Amanda, Secret Agent Ch. 03bymrwrong765©
To those of you who wrote comments and/or voted on Parts 1 and 2, thank you for the feedback and encouragement, it's greatly appreciated.
Part 3 continues in the same vein, although it's perhaps a little more extreme. If you haven't already read Parts 1 and 2, you will find the story line makes more sense if you do so before starting Part 3.
Langley, Virginia (continued)
"OK, Amanda, now it's time for your physical exam."
Oh, shit, she thought. If that was the warm-up, then this part must be twice as bad. As she rose, she checked the seat of her armchair. She had grown excited during the interview, and she wanted to be sure she didn't leave a wet spot behind. Apparently her skirt had absorbed the moisture.
"During the exam, we're also going to take several still pictures for your S2 Profile Portfolio."
"Your S2 Profile Portfolio. It's what the decision makers use for candidate appraisal and selection."
"And how do they go about making their 'selection'?" She thought she knew.
"Well, quite frankly, a big part of it is how hot you are. Do you have what it takes to get a guy to do what you want? It's partly raw visual sex appeal, but it's also something else – something about your personality. That indescribable quality that triggers unbounded lust and overwhelming carnal hunger in any red-blooded male on the planet. We need that angle to come through too."
"You're talking about the ability to manipulate a man."
"That would be one aspect of it. But every woman has her own style of interacting with a guy. One girl might be playful, another might tease, maybe in an archly provocative way. Some women are more verbal, using double entendres, for example, others use a more physical approach based on the way they move, or how they hold themselves, or how close they stand, or how they look at the guy, or how they touch him."
As they spoke, he guided her into the examination room. "I think the qualities common to all are confidence, ease, being comfortable in one's own skin. And the ability to put aside your own fears and hang-ups, to give yourself up to the mission, to leave yourself open to all possible outcomes. And most importantly, an ability to focus single-mindedly on the guy, to make him feel he's the center of the universe."
The room was vast. He made no move to close the door behind them. Then she noticed other doors stood open around the perimeter of the room.
"Amanda, if you would please remove your blouse, we can get started."
Things were moving way too fast. She hadn't expected to take off her blouse and let this man she just met see her with just her bra on. And what about all those open doors? One led to a major corridor, and two men had already passed by during the brief time they'd been talking. Someone could easily walk in on them. She needed time to think. But Dr. Miller was already looking impatient. She definitely didn't want to make him angry again.
When he made no move to step outside, or even to turn his back, Amanda remained standing, facing him, and with some considerable apprehension, began unbuttoning her high-necked cream dress blouse. He blatantly ogled her, his gaze fixed most improperly on the swell of her bust, as she unfastened each button. The edges of the material began to part, revealing first her upper chest, then a section of her pink bra where the cups joined, and finally a narrow strip of her belly. He licked his lips.
Taking note of the doctor's lustful stare, Amanda became even more self-conscious. He had seemed to immensely enjoy questioning her about her sexuality. Now, as she began disrobing, he was even more attentive. Why wasn't he more clinical, more detached, as a doctor should be? But she had no time to further explore such considerations.
When Amanda's hands reached her waist, she hesitated a moment before pulling the hem of her open blouse from beneath her skirt, revealing her pink lace bra more completely as Miller watched intently. Amanda felt simultaneously embarrassed and further aroused. She was a modest person, yet she had already become turned on during the interview, and now there was something about showing her body to this quite good-looking man that was further inflaming her desire.
Miller took a moment to admire the way Amanda's generous, perfectly formed breasts so exquisitely filled the cups of her bra, to an extent only hinted at when she'd been covered by her blouse. The lace was translucent, so he could see the shadow of her areolae and the bumps where her hard nipples tried to poke through the thin material.
Amanda turned and carefully hung the delicate blouse on a hook behind the door, then faced him again. Her lips parted and she breathed heavily with a mix of passion and anxiety as she studied his face for a reaction. The ambitious, careerist, feminist part of her wanted to be indifferent to his response, or even disdainful of any indication that he viewed her as a sex object.
