Ad Men

byCharles Petersunn©

This story is inspired by and modeled after a television show, Mad Men, appearing on AMC. However, nothing that happens in this story has happened on the series. Please be advised, the story is quite sexist as it describes a very sexist time, just like in the show. It's a satirical look at advertising and ads. Please note, all characters are at least eighteen years old. Plus, once again, I must give all due credit to StoryPal for his most very helpful editing and substantive suggestions.

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It was a gentler time, an easier time. Skirts were long, but sweaters were tight and brassieres were pointed. It was1961and John Slattery was the Chairman of the Board of Sterling Cooper. Mr. Don Draper, his right hand man, was Creative Director. Sterling Cooper was a young, small, but highly competitive ad agency. They had landed some amazing accounts: the American Tobacco Company (ATC) perhaps being their most impressive. It was certainly their largest account. It probably helped that Mr. Slattery required all of the employees to smoke Lucky Strikes during the solicitation of ATC. Well, he wasn't that demanding. That might be rather dictatorial on the part of management, if not harmfully exploitative. Mr. Slattery did though encourage the employees to consider using Lucky Strikes, and certainly to do so whenever the executives from the American Tobacco Company were visiting. Whether it was this encouragement or not, all of management who did smoke switched to Lucky Strikes and those who did not in fact started smoking. The secretarial staff soon followed. If the members of the ad agency did not use the product, how could you expect them to have any motivation, any passion, to represent the product? If Sterling Cooper was to become a major ad agency, they had to try harder, they had to work together. Everybody had to become involved and fully committed. Whenever the executives of the ATC arrived, the office was awash in a cloud of the sweet aroma of Lucky Strikes. There were certainly no signs of any Camels.

Nobody really minded the promotion of smoking. In fact, those who hadn't smoked prior to the ATC ad campaign grew to really appreciate the benefits of a few Lucky Strikes each day. There was also quite a bit of fun developing alternative meanings for the "L.S.M.F.T." acronym that appears on the package. Frankly, there had been considerably more resistance to giving up Coca-Cola in favor of RC Cola when Sterling Cooper went after that account. Even the Pepsi drinkers were upset about it, which management had difficulty understanding. You have to make sacrifices if you want to truly support the company.


Sterling Cooper was seeking a contract with Dupont, particularly their line of nylons. Dupont had introduced a fully-fashioned stocking made from a flat piece of fabric produced with a sewn in seam to give it shape.

Mr. Slattery distributed a memo indicating that it would be in the best interest of the company, and therefore all employees, if the secretaries and managerial assistants would consider the Dupont nylons, and certainly make their product choice clear when the executive board from Dupont visited. In the 1950s and 1960s management within many corporations and businesses was dominated by men, and was often exclusively composed of men. In a complementary fashion, administrative assistants, receptionists, and secretaries were almost, if not entirely, female. This did at times lead to not unsurprising outcomes.

Joan Holloway, the highest ranking female within the corporation, was the Office Manager. She was essentially a house mother in charge of the other girls, serving as their supervisor, as well as role model. She frankly enjoyed the new company directive. She was a very intelligent and capable woman, and rather striking as well. She had rosy red cheeks, ripe red lips, and straight red hair (which she liked to wear pulled back), a very full bust, and long shapely legs, which her Dupont nylons accentuated so very well. She embraced the new campaign with tight and shortened skirts that displayed well the silky texture of the Dupont nylon, along with her shapely calves and womanly thighs.

Some of the other secretaries were at first rather shocked at the shortness, and tightness, of Miss Holloway's skirts, but they mostly felt jealousy at the attention, complimentary appreciation and praise she received from management.

The secretarial pool soon became awash in shapely legs, graced in the finest of nylons, including thigh high nylons, panty hose, control top pantyhose, fishnet stockings, sheer stockings, and even bridal thigh high stockings with a gorgeous mother-of-pearl sheen. All of the secretaries capped their nylons off with tall high heels. Heels were so helpful in accentuating the muscle tone of the calves (and bottom), as well as demonstrating so clearly, so concretely, the interest of the girl in presenting herself in the most pleasing manner possible, even to the point of encumbering her ability to walk freely and comfortably. The primary interest of the secretary was not in getting somewhere quickly, it was in being pleasing to the eye as she made the journey.

