Maggie, the branch manager of the bank where I work, and thus my boss, called me into her office. The terse wording of her email told me she wasn’t happy, and as I entered her office several minutes after the official end of the day it was obvious she wasn’t… although she never seemed happy. She was always all business, and you shouldn’t waste her time with any damn pleasantries.
Oddly, she was sitting on top of her desk as I walked in.
“Close the door,” Maggie ordered, dressed as she always was, in a knee-length black skirt, black nylons and a loose, long-sleeved white blouse with a black bow at her neck. It seemed to be her only look.
“Yes, Mrs. Hamilton?” I said with pro forma courtesy, closing the door and walking the few feet towards her.
Her legs were crossed, and she said, “Do you know why you’re here?”
“Not at all,” I replied, as always, feeling nervous around her. While she was incredibly pretty, she was equally scary.
“I require a new secretary,” she said.
“Oh,” I said flatly, that position not being a promotion, but a demotion from being this branch’s loan manager.
“You’re not flattered?” she queried archly as she uncrossed and recrossed her legs… it wasn’t quite Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct slowly, but it wasn’t a normal leg cross either.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to hear that,” I said, still standing awkwardly in front of her.
“It’s an important position,” she said.
“Of course, whatever you say, Mrs. Hamilton,” I said rotely, although admiring her long, shapely legs.
“And I’m certain you’ll be perfect for it,” she added.
“Are you unhappy with my performance as your loan officer?” I asked, really surprised she thought I should step down to be her secretary. Her current secretary was a ridiculously pretty blonde-haired bombshell who was barely old enough to drink.
“You’ve done fine,” she said, in a tone that wasn’t overly flattering, and being called ‘fine’ is never a compliment. “But I think you would do great in this new role.”
“I’ve never had any schooling for being a secretary,” I argued cautiously, still quite baffled by this entire conversation.
“Oh, this position is definitely a learn-on-the-job one,” she said, as she uncrossed her legs, got off her desk and moved to stand immediately in front of me.
I was speechless.
“You’re a cunt muncher, right?” she asked, as her hands reached out and up to land on my shoulders.
Patrick’s eyes went wide at hearing Christine use the verboten ‘C’ word, even though the outspoken Tori had also used it in her story, as he continued massaging her sheer-stockinged feet.
“P-p-pardon?” I stammered, shocked by her insulting query, as I felt her firm hands pushing me downwards.
“I believe you heard me quite clearly,” she said, as I felt myself being forced down to kneel on the carpeted floor underneath me.
I was speechless again.
She raised her skirt to reveal right before my eyes that she was wearing crotchless pantyhose, and she was completely shaved. She said, “Your principal role as my new secretary is to meet all my needs. And in case you’re worried about money, your new position (typically on your knees) comes with a 10% raise in salary.”
I stared at her pussy.
Captivated.
Like it or not, my secret lesbian curiosity was now being revealed right before me. Only visually for the moment, but…
Her hand went to the back of my head and guided me forward to my glistening wet destination.
Just like the first time I’d ever sucked a dick I had no idea what I was doing, but instinct took over as her scent enveloped me… so I simply extended my tongue and began licking, finding her delicious.
“And that came just from your imagination? I bet you’d make an amazing pussy muncher,” Tori praised.
“I bet I would too,” she said as she offered her other foot to Patrick. “Kindly switch feet.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, taking the other foot in his hands.
“That feels so good,” she said, giving out the softest of moans.
“When do I get my turn?” Tori asked, frustrated she wasn’t getting any of Patrick’s pedal attention.
“Right after mine,” Tracy spoke up, having been quiet for quite some time.
“I’m definitely next,” Tori said with attitude.
“Nope,” Tracy said, doing what she rarely did, standing up to Tori, “If I’m telling my story next, I get my foot massage next.”
“What? That’s not even logical!” argued Tori. “What does…”
“Ladies, please,” Patrick interrupted, enjoying being the prize being argued over and the possibility of his giving three foot massages, “I’ll do both of you.”
“You will, will you?” Tori asked playfully. “Do us?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged, and Christine continued her story.