Eustace Johnson's Private Secretary

"So, all of these clothes have been worn before," said Susan.

"Most of them," said Jeff. "Whatever was worn has been cleaned. Think of this as your personal, albeit high fashioned Goodwill store," he said laughing.

"I can't believe all the clothes," she said walking up and down the aisles, as if she was in a department store opened just for her. "There must be a thousand outfits here."

"Most of the clothes run from a size four to a size eight. Trust me, honey, all designers are not alike in their fit. Some are generous with their material and others are cheap. Some size fours feel like a six and some size eights fit like a size four. You never know, until you try them. After a while, you'll gravitate to a favorite designer, but Eustace would prefer if you wore them all equally."

"I see. I'm just stunned by all these clothes. I'll be careful wearing them and does he have a dry cleaner he wants me to use, before returning them?"

"Returning them? These are your clothes to keep, after you've worn them, honey. He doesn't want them back. He receives more merchandise than he knows what to do with and more than you can possibly wear in a year to keep up with what arrives."

"I just can't believe it. I feel, as if I just won the fashion lottery," she said with a laugh.

"From shoes and pocketbooks to gloves, hats, and coats, you'll be the best dressed woman in the corporate office. Let's see," he said looking at her. "To start, you'll need, at least, a dozen outfits, each season and every season, we'll go through all the new fashions together and after a while, you won't even need me to help you dress. You'll be able to know what he likes you to wear and pick out your own clothes."

"Likes me to wear? What do you mean likes me to wear? Does he want me to dress a certain way?" She gave him a curious look.

"In a word, classy and never slutty. More erotic than revealing, Eustace likes showing off legs and by the looks of your long legs, honey," he said stepping back and looking at her shapely legs, "you must have been a dancer or a skater. Which?"

"Actually, I danced, skated, swam, and did gymnastics."

"Perfect," he said. "I'll have no problem fitting you. What size are you?" He turned to look at her again, "a 6?"

"Yeah."

"I don't understand. Am I dressing more for Eustace than for myself?"

"Listen honey, it's a man's world and sometimes you must play the game to get ahead. Most women never get to play and when they finally get the chance to play the game, they don't know how to play. You're lucky to be a contestant in his game."

"I didn't know I'd be playing a game to get ahead," she said.

"Don't be so naive, Susan. Eustace doesn't care about his other secretaries. No one sees them, but him, but he likes his Private Secretary to dress a certain way because, many times, you'll be accompanying him to parties, functions, events, galas, fashion shows, and traveling out of country. By the way, if you don't have a passport, you need to get one because he has a habit of springing something on you unexpectedly. He'll want to just head for the airport without packing a bag and buy whatever he needs there."

"Okay, I guess dressing his preferred way makes more sense to me now."

"Oh, and..." he said giving her a wrinkled brow look.

"And what?"

Figuring it was too good to be true, she looked at him with apprehension.

"He's a bit of a pervert," said Jeff leaning into her and whispering if they were having girl talk.

"Pervert? What do you mean? How is he perverted?

"He has a thing for panties."

"Panties? Eww. What does he do? Wear them or sniff them?"

"Neither, he likes for you to flash them."

"Eww. Well, that explains my desk."

"The glass desk with no privacy panel?" He laughed. "Yeah, he had that custom made," he said laughing again. "Now looking at you, he must have had you in mind when he had that desk designed. You are very good looking. Did you ever model?"

"No, I never modeled and I'll never show him my panties to him, that's for sure. I'm not that kind of a girl."

"Honey," said Jeff putting an arm around her shoulders, as if taking her under his wing. "Take a breath and look at all these clothes. Now, if you don't flash him your panties every now and then, enough to keep him interested in you not to fire you, you'll end up like all the others and you won't last a month on the job. If you flash him, he'll be very generous, very generous with you. He's a very wealthy man, you know."

"I won't prostitute myself for money, not for anyone, especially not for a job, especially not for him" she said stepping away from him to get up on her high horse. "He's almost as old as my Dad."

