Hello. My name is Liz, and I work at Scent of a Woman, Inc. as a handler of naked female product testers. This position is quite far from what I was expecting to do with my life when I got my four-year degree in Psychology at the age of twenty-one.
I was an adjunct at a local community college for several years. That was not working out from a financial standpoint. Then I saw the online posting for an H.R. position at Scent of a Woman. It stated that they preferred someone with Human Resources experience and/or a degree in Psychology. They did not let me know at the time that I accepted their offer that they were quietly recruiting young women to test their feminine products--shower gels, body oils, female area sprays--mostly in the nude.
The company's lab technicians had always stated that their ideal female testers would be women who were willing to be totally nude, nearly all of the time. That way, the copious amounts of female sweat--and genital lubrication--that were required for accurate testing would always be readily available.
I think the techies were more surprised than anyone when management essentially said: hell, if we pay enough, maybe we can find some willing naked women for you.
When that same management came to me, and told me their plans, I held up my hands and informed them that I was not going nude. They laughed nervously and informed me that no, I would not be a tester, but I would be a "handler" or supervisor of these sometimes shy young women. Being a woman, and having a degree in psychology meant that I would be perfect in finding ways to relate to them.
Now, a year later, I often find myself nude, or partially nude in my efforts to relate. We female handlers learned early on that our newly naked charges did not react well to fully dressed women, blithely instructing them in various intimacies. Male handlers had a different reaction: societal pressures had already trained these girls to respond to men, whether the men were dressed or not.
I am not "into" women--I have tried--nevertheless, I now strip down in a show of support. Nude or nearly nude, I now show these pretty ladies how to masturbate for greatest effect--and then eventually go on to masturbate them myself.
The company's initial goal was to test its products to see if they survived the unique, natural odors of female sweat and female arousal fluid. Then, they collected so much, and so many different types of female genital moisture, that the company decided to attempt to create a product that would emulate that sticky fluid exactly. There are plans to release different fragrances, based on the scents of real women, such as "Sweet Honey" and "Lost in Your Ocean."
My male boss was beside himself when he asked me into his office one Friday morning. It was a relatively slow day: our girls worked only half days out of concern for their state of near-constant nudity and the unavoidably frequent intimate handling. I was only scheduled to supervise one young, twenty-two-year-old girl who we were easing out of masturbating herself in front of a handler to being masturbated BY a handler.
I was wearing my usual, casual attire: a sundress with only panties underneath, as I often took off my dress--at the very least--to put my girls at ease.
I should state that I am a brown-haired brunette, 32 1/2 inches on top with a B cup. I am twenty-seven years old, I am 5' 5", and I am told that I am reasonably attractive. I believe that my best features are my legs, as I notice men are continually looking at them and sometimes commenting on them.
Paul was definitely noticing my legs today. "Come on in, Liz. God, you look great! Dressed to impress, or dressed to undress?" He smirked.
I rolled my eyes. "You know I'm probably undressing--down to my panties at least. I still have to do whatever it takes to talk little Sara out of her robe."
"Well. She's coming up to the end of her two-week initiation period. We have to get her out of the damn brass bed room and into some more public sexual situations that will turn her on--without you spending an hour talking her into just getting naked!"
"She'll do just fine." I had to reassure him. "I brought a random female employee in while I was getting her off last time and her reaction was fantastic. Sara acts all shy, but she really comes alive, especially when being masturbated in front of random women. She had her most intense orgasm ever--actually two orgasms--with lots of collectible fluids; it's all in her file."
Paul made a typical scowling boss face. I was waiting for him to bring up why he actually called me in here. I was sure it wasn't to stare at my legs, as he was doing now. He had seen me nude and partially nude several times. He did like waltzing in and watching me get a girl to cum, especially a new girl, while I was stripped down to my panties or less. What heterosexual male wouldn't?
Paul took two files out and slid them in front of me. He grinned. "We found our Dream Team." He leaned back, so smug.
