Looking back I have no regrets. In fact, I don't think my husband would have any either. After all, the job's mine and I'll be earning more than he does, so in a sense I'll be wearing the trousers - at least for the first couple of years or so of our marriage. Except, of course, I won't actually be wearing any trousers at all in this job - or panties for that matter. Michael made it clear that he expects me to follow the dress code he described in my interview, and to be pantie-less whenever I was in his presence.
It started nine months ago. Gerry and I had long agreed we'd get married that weekend, and even though it was really just a small affair at the Lutheran chapel in his home town with about twelve people in attendance, we decided not to cancel when his expedition came through three months ahead of expectations and he learned he'd be leaving for Bolivia the morning after our wedding. He'd be gone for three months, and we thought about postponing the wedding, but it really didn't seem to make sense to do so. Instead we spoke about how great it was that all the permissions had come through at long last and that his team could finally get on with what they had trained for and complete what would be groundbreaking scientific research into high altitude cereal yields. There were some big players backing this project with serious money, and we knew how much potential this trip had to make a difference to people in the real world. We joked that we'd still have out wedding night - and at that point we were still even thinking that I might be able to fly out to La Paz sometime in the first couple of weeks and join him before the team left for the remote interior where I would not be allowed to follow.
So that bright March morning we went ahead and got married anyway. Gerry got drunk at the reception and passed out on the bed in our hotel room, I slept on the couch and I waved him off the following day at the airport a virgin bride. Well, of course that's not entirely true. We'd had sex before we got married - a few times in fact, and I'd had three lovers before I met Gerry (and one after), but I found myself thinking of myself as pure because even two weeks after my wedding I had yet to feel what married sex was like. Little was I to know that my first experience of that was about to come - and it would have little to do with Gerry!
The first shock was opening the mail about four days after Gerry had flown. He'd Skyped from his team base in La Paz to confirm everything had gone well and that he would try to Skype me a few more times before they left for the mountains, but he'd said nothing about how he'd maxed out our credit card. I was to find out in the coming months that in order to get the go ahead from the Bolivian government he'd had to pay a few people off. Apparently there was a Chinese expedition lined up to go in their place unless certain sums were relayed to certain people in the Bolivian government whose signatures were required on papers. Nothing too unusual for Latin America, but it left us £10,000 under, and with no savings. I realised I was going to have to get a job to make ends meet for the next three months.
I'd trained as a librarian and had some waitressing experience but the only answer I got from my first round of applications came from a law firm. I figured they had got me mixed up with another candidate because I certainly had no training as a legal secretary, which was what the job seemed to be. However, when the letter came offering me a first class return train fare to London and a night at the renowned Hazlitt Hotel as part of the interview package, I figured why not go for it? I could enjoy their hospitality, fail the interview and go back with a good tale to tell - and a five star hotel dinner instead of a supermarket meal-for-one!
I duly accepted the offer of an interview and on 2nd April took the train to London, arriving at the Mayfair offices of the law firm around 1 PM. I was ushered to a plush waiting area by a receptionist who looked like a model from L'Oreal, and I was asked to wait for Mr. Kellmann, the guy who would be interviewing me.
I sat nervously and practised what I would say. My story would be that I was here expecting to be interviewed as a researcher, and that my CV must have got mixed up with the pile of legal secretaries. I fidgeted as I waited and hoped I wasn't perspiring. It wasn't too hot but I hadn't worn my outfit before and I was afraid my blouse left gaps through which my lace bra could be seen unless I got my posture absolutely right. I had on a beautiful Mitsuko jacket that I'd bought on a whim the previous year for £2,000 after I got an unexpected tax break. I'd only worn it twice before and I knew I looked great in it. The rest of my outfit was designed to look like a suit even though all the items were bought separately. The white silk Dior blouse went well with the deep purple Gucci skirt, and the jacket had three or four tiny purple flowers embroidered into its lapels that seemed to match the skirt's colour so that worked well. I'd bought new black sheer stockings from Coco de Mer's online store the week before, and since the page where you pay had had one of those "Customers who bought this also liked..." features, I'd thought why not and bought the black silk panties that went with it. The bra had been lovely too but I couldn't wear a black bra under a white silk blouse, so I'd decided to wear a white one Gerry had pick out for me in Victoria's Secrets catalogue the previous Christmas. I knew I looked great, but I still felt a little stiff and awkward, so it was a relief when after only seven minutes or so I was called through.
"Mrs. Brabanti, please come though and sit down," said Michael Kellmann. He waved me to a seat in front of his desk and sat not behind his desk but on it, looking down at me with what were obviously approving eyes. He had my CV in his hand. I could see he had removed the photograph I'd glued onto it.
"So, you'd like to work for Kellmann and Giles, would you?" he continued. "Can you tell me a little bit about yourself and why you think you'd be a good candidate for one of our positions?"
He had a kind voice and I noticed his eyes for the first time. Intelligent, blue eyes with a hint of steel behind them but twinkling still. He was probably about forty-five - say twenty-one years older than me. He wore a wedding ring and a light blue-grey suit with an expensive Italian silk tie. I found myself thinking how much easier it was to talk to a man I found attractive and I loosened up a little as I answered some rubbish I'd rehearsed about law being such a fascinating arena and how I hoped to gain as much as I contributed. I was conscious of my blouse gaping again as I leaned forward at one point and made a concerted effort to sit back, but it was hard because the chair's back seemed to be further back than I had thought. I eventually managed to shift back so that the small of my back was resting against it. My feet were almost off the floor though, and I couldn't tell if my skirt was letting me down.
Michael decided to move too and pulled up a chair to settle right in front of me. I found myself lost for a second in his amazing eyes and, embarrassingly, had to ask him to repeat his next question. He glanced down at his notes but I saw his eyes flash to my legs and realised with a shock that my skirt was tight across my lap which meant he had a clear view of my panties. I moved my legs together and he smiled and redirected his eyes to mine.
"Well, Mrs. Brabanti," he went on.
"Oh, please call me Emma," I said.
"Thank you Mrs. Brabanti, but I rather prefer to remind myself that you are a married woman," he said. "If that's alright with you" he added hurriedly.
