Jessica's Change Management Ch. 10

--- Week 3 -- Thursday ---

Wednesday had been a long, hard day at work that I had barely survived without D-Rod getting canned by Matt's reckless actions. However, I didn't have much time to reflect on the frat boy's revolt, because I had to leave for a two-day business trip out of town the next day.

My department's biggest change management project was expiring. I thus had to pitch a proposal for its extension. The project earned a big chunk of my department's revenues and was critical for the prosperity of our firm. Therefore, the pitch had to be successful. With all the dares and drama, however, I had barely found time to prepare for it.

Dressing for the meeting, I was torn. On the one hand, it was important to look business-like and sophisticated. On the other hand, I knew that D-Rod wanted me to keep up my sexy glamour doll style. Two things that weren't easy to combine.

In the end, I decided on a tight gray blazer with black buttons and black collar, buttoned just below my titties, and a tight gray pencil skirt with black side stripes. Underneath, I wore a black shirt. Keeping up the black-and-gray color scheme, I put on black seemed stockings and gray, peep toe, high heel sandals with black ankle straps that had a 1.5" platform and 4" heel.

As the meeting took place out of town in the clients' office, I could deviate from D-Rod's rules and wore a lace bra and lace panties. To add some spice to the outfit, I chose a bra and panties set in red. The keywords were no skin but lots of curves.

As I didn't want to appear too dolled-up, I decided to leave off any accessories. A text message by D-Rod, however, thwarted my plans.

*No matter where n when. Remember ur pet signs, missy.*

Damn! Even out of town, my man tried to control me. Could he find out if I followed his rules? Unlikely. Still, I didn't even think about disobeying his orders. I guess, subconsciously, I had hoped for these instructions, because I had dutifully brought all my pet jewelry along.

I thus put the silver ruler charm bracelet and the silver dice charm bracelet around my wrists. I also added the rhinestone arm cuffs and hung the rock necklace around my neck. However, I didn't dare to add the rhinestone anklets because they were far to eye-catching.

Looking into the mirror, the outfit still didn't show much skin. Nonetheless, the flashy accessories made me look more like a sexy, blinged-up secretary than a project head. Damn! My project pitch had to be highly competent and most convincing to keep the clients focused on the presentation. I really had to bring my A-game.

I didn't.

Standing in my tight gray business outfit in the middle of the conference room, I tried my best to conduct a convincing presentation. It didn't go smoothly at all, though. Whenever, I lifted my arm and pressed the presenter to proceed to the next slide, the ruler bracelet clashed against the arm cuff with a loud clang. Not only did it distract the clients, it also drew their attention to my flossy accessories.

The third clanking caused the project committee chairman Mr. Moore, an old overweight man with a coil of gray hair, to cough all piqued. In response, I simply giggled bashfully and continued my presentation. What else was I supposed to do?

The rest of the presentation didn't go much better. Over and over, I lost the common thread. The missing preparation plainly made itself felt and I appeared less than convincing.

Mr. Wilson and Mr. Anderson, the two middle-aged committee members, however, didn't seem to care much about the presentation anyways. The black-haired Mr. Wilson couldn't stop gazing at my cleavage, his eyes basically falling down my neckline. The bald Mr. Anderson kept on staring at my jewelry, obviously trying to figure out the meaning of my charm bracelets. Several times, they stuck their heads together, whispered to each other, and chuckled. Only the two elder committee members, Mr. Moore and Ms. Thomas seemed interested in my project pitch.

"Miss Addams? What is your answer?" The chairman interrupted me.

Shit! The elder, gray-haired man with the grouchy features had asked a question and I hadn't listened. Instead, I had stared at his lap thinking about his cock. Damnit! My mind was constantly wondering off to anything sex related.

"Oh! Let me think." I finally said in response.

OMG! I sounded totally clueless. Even worse, I lifted my hand and put my long, fake French nailed index finger on my lower lip while thinking. I must have looked way over my head and couldn't come up with an eloquent respond. Hence, I basically repeated the bullet points from the last slide until the gray-haired chairman interrupted me again.

"That does not answer my question, Miss Addams." He huffed, sounding annoyed.

