Getting Hired

"How did you hear about this position?" Mr. Smith asks me from across his large desk.

"My friend knew your wife, may she rest in peace, and thought I could be good for you," I answer honestly. "My parents really want me to get a job now that I'm done with homeschooling, but I really don't want some normal boring job just yet. I can help you around the house, with office work and stuff like that while I figure it out what I really want to do for work. If that's what you're looking for."

He hands me an opened envelope, unaddressed, with a single piece of paper folded in thirds written in long, loopy cursive. "This is from my wife. She wants anyone who is going to be a companion of my to read it before they begin."

My eyebrows furrow at the word "companion" as I open the letter.

Dear Potential,

If you are reading this, it is because I have passed on and my husband is attempting to fulfill my dying wish to continue experiencing pleasure until we meet again in the next life. We experienced so much together I couldn't leave him knowing his enjoyment would cease when my life did.

My husband has particular needs that I have happily fulfilled for the last 50 years. He is the sweetest man you'll ever meet and cares a great deal for people who care for him.

If you are a compassionate, kind, and open-minded individual then you might be a good fit for him. Some tips I can offer should you choose this path:

1. Only consent to what you want to do.

2. Know your boundaries and express them clearly.

3. You're allowed to change your mind.

4. Follow his lead and you will be rewarded greatly.

I hope you can find it in your heart to bring him some peace and pleasure during his retirement years.

Enjoy Yourself,

Mrs. Andrew Smith

I touch my heart with my hand and jut out my bottom lip. What a sweet old lady! She must have written this when she was on her death bed so nobody would feel guilty about showing him affection or whatever. With Mrs. Smith behind me, I feel confident that I can fulfill Mr. Smith's needs.

"Oh, I'm sure I can take care of you, Mr. Smith," I assure, handing back the piece of paper. I was sure he needed lots of hugs and back rubs living alone and working from his home office all the time. "Are you willing to give me a chance even though I have no experience? You know, with jobs."

He smiles and tosses my pitiful resume of volunteer work between us on the desk. "Not to worry. You will be trained to meet my every need." His teeth gleam in the dim office light and something about the look in his eyes gives me chills.

Odd choice of words but his smile is sweetly innocent, and I'm instantly smitten.

"Wait. Does that mean I got the job?" Before he can answer, I stand and squeal excitedly, my shoes dancing in delight on the cushy carpet.

He stands slowly and comes around the desk with his arms open wide. Without thinking I throw my body at his and he embraces me in a congratulatory hug. I release my hold on him long before he frees me but not before his hand migrates to my waist and gingerly grip at my frame.

I remembered watching a show on TV where the secretaries always got groped by their bosses. I supposed I could be okay with this old man getting handsy now and then. Product of his time or whatever.

"You start tomorrow! Wear your favorite outfit, whatever you're comfortable in. Bright and early at 6am. We'll go over the details and rules during breakfast, and we'll get to know each other a little better."

I thank him profusely on my way out and I swear I feel him pat my ass just before the front door closes behind me. Maybe I just imagined it....

No one had ever touched my butt before. I felt a familiar tingle between my legs like when I see people kiss in movies.

I feel sort of confused because he's, like, as old as my grandpa! I am so terrible at estimating age. He seemed in good health though, despite the slow steps. But his velvety deep voice had a slight hoarseness that evidenced his seniority. He had dressed in business casual with button-down printed top and slacks. His grey hair was short and loosely styled and his blue eyes pierced me deeply from behind his glasses.

I didn't realize I was home already until my twin sister pounds on my window making me jump and hit the horn.

"You fucking brat!" She laughs and runs back into the house as I trail behind her.

At dinner, Mom and Dad ask enthusiastically about the job. I oblige with how lonely Mr. Smith must be and what a great fit this was for me while I figure out what I want to do with my life.

"Then I'm happy for you! Cheers!" Dad raises his glass of soda and changes the subject while my mind wonders back to Mrs. Smith's letter and her weird tips about taking care of her widowed husband.

------

I fidget with the buttons near the hem of my knee-length dress as I sit in my car working up the courage to go up to the front door and start my first day. My stomach is full of butterflies.

It's still dark outside and dewy. The street lamps are on and only a few cars have left the safety of their garages since I parked outside his house a little early. When the clock strikes 5:58am I leave the car, unable to muster any more patience.

The front door opens before I can finish knocking shave-and-a-haircut. My mouth drops when I see him standing in the doorway wearing nothing but boxer shorts. His belly hangs over the waistband and his bare chest is covered in curly white hairs. His legs look sturdy, carrying his large frame.

He smiles and laughs. "Finally, I wondered when you were going to get out of your car."

Embarrassed and feeling heat growing up my neck I giggle and apologize for being nervous.

His arm is warm around my shoulders as he guides me into the house toward the kitchen. "It's okay. It will take you time to get used to me. As you can see, I'm immediately comfortable with you! Since I work from home, I don't have to be dressed any sort of way. That's why I offered you the same privilege. Wear whatever you like. I do!"

