"Tricia, could you come in my office for a minute?" It's the boss calling and it can only mean one thing--you're working late again tonight. You push yourself out of your chair and walk into his office.
"Yes, Mr. Jones?" You watch his eyes as they move from your legs to your hips, pause at your breasts and then continue up to meet your eyes. He always does that when he talks to you and always calls you into his office so he can do it. A simple phone call won't do.
"I'm leaving for LA in the morning to do the presentation for the home office..." "No shit," you think after all I bought the tickets "...and I'm going to need your help getting it done tonight."
"Yes sir," you answer, disappointment obvious in your voice. You'd planned a romantic evening alone with the husband. You'd even worn your best Victoria Secret set under your suit to put you in the mood. Knowing you we're dressed sexy underneath while the outside world saw nothing but your prim and proper business suit always put you in the mood. By the time you got home you were ready for fun and games. The husband usually played it a little safe for your tastes but you always enjoyed it.
"I'm really sorry Tricia, I know it's the third time this week but I promise to make it up to you. Work something out, a few days off, maybe a little extra in the next paycheck," he answers sensing your disappointment. "Ok, go give your husband a call and lets get to work. The sooner we can get this done the sooner we can both get home to our families."
You go back to your desk, hang your jacket on the back of the chair and prepare for another late night of charts, PowerPoint slides, spreadsheets and leering glances. You don't mind the glances so much, in fact they kind of excite you. He's decent looking, nice enough and after 16 years of marriage knowing that another man finds you attractive is a bit of a thrill, an affirmation that you still have what it takes. You've even played it up a bit with him, flirted a little, worn something lower cut or tighter then usual just to see if he notices. You think for a minute, then a smile crosses your face and you unbutton the top two buttons of your blouse. You're in the mood, dressed to kill and he's going to be staring at you anyway why not give him something to stare at, something he can take home and fantasize about when he's fucking that bitch wife of his. You call your husband and explain you'll be late once again.
"Don't worry baby, I'll just blow out the candles and put the wine back in the fridge. Good thing I hadn't started the steaks--then I'd be upset," he laughs.
"I promise this is the last time for awhile. I'll make it up to you honey!" you tell him realizing you're starting to sound like the boss. "I shouldn't be home to late, keep the wine chilled," you lie knowing you'll be lucky if you're home before 1:00. The boss is a terrible procrastinator. Even though you've stayed late twice this week he won't be any further along with the presentation then he was last time. You swear he surfs porn all day and then keeps you late just so he can stare at your tits when no ones around. Well fuck him, tonight you'd give him something to stare at.
"Tricia, could you print out the Q4 financials and bring them in? I need some help comparing them with the current quarter."
"Happy to boss," you answer unconvincingly. You print the files, apply a fresh coat of lipstick, strut into his office, and drop them on his desk. He glances up at you and then looks back at his work.
"Thanks Tricia."
A glance and "Thanks Tricia?" That's it? Where's the leer, the slow slide up your body, the pause on the tits? You decide to give him a little of what he's asking for and he ignores you? It's going to be a long, frustrating night.
The work moves along faster then you anticipated probably because he's really working and not wasting his time staring at you. He keeps you busy with a constant parade of trips in and out of his office but you're lucky if he even acknowledges you.
"I think we're done Tricia!" you hear him call. Great it's only 8:30, you'll be home by 9:00, have a glass of wine, work out some your frustrations. "Could you come in here though. There's one last thing I need to talk to you about." You walk into his office for what seems like the hundredth time that night. "Grab a seat, I'll just be a minute." Getting a reaction from him has become a personal challenge and knowing it's your last opportunity you hike up your skirt as you sit down, showing a little more thigh, and discreetly undue one more button on your blouse. Your breasts are practically falling out of your shirt, your white, lace bra peeking out through the gap. He keeps his head down absorbed in his work ignoring you. "God dammit," you think, "If you're going to keep me late at least pay some attention to me!"
You wait for a few minutes and then clear your throat, "Excuse me, sir can we get started? I'm really ready to head home. It's been a long week."
"Hmmm, what? oh ya lets get started, sorry Tricia." He glances up at you for a second then goes back to his work. You're surprised and a little hurt. Maybe you've misjudged him, over reacted and saw something that wasn't there. Maybe he is just trying to get the work done. This presentation must really have him rattled. Embarrassed, you reach up to button your blouse just as he pushes his chair away from his desk and stands up. You immediately put you hands back in your lap leaving your blouse gaping. He pauses to pick up a paper and moves to the front of the desk. As soon as he rounds the corner you notice the bulge in his pants. You try to hide your surprise. If that's all dick it's the biggest one you've ever seen. You start to smile as it occurs to you that you might had had a bigger impact on him then you thought. He stands in front of the desk, resting his butt on the edge, his arms folded across his chest. The bulge in his pants more prominent then ever and you're having a hard time ignoring it. You feel a little turned on knowing the effect you've had, imaging just for a moment what it would be like to have that cock inside you. The smile returns to your lips. He clears his throat getting your attention and breaking your little fantasy.
"Know what this is Tricia?" he asks, gesturing with the paper in his hand. "No sir." "It's your job description Tricia. It's a list of the requirements and responsibilities for the job you have." you swallow hard wondering where this is going "And you know what Tricia, no where in this document does it list 'cock tease' as one of your responsibilities."
"What!? I'm sorry, what did you say?" You ask shocked, not able to believe what you heard.
"I said your job responsibilities doesn't include being a cock tease Tricia. I'm thinking of letting you go so you can find a job that's better suited for that particular talent. You're obviously very good at it. Practice a lot Tricia?" It takes a moment for what he just said to make sense.
"What?? You're threatening to fire me? I don't think you can do that. I work hard Mr. Jones. And I'm good at what I do. I've always done what you've expected of me."
"Oh I can fire you and I will. Sexual harassment is illegal and I feel that's what's happening. I've noticed the flirtatious behavior, the teasing smiles, the provocative clothing. I mean look at you now Tricia, I can see down your blouse from here, you're skirts so hiked up I can see the tops of your stockings, what am I suppose to think? I feel harassed. I've already discussed this with HR and after tonight's behavior I think letting you go is the best course of action."
"What???" You can't believe what you're hearing. The guy that undresses you with his eyes every time you walk into the room is going to fire you for sexual harassment? Your cheeks flush with anger and then the realization of what he said sets in. He's already talked with HR, if you suddenly pipe up with the same accusation it's just going to sound vindictive. No one will believe you. "I...I'm sorry, Mr. Jones," you stammer, "I was just in a mood and upset that I had to stay late again I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I thought you'd enjoy it." Suddenly you're scared. What's going to happen when you come home fired from your job for sexual harassment? What's your husband going to say? He'll be crushed, suspicious that you worked the late nights just to throw yourself at the boss. The fear deepens. Lose your job and your family on the same day! God, this couldn't be happening. It was just a stupid prank, you can't get fired over joke, can you? "Please don't fire me Mr. Jones," you plead, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. It'll never happen again, I promise."
"I don't know Tricia. I just don't think I can keep you in your current position after what's happened. I'm sorry."
"Please, please don't. I swear I'll never do anything like this again. Please just let me stay." You plead.
"There is one thing I maybe able to do. There's an opening for a new position that I think you're qualified for. Better pay actually, involves some travel and late nights, and I know how you feel about late nights, but it's the best I can do." The feeling of panic starts to subside. A new position. Sure there's the time away and the late nights but it's better then the alternative and it even pays better. You relax, the fear starting to ebb.
"Thank you Mr. Jones. Thank you so much! I'm so sorry."
"Of course you will have to re-interview for the position."
