Jacqueline Gets a JobbyJemma_Jane©
Jacqueline dressed carefully for the interview. She really wanted to make a good impression. If she didn't get a job soon she would probably lose her mind. Gaining employment had never been this hard before, but then again, she was applying for a different sort of work. She just needed something of short duration, to get her out of the house for a few months and recharge her batteries. But after six interviews in two weeks, what she really really needed was not to be rejected. It was hard on a girl's self-esteem.
Though it was just temp work, she was being driven crazy at home. Her kids were off school for summer and they were wreaking havoc on her writing schedule. Since quitting her day job almost a year ago to write full time, she'd discovered a need to keep strict working hours and routines. Leading up to the summer she had believed the new arrangement to be working wonderfully. She was prolific, her quality was high, and she was able to do the family thing in the evening without having to be a slave to her blackberry. But then the elementary school went on summer break and her three kids descended upon her quiet, structured days. Now, rather than writing the children's books and magazine short stories that provided her a career, she was taking lunch orders and ref'ing disputes about the TV. remote. It was exhausting and she missed missing them. Not that she didn't love her kids madly...she just felt professional childcare was necessity for the modern, self-employed mother. Unfortunately, she really couldn't afford the additional expense of childcare...unless she got a temp job for a couple of weeks to put toward the cause.
Just like the previous interviews, she wore her interview suit. It was dark aubergine wool, with a lined skirt that was a respectable length. Although, if you wanted to be critical, the slit on the right side cut just a tad too high. She would attempt to hide this flaw with a saddle colored leather briefcase.
The single breasted jacket was slimming and fit her like a glove. Did she look too much like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl? Post professional make over? Maybe. Perhaps the silk cami peeking through could be replaced with something more modern. She tried a few things on, all her tops looked bulky under the slim suit. She dug into the trunk inside her closet that contained old Halloween costumes. She couldn't believe she still had it, but there it was: the cat woman costume she'd never worked up the nerve to wear out of the house. It would actually be perfect with her outfit. She pulled out the black leotard underneath until just the body sock of tight woven black mesh remained. Did she have the confidence to wear it? She assured herself it could hardly be seen. When the coat was buttoned there were only glimpses of the mesh between the vee of the jacket and more of the same covering her legs like sheer stockings. People wear daring things these days, she reminded herself. She was a pretty conservative looking woman, the little bit of badness might help sell her to prospective employer.
When she put the cat suit on underneath the jacket and skirt, she was amazed at the surge of confidence she felt. In this ensemble she felt...in charge. Like a vixen. Hopefully the kind of vixen you'd like to see sashaying around your office for a few weeks. Tucking her hair back into the knot at the back of her head, and plugged in some black pearl earrings. Ready.
An hour later she was straightening her coat cuffs as she stared at the reception desk in front of her. She'd been waiting several minutes. Clearly the office worker who had shown her to the small lobby had been annoyed that her appointment was interfering with her lunch hour. Jacqueline hoped the woman had at least told her boss he had an interview waiting before heading off for a two margarita lunch with the sales department.
The wood grain door swung open and a man emerged. He called her name and bade her to enter. She walked toward him, stopping to extend her hand. He took it and squeezed strongly. He was a big, broad man. She felt a fission of sexual interest kindle inside her.
The office was oddly dim, she thought as she entered. It was very nicely furnished, but with heavy draperies that obscured the watery sunlight outside. There were dark, pattered carpets on the floor and a large mahogany desk in the center of the room. She sat herself in the small chair across from the monstrous leather one he must occupy.
"Ms. Martin," he said as he moved to take his own seat. He introduced himself a Phillip Webster. His hair was silver. It was good hair, thick and silky. Very different than the bristly mustache on his upper lip. He had a big head with a firm jaw. He looked stern, like a man who meant business. She braced herself for a hard interview. "Thank you for coming her today. I've looked over your resume, you look well qualified to be a personal assistant."
She nodded. "Yes, sir, I'd say so."
"Unfortunately, so far all the candidates I've interviewed have had good credentials. In fact, one has been Nick Cage's assistant for six years. He wants a change of pace and is trying out Seattle. Will work for peanuts. I all but told him he had the job."
