Hu's the Boss Ch.01

Linda Hu stared at her computer screen for a good ten minutes, even though it only took seven seconds to read the email. She double-and triple-checked the sender and recipient lines to make sure they were legitimate, then re-read the content one last time:

"Reid, plz double-check this. Linda thinks the comp plan impact projections are wrong. that gook finance bitch should stick to handling the impact projection under my desk."

The email came directly from Mike Davison, Sales VP at the Voelker Corporation where Linda was interning this summer as a rising sophomore. Linda wasn't in Sales herself and didn't report to Mike, but as a Finance intern, found herself doing a lot of work to support him in compensation analysis for his sales team. She was also, without question, the 'gook finance bitch' referenced in the email. Aside from her name being Linda, she was very Asian, her Chinese mom and Korean dad had met as immigrants in the US.

Mike was clearly unhappy with Linda's modeling of his latest compensation proposal. Linda cautioned that it would drastically overpay Mike's sales team members and hurt profitability, even if the team increased their sales by 20 percent. It seems Mike meant to complain to the other Finance intern, Reid. Mike must've overlooked that Reid's internship ended last week for his school schedule, so all of Reid's emails were now forwarding to Linda.

Linda was somewhat surprised, but not shocked by Mike's email. It was certainly dumb to send something like that over his work email. Mike was probably in his mid fifties; old enough, wealthy enough, and provided enough "cultural commentary" that she could guess how he voted.

He'd said a couple stupid things before, repeatedly mistaking her for Japanese with jokes about karaoke and anime, and even made a reference to her "going kamikaze" one time. But in a business email she would've expected something more subtle, like, "Someone like her should know math better." This email was certainly an escalation.

It was maybe also disappointing because there was something about Mike that Linda had considered attractive, all things considered. He was a successful salesman, tall and broad shouldered, so he had an inherent charm, with a masculine face and a good head of silver hair. His sharp sales suits also did a good job hiding the inevitable dad bod that was starting to win out.

She took a quick moment to reexamine the Excel model she'd sent to Mike. Maybe he was right and she'd made a mistake...but she hadn't. She didn't make mistakes.

Her hand hovered over her mouse as she carefully weighed her next steps.

Saved it to her jump drive. Forwarded it to her personal email. Printed it. She wanted all the copies in all their forms.

She poked her head out of her cubicle and scanned down to Mike's big, glass windowed office. Quarter past four and he was gone already, probably at the golf course or bar. Not a big deal. She could start tomorrow. She never left early, but she could use the time to collect herself, so she quickly packed her messenger bag and left the office, quiet except for her heels clicking behind her.

The next morning, Linda kept poking her head out of her cubicle to see if Mike had arrived in his office yet, but hours passed and there was no sign of him. She didn't have to look though because around 11, she heard him at the far end of the office, loudly blabbering about a deal on his phone as he stepped onto the floor.

"I'm telling you, Connor, they wouldn't still be in negotiations with you if they had a better price somewhere else." Mike was confidently coaching one of his team members on the phone. "You've got 'em by the balls, man! Close it."

He went quiet again as he went into his office and closed his door. Every few minutes, Linda poked her head out of her cubicle to check for him getting off his call. When she peeked out at 11:45, he was done, his back to his office door, which was reopened, and he was reading something on his computer.

Linda took a deep breath, grabbed a few papers and headed toward Mike's office. She stood in his doorway and knocked on the frame. As he spun his office chair around, Linda took the opportunity to really examine him more than she ever had before, sizing up if she wanted to go ahead with her plan. Everything about him was so fratty, which she hated. But also DILF-y, which she loved. She was doing it.

Mike gave a friendly enough smile, one that hid he'd called Linda a "gook bitch" yesterday.

"What's up, Linda?" He asked.

"First of all," She began coldly. "The projections are right. I don't make mistakes in my models."

