I had the process down to a fine art -- click print, run to the bathroom to dry my hair, zip the skirt, and finally put on a tiny bit of makeup. Step two - quickly grab my resume, stuff it into my messenger bag, slide on my black "interview" shoes and take a deep breath as I slip out the door - while marvelling at how I have my perfect routine down pat. Step three - cleverly fail to notice the turned up edge of the carpet in the hall, trip and tumble forward as my heel snaps and tear a huge hole in my pantyhose. Yes -- smooth like butter.
Cursing under my breath, I raced back through the door hunting for fresh pantyhose and new shoes. The only black shoes I can find both of are 5" stilettos ... more cursing as the only thing I can find for my legs are nude fishnet stockings. Out of options, I put on the stockings and shoes praying that the interviewer thinks I'm just being fashionable. This was about my seventeenth interview in about ten days -- I was seriously thinking of becoming a professional applicant, screw my administrative ambitions.
I run interview questions in my head, polishing my responses up knowing that this guy would be a tense interview to say the least. The pre-interview had been intense, he spent ten minutes shooting question after question at me barely pausing to hear my answers. The 'ask' for the in person interview was more of a command on his part -- and my mind had been spinning so fast I nearly forgot to fake contemplate my 'busy' schedule.
I couldn't believe I'd even made it to round two. The job itself was as an executive assistant to a "very busy senior executive" which my best friend and I had giggled at as an oxymoron. The pay was insanely high and I knew that I was barely qualified -- but it seemed fun that my temp agency had thrown my resume into the pot. Now here I was going to meet Mr. Busy himself.
As the elevator doors open, I take my final calming breath while walking confidently to reception area. The large open area is empty except for a single neat piece of paper with black type.
"4:45 Appointment: Third office on the left, knock twice then enter."
I snickered at the odd precision of the note, but made my way down the hallway, knocked the required two times and walked in. Mr. Busy was sat behind a large dark brown desk and rose to greet me. He was younger than I expected with short brown hair and intense brown eyes that had an odd sparkle that I couldn't quite figure out.
I pegged him at about 6 ft and the picture of "business casual" black jacket, pressed white dress shirt and dark grey khakis. If we'd been in a bar and not a job interview, I would have been flirting instead of giving my warm professional smile.
"Hello, you must be Robynn," Mr. Busy greeted. "You may call me Andrew for now, have a seat."
"Pleasure to meet you, Andrew," I returned.
"Thank you for asking me to come in. Here's a copy of my resume for you as well."
Andrew looked me up and down as I took my seat across from him. I smiled politely and tried not to blush -- his eyes seemed to be doing more than the customary 'once over' but for what this job was paying, I wasn't in the position to argue.
"As I mentioned on the phone, I am looking for someone very specific to serve as my assistant. You are somewhat less experienced than the other candidates I've interviewed -- however -- talking to you on the phone, I could sense a certain spark that might prove useful."
"Thank you for giving me this chance," I replied.
"I don't give 'chances', I'm either right or wrong. I haven't gotten where I am by being indecisive or emotional or even for that matter wrong more than I am right. You have potential and today we'll see just how much potential that is."
I mentally prepared for the standard tests I knew he was going to mention -- first typing, then spelling and finally Microsoft Office -- pretend to be surprised like he's the first exec on the planet to think of software tests.
"Andrew, I think you'll find my scores from the agency quite exceptional. I type on average 52 words per minute with a 99% accuracy. I also have my certification in all the standard 2007 MS Office products in addition to experience with Visio and MS Project."
"I appreciate you attempt to anticipate my evaluation of you, Robynn, however you are quite wrong. I saw your resume. I know you have the technical skills -- hell the other four girls vying for this job have your skills. What you need to do is show me how YOU are different from them. Do you want this job?"
"Yes," I replied slightly embarrassed at my misstep and confused as to what he planned on evaluating. I made my own executive decision and decided just to go with the flow.
"Good answer. Are you wearing stockings?"
"Yes," I blushed.
"Why did you choose stockings? Fishnet stockings at that, hardly something most would choose to wear to an interview."
"I tripped on my way out the door and tore my stockings and these are all tha...."
He cut me off, "what if I told you to wear stockings every day."
"I would," I responded with barely a flicker of hesitation. I blushed.
"You would," he smiled slightly. "Good answer. Stand up."
I did. I started to get a nervous flutter in my stomach and my mind raced trying to figure out what would be next. I had no idea if this guy was for real, but part of me really wanted to find out.
"Come here and stand in front of me," he commanded. I did.
"Now, listen carefully," he said as his fingers graced my outer thighs. "I expect complete obedience. Unquestioning compliance and every move you make when you are with me is for my benefit. You will learn to anticipate things that I will like and enjoy; that is a sign of intelligence."
"Like the fishnets and those heels. They may have started as an accident on your part -- however -- if you prove useful to me...they will be part of your daily uniform. Would that bother you?"
"No, not at all," I said. My mind was racing with anticipation. My legs tingled as his fingers slid higher up my thighs. The electricity that seemed to flow from his finger tips was making me weak.
"Take off your shirt, bra and skirt."
I did and tossed my clothes over the chair I had been sitting in. He stared at my breasts, not surprising, they were a round, firm 40DDD complete with bright pink nipples standing at attention. I took a step forward as his left hand slid between my legs and his right started rubbing his cock through his pants. I could feel his fingers slipping past my panties and I could already tell I was soaking wet. My breath caught in my throat as he pinched my clit.
"So you only look like the proper little assistant, really you're a little slut aren't you? Let's see it," he demanded. "Panties off and get on the desk, now."
