Petunias Progress

(I) Ricardo

Petunia LeBar, 20, was wearing a tight, sleeveless red dress that only went half-way down her upper legs, with black fishnets and matching high heels. All this, and a brightly made-up face, with red lipstick, to catch the attention of a potential male employer, in her desperate search for a job she'd be unqualified for, but one that would pay enough so she could live. Even the tips she'd made as a waitress weren't enough to live on, and had they been, it still wouldn't have mattered, because she'd just been fired for yelling at one customer and spilling coffee on another.

Walking about downtown Toronto, she saw a sign on an office window: NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY, FULL TRAINING PROVIDED. She went right into the office. A man at a desk smiled at her.

"Hi," he said warmly, putting out his hand to shake hers. "I'm Ricardo Davis." They shook hands.

"Petunia LeBar," she said, sitting down.

She looks perfect for the job, he thought; But, does she have the...talents?

"The sign outside says I'll get all the training I need, right?" she said. "But, what is the job, and how do you choose who you want for it? Are there any qualifications I need to have?"

"Well," he said, looking her up and down, "all I need to know is how badly you want this job." He took out a piece of paper.

"How well does the job pay? If it pays what I need to live and eat comfortably," she then purred, "I'll do anything you want."

"Oh, you won't need to worry about money. With this job, you'll never worry about rent, food, or clothing ever again. As for comfort, well...this job is all about comfort."

"Then I'm in," she purred, noting his ogling.

"Good," he said, giving her the paper and a pen. "Just fill out this questionnaire, and let me take your picture."

"OK," she said, standing up and letting him take a full-body picture of her with his cellphone.

"Good. Then, if you'll just fill out the questionnaire, please?"

"OK." She sat down, picked up the pen, and looked at the questions. She marked her place of birth as Vancouver.

"Wow. You're from that far away, eh?"

"Yeah," she said, noting the question, 'Emotional Relationship with Family,' and marking the box that said, 'Estranged/Not on Speaking Terms'.

Ricardo raised his eyebrows and smirked at that choice of answer.

"These are very strange questions," she said after checking two on a scale of one to ten, one being '100% straight', and ten being '100% gay.' Ricardo smiled at her choice of two. "They don't seem like the kinds of questions to ask about job qualifications."

"Well, as you know, we'll give you full training, so things like education and job experience aren't so relevant. We just want to know if your personality traits are suited to us."

For 'Have you ever been given an IQ test?' she checked 'Yes,' then wrote her score, after hesitating, as 98.

You're lying, aren't you? he thought, grinning; You scored lower than 98, I'll bet. Good: we aren't looking for smart people.

For the question, 'How many relationships have you been in?' Petunia checked '5-10 boy/girlfriends'. And for 'Are you in a relationship now?' she checked 'No.'

Again, Ricardo smiled at her answers. Lots of sexual experience, we can safely assume, he thought; and no current attachments.

For 'Experience with Recreational Drugs,' on a scale of zero (never) to five (regular user), she hesitated again.

"Please be honest," Ricardo said. "Don't just tell us what you think we want to hear. You'll be surprised at what we like here."

She checked 'three'. He smiled.

Then she changed the IQ of 98 to 94. He grinned.

"Honesty is the best policy here," he said. "Your chances of being hired will be better, I assure you."

'How difficult is your current financial situation?' was the next question. From one (dire) to five (good), she chose one.

His smile never left his face. "How dire?" he asked.

Her eyes watered up. "I really need this job."

"Oh, there, there." He motioned for her to come sit on his lap. She went over, sat on his erection, and broke out in tears.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she sobbed. They embraced, and she put her head on his left shoulder. "When my roommate moved out of our old apartment to go back home, I couldn't find a replacement to share paying the rent. My old waitress job didn't make anywhere near enough in tips and the hourly wage to pay rent in any decent apartment, and what's more, I lost that job, too. I'm stuck in a filthy apartment with cockroaches, paying with my savings, but that money will all be used up in just a few months. I'm desperate. I'll do anything for this job."

Looking at her clothes and smelling her perfume, he was sure she'd do anything. "I think we can train you in something involving office and clerical work," he said, patting her on the bottom and staring down into her cleavage. "Don't worry, sweetie. Ricardo will help."

