Author's Note (v2): Nothing new here thematically; just a sweet girl dealing with the usual workplace nuisances. You know: spankings, cunnilingus, outfit modifications and incessant groping.
Not that you're into that sort of thing... Gosh no! Not you.
You're here to read the part where she bicycles to work barefoot in a very short dress. And masturbates in the shower.
It's okay. I gotcha covered either way.
Enjoy!
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SCENE 1
Halfway through the interview, Doctor Ian Mitchell knew his luck was back.
Fidgeting nervously in a wooden chair opposite him was a petite blue-eyed brunette with freckles across her nose. Her name was Tiffany Topper. Judging by her resume she was in her early twenties but Ian thought she looked even younger. Her dark hair was straight and cut short. It framed her face like a pair of parentheses. Her eyelashes were lush and long, accentuated by mascara that set-off the size and intensity of her indigo irises. She had a habit of rubbing her lips together as though she had just applied Chap Stick.
Ian figured that was because she was nervous. He was being hard on her.
"So, you're work history isn't really applicable," he continued, "and it's all on the East Coast. What makes you think you'd be a good receptionist out here in a Colorado mountain town?"
Tiffany re-crossed her legs for the tenth time in as many minutes. She couldn't stop playing with her hands either. Doctor Mitchell looked friendly enough, but he was certainly difficult to impress. She had hoped to charm her way into this job, but that plan was clearly not working.
"Um... Well," she answered tentatively, "I know from being a waitress how to be nice to just about anyone... and how to keep track of what they want. And my last boss said I was a really good worker. I realize I don't have any office experience yet, but I'm sure I could learn really fast."
"Folks out here are different than you're accustomed to back in Boston, Tiffany. We don't put up with entitled attitudes and general fakery. The patients who come to this clinic expect honest, straightforward help."
"Of course."
"Some of them are older folks. Others, for a variety of reasons, may look and act differently from what you'd expect. But they all deserve our utmost attention and respect."
"I understand sir. I would never—"
"Take Marge for example. You met her on the way in. She's been the receptionist at this clinic for twenty three years; since long before my partners and I took it over. Folks 'round here know her like family. At her retirement party last week, over a hundred people came. That's a lot for this little town. You understand? I want to know if you can bring that sort of commitment to this."
"Well, sir, I..." Tiffany stumbled. She wanted to avoid the subject of how long she planned stay in Rifle, Colorado. She took a deep breath that puffed out her chest and tried to dodge the question: "First, please just let me say how sorry I am that you're losing such a good employee. You and your partners must be very sad and I realize I could never replace Marge, but... if you give me a chance I'll do a good job... I promise."
"But for how long?"
"Ugh," Tiffany sighed, "I knew you would ask me that, sir. And like I said earlier, I just moved here so I realize nobody in town knows me yet. But the truth is I'm staying with my grandma. My parents sent me here because they wanted to separate me from the group of friends I was hanging out with. So, I don't know how long—."
"Why'd they do that? Are you in some sort of trouble?"
"Well, no, not like... with the police or anything. I just made a bad decision. And they didn't like my boyfriend."
"So they sent you away to grandma's for a while to straighten you out?"
"Yeah—I mean, yes sir. That's pretty much it."
"And you plan to skedaddle back to Boston as soon as they'll allow it. Is that the shape of it?"
Tiffany re-crossed her legs the other way, wishing she had dressed more professionally. Doctor Mitchell looked so polished in his dress shirt and jacket. His clean-shaven face was handsome and his dark hair shone under the overhead lights. She, in contrast, had intentionally worn her tightest jeans and a bright yellow, scoop-necked top. Doctor Mitchell did not seem at all interested in her curves however, so she felt more foolish than sexy.
"I don't know, sir, and that's the honest truth. I quit my job before I moved, and since I've already graduated I don't have a firm date to go back to school or anything, but... I suppose I'll move back at some point."
"Well, Ms. Topper, that's a problem for me."
Doctor Mitchell was lying of course. He had already convinced himself to hire Tiffany regardless of how briefly she planned to stay. He did not want to miss this opportunity to directly supervise such a hottie. It would be more fun than he'd had in ages.
