Carrie sat in the chair opposite Mr. Summer's desk. She crossed her smooth legs tightly and her right foot, hanging loosely, wiggled slightly. Carrie kept her eyes on Mr. King, who now sat in Mr. Summer's chair. She knew the company was going to send someone to "clean up" the mess, but Mr. King was not what she was expecting. He was black, and young. Well He looked young. It was hard to tell. He was large man, well over six feet tall. His suit looked like it might split if he flexed his shoulders. She had picked him up at the airport, as instructed, then brought him to the office at his request..
The first thing Mr. King had demanded when she met him. It was almost five when he landed and the office would be closed, but he wanted to come here first. Carrie had agreed of course. The drive there was quiet, and Mr. King kept his focus out the window. Carrie had done her best to entice him with her lovely looks and sweet voice. Her short skirt showed off her shapely legs and every few miles she would ask him a question. Mr. King just ignored her. Never once acting as if he heard her and never once glancing her way.
This wasn't what Carrie hoped would happen. She had Mr. Summer wrapped around her little finger. Granted, he was a small fish, but that's why she had caused this mess in the first place. To catch a big fish. She knew whomever the company sent would be a more powerful man than Mr. Summer. She was expecting a balding, white man, in his early fifties and with a stoutness about the tum. A man who would be unable to ignore her low cut blouse, short skirt and sexy heels.
Carrie was annoyed that she now had a big fish, Mr. King, right in her lap, but he wasn't taking the bait. He hadn't seemed to take notice of her at all. Not once. She was beginning to wonder if Mr. King didn't fancy women. Vexed, Carrie had taken him to the office and now she sat across from him wondering how she could regain control of this situation.
"Miss Ivy, let us discuss your future with the company." Mr. King said in his rich baritone voice. He had been looking through all of the drawers and papers on Mr. Summer's desk. He had even logged in to Mr. Summer's computer somehow and browsed his files and his email. He seemed to be done with that inspection and now focused his attention on Carrie.
"Yes, Sir." She said sweetly, glancing at the clock. It was a quarter to seven.
"You don't have one." Mr. King said bluntly. Carrie's mouth dropped open, but she closed it quickly. It was not at all what she was expecting him to say. She had been the one who had informed the company. King wouldn't even be here if she hadn't sent the messages to the head office. Carrie started to defend herself but he held up a hand to silence her. "I am well aware of how you manipulate Mr. Summer." He said. "I know that you have used your sexuality as leverage to get what you want from Mr. Summer. I know that he has, at company expense, done his best to charm you and I know that you've let him on a leash. Let me ask, have you ever slept with him?"
"No, sir."
"Did you give him head?"
"A hand job is all." She said curtly.
"I am also aware," Mr. King continued. "that you have used this advantage to skim funds from the company treasury."
Mr. King paused to let the last bit sink in. Carrie's eyes widened and she couldn't keep from swallowing nervously. "Giving your boss a hand job may not get you fired. Stealing is good reason to have you prosecuted and imprisoned."
Mr. King's eyes slowly glanced down to her long legs. His eyes studied her, leered at her. He hadn't once looked at her up until now and he made up for lost time they way his eyes scanned every inch of her body. Carrie was now keenly aware that Mr. King fancied women. Her stomach turned as she realized that she was never in control here. Mr. King held all the cards. All Carrie could do was hope he had mercy on her.
"Do you think that outfit is appropriate for an office environment?" Mr. King said, his eyes still locked on her lithe body.
"Um..."
"Stand up." He ordered. Carrie found herself standing with her arms to her sides and feet together before she was consciously aware of moving. Mr. King got out of his chair slowly, and began to circle Carrie, inspecting every detail of her.
"Well?" he prompted. "I asked you a question." Carrie wasn't sure what to say. Her blouse gave away too much of her cleavage for a real office. Her skirt barely reached mid thigh and her ass was almost exposed when she sat down. Four inch heels, with a peep toe and once inch platform were not standard office attire.
"No." she said quietly.
"Good." Mr. King said. He had stopped right behind her and as much as she wanted to turn and face him, she held still. "Do you want to keep your job?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to go to prison?"
"No."
"Then you will do exactly as I say. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Why are your legs bare?" He asked.
"Sir?" Carrie said after a pause.
"You're not wearing hosiery. You should always wear hosiery in this office. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Unzip your skirt and let it fall to the floor." He demanded. Carrie was shocked. She had planned to tease, surely, but she wasn't going to strip. She certainly wasn't going to do anything more than a hand job for whom ever showed up. Carrie hesitated.
"Do it!" he barked.
Carrie reached behind her and with a flick of her wrist, her zipper was all the way down. The skirt, no longer holding her hips, slipped off her and pooled at her feet. The removal of her skirt revealed a black satin thong that exposed her ass quite nicely.
"Miss Ivy, are you a whore?" Mr. King said quietly.
"No, Sir." She said, startled at the question.