"Would you prostitute yourself for a career in fashion?" As if suddenly on stage in a ballet, he pirouetted and skipped down the aisle, while reaching with outstretch arms to touch all the clothes, as he dance by them. "Look at all of these beautiful clothes, Susan, just waiting for you to wear them all."

"There are so many clothes, I wouldn't know what to even wear," she said putting her hands up to her face, as if Dorothy in Oz or Alice in Wonderland.

"That's my job. I'm here to dress you." He returned to where she was standing and took her hand in his. "Listen, honey, you can't afford to have false modesty on this job. Let me tell you what you must do."

"What?"

"Think of yourself as a model. Models routinely strip naked in front of designers, agents, assistants, photographers, and whoever else is in the room with them. Their modesty went out the window with their first gig, their first photo shoot, and their first big paycheck. Models are able to see the bigger picture for the sake of their career and, yes, for money."

"I don't know if I could sit there flashing him my panties knowing that I was flashing him and he was looking. Eww."

"When you come right down to it, we all prostitute ourselves for money, some more than others. Modest models don't model for very long," he said with a laugh. "So you flash Eustace a bit of panties, ever now and again. So what? Big deal. That's how you'll get him to take you to Paris and Milan."

"So, what does he want me to wear?" Susan looked at him with dread. "I'm kind of casual. I like wearing pants and a--"

"Pants?" He laughed. "You can forget about ever wearing pants here, honey," he said putting a hand on his hip and throwing back his head with another loud laugh. "I don't think there's a pair of pants on a hanger in this closet. Yeah, sure we sell pants, but not for you to wear. Eustace hates women in pants. Eustace likes miniskirts and he hates pantyhose," he said turning to look at here with a serious look. "Never, ever, under any circumstances will you wear pantyhose," he said wagging his finger in front of her face. "Promise me."

"Okay, I promise."

"Say it. Say you will never, ever wear pantyhose."

"I will never, ever wear pantyhose," she said raising her right hand, as if she was swearing on a Bible. "What happens if I did wear pantyhose?"

"If you do, he'll go into a rage. So, you'll be wearing panties with your miniskirt. If you must wear something on your legs, then it can only be stockings and garters."

"Kinky," she said.

"He's the big boss. He's the one who signs our paychecks and whatever he wants, he gets," he said with another laugh.

That first week she was very careful how she sat and how she got up. Perhaps, because she wasn't flashing him her panties, he was a real prick bordering on being mean to her. If it wasn't because it was a few weeks before Christmas, she would have quit the job but, with the hard time she had finding this one, she knew it would be months before she found another job and she'd never find one as good as this one, a job that was in her field of study and in the career she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

Since she was trapped in an office with a pervert, maybe there was a way for her to make the most of it. Who would know? Who would tell? She wouldn't and surely Eustace wouldn't. It was just the two of them behind a locked office door all day.

After a week of being leered at, she was about to tell him how she felt and how she wanted and needed to have another desk, one made of wood and one with a privacy panel, but then she had an epiphany. Emboldened by what she remembered Jeff told her about having false modesty and that she needed to be more uninhibited, as if she was a model at a photo shoot, Eustace Johnson's private, personal model, she decided to give him the show that he wanted to see. She realized that she was more in control of him than he was of her and all she had to do was to flash him her panty.

Monday morning she was there bright and early and when Eustace opened, closed, and locked his office door, he was greeted by her sitting so pretty at her desk busily working with her knees a foot apart and her skirt raised mid thigh, high enough for her panties to be in plain view.

"Good morning, Eustace," she said looking up at him and giving him a cheery smile without making any adjustment to her knees or to her skirt.

Never looking at her face, he stood transfixed and staring at her between her legs.

"Good morning, Susan," he said ignoring her pretty face to ogle her panty.

"How was your weekend?" Wanting to play him, she hoped to prolong their conversation and his stare.

Needing to give him a good, long look to test the waters and needing to establish a barometer by taking Jeff's advice in flashing him her panty, she needed to know how far he'd go and how far she'd have to go to get what she wanted. She needed him to try something so that, if she had to, she could quit this job and still have a reference. Who knows, maybe if she threatened to tell his wife, she'd leave there with some money in her pocketbook.