I was getting antsy. Fuck! I didn't know the goddamn answer. I hadn't even gotten the question.

"I was asking about our employees' speed of adoption and utilization of the new quality management tool during the change process. Do you have any data on that?" The chairman repeated his question, sounding even more annoyed.

"Oh... yes... of course!" I quickly stammered in response. "I just wanted to put the data in relation, you know, to my presentation. Hihihi!"

Oh my... not only was it a feeble excuse it also sounded that way and my apologetic giggles didn't help, either.

"I brought copies of the data sheet. Let me hand it out to you." I continued, trying to save the situation.

Hastily, I stepped over to my brief case, which I had placed on a chair close by, and leaned forward to pull out the data sheets. Unfortunately, my days as the interns' luxury toy had gotten me used to bending over in the most seductive way with legs straight and ass raised high. I didn't even notice that I was leaning forward the exact same way, until I heard another piqued cough behind me. This time, it was coming from Mrs. Thomas, a business woman in her forties with strict facial features and a rigorous blond braid.

Panic-stricken, I looked back over my shoulder and saw all four clients staring at my knockout ass. With my legs straight, the pencil skirt's gray material got stretched thin over my juicy buns and the black side stripes framed my ass cheeks, making my bubble butt look even more bootylicious.

Instead of quickly straightening up, though, the middle-aged clients' lecherous looks made me unbent ever so slowly. What the fuck had gotten into me? This was a serious situation! There was a lot on the line for my department! Yet, my time as Miss Brat had conditioned me into acting like a tease whenever I got male attention. I didn't even do it intentionally.

Nonetheless, I was nervous as hell. I could only hope that my sexually suggestive, tantalizing behavior earned me plus points. Turning around, I noticed big smiles on the two middle-aged clients' faces.

The two elder clients, however, didn't look amused at all. Ms. Thomas glared at me in such a repulsed way as if my ditzy behavior negated everything women had achieved in the working world over the last decade. By contrast, Mr. Moore looked totally annoyed. Shit! After all, Mr. Moore was the chairman making the final decision!

Realizing this, I fully panicked. Frantically, I reached up and brushed a few long chestnut tresses out of my face before continuing with my project pitch. In my hurry, though, I wasn't careful. Lowering my arm, the armlet got stuck in the neckline of my black shirt. A rhinestone got tangled in the black material. Before I noticed it, the neckline got pushed down and my red bra slipped out.

Nooo!

This couldn't be happening! Not today! Not to me!

I had a bra slip right in the middle of the conference room during the most important project pitch of my career! The red lace material was clearly visible for all the clients.

The shock was so overwhelming that I froze and couldn't move for a couple of seconds, continuing to show off my red lace bra. Seeing Wilson and Anderson sticking their heads together, I could hear a few scraps of their conversation.

"Told you it's red!" Anderson quietly quipped.

"Man! I thought she'd be braless." Wilson replied almost disappointedly.

They had been betting on my undies! Hearing that made my face flush and didn't help my stiffness. It took me a few more moments before I was able to clumsily untangle my shirt from the arm cuff and push the neckline back over my red lace bra.

Stepping up to each client, I handed out the data sheets while trying to hide my embarrassment behind a bright, fake smile. It didn't help, though. The milk was spilled. The clients' minds were made up.

While I explained the data, the clients appeared rather disinterested. At least in my presentation, in my curves not so much. The two middle-aged men continued eyeballing me whereas Ms. Thomas' repulsed look became ever more evident.

Suddenly, the cap of Mr. Wilson's fountain pen fell out of his hand and landed on the ground close to me. As a conscientious guest presenter, or subservient applicant, I continued my presentation while picking up the cap.

Without conscious action, I kept my legs straight again! Damnit! This would increase Ms. Thomas' aversion and Mr. Moore's annoyance even more. Was it still possible for me to bend down differently, though? I wasn't certain.

This time, I had to lean down to reach the cap with my hand, so I lowered my head to the level of my ass. I felt the gray material stretching over my juicy butt cheeks and the hem of the skirt rising a bit.

Just then, I realized that this hadn't been an accidental slip by Mr. Williams. They were trying to get a look at my panties to check out if it had the same color as my bra.