The secretaries didn't mind the innocent voyeuristic pleasure on the part of "the boys in the office," as the girls often referred to management. They had no interest in being secretaries for life. The pay was not that good, and there was little room for advancement. The latter was not that troubling. Few to none had any aspiration to move into management. They felt that a businesswoman was typically, if not essentially, an unmarried spinster. She was a woman who could not find a spouse, a husband, a man who would care for her as her father had cared for her, as she would in turn care for their children. Many considered businesswomen to be aberrations: strange creatures to be avoided and never quite trusted. The secretaries were in fact seeking a way out of Sterling Cooper, seeking husbands. The Dupont contract was an opportunity to display their wares, to attract their own clients, to start their own careers as house wives.

The display of legs was indeed a big hit with management. They fully appreciated the dedication, the loyalty, the fidelity of the Sterling Cooper secretarial pool, as well as the virtual forest of delectable gams. This was a good time for the management of Sterling Cooper. The secretarial pool became a veritable forest of fine ankles, shapely calves, sleek thighs, and, with the heels, well tuned, perky bottoms.

The ladies at first continued to wear skirts that went all the way down to their knees. After all, that was the fashion. Joan, however, modeled a much shorter skirt, and it wasn't too often before a few of the secretaries followed suit. Executives of the firm soon come up with excuses for a girl to visit his office, bringing him a fresh cup of coffee, finding a really important file that seemed to have been misplaced, perhaps within one of the lower file drawers, necessitating that she bend over far, raising her bottom up, providing a very nice presentation of her curvy, rounded bum. A secretary looks so attractive when she has her derriere upraised for her boss. It was as if she was asking for a little attention, trying to provoke a reaction. It was difficult not to think it was intentional. It would not be unusual for the man to give her a few playful spanks on the rump as she looked for that missing file. In fact, sometimes it appeared to have gotten intentionally misplaced. The secretary would swear that it wasn't her fault that it got lost (and it really wasn't), but a little spanking was still warranted. She wouldn't complain, not seriously. A little playful spanking was all in a day's work. Her boss would at least do it within the privacy of his office. He didn't want to be disrespectful.

"Mr. Crane, please!" Penny protested, as he patted her upraised bottom. A girl's bottom was so pretty, so alluring, when it was raised up like that, as if she was in fact presenting it to the man, like a filly presenting herself to a stud. Penny complained, but she left it there for Mr. Crane to enjoy. After all, she hadn't yet found the file. In any case, a few harmless pats on the bottom are to be expected in an office of young businessmen, their testosterone driving their competitive success, aroused at times to uncontrollable levels by the bevy of enticing gals that Sterling Cooper seemed to attract, or at least to hire.

Penny wiggled and waggled her bottom for Mr. Crane as he considerately provided only a few gentle, playful spanks. It was a little embarrassing, as only her father had previously spanked her, and that was a long time ago when she was just a little girl. But, she did like pleasing Mr. Crane, and accepting an occasional playful spanking did typically result in a nice present the next day. It was sometimes something quite sweet, like a collection of flowery soaps or perfumed lotions. It was other times something quite practical, like a new typewriter. That had been really be quite generous of him. After one time, when she even let him raise her skirt to provide a very personal spanking right on her panties, she came in the next morning to find something that she really couldn't wear in public. She blushed and her heart raced as she thought of wearing it under her skirt, at the office, the next time she lost a file. Mr. Crane was such a nice man.

And, of course, there was often the need to dictate a letter. Letter dictation became the most commonly requested secretarial task once the office began their campaign for the Dupont contract, as it offered a particularly delectable view of a girl's legs. The tight skirts would rise up the thighs so nicely as she sat before him. It was particularly lovely when she crossed and re-crossed her legs, offering brief glimpses farther up her skirt. With each new crossing the skirt would appear to rise up a bit farther, leading to longer and longer letters as more and more of the creamy smooth white thigh would appear. The girls didn't even seem to notice how much thigh was being exposed, or at least they didn't seem to mind. Management certainly did not mind. Frankly, not a lot of work was actually accomplished that first week of the Dupont campaign, as the office prepared for the arrival of the executives from Dupont, and quite a few pointless letters were dictated. But morale was good, particularly in the ranks of management but also among the girls who appreciated being more personally and directly involved in the operation and success of the company. It was really quite satisfying to be doing something more than just typing and filing.

