The Perfect Secretary

"Cissy, would you bring in the projected revenues on the Enchante line, please?"

"In a minute, Ms. Fontaine. They're coming off the LaserJet right now."

I reached over and withdrew the reports from the output stacker. The stark, white paper was a contrast to my long, slender fingers with their ultra-long, crimson nails. I patted an errant lock of my full, fluffy, golden-blonde mane back in place, checked my make-up in the desk-drawer mirror, then strode into my boss's office with short, delicate steps, full breasts jiggling freely within a low-cut silk blouse, which I had purposely left open to the third button. My full, rounded hips undulated smoothly within the confinement of a slim, hobbling skirt. I was aware of the soft, sensuous rustle of my satin-and-lace slip as I moved. As the Personal Secretary to the CEO of l'Audace Cosmetics, I am expected to look, and act, like Femininity, personified; Ms. Fontaine insists on it.

"Close the door, Cissy."

I did so, and stood expectantly before my boss. To call Mimi Fontaine beautiful is to call the Grand Canyon a hole in the ground. She took my breath away the first time I saw her, and every time since. She stood, and walked around her desk to stand in front of me. Even in my five-inch spike heels, I was conscious of having to look up to her, perched regally on her own skyscraper stilettos.

She took the reports from my hand and placed them casually on her desk, then took me in her arms and kissed me passionately. I yielded willingly to her advances, closing my eyes with a sigh and placing my hands lightly on her shoulders. I adore being ravished by my lover this way. I find it sinfully exciting when she does so at the office, when anyone might walk in and catch us. I am always dress and make up for her as provocatively as I can; she loves her "little blonde bimbo". I know she will be watching, and wanting me. We have been playing this little game since the first day I came to work for her - as a woman.

Things could be worse. Really. At least, I have a job. In the past, most twenty-two-year-old college graduates thought that was a given. That was then; this in now. Most of my friends from the university are still sending resumes, filling out applications, and figuring out what this personnel director or that manager want to hear in an interview. Granted, I did not have this in mind while doing four years of straight-A work in Computer Science. In better times, I would have moved right into a Fortune-500 MIS organization, hopefully in Technical Services, at least in Applications Development. C.C. Brent, Software Engineer; Man on the Move. But these are not better times, and I needed a job.

Okay, l'Audace Cosmetics is not Fortune-500. But it is Fortune-1000, and on the way up. It has several well-known lines of cosmetics and fragrances, and has an extensive Biochemical Research and Development facility. I interviewed directly with the CEO and founder, Mimi Fontaine. The word is, she started the company with the money from her late-husband's life insurance. The company now has annual sales approaching thirty million dollars.

CEO's just don't come any smarter or savvier than Ms. Fontaine. Unlike other CEO's, Mimi Fontaine is also warm and personable, the kind of person you would want as a friend. She has created a progressive, innovative work environment to keep her mostly-female employees happy, with features such as job-sharing, child care, a company health club, even a full-service beauty salon which doubles as a 'test kitchen' for new products. Best-available data puts her in her mid-thirties (true), but she is one of those women who can truly be described as 'ageless', and probably will be for a long time to come. My interview was, to say the least, different. In the thirty seconds it took to walk from the reception area to Ms. Fontaine's office, I realized I was the only male in sight.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Brent. May I call you..."

"C.C. will be fine, thank you. I will NEVER forgive my father for sticking me with 'Calvin Coolidge'. He had a fascination for politicians who didn't say much; he called them a 'dying breed'. 'Silent Cal' was his kind of guy. It caused me no end of trouble when I was growing up. A small, slender boy with his mother's prominent cheekbones, delicate features, AND named Calvin? He might as well have painted a bull's eye on my forehead; I was the target for every schoolyard bully for fifty miles. Really, one of these days I am going to have it changed to something a little more prosaic - Millard Fillmore, perhaps."

The most wonderful sound in the world, with the possible exception of the words "you're hired", is the sound of Mimi Fontaine's laughter. It has a rich, warm, musical quality to it that makes you believe the world really is a pretty wonderful place. I was treated to that wonderful sound for a good sixty seconds, which is how long it took Ms. Fontaine to compose herself and dab away the tears from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, C.C. That was the best laugh I have had in years. I hope the girls didn't give you any 'cat calls' as you walked through the office. We don't have many men working here; mostly just in Shipping and Receiving and Maintenance. I don't specifically exclude men; that would be unconscionable as well as against the law. I pride myself on my policy of affirmative hiring practices, particularly women.