I couldn't let this happen! Mr. Moore and Ms. Thomas would throw me out of the conference room in a heartbeat.

Thus, I bent my knees and crouched down to pick up the pen. I could even see the disappointed look in the middle-aged clients' eyes. They had obviously expected me to flash my panties during the project pitch. That told you all you need to know about their opinion of me!

However, I couldn't leave them so disappointed, could I? Not really knowing why, it somehow felt important to give them some kind of eye candy. So I unbent real slowly while swaying my 'bomb ass moneymaker' so slightly that it was only visible for the attentive eye.

As soon as I had straightened up and looked at the clients, I could see the smug grin on the middle-aged men's face contrasting with Ms. Thomas' icy stare that could have dropped me dead.

A few slides later, the presentation was over and the clients didn't have a lot of questions, which wasn't a good sign at all. I had appeared as if the project was way over my head! Neither had I been able to sell the accomplishments we had achieved nor had I managed to gain the clients' trust to be able to successfully carry the project forward during the next phase. Instead, I had made a fool of myself appearing like a cute ditz who tried to use her attractiveness rather than her smarts to convince the committee. The clients must have thought of me as exactly the type of girl I had always despised.

Highly frustrated, I tottered out of the conference room in my gray, high-heeled, peep toe sandals, feeling two pairs of eyes glued to my ass. The clients hadn't been presented with a convincing presentation, but at least, they had gotten the chance to look at some pretty eye candy in the meantime.

Fuck! What a dumb thought! I hadn't been here to look pretty. I hadn't been here to amuse them with my bra slip. I hadn't been here to entertain them with a bet about the color of my undies. Yet, the knowledge that Mr. Wilson and Mr. Anderson had enjoyed my appearance gave me a bit of comfort and reduced my frustration, no matter how silly it sounds.

For the rest of the workday, candidates from rival consulting firms gave their project pitches so I had nothing to do but wait for the decision the next morning. Anxious about the final decision, I couldn't sit tight and wait. I needed something to do to lessen my frustration. Thus, I decided to follow the first thought that came to my mind.

Guess what my first thought was? In all honesty, I had been thinking about surprising D-Rod and getting some new slut upgrades. Something he didn't expect. Something that would make him praise me for my efforts.

Therefore, I took a cab to a shopping mall and went on the hunt for new accessories. Despite my determination, it turned out quite difficult to find new stuff. First, I tottered into a jewelry store. Even though they didn't have anything as kinky as the accessories D-Rod had shown me in the bimbo pictures, I still bought two pairs of flashy earrings, two stylish necklaces, and two bracelets. Each one in gold metallic and pearl design respectively.

A girl can always use more jewelries, right? Hence, I also bought a swanky rhinestone waist chain with butterfly design in the back. The letter 'B' dangled off the front in fancy cursive script. The charm was completely embellished with rhinestones that made it sparkle magnificently.

However, I wasn't satisfied yet. These accessories were nice and all but nothing special. Still, it had done the trick. Shopping for the jewelries had made me completely forget about the botched project pitch. Instead, it had put me in a shopping frenzy. I wanted more. I wanted to take the next step.

Recollecting the pictures D-Rod had shown me in the interns' office, I remembered the glamour models presenting the accessories. Plastic bimbos who had molded themselves into pure sexdolls. I had always despised women who solely relied on their looks to get by in life. Their stylized appearances undermined my self-image as a tough business woman.

Anyhow, I couldn't really talk big, could I? My deep fake tan, long manicured French nails, and flashy accessories had already transformed me into a temptingly packaged luxury doll, turning male heads left and right. I had to admit that I highly enjoyed the attention. The sheer thought of another slut upgrade created a warm feeling of lust in my loins. Damnit! I wanted more. So what could I adopt from these bimbo babes?

Of course, plastic surgery was out of the question. Still, I remembered that these bimbos had all sported a different style giving them the alluring look I was striving for. The full fringe hairstyle and the red streaks in the long platinum blond hair came to my mind first.

That's what I wanted! So I headed to the next beauty salon to get a makeover.