And the benefits became quite tangible when the representatives from Dupont finally arrived to receive the Sterling Cooper pitch. The executives smiled appreciatively, and even a bit lasciviously, as they strode by and through the secretarial pool on their way to the boardroom, being continually greeted by sweet smiles, lovely coiffures, delicious perfumes, and legs; lots and lots and lots of lovely, shapely gams, kicking out from behind cubicles, striding across the floor perched on their heels, and stretching out before them as a particularly delicious morsel bent over to pick up her note pad. They could see right away that this was a company that valued their product, and the ladies were quite proud to display it.

The boardroom was itself rather impressive. The conference table was thick mahogany with deep leather swivel chairs and overflowing ash trays. The carpeting was a plush beige. There was a well-stocked bar, stacks of Lucky Strikes, and a wrap-around, corner window that provided a beautiful view down Madison Avenue. The Dupont representatives could see, and feel, that they were within the offices of a company with considerable resources that wasn't afraid to use them.

Mr. Draper, Mr. Sterling, and Mr. Campbell were providing a story board presentation of a proposed ad campaign to the Dupont team when Miss Holloway strode in, the full busted Office Manager with bright red hair and very bright red lips. She loved to wear strikingly red lipstick. But, what was most engaging now was that she was sporting an equally strikingly short skirt, with thigh high nylons. This was not the correct skirt with which to wear thigh high nylons, unless one actually wanted persons to see the top of your nylons, which was precisely Miss Holloway's intention. Conversation ceased at the sight of her thighs so lovingly encased in her flesh toned silk.

"I thought you gentlemen would like some fresh hot coffee."

"Well, yes, thank you Miss Holloway," Mr. Draper replied, "That's very thoughtful." He paused in his presentation to allow Miss Holloway to place her tray on the side bar, and to allow their guests to feast on the sight of those well-curved legs and luscious thighs.

Miss Holloway emphasized her own presentation by "accidentally" dropping a sugar packet. She bent over fully from the waist to retrieve it, her bottom pointing back to the men at the conference table, who were all naturally turned to her, to the rising of her skirt, up her thighs, even past the top of her nylons, rising up to present a few inches of the bottom of her bottom.

Cocks swelled to attention, and eyes quickly glanced left and right. Not glancing so long as to miss anything, but long enough to be sure that they were not the only ones who were noticing something really quite shocking, and wonderfully so. These men had not seen something like this before. My goodness, Miss Holloway wasn't even wearing a girdle! They had, of course, seen poses like this in pornographic magazines, like Playboy, but that wasn't anything any one of them would be willing to acknowledge. Well, Playboy wasn't really that bad. Mr. Draper was in fact intending to become a member of the Playboy Club, once it opened up on 59th street. It was currently under construction. He had naturally visited the club in Chicago which opened just last year.

All the men of Sterling Cooper were familiar with Playboy. The wives though weren't particularly interested in having the mailmen, and perhaps neighbors as well, discover that such material was being delivered to the house. They certainly didn't want their children to come across an issue. And, besides, once you order something like that, what else will soon be coming through the mail? Goodness knows what pornographic material in plain brown wrappers would soon follow a subscription to Playboy, and perhaps then soon after that a visit from the vice squad as they tracked the delivery of some Mexican package right to your front door. No, if the husband needed to have this sort of thing, he could just purchase it at a magazine stand in Manhattan, like everyone else.

But, this Sterling Cooper Office Manager was no magazine. She was real life, and poking up right before their eyes were the lower bottom cheeks of the very attractive, long-legged Miss Holloway. She was wearing quite enticing silk green panties that were a provocative contrast with her red hair and skirt. Especially important, they snugly hugged her derriere, providing to her rapt audience a very sexy, naughty display: two shapely rising green globes, and most enticing, in between them a very tightly wrapped green pouch poking out, squeezing out, between her white, luscious thighs.

Miss Holloway stood up straight and turned her head back to the men behind her. Most quickly turned away, their faces reddening with embarrassment at being caught in their indiscrete ogling. Mr. Draper and Mr. Sterling, however, did not. They in fact smiled with approval at Miss Holloway's helpful presentation.

