Annette Fits In

Annette Bishop watched the other workers in the office gather up their things and get ready to leave at the end of the day, but on this Thursday afternoon she made no move to join them, and just called out cheerfully 'goodnight' and 'see ya in the morning', or just waved to the women who were further away. In truth, she was rather nervous and preoccupied, but trying not to let it show – although the reason for her tension was not exactly a secret. One of the youngest women, Lisa, who seemed really nice and had been particularly welcoming to the newcomer, detoured on her way out to give Annette a sympathetic smile and an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"Don't you worry, you'll be fine ... really, I'm sure it'll be just fine."

With that kindness, Lisa was gone, the last to leave the suddenly empty and silent office – almost, because in the unusual tranquility there could now be heard the faintest murmur of someone talking, behind the door of the separate and enclosed private office of the manager of the department, Ms. Laurel.

Annette had begun working here just a month ago, and was in the first phase of her probationary period. Yesterday, she had been told by her immediate boss, Ms. Laurel, that she would need to stay on late today for her first "performance review." The manager was so busy that a private meeting couldn't be fitted in at any other time during the day.

Of course, Annette had agreed at once. She was eager as a bunny to please. This was a very good job opportunity with real prospects for a career, and just the kind of company that she had always wanted to join: an environmentally-ethical cosmetics business which was up-market and had a well-known reputation, but still was a fairly small concern where everyone seemed to know each other, rather than being nameless cogs in some large corporate structure. Not surprisingly, given the nature of the products, the staff was all female, including the immaculately elegant and poised 42 year-old founder and owner of the company, Ms. Leman. However, Annette did not report directly to her: in between was her department head, Ms. Laurel, a smart stylish woman in her mid to late 30s, a whirlwind of energy and efficiency, who Annette found almost equally impressive and intimidating – but her new boss had treated her well so far, correcting any mistakes quickly and clearly, but in a pleasant and encouraging manner.

Like most of the women at this fashionable firm in the fashion trade, Ms. Laurel always looked perfectly turned-out. She had the slim figure and the height – she was around five feet ten inches in bare feet, and taller still in her high heels – to carry off the smartly-tailored outfits that she wore. They were chic combinations with a leaning to classical simplicity – plain blocks of colour in striking contrasts, cut in clean lines, but the quality of fabric and design were clearly expensive. All in all, Ms. Laurel was a class act, and one from whom Annette was picking up style tips every day.

Today was just such a case in point: her boss was wearing a bold red full-sleeve silk shirt, unbuttoned to make a V at the neck, where a simple silver hoop necklace set it off. Annette especially admired the woman's skirt, and longed for one just like it (and longed for the salary that could afford one like it too!). It was a pencil skirt in rich shiny black leather which tapered to an inch or two above Ms. Laurel's shapely knees – but its striking feature was that it was a button-through, that it was held closed by a line of contrasting round silver buttons at the front, down the centre of the skirt from waist to hem. The manager's slender unblemished legs were sheathed in sheer black pantyhose, and on her feet ... aaah! Shoes to die for! They were perfect, just perfect for the outfit – and, knowing that everything must have been bought as separates.

Annette was lost in wonder at the sense of style that had brought together the shirt, the skirt and ... the shoes: an exquisite design, open-toed and stiletto-heeled, made in black leather that matched her skirt, yet with edging and laces in bright red which perfectly complimented Ms. Laurel's top. The woman's make-up was minimal – she had the classic fine bones and clear complexion not to need more than a touch, but her red lipstick was again the perfect shade, and a striking contrast to the mane of rich black hair that fell below her shoulders.

Annette sighed a little pensively: would she ever, ever, be that cool, that smart, so poised and yet also so hot? Well, if she held this job down, then – well, yes, then maybe, why not? But she needed to impress the boss, she needed to do well – for it had been made clear at her interview, politely but very firmly, that the company policy was that anyone hired was on a probationary and temporary-only contract for three months, and only if the management were fully satisfied would she be offered a permanent position after that. It had seemed only reasonable at the time, but now Annette was feeling not quite so sure ... suppose she wasn't getting enough done, or somehow wasn't fitting in?