But there was another side to Amanda, a side that sought affirmation of her femininity, her womanliness. She was still young enough (and inexperienced enough) to be insecure in her beauty, somewhat aware that many men found her pretty, but nevertheless finding considerable fault with her own appearance.
In particular, she believed (erroneously) that she wasn't sufficiently thin. Ethan had implied as much, before he dropped her for the more slender Caitlin. Since then, a number of jerks had chased her, but no other man of any stature in her own eyes had fully validated her as a truly desirable young woman.
As a result, here she stood, bare to the waist except for a flimsy bra that hardly concealed her lovely roundness, watching the face of an accomplished, successful, attractive man – one who stood in a position of great power and authority over her – and searching for an indication of whether or not he liked what he saw. The hint of a smile suggested that he did, and a bulge in the front of his pants confirmed it. But before she could take any pleasure in his obvious interest, he resumed his questioning.
"You certainly do like nice underwear, don't you? That must be another bra from Victoria's Secret. Is it a Wonderbra?"
The question took Amanda by surprise, and for a moment she failed to process the suggestiveness in his remark.
"No, actually, the Wonderbra has extra padding, to make your, um, breasts look bigger. Mine are big enough already, in fact Ethan thought they were too big."
"Really? And what about the lace, did you choose it for my benefit, to call attention to your breasts?"
Now his innuendo was too obvious to miss. Amanda became indignant. "Of course not! Don't be ridiculous! I would never!"
Miller's expression said he was unconvinced. "But you did with Ethan."
She felt her color rising again. "These were the only decent – well, I don't have that many – they were - " She grew more flustered as she stammered.
He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. "If you say so. But were you hoping I'd like your breasts?"
Now here was a question that put her in a quandary. If she said yes, she'd contradict her claim of innocence about her choice of sexy lingerie. But if she said no, she would imply she wasn't interested in him. She actually was attracted to him. And he probably knew. But she didn't want to admit it.
"Now Amanda, we already talked about this. You know I can always tell when you're holding back. It's ok that you want me to like your breasts. They're very beautiful, and it's only natural that a young woman with such appealing assets would want to flaunt them."
He was right. He could always tell. Her face flushed anew with shame, interwoven with confusion. His descriptions of her motives were painting an increasingly clear portrait of a vain, brazen whore. And yet, his statements also contained a flattering compliment which was aimed at her point of greatest insecurity regarding her appearance. The contradictions were steadily unraveling her self-confidence.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. At war with herself, she was at a loss for words. If only he weren't so damned perceptive.
He chose that moment to strike. "Jenkins," he yelled towards the opposite doorway. "Pictures. Now!"
Jenkins rushed into the room, adjusting the settings on his digital SLR as he scurried, and muttering about how some advance warning would be nice. But when he saw Amanda, he stopped short, and his rant ended abruptly. He had been doing his job for some time, but she was easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever been asked to photograph. However, he quickly recovered and tried to appear disinterested.
Amanda was caught off-guard and jolted by his sudden appearance. She knew that the translucent pale fuchsia lace of her bra did little to conceal her breasts, and her hands automatically flew up in an attempt to cover them.
"Jenkins, this is Amanda. She needs an S2 Profile Portfolio."
"A complete one?"
"Jenkins. You stupid moron. When was the last time I asked you to do just part of an S2?"
"Um, sorry, sir, it's just that she'll need to, um, well, I'll have to, um, well, it's going to take a long time."
"Yes, it will. So maybe you should get started."
"Oh, sorry, sir. Of course."
Jenkins switched on his flash, and framed his shot to show Amanda with a blank wall behind her, at a slight angle so that the wall would reflect the flash to one side. He pressed the shutter down, and took three closely spaced shots, as quickly as his flash could cycle. He captured Amanda wearing a self-conscious frown, her hands clutched to her breasts, her chin down and her shoulders forward as she tried in vain to find concealment where none was available.
"Um, Miss, um – "
"Amanda. You're frowning. That's not the look you're going for here. You want a more relaxed, confident expression."
"Well, I'm sorry," she said, clearly not meaning it. "I'm not used to being photographed in my underwear." But she managed to pull up the corners of her mouth.