"You can, of course," Mr. Draper said, speaking to the Dupont executives, "see how much we value your product and would embrace the opportunity to develop your campaign. Our girls are in fact already advertising your nylons every day of the week, and, I believe, they do so in a manner that is very pleasing, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes sir," Mr. Grundleman, the CEO of Dupont, replied. "Very pleasing, indeed."

Miss Holloway asked, "You don't consider my skirt too short, Mr. Dupont?"

The men chuckled at her apparent naiveté, and her error. Mr. Draper though knew that it was simply an act, a performance, for their benefit and pleasure.

Mr. Grundleman replied, "No, no, dear, I'm not actually Mr. Dupont. I'm Mr. Grundleman."

"Oh my! I'm so sorry." She brought her red fingernails to her lips, feigning embarrassment.

Mr. Grundleman wondered if perhaps she should be more embarrassed at how much thigh she was displaying rather than her ignorance. It wasn't unusual for an office assistant to be a bit silly at times, but it did seem quite unusual for one to be so provocative, at least they were not that way at Dupont. "Not a problem, dear. In fact, if you wish, you can call me 'Mr. Dupont.'" He turned to the rest of the members of his team. "In a skirt that short, you can call me anything you want."

They all smiled at their director's humor.

Miss Holloway played along. "Mr. Dupont, you're teasing me now, aren't you." She put her hands on her hips, her rather large pointy breasts thrusting out.

"No more than you're teasing me," he replied, putting out his cigarette.

"But, sir, you still haven't answered my question. Do you think my skirt is too short?" She pulled down on her skirt, as if she was trying to lengthen it, stretch it out, all the while accenting the point that it was indeed well short of hiding the tops of her nylons.

"Well, I do imagine that you have turned a few heads."

She smiled flirtatiously at him. "Isn't that the idea?"

Mr. Draper drew deeply on his Lucky Strike and added, "A Dupont nylon, sir, is so appealing, so attractive. I would think that you would want everyone to appreciate them. Why hide them beneath too long a skirt?"

Mr. Grundleman chuckled and nodded, as did his colleagues. They could hardly argue with that point, although the notion of skirts ever actually being this short was rather absurd.

"Yes, well, Mr. Draper," Miss Holloway interjected, "I'll return to my typing. I don't want to overstay my welcome."

"No, no, dear," Mr. Grundleman insisted, "please, stay. A pretty lady like yourself brightens any drab boardroom."

No one had ever characterized the boardroom of Sterling Cooper as being drab, but Mr. Draper appreciated the suggestion. "Yes, of course, Miss Holloway, please stay. In fact, why don't you summon Babs, my own girl, to come in, along with Penny."

The eyes of the Dupont representatives widened at the suggestion, at the thought, of even more eye candy. If Babs and Penny were anything like Miss Holloway, this would be a rather pleasant presentation.

"Yes, of course, sir." Miss Holloway was very, very pleased that her outfit had been so well received, particularly by the clientele they were courting. "I will summon them at once." She strode to the phone, her heels expertly traversing the thick carpeting, her bottom swaying above the tops of her nylons. She picked up the phone and pushed the first button, the one that connected to the central operators. "Mr. Draper's office, please," she stated.

The men watched and waited. Even when standing still, Miss Holloway's figure was a treat for the eye.

"Babs, yes, Mr. Draper would appreciate it if you, and Penny, could come to the boardroom." She didn't wait for a response. She knew they would be there shortly.

"Gentleman," Mr. Draper explained, as they waited for the girls, "Your current campaign, 'News about Nylons,' has been reasonably effective in demonstrating your historical authority, your seniority, in the creation and production of the nylon." He moved over to stand next to Miss Holloway. "Nobody questions that. But, it's no longer enough. It's time to enter the modern age, to appreciate the beauty of your product, as well as its functionality." He knelt down next to Miss Holloway, shifted his cigarette to his left hand, and drew his fingers of his right hand along her legs as he said, "its ability to be as pleasing to the eye as it is comforting to the ankles, the calves." His fingers lingered at the final stop, "the thighs."

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byCharles Petersunn© 19 comments/ 130226 views/ 26 favorites

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