**************

The next day was her first day at work. She came into Davis's office wearing a tight-fitting, brown wool dress that again went only half-way down her upper legs. She also wore high heels, and the usual bright, heavy makeup, but no hosiery.

She stood there before him, letting him ogle her. "Do you like how I look?" she asked.

"Oh, very much," he said, looking down at her cleavage and legs.

"Do you want me to turn around?" she asked, as distasteful as it felt to ask him.

"Yes," he panted, "turn around for me. Let me see the rest of you."

"OK." She did. He cocked his head to the side as he checked out how the dress hugged her round bottom.

Give him what he wants, she thought, sneering inwardly at her boss's lechery; Better I'm the personal whore of just one man than a streetwalker servicing a different set of pigs every night.

"Damn, you look fine, Petunia," he grunted as she turned back around to face him, giving him a full view of her curves.

"Thank you," she almost whispered, frowning.

"As I recall from your questionnaire, you said you could type," he said, giving her a handwritten letter. "I need you to type this and e-mail it to the man addressed."

"OK," she said, then sat at her desk and set up her word processor. Doing this means I'll be more than just his whore, she thought; I like that.

A fast typist for one so out of practice, she typed out the words, backspaced, and corrected typos so fast that she paid little attention to the content of the letter. She picked up on only a few words and phrases, here and there: "The microscopic technology...in worm-like coverings...drugs' effects...burning inside...Mark LeSaffre...Ken Maynard."

"I'm finished," she said. "You want to see?"

"Print it out and hand it to me," Ricardo said. "I'm busy with something here. I can't leave my desk at the moment."

"OK," she said. Once the letter was printed out, she went over to him with it. Though she was confident she'd done a competent job, she decided to reinforce his confidence in her by sitting on his lap. Her dress rode up her legs so the only thing separating her ass from his lap was her underwear. He responded with a quickly-growing boner.

"Oh, this is fine," he said, putting his other hand on her and looking down at the paper. He found himself looking more at her exposed purple lace panties than at the letter, though. She noted his roving eyes.

Give him what he wants, she thought, allowing him to roll up her dress to her waist; I need this job.

"Good," he said. "E-mail it to Mr. Maynard." She rubbed her ass against his cock a couple of times, then got up, rubbing her bum against his stomach and chest, and allowing her dress to stay rolled up. He gave her ass two light spanks as she went back to her desk. He couldn't take his eyes off her panties, and how they stuck to her buttocks.

Look at what I've lowered myself to, she thought as she sat down at her desk; Still, I'd better leave my dress rolled up. He obviously likes my panties showing. When he realizes how incompetent I am at anything clerical, even with training, my tits and ass will be the only thing between me keeping and losing this job.

She sent the e-mail.

"OK," she said. "Now what?"

"Come here," he said, gesturing to his lap.

She got up, and as she approached him, his eyes were locked on her purple panties, which hugged her crotch so tightly that they were even outlining a camel-toe. She sat on his hard-on, rubbing on it again.

"I need you...to make arrangements...for us...to take a...business trip...to New York City," he moaned, unzipping the back of her dress. "Make a reservation...at the...Grand Haines Hotel...for this weekend. Also, get tickets for us. Here's my...travel agent's e-mail address." He handed her the travel agent's business card, then pulled her dress down to her waist, exposing her bra.

She got up, and he pulled her dress down to her shoes. She pulled her feet out, bent over with her ass to his face-him sniffing away and enjoying the slight faecal odour-then she picked up her dress, straightened up, and turned around so he could see her frontally in her underwear. "Can the company afford the Grand Haines?" she asked, tossing her dress on her desk.

"No, but Mr. Maynard will pay for it," Davis said, ogling her in an obvious way.

Better to have to strip for Mr. Davis alone, than to do it for dozens of drunk men every night in a strip joint, she thought, frowning; Just give him what he wants.

"Hurry up, sweetie," he said, spanking her ass as she went back to her desk. "The sooner, the better."

"I'd better lock the door," she said, going over to his office door and locking it. "We don't want any of the staff seeing me this way and gossiping about us."

"Good idea," he said, grinning and looking up and down at her body. "I have a wife and two kids at home."

She made the arrangements for the flight and the hotel on her computer. "I need to pee," she said.

