Binders Full of Women

I smiled. "Very soon, but I'm fresh out of pen and paper to give you my number."

"Then I'll get it from Brenda in the business office before I leave." He pulled me closer and planted a long, probing kiss on my parted lips. I could definitely get used to this.

Mark released me from his embrace, and I went to the women's locker room. I would need a shower before my next session. I was still so wet that I nearly gave myself an orgasm just walking down the hall.

By the time Brenda met me at the end of the day, I was whipped, no pun intended. I'd changed back into my business attire, but I felt disheveled as hell.

"You look tired," she said. "Must have been a good day."

"Guess so," I answered. "I had five sessions."

"Yes, everyone was busier than usual today. And you had some very satisfied clients."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yep, the Smiths left you this." She handed me a crisp new hundred dollar bill. "They gave one to Mark as well."

"Awesome!" I said excitedly. Then, just as quickly, I calmed down. "You keep it. I owe you."

"Don't be silly," she said, stuffing the bill into my jacket pocket. "You need this worse than I do." We argued about it a bit more, and then I gave in. Getting Brenda to take money was damned near impossible. Probably the only way I would ever be able to repay her would be in a will someday. She couldn't make me take it back if I was dead. On the way home, I insisted that Brenda at least allow me to get us some carry out Chinese. Finally she conceded.

Back at the apartment, I unpacked our dinner and set the table while Brenda checked the answering machine. She came to the kitchen with a grin on her face. "Jen, the governor's office called. They want to interview you!"

I was less than excited.

"Come on! This could be a good opportunity for you. You march right in there and call them."

"Yes, mom!" I said sarcastically. I went to the living room to use the phone. Yes, I knew I was behind the times for not having a cell phone, but that, like so many other costly things, would have to wait. I called the number and was directed to come in tomorrow morning for the interview.

"So what did they say?" Brenda asked when I returned to the kitchen.

"Well, apparently, they are in a somewhat desperate situation because the last secretary abruptly quit, and they need to fill the position fast. They were especially interested in my legal background."

"That sounds promising," Brenda said, eating her General Tso's Chicken.

I groaned grudgingly and tore into my rice noodles. I didn't want to admit it, but Brenda may have been right. Despite my doubts, I began to look forward to the possibilities.

Chapter 2

The next morning, I showered and got ready, dressing in my best business suit and heels. I printed out extra copies of my resume and stuffed them into my portfolio along with a notepad and my good ink pen that I reserved just for interviews. I was a bit embarrassed that I would be driving to the state capitol in my less than classy twenty-year-old, fourth-hand, Buick Le Sabre. The paint was peeling, the headliner was sagging, and the interior velour had long ago lost its fuzz. Oh, and my muffler was just about shot. I wouldn't be sneaking up on anyone in that car. But, at least it ran well, and it was paid for. Those were the important things, I kept telling myself as I drove off.

A few miles later, I swung into the capitol parking garage. I checked in with the security guard at the front gate. I found a spot near the elevator that the guard said would take me to a covered walkway at the back of the capitol. As I stepped out of the car, I noticed a group of thirty-something men in very nice suits giving my car dirty looks. Assholes. Ignoring them, I grabbed my portfolio and made my way to the elevator. I exited the elevator at ground level and went to the back entrance of the capitol. There, I found another guarded entrance. I showed my license, and the guard found my name on his list of approved visitors. He unlocked the door and allowed me to enter. I was directed to the second floor reception area where I was met by an anal-looking man who extended a metro-sexually manicured hand. He carried an accordion file full of documents.

"I'm Mr. Walsh, chief of staff," he said. "I'm glad you were able to come on short notice."

I took his hand and grasped it. His grip was limp, like a dead fish. "Jennifer Long," I said. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Walsh."

"I will conduct your interview in the conference room," he said, gesturing toward a door to the right.