Jacqueline opened and closed her mouth as she tried to formulate a reply. "Nick Cage is lame," was the best she could come up with. DAMN, looked like this job possibility was receding into the distance.
"So unless you have some passionate speech prepared to change my mind, I believe I'll go ahead and engage him until my usual assistant returns from maternity leave."
Jacqueline stood indignantly. "You could have texted me this explanation, you know. There was no need to drag me down here in person." She shuttered to think of the money she had spent in parking and grooming just to get turned down flat before she said five words. "I want this job, sir. Mr. Webster. I'd work hard for you. I would do anything you want."
She was amazed at how sexy that had sounded. She hadn't really meant to say it like that. And yet...and yet. Over a year ago she'd had an experience that seemed to have awakened her inner sex kitten. Ever since, being alone with a strange man seemed to make her senses feel heightened. Her skin was sensitive to the little fan blowing air from across the room, and his dark, hooded eyes on her. He tugged on the side of his mustache.
"Come around, Ms. Martin." He instructed. She rounded the desk and he inspected her from a few feet away. He started at her sensible two inch pumps, up her black clad legs, over the curves of her grape colored hips. He lingered on her breasts. Stared hard at them like he could see them beneath the lined coat.
She started to tingle all over. He was a boob man, she's stake everything on it.
"I have been told I am very demanding." He finally said. "I am not sure you have the strength to get the job done. It's more physical work than you might expect. You have to be willing to do things you might find distasteful or uncomfortable. I wonder if you are the type of woman who can take whatever I throw at you," he stated. His voice was low, gravelly. I reverberated through her body and seemed to strum a chord somewhere in the vicinity of her vagina. How could she be turned on? He was basically dismissing her while hinting maybe he'd be receptive to some sexual favors. Wasn't he?
Oh god, she didn't KNOW. She could be misunderstanding him. It seemed like he was propositioning her though. And if he was...did she want to take him up on it?
She had never been with an older man before. Or one that looked so grim and, well, controlling. He was a total type A, if the well-ordered pencil cup on top of his desk was any indication. The opposite of the kind of man she usually found attractive. He was a type of man she'd seen in restaurants, talking down to the wait staff. He reminded her of her friend's mean dad. Being in his powerful presence was uncomfortable but exciting. Her body was very excited. The awareness that he was waiting for her to say something was unbearable. What if she accepted his challenge and it was all a big misunderstanding? It would be mortifying. But if she wasn't wrong...at least it would be worth the cost of parking downtown.
Why not play? She didn't have the job anyway, may as well go out on a limb a little. She never had to see this man again in her life. Oh, she was starting to feel soft at her center. Juicy. Did he want to know that? She could tell him. Or show him.
Her nipples chaffed against the suit. She wore no bra as the suit held her generously sized breasts firmly. Smashed them, really. Her every breath caused her nipples to rub against fabric, so sensitive now, where moments ago they'd been dormant.
"Yes, sir. I'm the type of woman who will do whatever it takes."
She moved her hands to the center button of her jacket, flicked it open. She imagined he shifted forward as a slice of her stomach and chest were revealed. "Do you mind if I take this off? It's warm in here."
"Please, make yourself comfortable." He rumbled. His hands grabbed the sides of his chair. Jacqueline imagined they wanted to help her rip the jacket from her arms. Without meeting her eyes, she shimmied out of it. Let it fall on the ground. Stood before him all but topless, her boobs mashed against the thin fabric. She sidled closer. Hitched a hip on the side of his desk. Made sure her skirt rode up to show her curvy leg.
And sat there in silence, arching and sucking in and trying to look hot. She didn't know if it was working or not. He hadn't pushed her away, but neither had he made a move to touch her. She closed her eyes.
"Ms. Martin? I'm a married man." He finally said. But something in his tone made her know he wanted her to continue her seduction. Like it was a play with an inevitable ending.
"Are you, sir? She must be an amazing woman to have the devotion of a man like you."
"She is." He glanced at a picture on the desk and Jacqueline saw a woman in a Hawaiian lei that looked very similar to Mr. Webster. "But she's got her own interests, and I have mine. She doesn't mind if I indulge myself here and there."
The role was coming so naturally now. She was a temptress, a siren. "You deserve to be indulged, sir. You deserve to have whatever you want."