"Oh, my weekend. It was very pleasant. We bought a Christmas tree and decorated it and spent the rest of the weekend shopping for Christmas gifts," he said talking to her panty clad pussy, instead of to her.

"I'm glad things are better between you and your wife," she said.

"We decided to postpone the divorce war, until after the holiday. With the busy retail Christmas season, there's just too much work interfering with my personal life, presently. I don't have time for such foolishness."

This was the most animated she'd ever seen him. He was actually smiling. He stood by his office door with his hand still on the knob, his briefcase in his other hand, and his coat resting over his arm, while staring at her in between her legs.

"How was your weekend?"

"I had a great weekend, Eustace. Thank you for asking. I just love this time of year," she said giving him a big smile, after being able to complete a thought without having him interrupt her. Boy, he was a different man, when she flashed him her panty. "Everyone is so happy and filled with holiday spirit that I wish it was like this year round."

Finally, he looked away from her panties to look up at her pretty face. With one body part connected to the other, there was more to her as a whole person, than all the other private secretaries before her and than just her panties. He noticed her now. He was taking her all in and, in the way he was looking at her, it was obvious that he liked what he saw.

"Yes, we all could do with a little Christmas spirit during those months, when we're feeling tired and blue."

"I wanted to show you something," she said getting up, going to the file, and retrieving the sales book, his Bible.

All weekend long, she percolated the idea and she worked part of the day Saturday, when he wasn't there. Then, she came in a couple hours earlier to do some research before his arrival. Mr. Johnson loved numbers and she had been studying the sales numbers from previous years hoping to pique his interest more in her brain than in her panties. She needed him to know that even though she had great legs and a pretty panty clad pussy that she also had a big brain in her head, along with an eye for fashion, as well as a head for business.

When she sat back down, she wasn't as careful with the condition of her attire and had a wardrobe malfunction, a fashion faux pas, and her biggest panty flash, yet. She sat like a trucker getting ready to eat at a truck stop, after a full day on the road or a cowboy after riding the range all day. With her skirt nearly up to my waist, she knew that when he stood in front of her desk on the pretense of looking down at his sales book that he'd have a clear view of her exposed panties. Two can play this game and she was playing to win, she was being as wicked as he was being perverted.

"What is it you wanted to show me, Susan?"

He advanced slowly, while never removing his stare from between her legs, first he stared at her straight ahead and then, as he neared, he ogled her through the glass top of the table. He stared, ogled, and leered at her panty, instead of at his ledger. For the first time, he was more interested in her than he was in his business. For the first time, she noticed a bulge in his pants that she knew wasn't his car keys.

"Well, I've been comparing the sales statistics of certain items by department and your plus size sales have increased dramatically more than any other line. I also checked the layouts of the stores by floor size and your plus size departments are the smallest in comparison to all other areas. Even our accessory departments are bigger. I've never visited your stores, but I imagine it's the same in every store, your plus size department being the smallest area in size. Yet, when I checked the sales for each store, your sales are all up in those departments."

"Interesting," he said still not removing his eyes from her panties.

"Moreover, your plus size areas are in the back corner of the stores, away from the traffic. Lastly, even though your plus size clothes are bland, usually a lot of black, brown, and navy blue with dizzying geometric patterns or God awful oversized floral designs, I think that if you offered the same clothes you do in petite sizes, but in plus sizes, you'd see a boom to your business. Especially if you increased the size of that department and moved it more to the middle of the store, you could have the biggest year ever. Furthermore and more importantly, your plus sizes earn you more profit than any other merchandise line you sell."

Finally, he looked away from her panties to look at her numbers.

"Actually, that's a good idea," he said finally looking more closely at the ledger. A time before personal computers and Excel spreadsheets, Susan had done what his accounting department should have been doing. Instead they were just accounting for sales, instead of analyzing the numbers. "And I didn't know that about the plus size profit margins being bigger than the others. The accountants have traditionally lumped everything under one category and just called it sales. I like what you've done here, Susan by breaking it all out like this. For the first time, I have a clearer picture of what I sell. I'm surprised my managers never told me any of this." He looked at her with a big smile. "I shall call all the managers from every store in the country and we shall have a meeting that you will conduct."