L'Audace is a rapidly-growing company. In fact, we have grown so rapidly that we have outgrown my ability to keep track of it all. I am desperate to find someone who can make some sense of the mass of data coming into my office. I need clear, concise, accurate reports, from which I can make my business decisions. I had envisioned hiring a personable, attractive young career woman to function as my Personal Secretary, one who fit the image of the chic-but-sexy 'Woman Of The Nineties' we target as our primary market, one who also had skills in programming, spreadsheets, and databases.

It appears that was not a very realistic goal. I have already gone through several who either misrepresented their credentials, weren't reliable, or ran off with their boyfriends. I was most impressed with your credentials. We don't often see Phi Beta Kappas here, especially for a position of this nature.

You have exactly the professional qualifications I am looking for - perhaps TOO good. I wouldn't embarrass you by calling you my 'secretary'. If I were to hire you, your title would be 'Personal Assistant', and I would get someone from Word Processing to do the clerical work. I'm inclined to give you the job for your sense of humor, if not your superior qualifications, but the fact is, you are over-qualified. I'm worried you will only stay until you can find something better, then leave me in the lurch."

I had to admit; that thought HAD crossed my mind. Title or no, I could do a lot more than be a glorified secretary. But I liked this woman immensely (yes, I was talking with my head, not my crotch), and I had heard horror stories about how cold and impersonal large corporations could be. And I really needed a job.

"Most of my friends will never MEET a CEO, let alone work closely with one. The chance to help make strategic plans that shape a company's future is an opportunity that happens once in a lifetime. I can't pass this up."

It wasn't really a lie. I did want the opportunity to start "at the top", working in the rarified air of the Executive Suite. It would be great experience, especially when the economy improved and the Big Boys came knocking at my door.

I was treated to that other wonderful sound a few minutes later. I got the job because I was qualified (and then some), because I was confident in my abilities - and because I made her laugh. She set me up in a small office down the hall from hers and made me promise - on pain of death or termination, whichever hurt more - that I would call her "Mimi" in private and save "Ms. Fontaine" for the outer office. That suited me just fine.

It only took a few weeks to map out and code the files and programs to give her all the information she required at the touch of a few keystrokes. Child's play, really - but no programmer worth his salt would ever admit that. Better to keep them in awe. After that, it was just a matter of feeding in data, cranking out reports and graphs, and working on special projects.

Much to my surprise and delight, I was readily accepted by the rest of the office staff. They enjoyed my whimsical sense of humor and outgoing personality and invited me to join them on breaks and lunches. In time, even the distinctions between our sexes became blurred; they would gossip with me about anything and everything. When they began to talk about boyfriends, husbands, or the hot new romances on the soap operas as though we were girls at a slumber party, I asked them if they weren't a little embarrassed talking to a man about things like that. "Oh, don't be a Poop, Cissy," teased Linda Kramer, the vivacious Accounts Receivable supervisor. I was perplexed and showed it.

"Cissy? Who is Cissy?"

"You are, Silly. 'C.C.' sounds too cold and impersonal. You are too much fun and MUCH too pretty for that! It just seems more natural to think of you as 'Cissy', a gorgeous girlfriend who dresses VERY badly. Really, you are wasted in that suit. You would be a knockout in a skirt and heels."

Naomi Randall, the Office Manager, added her two cents' worth.

"You certainly would. Just let that beautiful blonde hair grow a bit more, so we can style it for you, then we add a little make-up and voila; you would make an ADORABLE girl!"

I knew when I was out-gunned. I guess other men would have felt threatened by such good-natured teasing of their masculinity. I am not 'other men'. First, I don't take myself or my 'masculinity' that seriously. Second, I perceived no malice in their banter. They were right about one thing; I was having way too much fun with this.

"Well, we shouldn't let a little thing like a penis get in the way of true friendship. Just call me Cissy, and we'll tell Ms. Fontaine we have to make a slight change in the Dress Code."

