouth trailing kisses along her stomach. His hands cupped her tits, his thumbs circling her sensitive nipples. It was so different to her ex-husband and her body responded hungrily.

He removed her thong and dress, his eyes widening at the sight of her wet sex. He thought to himself, must get rid of that massive, tangled bush but said, "You're so beautiful," His tongue darted out, tracing the seam of her slit, opening it. He took his time, tasting her, teasing her, until she was writhing beneath him. His hands played with her tits, his thumbs flicking her now rock-hard nipples as his tongue explored her quim. Her needs surged until they finally broke and sent an orgasm crashing through her body. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he held her, his mouth never leaving her cum oozing cunt.

To her disbelief, Mr Billings didn't stop. He kept licking and sucking, pushing her through two more climaxes, each one more intense than the last. Vang's body was trembling, her mind racing. This wasn't the rough, impersonal sex she had expected and feared. It was something that she had only dreamt or fantasised about. With her next her body convulsed, her legs spasming around his head and the proof of her pleasure soaked his face. She had never squirted before: had thought it a myth. She braced for his disgust, for the end of his humouring her.

But instead, Mr Billing's eyes lit up, his mouth eagerly swallowing her squirted cum. She watched in amazement as he licked her clean, his expression one of pure hunger. He kissed her thighs and her stomach, moving up to claim her mouth once more. She could taste herself on his lips. As she lay there, panting and spent, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps this wasn't just about the contract. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for something in the future. Mr Billings stood: his own need evident with the bulge of his pants. He looked down at her. "How do you want me to take me, Vang?" he asked. "Missionary, cowgirl, or doggie?"

Her heart skipped a beat. But could she dare to voice her deepest, darkest desires? She took a deep breath and whispered, "Doggie, sir." She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.