"Um, okay, thank you. That makes sense, I guess. I hope this is okay." I look down and pull at the hem of my dress and wait for his approval.

His hand leaves my shoulder and meanders down my back, over my butt briefly and grips at the back hem to feel the material.

"It's beautiful," he says lifting the fabric, his fingers lightly grazing my bare thigh. I catch my breath and find myself waiting for the next inappropriate touch--almost looking forward to it.

We enter the kitchen, and he says, "Make us some coffee and we can head into my office for the reading of the rules."

Oh good! Something I know how to do! He sits on a bar stool and watches my every move in silence. I feel awkward and delighted at the attention. I pile the coffee grounds into the basket.

While the coffee brews, I explore the fridge and ask how he likes it. I bend at the waist to reach for the milk in the bottom shelf and he mumbles, "Just like that." I turn around confused. "That," he remarks, "the milk in your hand."

I pour him a cup and ask how much milk. He tells me to pour and stop when he says. I tip the carton carefully and pour the liquid in a slow, controlled flow. "Stop." I stop immediately.

"Good girl."

I smile widely, pleased with the praise and the fluttery feeling in my chest. "Um, thank you!" Why did I like that? I'm not a dog!

He takes a sip from his mug after standing and moans a low rumble of satisfaction. With a hand on my shoulder, he leans in and says low, "Good girl. That's a good cup of coffee."

I smile with self-satisfaction and leave his grasp to grab another mug for myself before meeting him in his office.

I sit in the same chair as yesterday, opposite his desk while he sits shirtless behind it. I cross my legs and curl my body over my cup of warm coffee waiting for him to start.

He pushes a packet in front of me and tells me it's a consent form and that I can leave at any time if I ever feel like this isn't a good fit for me. I couldn't imagine what could be in the consent form that would make me want to leave but I listened curiously to him read the copy.

"Generally, the following will apply each day:

1. Everything that happens here is highly confidential.

2. Each morning you will arrive at 6am, except weekends which you'll have off.

3. Make us coffee.

4. Bring the coffee to my room and wake me up.

5. Drink coffee with me in bed.

6. Help me get up for the day.

7. When we're finished, wait for me in my office.

8. Sit in my lap while we plan my day's agenda.

9. Make me breakfast and lunch.

10. Be my eating companion.

"And while I'm occupied with my work you will...

11. Do my laundry.

12. Clean my bathroom.

13. Complete office tasks at your station on the kitchen counter with a provided laptop that will stay here.

"And after lunch, I stop working at which point you will...

14. Provide general companionship to meet my needs including but not limited to cuddling, intimate conversation, and massage.

15. You'll go home around 3pm."

He continues, "You also have rights as an employee of mine. You can say 'no' to anything I've listed here and anything I ask of you to do in the future. Just keep in mind that when 3 no's are given, it is clear that this is not a good match and you will be let go with a generous severance package for your efforts. Additionally, I have rights as an employer to add, remove, or change anything on this list at any time. You have the right to consent to any revisions before they are put in place. And the pay is down there at the bottom of the last page."

He hands me a pen and I stare at the packet. It said much more than what he just read but I don't want to take up time reading the whole thing. I trust him for some reason.

The few odd things like sitting in his lap and "meeting his needs" make me glance at his eyes with uncertainty. They were watery and eager. Instead of questioning him I figure I can just say no if I start to feel uncomfortable.

I suppose I am willing to do all the stuff he said and save my no's for anything that is really inappropriate. Sitting in his lap wouldn't be so bad and I really don't want to get a real job just yet.

"Sounds good to me!" Resolved, I flip to the last page and sign without really looking at the pay.

He looks at me with a sparkle behind his thin lenses expectantly.

Rolling his chair away from the desk and turning slightly, I make the connection and hop to my feet to make my way around his big desk to sit in his...still bare lap. Hmm...this is awkward.

Sensing my hesitation, he gently takes my hand and guides me to his knee and puts his other hand on my hip. He presses downward firmly, making me perch on the edge of his thigh. I try to stay clear of his crotch, while my knees are caught between his open legs.

He swiftly snakes his arm around my waist and holds me tightly against his leg so he can roll us closer to the desk. I'm taken by surprise and giggle as I reach out to steady myself on the desk. "Whoa!"

"Don't worry! I've got you!" He lays a reassuring hand on my upper thigh, half his fingers somehow slipping under the fabric of my dress...but only barely before quickly reaching for the laptop on his desk.

He opens his calendar on the screen and instructs me to grab the pen and pad from the desk to make a list of tasks for the day. I balance myself with one foot on the ground and dig my sit bones into his leg as I do what I'm told.

We discuss his tasks from his calendar and emails. I write down a checklist with words I don't know while he absentmindedly caresses my thigh and while his other hand rubs my back. It feels soothing and nerve wracking at the same time. Was he going to try and really touch me? How far was I willing to let him go?

The goosebumps on my arms and the tingling between my legs urge me to ignore the touching and focus on learning the job.

We move on to my list.

He says today we would try one of the simple companion tasks. He explains that I was to talk openly about my life experiences while we cuddle on his couch.