"That's ok," he said, not unkindly. "You don't have to smile, just part your lips a little." He had her look at his feet, and was pleased at the way, her long, bowed black eyelashes stood out against her clear, light skin. He zoomed in to frame her face and shoulders, took several snaps, then had her look more directly at him so that the next series of shots captured the full depth of her large, dark eyes.
Amanda began to grow accustomed to the sound of the camera shutter, and in time she relaxed enough that Jenkins was able to get her to move her hands from her breasts to her hips. He racked his lens out a little to obtain several good shots of her nearly bare torso. Jenkins offered such positive encouragement that she became lost in the moment, and threw back her shoulders as she boldly thrust her breasts forward. Again she parted her lips, and her nostrils flared as Jenkins held the shutter release down, causing the camera to capture another long series of frames.
Miller's voice broke the spell. "Now please take off your skirt."
And just that quickly, Amanda found herself at another junction, another moment of truth. Was she going to continue to further expose herself to this admittedly appealing man and his assistant – and whoever else might be going to walk in - while being photographed? Did she really want to show them all her bare thighs and her very sheer little panties?
Given her career aspirations, did she really have a choice?
Miller and Jenkins both waited patiently, expectantly. After a moment of thought, Amanda was forced to concede that there was really only one decision she could make. And she had hesitated as long as she could. It was time.
Reluctantly, she reached to the small of her back to grasp the zip tab of her navy pencil skirt and drew it deliberately all the way down its track. Jenkins was ready, and his next series showed the deft grasp of her fingers and the narrow strip of left buttock and thigh they revealed. He took another long sequence as Amanda uneasily unfastened the waistband closure and slid the narrow skirt down her legs.
Miller stood rooted as his eyes traced the taut, youthful flatness of Amanda's belly, the generous swell of her ass, and the well-toned musculature of her perfectly formed thighs and calves. Her pink lace bikini panties matched her bra. Meanwhile, Jenkins managed to remember his job, and he jockeyed for position to get several full frontal shots as well as a number from behind, including a couple of nice close-ups of her ass.
Amanda now stood directly in front of Miller, arms once again crossed tightly over the expanse of her breasts, and looked up apprehensively, her heart pounding.
"I bet some of those last shots don't leave much to the imagination. Why do you need such explicit photos?"
"Oh, you don't know the half...," he began, before thinking better of it. "What I mean to say is, we find that, as the subject's clothing is removed, her artifice also falls away, and we get a better idea of her personality."
"Oh, I see, this is all about my personality. I feel so much better now." Her voice dripped with sarcasm and bitterness.
His last statement had really upset her, but she tried to push her concerns from her mind, as Miller began checking her vital signs, recording them on his clipboard.
He then called in a phlebotomist (another male), and as blood was drawn for testing, he spent most of his time studying Amanda's well-turned figure as she sat on the table in just her bra and panties, blushing furiously and wondering just how many more men would be stopping by to gawk at her.
After the phlebotomist left, Dr. Miller recorded Amanda's height and weight. He then knelt and held one end of a flexible dressmaker's measuring tape inside her ankle. He ran the other end up the inside of her right thigh, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. He only stopped when he had pressed the tape into the crease where her inside upper thigh met her body, the back of his hand squished heedlessly but firmly against her damp mound.
She was all too aware of the position of his face just inches from the front of her panties. What could he see through the lacy fabric? She squirmed as she felt his hot breath on her pussy through the thin material. How strong was the musky aroma of her abundant juices?
Miller asked Amanda her measurements, and he recorded her answers as 36C-23-35. Instructing her to place her hands behind her head, she colored again as he checked each answer with the tape, wrapping it tightly around the fullest part of her bust, her chest just beneath her breasts, the narrowest point of her waist, and the widest extent of her hips.
"Are you sure you're really a 36C? My tape says you're a D cup. And your breasts are bulging out a little around the edges of your bra."
This was a touchy topic for Amanda, and she fumed. The saleswoman at Victoria's Secret had suggested she was a D cup too. "I'm quite certain I'm a C," she hissed.