"Well," he said, getting up and grinning. "It's a good thing I have my own private washroom over there." He took her by the hand and led her to it, opening the door wide and gesturing to the toilet. Correctly assuming he wanted to watch, she pulled down her panties and sat down, letting him see her small tuft of blonde pubic hair.

Give him what he wants, she reminded herself; My second boyfriend liked to watch me pee. I hope Mr. Davis's sexual tastes don't get much weirder than this.

Indeed, he was grinning as he looked down at her and listened to her piss as it tinkled in the toilet bowl water. He squatted and removed her panties and high heels. Then he spread her legs out wide so he could see her pee pour out of her urethra. He sniffed loud sniffs, the smell a foul fragrance to his nose. She finished with a few last squirts and yellow dripping.

He pulled some toilet paper off the roll, then he picked up her feet and put them on the front of the seat so he could see her pussy as he wiped it dry, doing so deliberately to spread her labia open and make her vagina gape. She rolled her eyes, her heart pounding.

What a creep! she thought with a frown; Still, it's better to have to do this for one creep than for many creeps in a strip joint, just to make enough to survive. Give him what he wants.

He kept her labia open and examined her vagina as if he were a gynaecologist. Good, he thought; No signs of venereal disease. "Let's see what those look like," he said, looking at her bra.

"Yes, sir," she said, frowning as she unclipped her bra. She took it off and tossed it on the sink to her left. Her breasts were small but firm, with areolae like gum drops.

He stood up, then took her by the hands and had her stand. He looked up and down at her lovely nakedness, smiling in approval while she frowned, her timid eyes a contrast to his ogling ones. He put his right arm around her and brought her to his side, then looked down at the golden liquid in the toilet. "And there's Petunia's pretty pee-pee." He pinched her ass.

She winced at the pinch, then giggled a phoney laugh. Creep, she thought.

He flushed the toilet, then pulled down the lid and sat on it.

Looking up at her, he said, "Turn around for me, sweetie."

She did. What a pretty, round behind she had! Flawlessly smooth, as his hands were to reconfirm by caressing her buttocks. He opened them to see her brown, puckered anus lips. He brought his nose up close and sniffed.

"Don't I smell bad back there?" she asked. Please don't get any weirder, she thought.

"I like your natural smells," he said, sniffing some more. "Bend over for me." She did, spreading her legs and showing both her vulva and anus. "A perfect pair."

"Pair of what?" she asked.

"Of holes, sweetie. Your pussy and your asshole are flawlessly pretty."

"Oh." I'd better buy a tube of anal lube, she thought. She looked back at him from between her legs, fearfully studying the lechery on his face as his eyes continued studying her pink vagina and her bronze swirl of anus wrinkles. Don't get any weirder, please, she thought.

"Crawl around on the floor, sweetie," he said. "With your legs spread out wide, and your ass pushed out so I can see everything."

"OK," she said, and got on the floor. He ogled her pussy and asshole as she crawled about. Give him what he wants, she reminded herself. She never noticed the hidden camera.

"That's it," he grunted. He unzipped his fly.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the office door.

"Shit!" he said, standing up and zipping up. "Stay in here, honey. Who is it?"

"It's me, Pearl," the female voice outside said.

"Fuck!" he whispered. "It's my wife." He rushed out of the washroom, saw Petunia's dress on her desk, and tossed it back to her in the bathroom. She took it and closed the door. "What is it, honey?"

"I brought you your lunch," Pearl said.

"Oh, thanks," Ricardo said, unlocking and opening the door. He took the lunch bag from her.

"Why was the door locked?" she asked.

"Was it?" he said. "Who locked it, I wonder?"

"Never mind," she said, about to leave. "See you tonight. Don't be late. We have to put in those new light bulbs."

"OK, honey. I will. Thanks, and goodbye."

"Bye," she said, and left.

"Whew. Petunia, you can come out now."

Still completely naked, she did.

"You'd better get dressed, sweetie," he said, watching his wife walk past the desks where employees were on their phones speaking, some in Spanish, to people interested in working for his company. "She might come back unexpectedly again, and I won't be able to explain away the locked door a second time."

(II) Ken

During the week following that first day, and by the day Petunia and Mr. Davis were to fly to New York to met Mr. Maynard, she was disappointed to learn that her salary would barely be enough to pay for her necessities: food, her bills, and that cockroach-infested apartment. (She even had noisy neo-nazis for neighbours, who shouted 'Sieg Heil!' almost every night, on the other side of her living room wall; when she went to the landlord's apartment to complain, she saw a picture of Hitler on the far wall of his living room and realized that she'd better keep her mouth shut.)