I hadn't noticed til now as he squeezed my thigh that his hand was dangerously close to my cotton panties and my shirt dress had been unbuttoned some.

Embarrassed and excited, I jump off his lap and make my way to the couch fumbling with the bottom buttons stealthily. I watch him walk slowly to the couch--his boxers clearly tented. I try to look away out of respect but can't help gawking at the enormity of the bulge.

I've never seen a penis before, and I wasn't sure I wanted his to be my first!

"Oh, no need to be shy. You're going to see a lot of this if you come back," he laughs jovially.

I giggle and tuck my hair behind my ears. He holds out his hand, showing me to the soft couch. I sit on the edge of the middle cushion with my knees together and hands in my lap, tugging my dress down.

He joins me, resting his arm on the back of the couch frame and resting a foot on his knee accentuating his immense bulge. Leaning in toward me, he asks, "Why don't you tell me about your first time, and I'll tell you about mine? This way we can break the ice and not feel awkward when the subject comes up again. Part of the companionship is intimate conversations, remember?"

I nod even though I'm confused. "First time doing what?"

His smile seems to reach from ear to ear at my silly question. My eyes widen with understanding and my face grows hot again.

I confess I've never had sex before, so I don't have anything to tell him about. He says it is nothing to be ashamed of. His first time was when he was in college and one of his tutoring sessions got off track.

I feel more indifferent than ashamed, but I thank him anyway and listen intently as he speaks about what he liked and didn't like about his first time.

He enjoyed how his tutor submitted to his requests like getting on her knees. He didn't like when she tried to take control, but he unexpectedly enjoyed her playing with his asshole when her pinky finger found its way up there during foreplay and then later when she "ate him out". Whatever that meant.

I am surprised to hear that it was enjoyable for him. Why would someone like their butthole played with? Gross! But I try not to be judgemental and stay curious, like my mom always tells me.

"It felt good then? When she played with your ass? Like, what did she do?"

He licks his lips and says, "I can show you, if you like."

I freeze. I definitely want to know what happened. But is he going to touch my asshole?

"Can you just tell me?"

"Is that a, no?"

"No," I blurted out. "I mean, not no...um."

"It's okay. Just making sure. Come kneel in front of me and turn around. Lay your palms and forearms flat on the coffee table."

I hesitantly do as I'm told and feel a cool breeze on my thighs when he lifts my dress up to my waist. He pulls my panties just low enough to expose my cheeks.

I swallow hard at the sudden chill. What is happening? Is he going to fuck me right now? How could I be so naive? Why am I not stopping him?!

He speaks softly and deliberately. "She used her tongue here." With one hand, he pulls my ass cheek to one side and pokes a finger from the other hand against my anus, lightly tracing around the outside.

My breath is shallow. Unable to move. Unable to think. Unable to feel anything but the ache between my legs and the new sensation of another person, essentially a stranger, touching me where only toilet paper and wedgies have ever been before.

"Your turn." He pulls my panties back on and smacks my covered ass playfully. Like it's normal. "Face me. On your knees."

I did so immediately, grateful to hide my hiney from his hands.

"Good girl."

I meet his eyes with glee as my heart flutters. He shifts his body lower on the couch and lifts his heels to rest on the coffee table trapping me between his open legs. He tugs on his boxers and exposes only his ass cheeks to me.

He's clean shaven. Nothing like his chest. His hands reach around and spread his cheeks to show me his crinkled old asshole. I grimace.

"Now stick out your tongue. Close your eyes if it helps you, and start to lick like a good girl."

I am about to say my first no until he says "good girl" again. My pussy pulses in an unfamiliar way and I bite my lip before following his directions, eyes closed.

My tongue meets his wrinkly skin, and I am surprised that it doesn't taste bad like I thought it would. He even smells good down here. And the desperate sound that escapes his throat spurs me on.

I recall the story he just told me and follow what she'd done to him his first time. Lightly licking a ring around the hole, slowly making the circle smaller and smaller before stiffening my tongue and prodding.

"That's my good girl. Just like that."

I hesitantly dip the tip of my tongue into his asshole and retract right away, remembering what usually comes out of there.

"Don't remove your tongue again until I say so. Now put it back."

I do so just as he shoves his ass into my face bringing my tongue fully inside his anal canal. I keep my face where it is as he moves up and down on my tongue moaning loudly. I love how he sounds and it's because of me that he feels so good. Unexpected pride rises from my stomach.

After several minutes he releases his cheeks and pulls his boxers back on. I sit on my feet in front of him and wipe the drool from my lips. His tent is taller than my head now with his feet back on the ground.

"That was very good. Now go home and think about what happened today. If you show up tomorrow, I'll be very pleased and give you a big reward."

I stand and thank him for hiring me. He walks me out to the front door. I hesitate before asking if I'll be doing that every day?

He asks if I want to.

"I don't know." That wasn't true. In the moment, I do want to do it again. But I don't want to admit it.

"Then I guess we'll find out if you come back tomorrow for a full day. Get home safely."

He kisses me on the forehead and pats my ass again before I step out onto the porch of his suburban house.

What just happened?