He smiled. "Whatever you say." He turned to Jenkins. "Get your camera up." He looked back at Amanda. "Please take off your bra now."
Amanda's face and upper chest flushed dark red as she processed the request. She licked her lips. She was growing more turned on by the minute, and more aware of his evident interest and swelling erection, but also more agitated by her exposure of the most intimate areas of her body.
Yes, he was a doctor, and yes, she had acquiesced to this examination. And, while she didn't have extensive experience with doctor's exams, she knew they often required removal of clothing. And, while she preferred to see female physicians, she was aware that most were men. However, she was accustomed to receiving some respect for her desire for privacy. She certainly didn't expect to bare her torso in public. Was she really going to let this man separate her from her bra in what amounted to a public setting – with another man watching and taking pictures?
Once again, if she wanted to pursue becoming a field agent, it was clear there was no alternative.
Summoning her willpower, Amanda made herself sit up straight on the end of the table. She reached behind herself, unhooked her bra, slid the straps off her shoulders, and let the cups fall away from her breasts. Her sense of embarrassment deepened as she heard the sound of Jenkins' camera begin to cycle continuously and she wondered how many other men would see the photos.
Again Miller stared obviously, unable to conceal his lust. Her breasts were just so full, so round, so bountiful, so perfectly proportioned to her body. He could admire them endlessly. His rock hard member tried to poke a hole in his pants.
In a thick voice, Miller told Amanda to turn away from him and place her hands behind her head again. The tension in the room was electric. As she rotated her body to face the wall, she understood that he was about to grasp her breasts from behind, and she wondered how it would feel. Would he be rough or gentle? Which did she want? Would he stimulate her nipples? They were so sensitive, especially when they were swollen, as they were now. Despite her feelings of embarrassment, she felt her juices flow anew in erotic anticipation.
Miller reached out to place his right hand on the front of her ribcage, just below her breast. She suppressed a startled twitch at his touch. He slid his hand upward until he cupped her right breast, splaying his fingers and curling them around the underside. He paused, taking in with his touch the confirmation of what he had just absorbed with his eyes: a series of delicious contradictions. Her high, youthful, taut firmness complemented her supple, pliant, smooth softness, to an extent far beyond his expectations.
The feeling of her right breast was so exquisite, he couldn't help himself. He reached around the other side with his left hand to explore her other breast. He reveled in the sensation as his fingers roamed freely over her tender skin, weighing, pressing, prodding, squeezing. He felt her nipples harden as he pinched them.
Amanda suppressed a sigh at the sensation of Miller's palms and fingers on her breasts. All this stimulation was getting her so hot. She knew he would notice her now fully erect nipples and she felt a growing sense of shame at her obvious arousal. Worse, she was horrified at the thought that he might realize how wet she had become.
Oh, shit, she thought. Was he going to make her take off her panties too? She very badly didn't want to. But he had made her strip off every other piece of clothing she wore. And he seemed keenly interested in each new swath of exposed skin. What would stop him from taking away her last remnant of modesty?
The moment she dreaded came all too soon.
"Now please pull down your panties."
At first, Amanda didn't move. Miller stood waiting, his eyes boring into the side of her face. His look said, well? Amanda knew she had delayed as long as she could. She slid off the end of the table to stand in front of him again, and he enjoyed watching her breasts bounce freely.
Amanda drew in a breath, hooked her thumbs into the narrow sides of her bikini panties, and pulled them off her hips. She leaned forward, and the thin lace of the crotch panel slid down between her thighs as she drew the elastic edges down her legs. Amanda was mortified to see that the crotch was so obviously soaked.
Amanda stood completely naked before him, her thighs pressed tightly together, her arms once again crossed over her breasts. He instructed her to drop her arms, and after a moment, she complied. She flushed again as his eyes roamed freely over her perfectly proportioned, well-toned frame. Meanwhile, Jenkins moved in an arc around her, capturing a mix of close-ups and full-length images of her lovely ass and full breasts. Despite her closed legs, he noted that a bit of her bare cleft was visible, and he was careful to get some shots that highlighted it. Her lower lip quivered as she realized how exposed she was and how revealing these pictures would be.