Emma's Stiletto Seduction Pt. 24

This is a continuing story, my journal, please see :

Emma's stiletto seduction 01 to Pt. 23 for prior entries.

Comments welcome.

It was one of those few occasions I did not know how to dress for.

Usually I know exactly how to dress, and that is to please the person i'm meeting.

The man that I am meeting.

But the names on the message I had received were vague. I did not know who or what to expect, which made things somewhat more difficult than usual, and quite exciting.

Text: Come to the front reception at 10.20am and let them know you are here. Thanks, Alex.

It had been a long time since I had done anything like this, some would say too long. You can definitely get stuck in a rut when you are in middle age. A fact that was very much underlined by the events of the last month of my life.

On this occasion I needed to look smart, that was the utmost importance. Stylish, yes, and classy. Unfortunately the one thing I could not look like today is trashy, or like a slut. Act like a slut, perhaps, but not look like one.

"That's a shame," Said my boyfriend, David, "as you do both so well."

He had a glint in his eye as he left for work.

Alone.

I was sat at my dressing table, looking back at the forty-sumthing transwoman in-front of me. How time has flown by, I thought to myself. But even, for a person in my 40s, I must confess I felt confident. And each flick of a mascara brush to my long eyelashes only enhanced it.

Once I had applied my makeup, a full face of trowelled makeup designed to look like no makeup at all, I brushed off any powdered remnants that may have fallen to my black stockings. I reached behind my head and took my hair down out of its ponytail and let it fall to my cheeks. As I brushed it straight into its natural shoulder length bobbed style, I looked more like myself.

"Save the lippy for just before you arrive." I reminded myself, as I carefully placed it into my over-the-shoulder handbag that was nesting on the bed.

If you must know, and I expect you would like to, I was wearing a black-lace bra that helped shape my breasts into a C cup. If I had a disadvantage over most women, it was that my breasts were not huge. The fashion today seems to be for big, fake tits. That's what men want in a girlfriend and so that's therefore what women want....but I wasn't quite there. Yet, anyway, pre surgery.

My dark black stockings were held up by a thin suspender belt, with four clasps, two on each side. A matching pair of polyester briefs were already finding their way into the crack of my bottom. I resisted the temptation to pull them free. If I did so, I'd only have to do that again in ten minutes time and then consistently repeat the process.

"You would do better if you turned up half naked like this." I said to myself, turning from the mirror towards the bed where I had laid out my chosen outfit.

This was not like me.

I felt nervous.

Over the last 25 years I had been to many meetings with men, some may say too many, and mostly with people I had not met previously. The meetings usually ended up as I fully expected. I knew what was supposed to happen and nine times out of ten it did happen.

I stepped into my skirt. It was a black leather a-line skirt, Size 12, worn to knee length. It flared out more than my usual tight pencil skirts that had become my trademark style.

"Stylish, but not too slutty". I remarked to my shadow as it followed my trim figure around the room.

I took my top from its hanger. A white cotton button up long-sleeved office blouse with collar. As I pulled it tightly over my breasts and smoothed it down with my hands, you could almost see a trace of my bra through it. But only if you were looking, and I wanted people to look.

I tucked it into the band of my skirt taking care not to break any of my long acrylic fingernails at the last minute. It would be far too late to replace them.

On other occasions, I would have worn a black leather or pvc blazer type jacket, but not today. I have to be smart but not slutty, remember? So a heavy black cotton blazer was taken from my wardrobe. As it slipped over my shoulders, I fastened the single button at the front.

"Business at the top," I giggled to myself, "slut on the bottom!" As I caught my reflection on the way out of the dressing room.

It wasn't a tight leather skirt, but I'd still have to remember to be careful if for some reason I was requested to bend over.

Usually I would be wearing socks, even over stockings if I was going to be wearing boots. But the footwear that I had selected were lined very well and did not need any. I had chosen a pair of black leather knee high rounded toe boots, with a three inch heel. The heel was spiked metal, silver, and contrasted with the red soles that would flash anyone walking behind me a scarlett warning.

