I had been out of work for over a year, and reached the end of my rope looking for the perfect job. The bills were stacking up and I was increasingly impatient to find any position, short of selling my fifty-plus-year-old self. Not that I couldn't have turned a good dollar, had I chosen that path. My healthy frame still supported a voluptuous and newly fit 34DD-26-36 body capable of twisting many a man's head. Fact is, my marriage was still intact after thirty-some years (even after a short series of swinging sessions), and the idea of screwing around on my husband no longer appealed to me.
Lowering my expectations, I invested in a few power suits, dusted off my secretarial skills and set my sights on up-and- coming corporate opportunities. After several typically bland interviews, I finally got a call back from a downtown accounting firm. The young corporation consisted of mostly male, mostly white, 30-year-old yuppies. They were nice, good-natured and comparatively harmless, so the environment was friendly enough.
After breezing through two preliminary interrogations, Rick Wilson, a senior accountant, conducted what was to be my final interview. I half-expected meeting a be-speckled, malnourished, nerdy type that could only relate to ledger entries. I couldn't have been more wrong in my assumptions. Tall Rick was a total stud, dark features with coal-black hair, smoldering bedroom eyes, and a gym-enhanced physique that put most men in their mid-thirties to shame. His exceptional good looks actually made me quite nervous.
"Please don't take this the wrong way, but we are looking to add some maturity to the group," he smiled, letting his eyes observe my anxious body language.
"In that case, I think you've found the right girl, I mean PERSON," I corrected myself, stiffened my back and returned his smile.
He went on to discuss that the job would entail some overtime and occasional out-of-town customer audits. I was to be the recording secretary for his group, working hand in hand with his two assistants, Matt and Barry.
"They're young and fresh, but I think you can handle them," Rick laughed, with an evil twinkle in his eye.
"I'm sure we'll get along just fine," I answered, finally breathing the sigh of relief that comes from knowing somebody wanted to hire me.
"Great! I'll take you back to HR and we'll look forward to seeing you Monday," he said, standing up to shake my hand.
"Thanks so much Mr. Wilson. I look forward to being part of the team," I chirped and felt his long thumb massage the webbing between my thumb and forefinger as we shook hands.
"Call me Rick, Barbara. Mr. Wilson is way too formal, okay?" He said, holding on for my answer.
"Rick, it is then... and you can call me Barb," I said, growing more comfortable with his warm hand in mine. As he showed me to the door, I couldn't help but notice how wet I was. I'd perspired in interviews before, but never between my thighs.
Bright and early the following Monday morning, there I was dressed in my dark blue power suit, hair gathered tightly into a bun and ready to meet the other two members of Rick's team. Matt and Barry were like two peas in a pod, both in their late 20's, both my height in my heels. They were moderately attractive, but what really set them off was their biting wit and use of suggestive language. Dressed in ties and shirt sleeves, they ushered me into a shared work area.
"So Barb, you're going to whip us into shape?" Started Barry, when Matt chimed in.
"Yeah, she's gonna use the big whip on us Bro," Matt smirked and high-fived his compatriot.
"Hey, if that's what it takes, then..." I winked and gave them a generous smile.
"Whoa Man, I think she might be serious," Matt stated, as the two undressed me with their eyes.
I knew right then there would be no trouble controlling these two harmless oversexed guppies. As long the work got done, I was willing to play along with whatever they could dish out. Even the obvious throat-clearing, when I took off my jacket didn't get to me.
"Okay you guys, we need to get past this, if we are ever to get any work done. Yes, I'm a woman; old enough to be your mother; and yes, I do have an ample figure – big tits and hips. I'm also quite married, so keep any naughty ideas to yourselves. Fun is fun and I'm no prude, by any stretch of your vivid imaginations. However, if either of you think I would ever do anything to jeopardize this job you're nuts. Is that clear?"
They sheepishly nodded, shrugged their shoulders and reluctantly returned their eyes to their sockets.
"Good; now let's see if we can get down to work," I said, tapping Matt's cheek, as I brushed past him to my chair.
From then on, the three of us got along famously. When we worked, we worked hard. When it was time to play, we laughed, told off-color jokes and traded harmless sexual innuendos. As the weeks rolled into months, the three of us became inseparable buddies. Our boss (Rick) was happy with our timely work and tried his best to relate to us on the job and informally.
"Rick is cool to work for, but with his title and shit – just makes it hard for him to get much closer," Matt suggested to Barry and I, in one of our saner moments.
"I agree. He's one hell of a boss. Too bad he can't loosen up a bit. What do you think Barb?" Barry asked.
"Oh, I think he's as loose as he can be around us. God help me, if he was any looser," I started.
"You mean you would jump his bones?" Asked Matt.
"In a fucking heartbeat! God, he's such a hunk!" I half-joked, rolling my eyes.
"Hey, what the hell are WE - chopped liver?" Barry barked.
"Nah, I think of you two more as my Teenie Weenie Twins," I laughed and spread my thumb and forefinger apart to estimate their short comings.
"Is that so? Just wait 'til next week. We'll show you some real salamis," Barry countered.
"Speak for yourself, asshole. She's gonna have to deal with a nice, thick summer sausage from this boy," Matt proudly announced.
