Skinny Bitch Ch. 01

I had never seen such a sexy, skinny little bitch in my entire life. It was so unfair. From the minute she walked in the office for her first interview, I knew I had to have her. She made my pulse race and my face burn and my cock throb with longing- and this when she was fully clothed, blissfully unaware that I even existed.

Didn't help any that she was to be my new secretary after the previous one quit. The new girl interviewed with my boss first, that was when I saw her. She haunted my thoughts and I woke up with fevered wet dreams of her every morning. A week later, she came back to interview with me.

Part of me felt like a boy in grade school about to talk to his crush. She was the one being interviewed, but I was nervous. Why was I so nervous? Because just thinking about her gave me a raging hard-on and I wasn't sure that I could do the interview without making an ass of myself. Now, I'm a decent-looking man. I work out, I'm pretty muscular. Women flirt with me a lot, and I'm never hurting for dates. I'm very confident with women. So it wasn't a self-esteem thing, I had just never been so completely turned on by any woman before. I jerked off before I went to work and twice in the men's room during the morning before the interview. Finally, the time came. I sat down at my desk, shuffling papers while the blood pounded in my ears as I waited for her.

She approached the doorway somewhat timidly. I looked up. She wore a gauzy, pale pink dress that clung to her delicate little legs and thin arms. Her tiny feet were cradled in a pair of white stilettos. Despite her skinniness, she had a decent pair of tits and a miraculously flattering push-up bra. Her cleavage was a soft contrast to the sharpness of her collar bones which disappeared once again under her dress. Around her neck was a simple gold necklace. Her wispy blonde hair was piled stylishly on top of her head with a few strands framing her face. All over, her skin was deeply tanned. She smiled hesitantly. I smiled back, unrestrained, and she seemed to relax.

"Please come in, sit down," I said, gesturing expansively at the chair in front of my desk. She did as she was told and slipped a copy of her resume in front of me. My boss had already told me that she was more than qualified, so I simply glanced over it, preoccupied by her presence.

"Tracy Banks," I read out loud. Finally, a name for that beautiful face. "Well, Tracy, my name is Jack McCall. Nice to meet you." I held out my hand to her. Tremulous smile still plastered to her face, she took my hand. The air conditioning in the office had chilled her considerably and her fragile hands were like ice.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. McCall," she said in a sweet, breathy voice. I realized that I was still holding her hand. I let go and she looked away in endearing girlish embarrassment.

"Please, call me Jack. As a designer, I'm pretty informal around here. Look, my boss told me all about you. I'm very impressed with your resume, and I think you're perfect for this position." Tracy flushed with pleasure. "This interview is really just a formality- tradition, really. When are you available to start?"

"Oh, right away! Today if you want!" She smiled hugely, barely able to contain her surprise and excitement.

"That's great, I'd love to show you around a bit." I stood up and she stood with me. We left the office together and I gave her a brief tour, describing her mundane daily duties, and occasionally letting my hand linger on her shoulder or the small of her back. She listened with rapt attention, gazing up at me with her huge, dark eyes, and I could barely look away from them. It seemed the interest was mutual, unless my lust had completely fogged my senses. After an hour or so of mind-numbing business chat, we returned to my office. She agreed to start bright and early the next day.

I loved my work, I felt privileged to get paid so well to make art, but the day-to-day drudgery of the last eight years had taken some of the fun out of it. As I showered that morning, I realized that I was looking forward to going to work that day more than I had in years. Of course it was because of Tracy. I couldn't get her out of my head. As I put on my suit and tie and just a touch of cologne, all I could think of was seeing her again.

When I got off the elevator, she was already there, sitting at the desk outside my office, thumbing through a stack of papers. Today she wore a low-cut dress of blue and green, with big hoop earrings and a headband. She smiled broadly when she looked up and saw me.

"Good morning Mr. McCall," she crooned, rising as I approached.

"Good morning Tracy. You look very nice today."

"Oh thank you Mr. McCall," she giggled humbly.

"Please, call me Jack," I said firmly, "I feel so old when people call me mister."

"Okay... Jack." Tracy bit her lip and sat down again as I went in to my office.

Trying to get any work done that morning was like trying to concentrate on broccoli with an enormous chocolate cake sitting right in front of you: almost impossible. I kept glancing out of the door at the delicate blonde answering my phone and making my appointments. All I could think of was how cold her little hands had been the day before. After an hour or so, I saw her pause to hug herself and rub her bare arms for warmth. I went out to her desk, removing my suit jacket, and handed it to her.

"What should I do with this?" she asked, genuinely confused. "Do you need it dry-cleaned?"

"No," I laughed, "wear it. You're freezing in here. They always keep the thermostat so low."

"Oh no, I'm fine," she said, embarrassed, but she clung to the jacket anyway.

"Please, I insist," I insisted, draping it around her bony little shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. The jacket, tailored to fit my broad chest and shoulders, swallowed her small frame. She turned her head to look at me and placed her hands over mine on her shoulders. Her touch was electrifying. I almost kissed her right there, but I didn't want the whole office to see. I had a throbbing boner as well. So I cleared my throat and beat a hasty retreat to my office, shutting the door abruptly behind me. I contemplated jacking off at my desk, but not five minutes later there came a knock at the door.

"Come in," I said. Tracy walked in and shut the door behind herself, leaning against it.

"Can I... do anything for you, Jack?" She bit her bottom lip suggestively, my cock twitched with approval.

"Well, there is something here behind my desk that I'm having trouble with. And I think you're just the girl to fix it."

Tracy came to me with all the grace of a cat, and a wild hunger in her eyes. I slid back from my desk in my cushy chair and she straddled me, lifting her skirt. She had no underwear on and she was already wet and shaking as I pulled her in and kissed her hard. With one hand I groped her ass, with the other I unzipped my trousers and unleashed my cock. She slid down on to me with a gasp.

"You're so big," she whispered, grinning as she pressed her hipbones against me, then settled in to a steady up-and-down motion.

We were both already so hot, and she was so tight, it was over in a few minutes. She came forcefully, stifling her moans as best she could in to soft whines and panting, and she rode me until I finished as well. She collapsed against my chest for a moment to catch her breath, then she pulled me out of her hot little cunt and stood up. Her legs wobbled slightly as she headed for the door.

"Hey, ah... Tracy, do you want to go to dinner tonight?" I asked before she opened the door.

"Sure thing, boss," she purred, then she went back to work as if nothing had happened.