"Hhhmmm," he said. The phone on his desk rang, startling the both of them. There was no receiver, just a speaker. He gave her a warning look, be quiet.
"This is Webster."
"Hi, honey! I'm just out shopping and I found the cutest little love seat!"
Jacqueline caught Mr. Webster's eye and mouthed, "Wife?" He nodded shortly. Then, as if drawn against his will, his eyes dropped down to her breasts again.
"I know we haven't discussed getting a new couch, but I was thinking..."
His hand rose slowly. It levitated in front of her left nipple, ever so slowly; he brushed his thick fingers across the erect tip. Jacqueline could not believe the pleasure from that small touch. It felt so bad. She knew she couldn't make any sounds, but she dropped her head back, arching herself into his touch. A moment later his right hand joined the left, together they squeezed her breasts reverently, then tweaked her nipples.
She felt her vagina gasp. She felt it clench. She squeezed her thighs together, and then relaxed them, willing him to touch her there.
"...the couch we have now can go with Matthew to college in two years. We can keep it in the attic until then..."
Jacqueline raised one of her legs and propped it up on his chair, inviting him in. But he just continued to torment her nipples.
"So what do you think? Should I buy it? This is the last sale of the year..."
She wanted to grab him by the ears and smash him against her chest. She wanted to feel his mustache abrading her skin. Impatiently she shifted forward, leaned over him in his chair. Dangled her boobs right above his quivering mustache.
"Mmmm" he murmured. She felt the first bush hairy face against her sensitive tips.
"Is that a YES?" his wife inquired.
Without pause he acquiesced. "Yes, absolutely. Just do want you need too. I give you my full permission to indulge yourself."
"Oh my god, really? This isn't like you at all, honey! But I like it! I'll give you a call soon, I'll probably need your social security number for financing. They have a 24 month free deal that we may as well take advantage of..."
Jacqueline felt like she was going to die. His mustache was so prickly, almost punishing on her sensitive nipples. She hoped he would bite them, hoped he would be rougher still with her. His wife prattled on.
"...I know you like leather, but this is covered in that micro suede. Remember those barstools at Pam and Larry's? The material is similar to that, only in mushroom."
He drew back from her breasts to answer, "Sound's great. I've got some work to do now, but give me a call back later," he commanded. He settled back in his chair, widening his legs so that his slacks pulled over the enormous erection jutting from between his legs. He licked his mustache, eyes inviting Jacqueline in closer.
"Oh, but first I want to talk about accent pillows! They have a bunch here."
Jacqueline moved closer and, spur of the moment, dropped to her knees in front of him. His legs tightened around her. His own hand moved in to outline his cock, then flick open his belt buckle. Jacqueline watched him as if hypnotized, leaning in to let her sensitive breasts press against the root of his penis.
"... the curtains in that room have this pink and purple swirling pattern, if you've noticed. I was thinking that a similar color in the pillows would pull it all together."
He slid his zipper down slowly and Jacqueline helped him spread the flaps open to display his pinstriped boxer shorts. She dipped her head down and ran her open mouth up the side of his length, letting her hot breath and wet tongue dampen the light fabric.
"Mmmmm," he moaned consideringly. "I don't mind pink in certain circumstances." He lifted himself a little from the chair and Jacqueline took the hint, sliding his boxers and pants down until the puddled at his feet. "Just remember I'm a man."
"I could never forget that, darling!" his wife trilled.
Neither could Jacqueline. His dick was impressive. Long, probably ten inches, curving like a scimitar into his belly. The head was purplish and nearly blue veins pulsed along the shaft. She traced them with her tongue. He smelled good, too. A gush of fluid erupted between her thighs.
"I'll see you at dinner, then. I'm going to make your favorite!"
"Sounds good," he answered shortly. "I'm hungry already." His left hand reached toward the speaker phone while his right cupped his balls.
"Oh, and honey? I'm going to make sure you get a big reward for this. Maybe I'll...you know. That thing you like? Maybe I'll kiss it a little."
Jacqueline looked up and caught his eye. She barely suppressed a bark of surprised laughter. She kissed the head of his cock chastely then smirked up at him.
He glowered down at her sternly and for some reason it made her feel more turned on than ever. Like she was a bad girl. And he was going to spank her. She covered his rod with her wet mouth, letting it slide all the way to the back of her throat. Ohhhhh, God.