I went in and sat down in the large room. The scale, with the tall ceilings and over-sized conference table, seemed designed to intimidate. It only strengthened my resolve, and I sat up straighter in my chair. Mr. Walsh sat in a chair on the opposite side of the table. "I'll cut to the chase Ms. Long," he said. "I already know about your excellent academic record, and you have a clean background check. You're registered as an Independent. You aren't affiliated with any religion. You're an only child, and your parents regrettably passed away. You're basically on your own and have supported yourself all the way through law school. I can tell you're a hard worker from your record, and that's what I'm looking for."

So they had checked me out. I was surprised he didn't mention my work at 121. If anyone asked, Mistress Jones had said, the 121 workers were to report that the establishment was a business consulting firm. Barbara personally took all reference calls, so anyone who checked would get that message.

"What would this job entail? Do you have a job description?" I asked.

Mr. Walsh withdrew a document from his file and handed it to me. "Governor Barton's executive secretary is a critical position. You would be responsible for keeping his calendar current, managing his engagements, taking notes for meetings, dictation, screening his calls and appointments, and in some cases dealing with very confidential matters. Governor Barton is currently screening candidates for a number of key cabinet positions, and you would be responsible for assembling those portfolios for his review. You'll log all the candidates the various committees submit as well as those submitted by the constituents. The governor will maintain a confidential file of those he chooses not to interview. Those will later be destroyed. Confidentiality is of utmost importance for these applicants. You must understand that any leaks to the press about these positions can make or break the candidates' careers."

"Yes, of course." I said.

"The gross annual salary for this position is $25,000.00, and there is a six month probationary period."

"Can you start today?" he asked.

He couldn't be serious, could he? This was the first interview I had ever sat through where I wasn't asked any questions, and I certainly hadn't been offered a job on the spot before. His face was set. Obviously he was expecting an answer right now. "Yes, I can start today," I answered.

"Good," he said, withdrawing another, thicker document from his folder and handing it to me. "This is your contract. Please read it thoroughly and sign it. If you agree to the terms, you are hired. I'll leave you to read this. When you've finished, bring it to me to sign, and I'll witness and notarize it. I'll be at the desk in the reception area."

Walsh left the room, and I began to read the contract. It was written in impossibly tiny print, and consisted of several pages. I scrutinized it carefully, and the bulk of it dealt with confidentiality and non-disclosure of information as well as the consequences for failure to comply with the contract--which seemed quite hefty. Fines, lawsuits, imprisonment. It unnerved me a bit, but then I thought it was probably standard fare for government work. I finished reading and met Walsh at the receptionist's desk. I signed the document, and Walsh signed beneath it. He withdrew a large embossing tool from the desk drawer and impressed his notary seal on the document. He then sent me downstairs to the human resources office to complete the hiring paperwork and get my ID made.

Inside the human resources office, I found a one person operation that apparently served the entire governor's office. A heavy set woman sat behind a desk talking on the phone, typing on the computer keyboard, and smoking a cigarette. She resembled a large toad with her horn-rimmed glasses and wide, thin lips. I coughed and fanned the smoke out of my face. Suddenly, looked up and realized I was standing there. She quickly crushed out the cigarette in an ashtray that she had hidden in a drawer. Still talking and typing with one hand, she pulled out a can of air freshener and spritzed a couple of sprays into the air. Like that would really help. Now the place smelled like a seedy bar full of lilac bushes. Eventually, she hung up the phone and addressed me. "That was Mr. Walsh," she informed. "He said you'll be filling the executive secretary position."

"That's right," I said.

"Lucky you," she said in a tone that conveyed anything but luck.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It's a tough job," she said. "The governor goes through secretaries like a hot knife through butter. Sit down."

I took a seat beside her desk. She handed me a laptop that displayed electronic forms for me to complete. As I worked, she continued talking.

"Barton can be hard to work for. He's got a temper and is too set in his ways. But if he gives you any trouble, you come to me."

"Oh?" I stopped filling out the forms and looked up.

"I've been in this job for thirty-two years. I've seen it all, and I know it all. He won't mess with me," she said. "Here's my card." She gave me her business card; it read Mable Black, Director of Human Resources, and Ombudsman.