Come close.... If you dare!

Even though I was dressed in monotone colours of black and white, it was always useful to add a dash of colour to draw attention if necessary.

I sat on the second step of the hallway stairs and zipped up the silver fastening running up the back of each boot. They were new, for now, and I hoped that driving the twenty or so miles was not going to scuff them at all before the meet.

I took my bag, mobile and a neat foolscap document folder of papers as I rushed out of the door. Yes I would be early, but I wanted to appear eager.

David and I had been together for over 2 years now, but we were not engaged. After the unpleasantness with his ex wife over the last months the very idea of immediately marrying another woman was the last thing from his thoughts. And to be honest, mine too.

Still, of the little fashion jewellery I did wear on occasion, one item was on my left hand. A diamond ring on my third finger. Even though I wasn't engaged or married, I knew the power that a silver band and stone discreetly positioned could have over people.

It could put other women at ease, relieving their jealousy and any thoughts that I would be a rival. It could tell men that I was off the market, so don't try. Of course it could have the opposite effect and make men try harder. How I would use it to my advantage this morning was so far unknown.

I took a deep breath as I reversed the car out of the driveway. I was about to do something I had not had to do in over a decade, and never before like this. As Emma, the real me.

/

Thankfully there was a decent space in the destination car park. Not too near the entrance to be clearly visible, and not too far to walk in high heels. It was 10am exactly and the trip along the A24 had been uneventful

I took my seatbelt off but left the car running, even though it was a cold February day the air conditioning was needed to stop my utter embarrassment of sweating through my makeup.

One last check, my papers were all there, in the correct order, just as I had placed them.

Another look at my phone. It was Monday 22nd April, it remained as it had before I left the house.

It was now 10.03am.

I opened the drivers door and swivelled out with both feet first, and placed my weight onto my spiked heels. I smoothed myself down, double checking that no cotton or lint had found it way from the car seat to my blazer.

The sound of my fresh metal-tipped heels popped and scraped around the almost empty car park. As I got closer to the entrance I could begin to see my reflection in the large plate glass windows in front of me. I breathed out a sigh, they would either want to have me or not. No half measures.

The bright sign of the department store lit up the early morning. The reception looked warm and welcoming as the sound of my stilettoes changed from scraping on the tarmac path to clicking on their hardwood floor.

The nearby assistant was distracted by them and looked up from the desk they were stood behind, and smiled.

"I'm here to see Alex." I said in my poshest accent, reciprocating their smile back."

"Ahh yes," Said the assistant, looking back down to concentrate on a screen through her spectacles.

She was dressed all in black. The assistants here were always dressed smartly in black. They didn't seem to have any design or requirements of uniform, aside from this rule.

The staff always came across as friendly, dressed very well and invariably women of a certain age. I hoped that was a requirement for the position, and one of the reasons they had granted me an interview.

"May I have your name?" The assistant asked.

"Emma." I replied.

"Ten twenty?" Was the response, confirming my appointment, "But they were running late I think. One is still in but you are the last."

She immediately looked back to the screen, embarrassed that she had accidentally let slip other candidate information I need not have known.

"Let me take you up there now." She said quickly, trying to distract from her mistake.

As she walked around the desk, I could see she was dressed in black trousers and long sleeved top. She wore little make-up and her only accessory was a silver name badge with the words "Helen", and underneath pronouns 'She / Her'.

Her hair was long but tied back into a ponytail. She fitted the store-assistant brief perfectly. As she guided me to the escalator in the centre of the store, there was an immediate and obvious contrast between us.

We were the same height, when I was in heels, but she was wearing flat casual shoes. They did not make a sound, compared to my "click click click" of my stiletto boots.

"I like your boots," she said, like everyone else in store unable to ignore them.

"Thank you." I replied, trying to catch her smile again.

"But I couldn't wear them all day in here." She hinted.

She pushed through a set of plain, unmarked heavy doors at the rear of the first floor of the store. I followed.

Even though the store had its own small cafe, the rooms off from this corridor were a staff kitchen and restroom, toilet and some assorted offices that looked very much like there were now only used for storage.