She hadn't slept with Ricardo yet, since his nosy wife kept making secret meetings difficult; she was only stripping for him in his washroom, where he could justify locking the door.

Then, the day of the business trip came. She was in a slinky black dress that hugged her figure and showed off her arms, legs, and cleavage. She wore matching stockings and high heels, and her face was painted up with thick black mascara, dark eye-shadow, brownish-red blush, and bright red lipstick.

When they got to their hotel room at 2 PM, one with a single bed for two that Ricardo smiled to see, she unzipped her dress.

"No, honey," he said, sitting on the bed and opening his briefcase. "None of that now. We're meeting Maynard in a few hours, and we have to get ready. We'll save that for tonight."

Her dress dropped to the floor, showing him her black lace underwear. "But I need to take a shower," she said, kicking off her heels and unclipping her bra. "After that flight, I feel kinda slimy." The bra came off with a titty wiggle.

"Very well, then, sweetie," he said with a grin as he watched her pull down the panties and stockings, revealing her total frontal nudity to him. His hard-on was straining his pants. "Turn around for me." She did, showing him her pretty little round peaches for buttocks. "OK, go take your shower, then."

He spanked her bum, and she went into the bathroom.

Three hours later, Ricardo and Petunia were in the hotel lobby, by the restaurant entrance, waiting to meet with Ken Maynard, who arrived a few minutes after they did. She found Ken much more attractive than Ricardo: Ken was taller, thinner around the waist, had muscle tone, and had slicked back, light brown hair and blue eyes. He was also wearing a black Valentino suit and a gold watch. This man had looks, charm, and money. Petunia never felt so glad to be tarted up.

"Mr. Davis," he said, shaking hands with her boss. "Good to see you. I hope you had a good flight." Then he looked at Petunia and grinned. "And you are...?"

"Petunia LeBar," she said, shaking his hand and giving him a 'You wanna fuck me?' look.

"Charmed," Ken said, giving her a 'Yes, I'd most like to fuck you' smile. "Well, let's eat. Shall we?"

"Sure," Ricardo said, and they all went into the restaurant and ordered dinner.

Sitting at a table in a corner of the restaurant where no one else was sitting, and therefore, no one would know what they were doing, Maynard and Davis were talking business while the former was playing footsies with Petunia. She slipped her right foot out of her shoe and slid her toes up Ken's left pant leg, up above his sock, and rubbed her toes against the bare skin of his leg. Her black stocking felt soft and smooth, getting his cock hard and pointy.

"So, your business isn't doing so well?" Ken said with a breathy voice that he never really tried to hide. "I can help you with that. My company can invest in yours, helping pull you out of your slump, then when your business is back on its feet, we'll take a share of your profits as payback."

"That sounds good, Mr. Maynard," Ricardo said. "You seem to be the very saviour I need. But how can I be sure that the business projects you give my employees, and the investing you do, all the money you give us, will result in profits I can make to pay you back with?"

Petunia moved her foot from out of Ken's pant leg and up to his crotch. Her toes were now tucked under his scrotum and wiggling, her foot sliding back and forth, feeling the length and thickness of his cock. He put his hand under the table and stroked her leg, feeling the texture of that stocking against her leg.

"The microscopic technology we have implanted in those multicoloured...things...I showed you in the photos I e-mailed you, when put in the...Commodities...we're selling, will make the Commodities so irresistible to our customers, that we'll all be very rich," Ken said. "Don't you worry about that."

"The video demos you e-mailed to me looked pretty persuasive," Ricardo said, "but how can I be sure I wasn't just watching actors? How can I know that the Commodities were really feeling what they felt, and doing what they were doing for real?"

"Oh, you'll be seeing living proof of our technology soon enough," Ken said with a wink. Just then, he dropped his fork. "Oops. Let me get that." He went under the table to get it...as was supposed.

Petunia, who never put her bra or panties back on when she got dressed (and made sure Ricardo didn't see her not put them back on) after her shower in their hotel room, spread her legs out wide for Mr. Maynard. To keep Ricardo distracted, she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, ignoring his bad breath as she slipped her tongue inside.