For the tenth time this morning I caught myself swatting away my boss's hands. I had just started as a barista/waitress at a small cafe in my bucolic village, and was finally saving enough money to live on my own. Unfortunately, this new job came with a caveat: a boss who couldn't keep his hands off me. From the first interview, when he gawked at my ample chest and rubbed my bum during our awkward goodbye hug, I knew this older man was perv with a crush. But I was 21 and broke, and desperately wanted to move out of my parents' house, so I took the job anyway, with trepidation.
My fears were confirmed on day one. Jacques, my boss, was a big, boisterous 36-year-old man. He was very touchy-feely, as is the norm in our culture, but thought he could get away with anything since many women found him attractive. I just wanted to be his hireling, but he made an effort to interact with me as often as possible. The cafe was intimate and we were the only employees, so there was plenty of alone time during lulls. In the middle of my first shift, Jacques came up behind me when no one was around.
"I don't like you wearing these jeans, Celine. It's not the proper uniform for my waitresses." He emphasized 'my' while placing his hands on the sides of my thighs. "I'd prefer if you wore skirts. It's summer, and a pretty girl like you brings in customers. Okay, Celine?"
When his hands met my legs I jolted, but he held me still. I moved away once he'd finished critiquing and turned to him, still shaken. His bearded face had a stern look and his bulging forearms were crossed in a rolled button-up. Between his power stance and the 10 inches he stood over me, I could only squeak out a meek, "yes, sir," before returning to my post.
Jacques saw my unsteady hand, still trembling from the encounter, while using the French press and came to help me. He placed his bear paw over mine and pushed down.
"Relax, Celine, you're doing great for your first day. But remember, skirt tomorrow!"
He patted my pert ass lightly as he went to serve a guest.
The next morning, I nervously thumbed through outfits. I didn't want to upset my boss by not following dress code, but most of my options were for parties and not particularly work appropriate. I settled on a black pencil skirt and white blouse. They didn't show too much skin, but would hopefully keep me on Jacques's good side.
"Mon cherie, how beautiful you look this morning! I see you listened to me, ah?"
"Yes, sir..."
"Good, I like a girl who listens. Go set the tables now, dear, we open soon."
Jacques made himself a coffee and lit up a cigarette while I set. He watched me from the cash register, and when I bent over the tables to reach the far corners with the sponge, I could hear him let out satisfied sighs. My smooth, pale legs must have displayed themselves at each bend, and surely my heels popped out my round bum. I tried pulling down my skirt, but my slim waist made the cheap elastic ride back up every time. I hoped Jacques couldn't see my panties peeking out....
It pained me to admit it, but Jacques had been right about the skirt being proper for summer. It was hot as hell outside and the fans weren't doing much to quell it. Jacques had opted to undo most of his buttons and proudly showed off his hirsute chest, typical of many Frenchmen. He kept teasing me by asking if I liked hairy guys, placing my small hand on his pecs and bellowing with laughter as I got lost in his forest. Little did he know, I did like hairy men, a lot, and my panties began to moisten from something other than the sun.
"Celine, my sweet, it's so hot out. Why don't you undo some of your buttons to cool down? It's only fair since I have."
Jacques was smiling playfully as he flirted with me at the cash register. Even though he's much older and bigger, his crush was schoolboy in nature, and it was oddly endearing how much he liked to be around me. His sexy chest also didn't hurt....
"Jacques... I can't do that. That's inappropriate! And the customers!"
"Oh, we both know the customers won't mind. I'm the boss and I say it's appropriate, so why don't you undo some. It's hot out Celine, come on. I don't want to ask you twice."
"Okay..."
I didn't want to lose my job so I went along. My fingers fumbled as I fearfully undid the top two. For my small frame, I have a surprisingly large rack, and the whole reason I wore this top is because the buttons blocked it. But when I undid the top ones, the pronounced line of my cleavage became visible as my pillowy breasts pushed their way out of my blouse. They settled between one button that was fighting for its life, and bounced freely as I turned back to Jacques for approval. I was anxious, but wasn't sure if it was because I didn't want him to see me, or did...
"Good girl," he smiled and I let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, a customer, why don't you take this one."
A Frenchman walked up to the register and started talking about the brutal heat. I noticed, though, that he wasn't actually conversing with me, but rather my tits! His eyes had barely left them, following left to right as they swayed, tracking a sweat droplet that traveled down the valley of my cleavage; and he wasn't even trying to hide it. He 'perused the menu' for much longer than necessary, which gave Jacques time to come up behind me.
"It's a scorcher out there, huh?" Jacques asked.
"Sure is. You two sure seem to be dressed the part, though!"
Jacques laughed and pulled me into his enormous body. His shirt was down to the final buttons and the back of my neck, exposed from my bun, rested against his thick pelt. He held my shoulders and looked down at me from above. Four eyes now bored into my chest.
"Yup, she told me it wasn't fair that I got to unbutton and she didn't, so I told her go right ahead!"
"Good lass! If she keeps it up this might just become my new favorite cafe!"
"You hear that, Celine? I knew the customers would like you!"
"Ah, Celine. A lovely name for a lovely girl," the man replied, grabbing my hand. "Jacques, why don't you go make my order while I get to know the lovely Celine a little better."
I was terribly uncomfortable having to continue this conversation, but was glad Jacques was no longer holding me; being trapped between them was terrifying. My thighs had formed a wet patch from rubbing together, partly out of shame, and partly from the tsunami of sexual energy that washed over me when the men spoke crudely about me. I know I should've stood up for myself, but I felt so weak between them, and maybe I sort of liked it... These conflicting feelings added even more warmth to this already sweltering day.
Jacques practically had to pry me away from the customer, who was decidedly enamored. He stood as a wall between us, and it was strangely comforting to have Jacques protect me from the men who frequented. This is something he would repeat nearly every day, since the horny locals viewed me as fresh meat.
By the time the second week commenced, I had gotten into a rhythm. I knew how to work customers, and was even learning how to work Jacques; or, so I thought.... He continued his flirtations and I played back into them sometimes, mainly to keep my job, but also because he really was quite handsome. I didn't have too much experience with older men, but I liked his slightly greyed hair, and that he was more possessive than boys my age. The power he held over me as my boss was seductive, and I sort of enjoyed obeying and pleasing him, something he required absolutely. Though, I could've done without the constant touching...
The second Friday, after work, Jacques called out before leaving, "I want to see you in my office, Celine."
I wasn't sure why he needed to because I'd been a good employee all week. Pulling my skirt down out of instinct, I walked over to his lair. He shut the door and locked it when I got it.