When I left the salon, my face looked quite different. I had gotten a full fringe hairstyle with golden highlights for my long wavy chestnut tresses. The bangs framed my face giving it contour and highlighting my feminine features while the golden streaks gave my hair a luminous shine. All in all, it made me look even less like a cutthroat business lady although I didn't waste a thought on that at all. Instead, my mind was focused on D-Rod's reaction when he would see me. I badly hoped for it to be positive.

--- Week 3 -- Friday ---

The next morning, the news came as expected. Our project partners had opted not to extend our partnership and given the project to another consulting firm. I had failed to secure the most important and most lucrative project for my department.

Of course, I had to inform O'Bannon. He was as shocked as upset about the news and instantly arranged an emergency meeting. After all, the whole company direction had to be reviewed and redirected. To my dismay, he also called Ortega as the second department manager to attend the meeting. So I had to travel back to meet O'Bannon and Ortega in the evening to explain my failure.

As my train arrived late in the afternoon, O'Bannon arranged for us to meet in a fancy restaurant over dinner. I wore the same gray blazer and skirt combo I had sported for the project pitch, only swapping the black halter top with a lower cut black v-neck top and adding the new waist chain. As I was back in town, I felt the need to get rid of the red lace bra and panties. D-Rod's town, D-Rod's rules, right?

O'Bannon and Ortega were already present when I walked into the restaurant. They stopped for a second when they saw my new haircut and golden highlights. They weren't the only ones, though. The older husband sitting at the next table didn't stop leering at my curves until his wife gave him a reproachful slap to the shoulder.

In contrast to the old man, my fellow executives didn't pay much mind to my outfit. They were too occupied discussing the day's events and instantly started grilling me about the project pitch. Even though I knew that it had been my fault, I tried to justify myself as best as I could, coming up with different reasons such as a new strategic approach the clients were taking.

All the time, I nervously fidgeted around on my chair. After all, I couldn't tell them about the bra slip. The fact that the finalized project as a whole had been a success didn't make it any easier to explain the end of the collaboration, either. Hence, my explanations sounded like nothing more than feeble excuses.

After arguing back and forth, O'Bannon seemed to believe me although reluctant at first. Ortega, by contrast, made it clear that he deemed it my fault. The way he looked at me made plain that he deemed me a better eye candy than a project leader or presenter.

Finally, the discussion turned to the next steps we had to take to find new projects and compensate the loss. I couldn't really contribute much, though, because I was too occupied with presenting my body inconspicuously.

The older husband at the table on our left continued sneaking a peek at me whenever his wife wasn't looking. By now, two men in their forties wearing expensive suits had taken a seat at the table on our right. They were obviously here for a business dinner. When they noticed me, however, they seemed to spend more time checking out my curves than discussing work. I constantly had to change my position on the chair to allow all three men the best look at me. A girl can only focus on one thing at a time, right?

Gawd! I loved their attention. It made me all flustered and distracted me from any work-related thought. This entire discussion annoyed me anyways although it was about my work and my career. I felt more suited to look pretty for the men than to add to our consulting firm's future strategy.

After almost two days, I badly wanted a cock. I wanted to feel it. I wanted to suck on it. I wanted it filling me. I much rather wanted to drive to D-Rod and be his hoodrat for the rest of the night than discuss these boring topics with my two fellow executives.

Before the main course, I received an unexpected text message.

*zup? wy@, sbw? dtf? d-rod z ur aoc.*

I didn't know the number and didn't understand a word of the message, either. So I wrote back inquiring to whom I was talking and from whom he got my number.

*r u stupid or sth? where u at, slut bitch whore? r u down 2 fuck? d-rod said ur available on call, Lucho.*

OMG! It was Lucho, D-Rod's housemate! My man must have given my cell number to his homies. Had he really written 'down to fuck' and 'available on call'? Shit! D-Rod was making good on his word about turning me into his hoodrat!

This was so debasing. I was sitting at an important business dinner making plans for our consulting firm's future while getting a booty call from a Latin gangbanger!

My priorities were clear, though. This meeting was crucial for my career and my standing in the company. Why then was I texting back telling Lucho the name and address of the restaurant? It just happened as if by itself and I didn't have much time to ponder my actions as O'Bannon wanted to hear my take on a new project concept.

RING

About 15 minutes later, I received a call on my smartphone.