She sat and waited at her desk, having switched off her computer, too preoccupied to be able to answer any more emails in a coherent way. She was in sight of the door of Ms. Laurel's office – she had been told earlier that her boss had some calls to finish, and then would see her after that. In fact, it was about fifteen long minutes after everyone else had left for their homes when the buzzer on her phone sounded, and Ms. Laurel told her to come in. When Annette entered the private office, she saw that the manager was once again talking on the telephone. Ms. Laurel gave her a brisk nod and a little smile – from which Annette took some encouragement – and beckoned her inwards. The older woman gestured silently with her pen for Annette to sit in the chair which was placed opposite her desk, although it was set rather further back from it than was usual. As her boss continued chatting on her phone, Annette's eyes roamed around the neat office, which was furnished in a sleek minimalist style – rather like Ms. Laurel herself, Annette suddenly realized.

There was no carpeting on the floor, which was made of sandalwood blocks in a Scandinavian style. The furniture was of light pine with simple white fronts on the drawers and filing cabinets, all clean lines and brightness. The most austere item of all was Ms. Laurel's desk, which was more of a table in design – it was wide and long, with a thin flat top that was supported by two silvery steel legs at one end and a small set of drawers at the other – there was nothing else; it had no front or sides, and so it afforded an excellent unrestricted view of Ms. Laurel's enviably long trim legs – and also, Annette noticed, quite a lot of her boss's thighs, given the way that she had crossed her legs.

God, I'd like to be like her in ten, fifteen years time, thought Annette in admiration, and I'd like to have a job like hers too! Of course, Annette realized that she would have to dress in different colors and styles – she wasn't a tall thin brunette, but a medium-height and quite curvy blonde. But even now, young and untutored as she was, and on a shoestring budget here in the big city, with most of her pay taken up by rent, food and the subway commute, still she knew that she looked good, that she chose her outfits well and turned herself out smartly. In fact, she was quite sure that this was what had made the clinching difference at the interview, that her slightly daring choice of a halter neck print dress of blues and yellows, with a white blazer jacket on top, which was not exactly conventional "office suit" wear, had worked – partly because she had the figure to carry it off, especially her generous u-shaped 32E breasts, with her deep sun-tanned cleavage framed in the summery dress and then overlaid with the cool white of the classically-cut jacket. Yes, that had been a good choice ... a little unconventional, maybe a little "arty", but stylish in combination, especially when its casual look was contrasted against the simple and somewhat severe bowl-shaped cut of her straight collar-length natural blonde hair.

Lost for a moment in that happy memory, Annette realized that her boss was gazing at her quite intently and looking at her appraisingly from head to toe. Annette fretted in sudden apprehension, thinking "Surely I'm dressed OK? Oh, dear! I haven't been dressing inappropriately, have I? The other women all dress real smart but I guess quite sexy too ... I mean, like Ms. Laurel herself, she always looks real hot ..." and Annette suddenly blushed, confused to find herself thinking about her smart superior in such a way, as her thoughts skittered away from that image to a greater anxiety: "... oh, shit, I hope I'm doing OK, I really do want to stay on here ... oh, surely I've been doing OK, haven't I?"

As Annette came back to earth, she started to catch on to her boss's conversation. It didn't sound like a business call exactly, or at least not an external one. "Hmm, yes, I've got her in here now ... yes, it's fine, she looks good, really ... yeah, cute, very nice ..."

Ms. Laurel suddenly uncrossed her legs and leaned forwards, looking Annette in the eyes and pointing the pen in her right hand directly at the young probationer, transfixing the pretty blonde in her chair. The manager's knees were pressed together but her feet in their expensive stiletto heels swung apart, her right toe tapping impatiently on the sandalwood floor. The woman continued: "... yes, oh yes, I think she could have quite a future here, with us ... once she knows how to perform, of course, when she's learned our particular ways ..."

A tidal wave of relief washed through Annette, leaving her a little light-headed. But she did wonder what that might mean. She realized that she had not been at the company long, only just over a month, and of course every line of business – and every company – had its own methods. From the occasional sideways glances of the permanent staff, she had realized there were secrets that she was not being told, matters she was not included in – no one had been in the least unfriendly or rude, and Annette was smart enough to realize that this reserve was natural, until her own status became clear: was she going to be there long-term, was she going to become "one of us?"