"Wow! Really?"

"So, tell me, do you have a theory on why the plus size departments are hidden away and not advertised and marketed, as our other departments are," he said looking at her, instead of her panties. "I bet you do. For once I have a smart Personal Secretary."

"Well, I suspect that fashion designers discourage larger women's fashion but I think if we embraced it--"

"Yes, with all the junk foods out there and with women working full-time, women are getting bigger. I've noticed my petite sales have dropped and this would explain that," he said interrupting her, before finally staring up at her face. "How would you like to accompany to Paris in the Spring? We can give our plus size ideas directly to the fashion designers."

"Are you kidding me? I'd love to go to Paris with you," she said jumping out of her chair to give him a big hug. When he didn't hug her back, she withdrew. "Sorry," she said. "I was just so excited."

"This is a business office don't forget," he said turning away to hang his coat in the closet.

Business office my ass. It's okay for him to stare my panties. The only business he knows is monkey business.

The weeks that passed had Susan showing her panties more often and Eustace acting out more of his sexual fantasies. Then, she screwed up. She inadvertently left the sales book, his Bible out on top of the file cabinet. Even though his office door was closed and locked, the office cleaner had a key. She forgot to lock the sales journal away and he was there, bright and early, to let her know how disappointed he was in her.

"Good morning, Eustace."

"You left the sales journal out on top of the filing cabinet."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I thought I--"

"Go stand at my desk, put your feet shoulder width apart, bend at the waist, and put your elbows, along with your palms down flat on my desk."

The first time she heard him say that, she didn't quite understand what he wanted her to do. Then, when she understood what he wanted her to do, she couldn't believe what he wanted her to do. Yet, she was submissive enough to obey him without question. He was her boss, after all, the man who signed her weekly paycheck.

Even though her skirt was in place and he couldn't see her panty, with her ass sticking straight out in the air like that, she still felt exposed and vulnerable. She knew he was a pervert and she knew, no doubt, that he was staring at her sweet, round, firm ass. With the thought of him finally taking her, forcing her to have hot sex with him, she was excited that he was finally going to fuck her but, then, when he didn't and when he...

"Ow!" And then slapped her again, this time harder. "Oh!"

The first time he spanked her, he hit her with ten, hard wallops from his open hand. He slapped her ass hard enough through her skirt and through her panties, that when she checked herself in the ladies room, he left big, red welts. Her proof that he loved her.

She was shocked but, surprisingly, terribly excited that he cared enough about her to spank her. No one, not even her parents, had ever spanked her before. A bittersweet moment, she had no idea that a spanking could hurt and excite her, as much, at the same time.

"Do it again," she wanted to say, but didn't. "Fuck me now that I'm so hot for you, Eustace," she thought but without saying that either.

Now that this big, black man had spanked her sweet ass, she was so sexually aroused by his big, black hand on her round, white ass that she would have sucked and fucked his big, black cock right there in his office. All she could think of was having hot sex with this black man. Old enough to be her father, she had never had sex with an older man, just as she had never had sex with a black man before, but she wanted to now.

After the first spanking, his perversions quickly escalated. His new favorite thing to do was lying on his back in the middle of the office floor. The first time she saw him on his back was when she entered his office that next Monday morning. At first she thought he was dead. Then, when she saw his eyes were open and he turned his head to greet her, she was more than puzzled.

"Good morning, Susan," he said, actually giving her a wide smile. "How are you?"

Even from where he was in the middle of the office floor, and with her still at the office door, he could see up her skirt.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt your back?" She rushed over to her boss and stood over him looking down at him, while he stared beneath her skirt up at her panties. With her knees apart enough for him to see, she squatted down to give him a close up view of her panty clad pussy. From this angle, he had a view of her pussy slit. From this distance, he could smell the aroma of her perfumed powder. "Should I call someone, Eustace?"