He didn't give an audible clue that he was getting his dick sucked to his wife, of course. He just grunted in that way men do. "I can't wait."
"Okay, love you!"
At last he clicked off the phone. Jacqueline got down to business. She employed head techniques she'd learned in the past and also some she'd just seen on dirty videos. She went fast, she sucked the tip, she deep throated until she gagged. He seemed to really like that one.
"Suck it," it commanded. "Choke on me. Yeah. Yeah."
He reached down and filled his hands with her mesh covered boobs. Pinched painfully. Jacqueline squealed even as she forced her throat to open and accept his entire length.
"Now lick my balls," he commanded. "Stroke me and lick my balls."
She had never licked balls before. It sounded icky. But his balls were pretty nice and the way he was rolling them in his fingers let her know he was sensitive there. She tentatively licked one, then the other. Soon she had them in her mouth and was humming her pleasure. He called her names. Whore, slut, cunt. She was so turned on by his dominance she nearly screamed.
"You're a good little whore. You listen to your master," he said approvingly. "I could come in your mouth right now..." he seemed to be thinking it over. She moaned her protest. Not that she didn't want him to come, but she was hoping to get off too. "No, not yet. I want to see what is under that skirt."
Jacqueline licked his balls one last time, and then slid her mouth up his glorious cock. She let it slide between her breasts and pressed them around his length -- or as much as possible with the tight fabric binding them. He groaned. He called her a good slut.
She moved up his body, sliding against him until her mouth was even with his. "Thank you," she surprised herself by saying, "Thank you for letting me do that, Master. That was the best dick I've ever sucked."
She wanted him to kiss her, but he didn't. Instead his hand moved behind her and found the zipper at the back of her skirt. He edged it down until the garment loosened around the hips. She stood and wiggled a little, letting it slide to a heap on the floor. She stepped out, naked but for a nearly transparent cat suit and a G-string.
She hoped he would fuck her. She wanted it badly. But a slave shouldn't ask anything of a master. So, instead of making demands verbally, she turned and bent over his desk. Spreading her legs and waving her ass enticingly. Elbows braced on his ink blotter, she nearly flinched when she felt his hands on the back of her thighs. He spread them even further, and then grabbed the globes of her ass. His fingers dug in painfully.
"You are so wet," he said as his thick index finger slid along her cleft. "I think you'd let me do anything I want to you right now."
"I would, Master. Anything."
He rose behind her and she felt his shaft press into the lee of her behind. He pushed against her as his fingers pressed in circles against her clit. The hairy press of his belly against her lower back drove her crazy.
"Oh, oh oh oh," she moaned. "Please, Master."
He suddenly dug his fingers in hard, ripping through the mesh at her crotch. He created a gaping hole, pulling until an opening the size of a large peach bared her juicy bits. "I like the way you ask. Good manners." He then ripped the delicate fabric of her g-string right off her body.
Just then his intercom buzzed. It was his secretary. "I'm back, sir. Do you want your messages?"
He paused, two fingers deeply embedded in Jacqueline's pussy. "Press the button," he commanded. She reached forward with shaking hands and found the intercom talk key.
"I'm still engaged in an interview, Ms. Peters. I will be done shortly, please do not disturb me for the next fifteen minutes."
"Certainly, Mr. Webster," the receptionist replied.
Sometime while she'd been giving him head he'd loosened her hair. Now he grabbed a handful of fine strands at her nape and tugged sharply. "I'll need you to be quite now. Not a sound. No matter how much you'd like to beg me for more. Just lie there quietly."
"I'll try!" she half sobbed, pressing herself back against him in frantic invitation.
"I should stuff my tie in your mouth," he muttered. But soon enough he was occupied opening a condom packet he had produced from somewhere. She could hear his ragged breathing as he rolled it down himself. He smacked her across the cheeks lightly, with his hand and his dick. Then he settled over her like a bull, barging into her clenched canal almost brutally. He was all the way in. She was stretched to her limit, with his head banging against her womb like a battering ram. His style was like a ram, too. Powerful, invasive. She felt subdued. She felt conquered. She felt almost blissfully controlled, especially when he found her hands and held them down flat on the desk.