Through another single door, the floor turned from hardwood blocks to carpet and a sign clearly stated, 'Management".

Helen gestured to an area with a coffee table surrounded by a low level sofa and 3 chairs. A water barrel was in the corner, and a set of plastic cups neatly arranged.

"If you would like to wait here, they will fetch you when they are ready for you."

"Thank you." I replied, as she looked back.

"Is... There anything I can get you?" She asked, awkwardly. "Coffee, water?"

"No thank you." I responded, and sat down in a chair facing the corridor I assumed 'Alex' would greet me from.

As Helen suggested, they were running late, which did not calm my nerves.

After 15 minutes of silence, I could hear voices from the corridor, and pleasantries being exchanged. Coming into view was Alex, the store manager, along with whom I correctly assumed was the prior candidate.

This put me a little more at ease. If jobs were being given on looks, I cattily thought that I had at least 10 years of age below her - but perhaps she was exactly what they were looking for?

Alex awkwardly acknowledged my existence as he walked passed me, his eyes darting to me and then immediately back to his immediate business. I tried to return my best smile but it was already too late. I could hear him open the door at the end of the management corridor and saying goodbye to the other woman.

I stood up ready to greet him.

As he walked back, I could see his smile for the first time. Alex was a man in his fifties, with dark but greying hair and a suit to match. He gave off an air of authority and cheekiness, if that was at all possible.

"Emma?" He asked, extending his right hand to me.

"Yes". I replied, taking his hand into mine.

He was taller than me, even though I was wearing heels. I estimated around an even six foot. He had a build of so many men in this position, once slim and strong but one that had recently been rapidly showing the combined signs of age and many years with a desk job.

"Have you come far?" He said, leading me into his office.

"No, not that far." I lied, who was going to admit that to a prospective employer?

In the office was a modern wooden desk, and sitting behind was yet another suited man, "the only two in the building." I thought quietly to myself.

"This is the area manager." Alex said introducing me, "Charles".

Charles immediately stood up from the desk and looked at me intently. He paused, then offered his hand which I took. And he, like Alex, did not release their grasp until it had become uncomfortable to continue.

"Please sit down." Said Charles, pointing to the chair in front of his desk. A smile breaking across his face.

"May I take your jacket?" Alex asked?

I was not sure this was the usual protocol, or if they had offered this to their previous candidates, but the office was quite warm and I gave then the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh, yes." I replied, and Alex stood behind me for the first time, waiting patiently as I unbuttoned the front of my blazer. I began to slip my shoulders out as he took the collar in his hands and needlessly assisted.

He turned his back as I sat, upright, placing my papers on my lap and bringing my knees together.

Under the cover of those documents I manipulated my silver ring from my third finger to my first finger, and hoped that they had not noticed.

Alex pulled up a chair and sat in front of the desk, to the right side next to me.

"We have both read your resume," Said Charles, "and we cannot fathom why you would want to work here?"

It was a strange opening gambit, one that took me aback.

I returned a look of misunderstanding.

"Well you seem somewhat overqualified to work at the bottom end of retail?"

"Oh I don't think so," I replied quickly, "I think it's good to start afresh sometimes, and bring your experience to a new challenge."

"I see you worked on a shop floor some years ago, before you moved upstairs?" Said Alex, pretending to be reading through my CV.

"I've never had more fun, to be honest." I replied, "After five years I was promoted to be behind a desk and it was difficult to return."

They seemed to like my responses, although inevitably I could see their mind and eyes wandering more to my appearance than the answers I was giving.

"We don't often get candidates for these roles who have Masters." Charles added.

"Well may I assume that Alex and Yourself will become me immediate masters in role?" I replied.

"Yes." He spluttered, "The role is under both myself and Alex.

"If I may be frank with you," I asked, "I would really love to work here. I'm very happy to be at the bottom and to work my way up."

"You realise that the contract would only be for 6 months in the first instance." Alex added.

"Yes, and I hope you will be pleased enough with my contribution that there may be an opportunity in the future."

"Ok." Said Charles.