They howled with laughter. From then on, we were great friends. To my chagrin, the name stuck; even Mimi teasingly called me 'Cissy' in private.

I didn't intend to get into an office romance, let alone one with Mimi. Everything I had ever heard told me they were the Kiss of Death to a career. Certainly there is nothing new about a CEO getting personally involved with his Personal Assistant; that has been going on a lot longer than anyone can remember. This is The Nineties; there is no reason why a rich, powerful, beautiful, female CEO cannot get involved with her younger, male P.A.; it's just - different. It took a little getting-used-to.

No matter how discreetly such an affair is conducted, it will always be found out; that is the Law of the (Corporate) Jungle. Linda and Naomi took me to task during break one morning.

"So, Cissy, you've been putting in a lot of overtime lately. Has Mimi been giving you - dictation?"

Linda winked slyly as she said it. Naomi ran with it.

"Perhaps we could help Cissy out by giving her a pair of knee pads. She might need them."

"Naomi, didn't we hear Diane say she saw two people who looked just like Cissy and Mimi having dinner at Morton's last weekend? It must have been just a coincidence!"

I blushed beet-red. Naomi and Linda laughed. Linda gave me a hug. Naomi reached across the table and placed her hand on mine. "Seriously, you are both lovely people, and we're very happy for the two of you," Linda said. "I'm just jealous. If I had known Mimi Fontaine liked girls, I might have made a play for her myself."

Linda was not far from the truth. In a private moment, Mimi revealed that my small, slender stature - I'm 5'7", and 135 - and my 'Barbie-doll beauty' attracted her from the beginning. She told me that she didn't want a 'he-man'; her late husband had been like that. He was constantly unfaithful, overbearing, abusive, and died of a heart attack while fucking his then-current mistress. "It's just as well. I know he was planning to leave me for her anyway. At least, he made it possible for me to create l'Audace, which has always been my dream. Still, I don't ever want to go through that again. I want someone who is tender, thoughtful, considerate, and devoted to me - someone like you," she confided.

Mimi was not into traditional roles in our sexual relationship, either. She told me she wanted a different kind of relationship entirely. She explained tactfully that my "diminutive attributes" would not satisfy her in the usual sense, but she found them greatly appealing in a different way, one in which she could assert herself freely. She liked to be the one to initiate our tender, passionate love-making, preferring that I be passive and receptive to her advances.

She was ecstatic about oral sex, both giving and receiving, and delighted in having me service her love nest with one of her large dildos while I lay beside her in a soft, sensual embrace. I found this arrangement strangely appealing. I no longer had to compensate for my small stature by being overly-aggressive. I could now concentrate on pleasing my lover and focusing on my own pleasurable sensations as well. I became very adept at giving her multiple orgasms, deftly perceiving when she was near the edge and keeping her there, in exquisite torment, for up to an hour before allowing her release. She also could subject me to similar torture, and frequently did.

One of Mimi's endearing qualities was her aroma. Certainly, at any given time she wore any one of the many fragrances we market, but there was something else as well; something oddly compelling. I asked her about it one evening. She smiled and kissed my cheek.

"Silly! That's Eros, something that R&D is in the final stages of testing. Don't you read any of those reports you generate for me? It has been a major line-item in our research budget for a year. We are branching out into pharmaceuticals, just like Shiseido, but right now, our drugs will still pertain to the realm of Cosmetics.

Eros is an oral or injectable drug that stimulates the body's production of pheromones; Nature's own perfume. The body releases them during mating to attract the opposite sex. Since it is taken internally or intravenously, rather than applying it topically to the skin like Musk oil, it lasts MUCH longer. We are almost ready to apply for FDA approval. You know, I think you should try it. It will make you even more attractive - and sexy - than you are now."

"I'm not sure the world is ready for that," I replied coyly. "You already cause the earth to move when you make love to me. If you found me even more attractive, Humankind might not survive. But, if you really want me to be irresistible - sure, I'll give it a try."

I went on a regular regimen of Eros. Mimi made sure I never missed a day taking the caplets, and supplemented my dosage with regular injections. I didn't notice any particular change in the way I smelled, but that is not unusual, even with colognes; after you wear one for a while, you can't smell it any longer.