Mike's face fell. She'd never been this direct with him, and this was the first time he'd sized her up face to face. Before he'd admired how her slight hips swayed when she walked past his office. Or he'd note her porcelain skin, fluttering eyes, and modest makeup when she was taking notes in the corner of a meeting they were both in. But now she was standing in his doorway and staring right at him, wearing her black heels, gray pencil skirt, and white blouse, her hair up in a slightly messy bun.

"Okay, uh..." Mike wasn't understanding the information Linda had. "I guess we can set up some time to take a look at it again."

"Great," Linda responded sharply. "Six o'clock this evening."

Mike laughed and shook his head at a 19-year old intern telling him to work late. "I have a four-thirty tee time today," he explained.

"I think you'll want to cancel it to review the projections." She responded again.

Mike shook his head, incredulous at how dense she seemed, spinning back to face his computer. "You know what, Linda? I sent it to Reid. He'll take a look at it and let me know if there's anything I should change."

"Yeah..." Linda took a deep breath, knowing she was approaching a point of no return. "The tricky thing is Reid ended his internship a week ago. So I get his emails now."

Mike straightened up slightly, staring blankly into his computer screen. Slowly, he pulled up the email he'd sent from his phone when he was in the car yesterday, as if to confirm the contents. He started to spin in his chair but Linda turned and left too.

"Let's talk at six, Mike." She said before she went through his doorway, heart racing with adrenaline from the power play she'd just made, and leaving Mike to ponder the implications.

He rubbed his temples as he considered what would happen next. Probably termination, these days. It didn't matter how successful a VP he was. And at his age...it was hard to imagine getting another job that paid as well as Voelker. What would his wife Stephanie think? Would he have to tell his kids they had to take out student loans? He wracked his brain for a way out of this.

Six o'clock rolled around and all the employees on the floor had left and the cleaning crew had come through.

Linda went back into Mike's office with her tablet and some papers under arm, as if to take notes in case anyone stumbled across them.

"So..." Linda said, sitting down in one of the simple stationary chairs across from Mike's desk.

"So..." Mike replied louder, confidently. It caught Linda off guard.

"Projections look GREAT," he continued, acting like the conversation earlier had never happened. "Thanks for doing those. Great work. You've got a bright future here. And...it's crazy...when I was looking back through my email for the file, I saw the wildest email in my sent box to you. I am SO sorry you got that. I must've been hacked. I'll tell IT first thing in the morning."

Linda stared blankly, blinked a few times, then smirked. "That's what you came up with after five hours?" She asked, shaking her head. Mike's face fell. "I don't really know why every time you boomers do something stupid, you think you can write it off as a 'hack' or 'fake news'. Aren't you the one always telling us we don't have any sense of personal responsibility? Are you seriously going to report a 'hack'?"

"If I have to..." Mike mumbled, disappointed his ruse didn't land the way he hoped.

"And when IT Security looks at how your email was accessed...and sees it was from your phone..." Linda looked at Mike like he was an idiot. He didn't respond, so she continued. "...and you sent a bunch of other completely legit emails before and after it...what are you going to say?"

Mike stared at her, ever the sales guy, thinking of a new angle.

"Linda, I was honestly kind of drunk and on this new medication..." he began. "...and having a really really rough day. My kid..."

"Nooot really interested," Linda cut in, popping up from her seat and moving around to Mike's side of the desk. "Mind if try your big office chair, and we switch? It always seems comfy." Mike looked through his office windows to see if anyone was watching. The floor was cleared out. He got up and moved to the other side of the desk, his large frame shifting uncomfortably in the smaller, less comfortable visitor chair.

Linda started to open Mike's desk drawers, her eyes lighting up when she reached down and pulled out a bottle of 18-year Dalmore single malt she'd seen Mike have on his desk before. It was about two thirds finished. Linda retrieved two tumbler glasses from Mike's desk too.

"This is for when the BIG DEAL gets closed, right?" Linda asked, feigning being impressed as she read the bottle. "Very 'Mad Men'. So fancy..." she poured a small glass in front of herself.