Alex nodded.

"I'm sorry that we are running late," Said Charles, "I have another appointment so I will have to leave it to Alex to show you around."

"Yes sir." I replied, taking Charles by surprise.

"Alex, Emma is going to pretend she hasn't been in the store before whilst you do so."

Alex shook his head as Charles let out a smile.

After the area manager had left, Alex started to relax again.

"He just wanted to see if you were real, and wouldn't leave after two weeks." Alex said, casually, as we sat back down

"Oh." I replied.

"We don't get many candidates like you."

"What do you mean?" I asked, not liking where this could be going.

"Well we were not going to interview you," Said Alex, "definitely overqualified."

"But!" I replied, pursing my lips.

"HR said you were the only candidate that ticked the diversity box," he responded, sheepishly, "so we had to."

"You have probably broken every HR rule in the book saying that," I added, astonished, "and certainly a few laws."

He paused for a moment.

"Look, I think Charles wants you, He said, quietly, "you are his type. And......"

He paused.

"And I could be persuaded." He said, pulling his chair closer.

This time the pause was from me, as I crossed my legs in-front of him.

"I like your boots." Said Alex, completely distracted from the pretence this was still a job interview.

"Oh, I forgot to ask about the dress code." I added. "Am I smart enough like this?"

"Yes," Alex replied, his eyes sparking now, leaning forward on his chair, "anything all black on the shop floor and as dress as you are in management areas."

We sat in silence for a moment, he was staring at me intently.

"So?" I enquired, "Does this mean that I have the job?"

His face changed, and what was once a warm and welcoming smile became serious and worried. He accompanied this by sitting upright in his chair, no longer relaxing.

"Look, if it were down to Charles, he would have you in a heartbeat," Alex replied, "but he has left it to me this time to see if you are what we are looking for."

"Oh really?" I replied, quizzically.

"I would have given it to you, without a doubt." Said Alex, making me seem nervous now. "But there are some issues."

"I'm sorr.." I said, beginning an apology for something I did not know why.

Alex stood up and perched against the desk, so he was now directly in front of me.

Suddenly, I felt the interview take a turn that I was not expecting. I wanted to ask what I had done but I knew it was probably best to keep quiet.

"It's like you want to work here too much." Alex explained. "You seem to have a lot riding on it, for someone with your qualifications."

I lowered my eyes from his, down to the floor. He was correct, of course, even though he could not possibly know that I was forced to leave my previous job because of my partners ex wife...

"And," He said, reaching down and taking my left hand in his right hand, "Charles watched you move your ring."

I thought I had been more subtle in doing so, I knew Alex had not seen but Charles... he knew. He must have been actively looking for this.

"Why don't you put it back." Alex suggested, politely but with an element of demand. It didn't seem like it was a question.

Still not looking at him, I took the silver diamond ring from my index finger and placed it back to my third finger of my left hand.

"We need to know why you did this?" Alex asked, with an ever curious look creeping across his face.. "Before we can even consider you to work here."

"I...." Could describe all the words that would come from me before I say and contemplated in silent pause.

I was never usually like this. I had a quick wit and sharp mouth that would often get me into trouble, for a natural submissive.

Alex settled against his desk once more. "I can wait."

And he did.

It felt like a minute had passed since I last spoke. Why didn't I just tell him the truth? It was looking ever more like I would not be getting the job now anyway...

"I wondered that if you or Charles liked me, then you might consider to give me the job."

It was the response that Alex was expecting, but seemed unprepared for.

He needed it confirming, "Liked you?"

"That if you liked me, and thought I was available," I explained, "That it might..."

"Might what?"

"It might... help."

I could feel the conversation get more awkward, something that I surprisingly wasn't familiar with.

One of the best things about men, aside the obvious, is that they can usually get straight to the point when it comes to meeting and sex.

"What do you want?"

"Blowjob"

When do you want it?

"Now."

No extra words are necessary or need to be spoken.

But the conversation with Alex had become challenging. I had a feeling that I know what was trying to be said, but Alex was having difficulty saying it.