Well, that explained the attitude at least. As an ombudsman, her job would be protected by statute. I finished the electronic forms and handed the laptop back to Mable. She took my picture with a digital camera connected to a machine that created an ID card with a magnetic strip on the back. "This card will open any of the electronic locks in the capitol building. If you lose it, immediately call security. They have a twenty-four hour line. You'll want to memorize that number. The one thing I don't have for you today is the health insurance packet. I'm out of those. I expect some in later today. If you stop in tomorrow morning, I'll have one for you."

"Thanks, I'll do that," I said. With everything completed, I went back upstairs to get further instructions from Mr. Walsh.

The chief of staff was standing expectantly beside the desk, looking at his watch when I reached the top of the stairs. "The elevator is faster," he said, pointing toward it. "You'll use that from now on." He started walking toward ornately carved double doors a few yards behind the reception desk. "The governor will see you now," he said over his shoulder, motioning expectantly for me to follow him.

Slightly out of breath from the stairs, I followed him into the governor's office, keeping my pace measured and self-assured. I was not going to follow at his heels like a trained puppy. Governor Barton, an impeccably dressed man with a strong, chiseled looking face rose from his massive desk and stepped forward. I extended my hand, expecting him to take it, but instead, he lifted a stack of three large, black binders from his desk and handed them to me. He barely glanced at me and said, "These are the rejected candidates for the cabinet positions. You'll stamp each resume with today's date. Then you'll file the binders in the file room with the others." Then Barton handed me a thinner blue binder. "These are the candidates I have chosen to interview. You'll call each of them today and set up interviews as soon as possible based on my calendar." Without another word, he sat down and began working at his computer. Walsh gestured toward the door with his head, and I followed him out to the receptionist's desk.

"This will be your work station," Walsh said. "Go ahead and get started on stamping the rejected resumes in. Someone from technology services will be here in a few minutes to give you your login information and show you how to access the system. Once you have access, you should stop working on the rejects and get those interviews scheduled. They're the priority." He turned to walk toward his office and pointed toward a door to the left of the governor's office. "That's the records room. There's also a copier in there. You'll need your ID badge to unlock the door. Probably tomorrow, I'll have you begin shredding the older rejects. We need to clear out those binders to make space for more important things." He went into his office and closed the door, leaving me alone in the cavernous reception area.

I placed the binders on the desk and began looking through the drawers to find the date stamp. Locating it, I sat down and adjusted the date. I opened the first black binder and began stamping the alphabetized resumes in the upper right-hand corner. It was a mindless task, flipping through the various shades of cotton bond paper, and as I worked, I found my eyes wandering across the pages, noting interesting tidbits about the candidates. After the first dozen or so, I began to find the task depressing. Every single candidate seemed to have stellar qualifications. There were MBAs, Ph.D.s, J.D.s, and M.D.s of various disciplines. Many had decades of experience in high level positions in the private sector. If these were the rejects, no wonder I couldn't find a job in state government. I continued stamping the pages. After about fifty, I became vaguely aware of something strange. But it couldn't be. I flipped back through the resumes I'd stamped, looking again at the names. My interest piqued, I flipped randomly through the remaining documents in the binder. I opened the other two black binders and flipped through those as well, finding the same puzzling peculiarity. All of the rejects were women!

Unable to control my curiosity, I opened the blue binder of candidates the governor wanted to interview and began leafing carefully through the pages. There were at least a hundred candidates, and not a one of them was female!

Suddenly, I heard the sound of the elevator rising. Feeling like a child caught doing something wrong; I quickly closed the blue binder and turned back to stamping the rejects. As I stamped each one, I felt my stomach growing queasy and my temper beginning to flare. The elevator door opened, and an attractive, auburn-haired woman wearing a full-length coat and carrying an expensive looking handbag stepped out. Behind her, a state police trooper followed. They walked toward the governor's office.

I rose from my chair and spoke. "Can I help you?" I asked.

The trooper's gaze was serious. He held up a hand to stop me from moving toward them. "We're expected by Governor Barton," he said. "Official business."