"Help yourself," Mike replied, gesturing as if he'd offered it freely.

Linda leaned back in Mike's chair and kicked her heels up on his desk, highlighting her fair toned legs, the bottom of her skirt sliding back to her mid thigh.

"So..." Mike tried to pivot. "Like I said Linda. We really appreciate having you here, and I'm sure I can work with the internship leaders to see your internship re-upped for next year. You're only 20, right? Sophomore?

"I'm 19, actually." Linda began. "But we both know I'm already getting an offer to come back next year if I want to. Not something I need your help with." She took a small sip of the whiskey, and didn't wince as she held her eye contact with Mike. It was unnerving to him.

"So...you want money then?" Mike ventured.

Linda shrugged. "It's a good start."

"How much?" Mike asked nervously.

"Five hundred a week," Linda replied calmly, sliding a printed sheet of paper across the desk to Mike. "Not sure if you've sent crypto before. Instructions here."

"Five hundred?" Mike threw his hands up and stared at his desk. "That's...just not possible, Linda." Not entirely true, but it would be a difficult amount for him to hide from Stephanie.

"Mike, I've spent most of my time here doing comp analysis for your team," Linda explained, swirling the whiskey. "I feel pretty comfortable guessing you make between three ten and three forty."

Mike cleared his throat uncomfortably. She was spot on.

"So I know five hundred a week is not nothing for you, but it is very doable." She took another sip, leaving one small dram left in the glass. "Which is why I picked that number. And it's not negotiable. Losing your job and being blacklisted by your company costs a lot more. And even if you land another job, the second I find out about it...I'll email them and get you fired from THAT one."

Mike stared down at his loafers, drumming his fingers anxiously on his thighs.

"This 'gook bitch' has you by the balls," Linda said matter of factly, slamming her last sip. Linda was feeling more and more courageous as she went.

"Okay...okay..." Mike sighed, throwing his hands up again, this time in resignation. "Five hundred a week. I'll make it work. We good?"

Linda picked the whiskey bottle back up and poured a little more in her glass. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, thinking they were closing in on a deal. Maybe they'd toast on it?

"Just one more thing" Linda chirped. She slid the incriminating email across Mike's desk, toward him. "Would you mind reading this last sentence one more time?"

Mike leaned forward to look at it, shaking his head in remorse.

"Linda...that's not..." he paused. "That's not who I am."

"I'm sure," Linda nodded condescendingly. "Just do it for me."

Mike mumbled so inaudibly Linda could barely tell he was talking from two feet away, across the desk: "That gook finance bitch should stick to handling the impact projection under my desk."

Linda adjusted her feet she had up on Mike's desk.

"Now get on your knees," she said calmly. "And read it again."

"Linda..." Mike trailed off.

"Mike." Linda snapped tersely.

He slid off his chair and onto his knees. On his knees, he still might've been taller than her sitting.

He repeated the sentence: "That gook finance bitch should stick to handling the impact projection under my desk."

"Crawl under the desk," Linda didn't miss a beat. "And say it again."

Mike had a tough time squeezing his big frame under the oak desk, but he managed. Linda peered down at him as he repeated: "That gook finance bitch should stick to handling the impact projection under my desk."

Linda took her heels off the desk and slid her legs across Mike's shoulders, under the desk. Using Mike's shoulders as the anchor point, Linda pulled her rolling chair close to his face. The bottom of her heels poked slightly into his shoulders and he found his chin rested on the seat of the office chair, an inch from the front of Linda's black panties. Embarrassed, he looked away.

"Linda, I'm married," Mike attempted.

"Does she know you're a racist pig who's one email forward away from being forever unemployed?" Linda asked casually. "Say it again."

Mike exhaled deeply into Linda's crotch. "That gook finance bitch should stick to handling the impact projection under my desk."

With a finger, Linda slid her panties to the side and removed any space between her labia and Mike's face. She started grinding on the bridge of his nose.