She hoped so, oh! she did really hope so ... especially as she liked the other women here, and particularly Lisa, who was only a couple of years older than her and worked at a desk nearby, hmm, yes, she admired and liked Lisa a lot, in fact maybe she had a bit of a crush on her ... and so it was at this very moment, of all moments, that Annette suddenly realized that her feelings for cute bubble-butt Lisa were a lot more than just friendly, in a way she hadn't felt since those, mmm, those wild nights with Sandra, her first-year college room-mate – the first girl to make a pass at her, and into whose arms and bed Annette had leapt as fast as if someone had fired a starting gun for the 100 meters hurdles. It had been a wonderful, exhilarating, liberating experience (and the sex had been fucking amazing – and amazing fucking – too!) for five months, but then that statuesque black bitch from Atlanta had swept Sandra off her feet and right out of Annette's life ... and that had hurt, more than she'd cared to admit at the time. She had lost confidence in herself sexually, and instead had funneled all of her energies into her studies, becoming a real boring book owl ... but it had paid off in one way: she had graduated the top student of her year, and that had got her noticed and interviewed for this job. So maybe she could start again, maybe venture into the girl-girl dating whirlpool again, maybe with pretty Lisa it might work out ...

They say that nothing is coincidence, and Annette's unconscious mind had tuned in to the right wavelength much quicker than her conscious one ... had tuned into to a station called Sapphic FM (with FM meaning femme, and femmes only).

Annette hadn't really noticed until now that several of the twelve silver buttons that ran vertically up the front of Ms. Laurel's black leather skirt were undone – that wasn't unusual in itself, of course, because the garment was intended to be worn with the bottom two or three buttons undone (four perhaps, if you were daring, like Ms. Laurel), that was an intended part of its sexy 'now you catch a glimpse, now you don't' style. But her boss must have been sitting there with five or six of the buttons already undone when Annette had entered the room, and since then she had unobtrusively undone at least two more, so that only the top four were still fastened. With her legs crossed and her knees tightly together, this hadn't been apparent – but now, now, Ms. Laurel swung those slim knees slowly apart, using her right hand to ease the skirt away from her thighs so that it fell open to each side.

Annette gulped, for suddenly she was looking straight up her boss's legs, in the most unmistakably sexual way. Ms. Laurel was wearing sheer black traditional-style stockings (of course, so classy!), above which was a contrasting expanse of pink smooth and trim inner thigh – and then a full-on display of the front of her panties. And, what panties! These were a skimpy triangular scarlet thong, of such fine lace and gauze weave that the vertical line of the woman's fully-shaven vagina was clearly visible through them. Their thin gusset was pulled up tight, cutting a camel-toe groove at the base of her pussy-slit, and for one wild moment Annette suddenly thought with envy 'fuck, that must be getting her off – she's been grinding on that, she must be all hot and wet down there, however fucking cool she looks up top'.

With her face flushed, her mouth partly open and her eyes wide in surprise, Annette tore her gaze away from her manager's cunt, and looked upwards. Ms. Laurel was smiling now – the knowing smile of one who sees realization dawn on the young woman they are seducing, realization and no real resistance. Without any hesitation or pause, the older woman continued her dialogue on the telephone.

"Yes, I think she's getting on-message right now ... mmm, I think she's gonna be good ... yeah, sure ... I'll let you know how it goes ... such a cute babe, if she's willing, I'm sure we'll want to keep her on ... yeah, if she scores well, I'll call you down, honey ... then you can do your 'confirmation review' right on the spot, if you like ..." Ms. Laurel then laughed out loud, a rich husky sound that sent a shiver of anticipation racing down Annette's spine: "Oh, you do like? You're a hot bitch, you know that ... but then, that's why I love you!" The manager laughed throatily again, blew a kiss into the phone, and signed off: "Ciao, babe ... I'll call you back."

It suddenly clicked with Annette who Ms. Laurel was talking to – it could only be Ms. Leman, the owner of the whole company! And, of course, they were clearly lesbians ... and lovers, too ... in fact, it sounded like they lived together, but also enjoyed fucking their employees ... shit, how many of their employees? There were maybe thirty women in all, ranging from those just older than Annette to three in their 40s, who like Ms. Leman were enviously well-kept and trim of figure. All of them? Shit, no! ... or ... maybe ... Jesus! ... yes?