Well okay, I thought, taking my seat again. The woman entered the governor's office, and the trooper stood at attention outside the door, staring straight ahead. I turned back to my stamping.

In a few minutes, the door opened, and the governor looked out. "Miss?" he said, looking at me.

"My name is Jennifer Long," I said. "Is there something you need for me to do?"

"Come into my office," he directed.

I slid the binders into a large desk drawer, grabbed a note pad and pen and went into the governor's office. The state trooper closed the door behind me. The woman who had entered earlier was seated beside a conference table in the center of the room.

"Miss Long, sit down at my desk. I need for you to watch the proceedings of the meeting streaming on my computer. There's a chat window at the bottom. If there is a question for me, I need you to let me know. I'll answer it, and you will type in my response." He took off his jacket and began loosening his tie.

"Yes, sir," I said, seating myself in front of his computer monitor. On screen, there was an image of a large auditorium. Official looking men and women were seated at tables with microphones mounted on them. Down front, a man stood at a podium, speaking to the group. There was a United States flag beside the podium. A large, golden medallion of the Great Seal hung on the wall behind the podium. Obviously, this was some sort of important meeting, apparently in Washington.

I turned my attention to the chat window, and in my peripheral vision, I saw the woman stand and remove her coat. I did a double take! I looked up and saw that she was wearing a teal, Victorian style corset trimmed in black lace. It had a plunging neckline that revealed her deep cleavage. She wore matching black lace panties, garters, and black stockings. I glanced at the governor who was removing his shirt.

Barton noticed me watching. "Miss Long, it is critical that you pay attention to the chat window and ignore anything else that happens in this room. Remember that you signed the confidentiality agreement, and you are to reveal nothing that happens here to anyone. Do you understand?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

I know it may seem silly that I, a professional dominatrix, would find this situation uncomfortable, but it was. Here was the governor, my boss, carrying on an affair in his office, while on the job, being guarded by a state trooper, and I was covering for him in an important meeting. This sort of thing could get me disbarred! And to top it off, the governor publicly claimed to be a conservative. I wondered if his wife knew about this. Clearly, he had learned nothing from the headline grabbing sexual antics of other political figures of late.

I tried to keep my eyes on the chat window, but it was hard not to notice when the governor was completely naked and had hoisted the woman onto the conference table. He pulled her close and stood between her long legs, which she wrapped around his midriff. He fondled her breasts through the silky teal and lace as he kissed her deeply.

Suddenly, the computer chimed, and I remembered the chat window. "They want to know your position on Proposal 13," I said.

Instead of answering immediately, the governor plunged his hand into the woman's panties, rubbing the lips of her pussy beneath the black lace.

"Sir?" I asked.

He pulled his mouth off hers. "Tell them it's before the committee, and I expect a recommendation next week."

I typed his answer into the computer and hit return. I didn't want to keep watching, but I couldn't take my eyes off the scene unfolding before me. It was just so bizarre. I wondered if the trooper outside the door knew what was going on in here. And what about Walsh? Did he know as well? Somehow I suspected he knew just about everything that happened here. My mind wandered to the contract. No wonder it had been so full of language concerning confidentiality and non-disclosure! It wasn't about governmental security. It was about the governor's sexual escapades.

The governor climbed up onto the table with the woman. He lay back on the table and draped his legs over the sides, causing his cock to stand erect. She bent over him and took his rod into her mouth. She began to suck, moving his dick in and out of her mouth.

"Take it all the way in baby," he moaned.

I watched as she took in the entire length of his shaft. Her lips were firmly pressed against the base of his cock. She wobbled her head from side to side, causing him to moan louder. Surely the guard could hear this. The computer chimed again. I read the text.

"Sir, they want you to send them the Murphy report."

"Tell them..." he was panting hard. "Fuck! This feels good."

"Do I get the job now?" the woman purred.

"I'll do all I can to help you. You know that," the governor said to her. "Now, Veronica, let's get back to what we were doing. We'll discuss business later."