I was impressed in spite of his attitude. The dream that was our so-called Dream Team was finding two female product testers who were already in a sexual relationship--and who would agree to have real sex, right in front of us, here at work.
In a situation such as this, there would no longer be a need to try to determine what sexual situations turned a girl on. It would seem to an outsider observing us that we were deliberately trying to humiliate our girls, as in making them strip nude and be sexually handled by strangers, or having them gradually strip their clothing off in some kind of sexy and well-attended outdoor game.
On the contrary: all of our girls had had many extensive interviews and all had their psychosexual profiles written up, combining each girl's own deepest fears and fantasies, her hopes and her secret dreams--along with their handler's own personal observations.
Our goal was always getting our charges to the point of being so aroused that they would--with a minimum of effort--have at least two intense orgasms per half day... hopefully producing copious amounts of feminine fluids in the process.
"Who are the girls?" I asked, although I was already reaching for their files.
"Cassie L. and Lissa C."
(That was the way we referred to our girls. I believe that only the H.R. Director and the Payroll supervisor knew their full names.)
I looked at Cassie's file first, and naturally, her set of playful nude interview photos were on top.
She was a very pretty little brunette, with a lovely face, a sweet smile--and very little in the way of breasts. In one photo, Cassie was tweaking her nipples and looking down as if she was shaking her head over how dreadfully small her titties were. I did not remember ever handling this girl, but I liked her immediately.
I had instantly recognized Lissa by her name. Sweet Lissa... she was one of my first girls, and, now that I think about it, she was the very first girl that I got totally naked for... and much more... at work.
"I heard that a lot of the female handlers take ALL of their clothes off," she had said.
"Not me," I replied, looking down at my panties as I was spreading Lissa's inner labia open and checking on her current clitoral condition.
Lissa pouted. "But you're so beautiful!"
Heavy sigh. Who could have resisted her?
I looked at her now familiar after-interview nudes and I had to smile. With her clothes off, Lissa was a natural. She was a perfect fantasy; a red-headed bundle of sexy fun. She lifted and squeezed her 36Cs, she spread her pretty bottom... and she posed with her hand pressed into her vulva, her fingers open just enough so that we could see her swollen love button popping out.
"You know Lissa," Paul observed my interest.
"Yes," I said. I closed her file. "No doubt that's why they picked me."
Paul pretended to act surprised. "Who said they picked you?" But the man was no good at any kind of pretense; he was the worst actor in the world.
"When do I start with them?
* * * * * * * *
It was a Monday morning at nine a.m. precisely that I walked into brass bed room number one. It was our largest, and most nicely furnished room. There were pretty white lace curtains on the windows, there were two plush chairs. There was a coffee table, already set up with a carafe of ice water and three glasses. And then there was the brass bed.
It was a twin-sized day bed, with a brass headboard, a brass footboard, and an even higher brass railing along the right side, which was pushed up against the wall. It was a tight squeeze to have two ladies in that bed... today, it would have to fit three.
The bed was normally made up with a pretty coverlet and matching throw pillows. Inevitably, by the time a handler came in, the coverlet and the pillows were all neatly piled up on one of chairs, and the girl--or girls, in my case--were all snuggled under an exceptionally soft white blanket.
I got two lovely smiles as I entered. Oh my goodness: Cassie was absolutely adorable! All I could see of her was her sweet face, her short brown hair, and her soulfully deep brown eyes. Her smile was an irresistible mixture of shyness and lip-licking sexual excitement.
Lissa's eyes widened when she saw me--and those deep blue eyes thoroughly looked me over. Lissa was a gorgeous, true redhead--but with only a small smattering of the standard freckles. Her smile was genuine--but it was also wicked. I knew she was going to say... something.
"Aren't you a little overdressed?"
I looked down at myself as I put my laptop and the clear plastic bag on the coffee table. I had on a tight pink sweater--without a bra--and a denim-blue miniskirt.