That would explain many of the sideways looks that Annette had been getting ... were some of the other women sizing her up as a possible fuck-buddy, once the boss-lady and her deputy-lover had tasted the new package first? Yes, now it all made sense, those strange under-currents, exchanges of glances, and the way Lisa had responded so positively to Annette's recent hesitant suggestion of going out for a drink together or maybe catching a movie, saying eagerly that she'd love to – but then contradictorily adding "in a couple of weeks," and then warmly wishing Annette "all the best" for her performance review ... now Annette understood why the hot minx had squeezed her arm earlier that afternoon and had huskily advised her to "go for it ... don't hesitate, babe, when the moment comes, just go for it."

Ms. Laurel picked up the pen again in her right hand and tossed her head, her waves of dark hair falling down her back. But it was her left hand that drew Annette's attention like a powerful magnet ... as the older woman put the phone down, spread her legs unbelievably wide apart, pushed her thumb inside the gusset of her panties, and then pulled the crotch sideways – exposing her naked pussy to full view!

"Well, Annette," she said, looking boldly at the young trainee, "this is your review ... so, do you want to perform, or not?" The manager's voice almost purred, like the sleek cat that she was, as she concluded: "show me what you can do!"

Annette floundered, stammering incoherently. It wasn't that she objected; not at all! She knew she was bisexual (having had boyfriends for brief spells from time to time) and that it was women who really turned her on the most! She really got wet and hot. Both her manager and Ms. Leman were just the sort of powerful older women she had always fantasized about as a teenager; plunging a deodorant tube as an improvised dildo in and out of her pussy until she came. It was just so unexpected ... though really, why she hadn't seen this coming, she couldn't now understand!

Ms. Laurel took pity for a moment, and explained: "Annette, dear, your work is just fine, there are no issues there, but we do need to be sure that you would fit in with the company ethos. You see, and I guess now you do see, we're all lesbians here, from Erika [Ms. Leman] down to the most junior. And we like it that way, though not everyone's a swinger, and Erika and I respect that, some of the women are in couples, with a long-term partner and that's fine, they can join in the fun or not just as they like. The rest of us do have fun outside of working time, of course, though Erika and I know there's often some quick fucking going on in the restroom at lunchtime. We don't mind if you want to eat pussy and not pastrami! [here she laughed at her own joke, and Annette smiled weakly, still pole axed by the turn of events] But outside of working hours, our staff do tend to see a lot of each other [Ms. Laurel arched an eyebrow, making clear the double-entendre that this meant seeing a lot of each other's naked bodies too], and Erika and I like to entertain regularly at our house, we love threesomes, foursomes and more, with different women, kind of in rotation ... you'll love it, don't worry, we just have a fantastic time, and everyone is happy and works so well together, and so the company works well too!"

"Oh, yes," Ms. Laurel added as an after-thought, "Lisa wanted me to tell you that she thinks you're luscious, you make her panties wet every day, and once you're 'in', she's gonna be in you next. She's got her best strap-on all ready and lubed up for your tight pussy!"

Annette gasped in delight, and let herself be swept away into this exhilarating vortex of lesbian lusts ... it was what she truly longed for, and her boss could see the acceptance and desire in the young trainee's face. Ms. Laurel's expression was now more dominant, and her look was as hard as the nipples that chafed stiffly inside her bra cups. As she had been speaking, her fingers had been rubbing her pussy lips, and now she spread her labia apart, showing the pink valley between. The older woman was now thoroughly aroused, hot with desire for the sweet and innocent-looking young blonde, and eager to get her hands and mouth on the impressive pair of breasts that had been so temptingly trawled in front of her in the cute girlish halter neck dress at Annette's interview.

Breathing harshly through her nostrils, the manager jerked open her red silk shirt to reveal the whore-house style bra beneath, a shiny scarlet half-cup topped with frilly black lace. The manager's skirt was now tucked up completely around her waist, and with a savage tug she pulled the crotch of her panties further aside, and snapped: "So, c'mon, you little bitch! Don't just sit there swinging those surfer-babe tits at me! It's show and tell time, show and tell: you can either go down, or get out! If you wanna stay, eat my cunt, bitch, and eat it good!"