He and his partners were sick of Marge Olson and her scowling, curmudgeonly ways. She scared all their young and healthy patients away. For Doctor Mitchell's chosen line of work that was especially problematic. His expertise was in reproductive health, and for the past four years he had been trying to establish a roster of marketable sperm donors. With a local male patient-population averaging older than forty five, who generally looked askance at the idea of sperm donation, this was hardly a flourishing aspect of his business. What he needed was a tool to entice the younger local men, who had the healthy sperm women wanted, to become his regular donors.
Tiffany could be that tool, he imagined. His own libido had reacted immediately when she walked into the office, and the longer he interviewed her the more certain he became that she was the answer to his prayers. She was smart enough to do the job but seemed supremely empathetic and malleable. He got the impression she would agree to just about anything so long as it was properly presented. And to top it all, she was cuter than any girl this town had seen in living memory. The local boys would be star struck.
As the minutes clicked by, he eventually ran out of legitimate questions. Purely out of desire to see her walk around in those tight jeans again, he suggested that he needed to test her eyesight.
Tiffany thought this request was a little strange but guessed that perhaps it was common for an office receptionist to need good eyesight, so she agreed.
He came around his desk and offered her a hand as she rose from her chair. Then he gestured toward the hallway and told her to head to the second exam room on the left. As Tiffany made her way through his office door and then down the brightly-lit hallway, he followed a few paces behind and let his eyes wander her backside.
Tiffany was conscious of his ogling, but blamed herself for choosing such form-fitting clothes. After all, the very reason she had worn this outfit was to leverage her natural assets into a new job. But now she scolded herself silently. It had been disrespectful to assume that someone like Doctor Mitchell might be so easily manipulated. He seemed far more serious than the doofus managers she had reported to in the past.
Still, she kept her shoulders square and concentrated on walking gracefully. She did not want him to think she was unattractive.
That worry was needless of course. Doctor Mitchell's face was pursed in lustful focus as he trailed behind her, eyes mesmerized by the rhythmic flex and release of her denim-clad derrière. She had the nicest little butt he could remember seeing in a long while.
When they reached the exam room, he flicked on the lights and tried to assert a professional demeanor. He asked Tiffany to stand in front of the eye chart. As a quick test of her compliance, he walked up behind her and placed his hands around her ribcage just below the line of her bra.
"Just back up a little more," he said, pulling her gently away from the chart on the wall.
When she made no objection to this touch he slid his hands down to her waist, relishing its remarkable slimness. He adjusted her position a little more, feigning concern that she needed to be exactly the right distance from the wall.
Tiffany had to stifle a giggle. His fingertips tickled and felt a bit naughty. She did not want to appear immature, however, so she tried not to squirm or make any noise.
"Good," he said finally, giving her a quick pat on both shoulders before moving off to one side.
Tiffany sensed that Doctor Mitchell was appraising more than just her eyesight but this did not bother her. In her prior food-service jobs her co-workers had always been flirting, patting and groping each other. She was accustomed to it. She straightened her posture and sucked in a lungful of air, trying to boost the profile of her medium-sized boobs.
"Okay," Ian began, standing to the side and looking her up and down. "Please cover your left eye and read the last three letters in the 4th row."
"E, H, Y," Tiffany recited, finishing with a pearl-white grin.
"Good. Now cover just your right eye, please. Read the first four letters in the 5th row."
"Z, I think, and then A, P -- or that could be a D, then Q."
"That's fine. Now, cover both eyes please, and tell me...."
Ian smirked as Tiffany dutifully covered both eyes and waited for him to finish his sentence. Despite himself he let out a mirthful chuckle.
"Tiffany, that's a joke," he said.
"Oh my god," she suddenly laughed, yanking her hands down and swiveling to face him. "I'm such a moron. I can't believe I did that!"
"Sorry. It's just an ice-breaker we use with patients sometimes. It gets a laugh even when they don't fall for it."
Tiffany's face warmed to a pink flush with embarrassment. She quickly averted her gaze downward, hooked her thumbs into her jeans' back pockets and began twisting the toe of one shoe into the floor.