"Keep saying it," she hissed down at him.

His mouth buried in her pussy, Mike tried to continue saying the sentence, but his lips and tongues blubbered incoherently in Linda's lips. Linda didn't care; she had what she needed grinding against her. As she did, she took a swig directly from the whiskey bottle.

This went on for 10 minutes. A couple times Mike trailed off on his attempts to say the sentence and Linda reached down to pull on his ear and get him to continue, coaching him with comments like, "Really emphasize it with your lips, Mike." Her grinding accelerated more and more as she got wetter and wetter, ultimately shuddering in the chair as the ecstasy of orgasm overtook her and she became flushed.

Her chest heaving slightly, she slid a leg off Mike's shoulder, and poked the top of her foot into the crotch of his dark slacks. Despite the shame, he was firm.

"Wow, Mike that is quite a 'projection'," Linda remarked, condescendingly but genuinely appreciative of his size. "Looks like the BIG strong white man has such a BIG projection for a submissive little gook slut like me, doesn't he?"

Still on all fours under the desk, Mike hung his head in shame. Linda took another sip of whiskey, leaned forward, and stuck her head under the desk right in Mike's face. Emboldened by his timid demeanor and several glasses of the liquor, all of a sudden she spit and sprayed it onto his hair and face.

He winced in surprise.

"Show it to me," she snipped.

Still squished under the desk, Mike awkwardly slid his belt off his pants, unbuttoned his pants, and wriggled them down to his knees. Linda lightly tapped on his shaft with her heeled shoe.

Mike's penis was hard and large...maybe eight inches. Meaty and thick and hairy. About what Linda expected.

"Show me how you work that 'projection'," Linda sneered.

Past the point of objection, Mike reached between his legs and grabbed his cock firmly with one hand, holding himself up with the other. He started stroking himself, never making eye contact with Linda.

"Good boy," she remarked as she noticed his shaft becoming slick with pre cum. She reached back on top of the desk and took the unused whiskey tumbler, setting it on the carpet below the desk. She slid it with her foot right in front of Mike's throbbing cock.

"Don't make a mess for the cleaning crew," Linda ordered. "In there."

Still silent, Mike adjusted himself so his dick was closer to the glass and he could aim into it when the time came.

"Look, Mike: you did it." Linda sneered at him. "You got your dick nice and hard in front of the little oriental girl. You even got her panties wet in your office. This is all EXACTLY how you imagined it, right?"

He shook his head, still refusing eye contact.

"Look at me, Mike." He looked up. She studied him and took another sip from the bottle. Then she moved a hand down to finger her clit as he continued stroking. "And don't look away. The sooner you finish, the sooner this ends." She added, right as he was thinking about it. Her eyes lasered through his.

"Come on, Mike." Linda urged. "Show this little chink brat what a big tough white guy can do with his corn-fed, All American cock."

"Ughhhh..." with those last encouragements, as condescending as they were, Mike lurched and began squirting globs of cum into the glass Linda had put between his legs. He pumped until he was done, then kneeled under the desk with his head hung.

Linda leaned forward, and poured the last of the whiskey bottle into Mike's cum filled glass. His globs of jizz floated to the top.

"You closed a big deal today, Mike," Linda said, setting the empty bottle next to the cummy glass. "Drink up."

Mike stared at Linda for a moment. She didn't break eye contact.

He reached for the glass and swigged, wincing. The burn of the alcohol hid most of the cum taste, but wasn't pleasant; and it was sad to think about such a nice whiskey wasted.

Linda stood up from Mike's chair, adjusting her skirt slightly and smoothing out her blouse.

"Have a good evening, Mike," Linda said pleasantly, walking to the door of his office. "You may see a few calendar appointments emailed to you. I trust you'll prioritize those with your busy schedule."

She flipped the lights off, leaving Mike under his desk, flaccid, with his pants around his ankles, wondering what he'd gotten himself into; and how he could get out.