Mimi DID notice a difference. She told me I smelled wonderful, and that I was driving her to distraction whenever I was near her. It seemed as though she couldn't keep her hands off me, even when we were in her office at work. She also became very possessive of me, to the point that she demanded I move in with her, saying that she wanted to keep me all to herself. Weird, huh? Anyway, I yielded to her without protest.

I began experiencing some difficulty with my work. I had reviewed some of the financial-reporting programs I had written earlier and had considerable difficulty following the flow of logic. It had all seemed so simple then; now, it was like reading Greek. Mimi assured me it was no problem; probably just "Writer's Block" or some such. Since the programs essentially ran themselves, Mimi convinced me to just leave it alone for a while and concentrate on some of the less-demanding clerical duties she needed to have performed.

I began answering her phone calls, typing up her correspondence, scheduling her meetings, making reservations for business lunches, dinners, and travel, receiving clients and vendors. Where before such tasks would have seemed menial to me, I now regarded them as important and fulfilling. In fact, I rather enjoyed them. It WAS kind of a hassle to dash back and forth between my office and Mimi's to hand her correspondence for her approval or to give her a message. Mimi offered to make my life a little easier by setting up a workstation outside her office, complete with PC, printer, telephone, and a few other essentials. I was grateful for the reprieve; business was growing, as was the crush of telephone calls and documentation. Providing Mimi with the logistical support she needed was demanding more and more of my time and attention.

I was sitting at my workstation one day, deep in concentration, and I became aware of Mimi standing beside me. She was watching me intently, a bemused smile on her lips. I followed the direction of her gaze and realized I had been unconsciously playing with my hair, twirling an errant lock with my pen to keep it out of my eyes. My hair had always been on the longish side, but it seemed to have gotten a lot longer than usual in the weeks since my last haircut. I blushed. "Sorry. I'll get it cut tomorrow," I responded sheepishly. "No, no, that's not what I was implying at all," Mimi replied. "In fact, I think it's kind of cute. I don't suppose I could persuade you to...let it grow a bit more? Just for me?" I don't know why; that thought - and the sincere manner in which Mimi made the request - really appealed to me.

One morning, I noticed a little difficulty getting dressed for work. My slim-fitting suit pants had become so tight through the hips, I almost couldn't get the zipper closed. Also, my fitted shirt had become a little too snug through the chest, and the material stretched when I buttoned the buttons. "My, aren't you becoming a little butterball!" Mimi exclaimed. "All work and no play makes C.C. a blimp. I'm putting you on a diet, and you are going to start taking aerobics classes with me. I'll make sure my lover stays nice and trim for me."

She put me on a strict diet, replacing pizza and cheeseburgers with salads, cola with sparkling water, and cakes, candies, and ice cream with fruit and occasional frozen yogurt. She made good on her other promise as well, introducing me to the joys (?) of aerobic exercise classes in the company health club each night after work.

I had thought that I would attend class in my standard gym fare, a T-shirt and shorts, but Mimi had other plans. Instead, she purchased for me several sets of spandex leotards and tights, in colors ranging from soft pastels to wild neons, a pair of white aerobic exercise shoes, trimmed in pink, and a pink headband. I looked at her dubiously, waiting for the punch line. She smiled at me coyly, insisting that they would fit me better, support my body better during the rigorous exercise - and that she thought they would look sexy on me. "Besides," she giggled, "when I told Linda and Naomi we would be joining them, they insisted that their girlfriend 'Cissy' be properly attired. How could I refuse such a charming idea - Cissy?" I knew when I had been neatly set up, and we both laughed.

After several weeks, I lost about twenty pounds through the combination of diet and exercise. My waist shrank to twenty-two inches and my body became firm and toned. My already-longish hair was now past my shoulders. It just seemed to grow so fast now - faster than it ever had before! Mimi had grown more and more assertive in our relationship and it had felt increasingly natural to submit to her direction. I felt - I don't know - different. More delicate. More passive. More aware of myself, my body. More aware of the way Mimi responded to me and the desire I felt for her. More aware of the physical sensations that our lovemaking set off within me. More sexy.