Melissa Takes Charge

It was a big event for the assembled staff, the introduction on Monday afternoon of their new boss. Something of a surprise too. Not so much the arrival of a woman to head up an otherwise all-male department (the 21st century after all, and besides they already knew that a newcomer called Melissa Reynolds had been appointed) but more her age and appearance. Melissa looked to be no more than late twenties, young for such an exalted position, and she was strikingly attractive.

The new Head of Department had been buzzing around in her room for the last few minutes, the large HOD office which looked out across the open plan space where they all worked, and they could tell through the half open blinds that she was quite something. When she finally swept out of her door and into their room to talk to them, they got complete confirmation of that.

Melissa Reynolds had the sort of looks men fantasise about. She was a medium tall brunette with a knockout figure: long shapely legs, high firm tits, a great ass, the works. Her face was pretty, heart-stoppingly so with its flawless olive complexion, the dark flashing eyes, the wide vivacious mouth and generous lips, and it was perfectly framed by her cascading, lustrously wavy hair. As she stood now at the front of the room holding forth on her vision, her plans for the department, the changes she was looking to make bla bla, the twelve members of the audience, away from their desks and seated together for the occasion in two rows of six chairs, struggled to concentrate on the message rather than the messenger.

Melissa's outfit did nothing to quell the excitement. Her dark grey pencil skirt was just above the knee, fell smooth and snug over her hips and buttocks; her white silk blouse was buttoned low and gave a generous hint of the delights within; sheer tights and high heels completed the look. She exuded glamour and sexiness.

The men were spellbound. Christ, were they really going to be working for a hottie like this? Bring it on!

Only one of them had negative feelings about the new arrival. Roger Hargreaves was the most senior employee in the department; he'd been working there forever and had expected the job she'd taken to be his as a matter of course. Roger couldn't believe he'd been passed over in favour of this woman from outside who was at least twenty five years his junior. He was burning with resentment as he sat there with the others. Frustration too, since what he really felt like doing, which was resign and storm off to pastures new, he couldn't do. He needed the income from his job and the bleak economic situation meant that he'd unlikely get another one anytime soon. He'd just have to swallow his pride and suck it up, basically. Try to get on with this Melissa Reynolds as best he could and hope she turned out a reasonable boss.

She was certainly a looker, he thought, and despite his antipathy he found his eyes joining those of everybody else's, glued to Melissa's undulating hips and ass as she strolled back and forth at the front of the room.

God, the woman was gorgeous!

Roger felt a twitch in his pants, the beginnings of a hard-on. It'd been a long time. Five years since his divorce and absolutely nothing since. He'd rather gone to seed, in truth, he knew that. He'd never been much of a hit with the ladies at the best of times (very few were looking for mid-fifties, short, balding, bespectacled, let's face it) but he'd shovelled on weight recently (so add chubby to that) and in his increasing loneliness and sexual deprivation had taken to drinking way too much.

His gaze lingered yearningly on the hem of Melissa's sexy skirt as she paraded around. Her legs were simply stunning! More than just the beginnings of a hard-on now. Oh god.

Roger glanced around nervously. Was he the only one being affected in this way by their delectable new female boss? No, he could detect a general stirring of libido in the room. He felt reassured by this but also concerned ... concerned that Melissa might be detecting it too, and that she might not particularly appreciate being ogled by a bunch of guys who now worked for her, might be a little annoyed even.

Let's hope she doesn't realise, he thought.

Melissa did realise, of course. She knew exactly the impact she was having on her assembled employees. How could she not, the way they were drooling? As for her being irritated, however, Roger needn't have worried, she was the opposite of that. She'd have been annoyed if they hadn't been ogling her.

Melissa Reynolds was a woman very familiar with her mesmerising effect on the male of the species and she thoroughly enjoyed it. Not only that, she used it to her advantage, had done so many times, often quite ruthlessly. Landing this job, for example: her looks weren't the only reason, she was smart and tough-minded, but it sure didn't harm that Mike Bryant, the company CEO, fancied the pants off her, had made as much clear during the final interview. Melissa had gamed him to perfection. She'd been professional for the most part, demonstrated her ability to do the job, that she was no bimbo, but she'd also flirted and teased a little; not enough to compromise herself but just enough to give Mike the hint of future possibilities ... if he played his cards right.

Starting with offering her the job, naturally, which he almost fell over himself to do.

Today, her first day, she'd spent the morning down with personnel, getting all the introductory stuff dealt with, and had then been taken to lunch by Mike, just the two of them. Mike had stepped up the flirting and Melissa had relaxed and led him on, revelling in the attentions of a powerful older man who so obviously wanted to get into her knickers. Maybe one day she'd let him, she mused, he was certainly attractive enough for the prospect to appeal. He'd have to work for it, though. Melissa liked to keep men dangling for a while before she even considered putting out. That was part of the fun of being a beautiful woman, the power it gave her. Melissa understood this power, found it intoxicating, and she loved to use (and abuse!) it

Like, over lunch, in amongst all the flirting, she'd secured the smitten CEO's agreement to her running the department completely free of interference from any other part of the company. "Sure, Melissa, it's your show," said Mike, dragging his eyes from her magnificent cleavage. "Whatever you wanna do, just do."

"Why thank you, kind sir," pouted Melissa, feeling Mike's knee press against hers under the table. She pressed back for an instant and then giggled and shifted an inch or two away. "And you'll memo that to everybody, Mike, will you? That I'm free to run things however I want?"

"Yeah. Do it soon as we get back. You're meeting them all at three o'clock, right?"

"Yep."

"Ok, so they'll have it by then. They'll know the score."

"Great!"

And he had. The memo from the CEO had hit the screens a few minutes before Melissa had gone in to introduce herself. The memo made it clear that Melissa had been hired to shake things up in the department, that she had carte-blanche to make any changes (processes, personnel, organisation, whatever) she considered fit, and that no dissent would be tolerated. It would be her personal fiefdom. She was Queen Bee.

As she spoke, Melissa was studying Roger Hargreaves. Jeez, what a loser! He looked even less impressive than the photo on his file, she thought, which took some doing. What a risible contrast to the alpha male of similar age she'd just had lunch with!

Mike had briefed her about Roger during their lunch. She'd heard how he was part of the furniture, that he was at least ten years older than anybody else in the department, that no way was he HOD material but that he was "fucking devastated, silly bastard," not to have gotten the promotion, all of which had rather amused her.

"Old Hargreaves will be delighted to hear about all these new powers the HOD position suddenly carries," Mike joked, as they were leaving the restaurant.

Melissa had laughed at that. "Maybe I'll have some fun with the poor guy," she said, mischievously, safe in the knowledge of the CEO's contempt for Roger Hargreaves.

"Bitch!" said Mike, flashing her a knowing grin.

Melissa giggled. "But also the boss, right?" she said.

Both of them knew that by have some fun Melissa meant that she was going to have herself a ball persecuting the wretched Roger.

It was fine with Mike. "Yeah, babe, you're the boss," he said. "Just agreed that, haven't we?"

Melissa smirked inwardly now at how Roger was continually eyeing her legs but trying to be furtive about it. She sensed a guy who was kind of weak and pathetic, the sort who crumpled around good-looking women. Perfect, she thought, her twisted imagination musing on different ways to torment him, to make his life at work a total misery. Melissa was determined to make a success of this job but she fully intended to enjoy herself along the way. A dozen men at her beck and call, what more could a girl want?

She was having a good time already, she admitted, swanning around like this in front of her new underlings, enjoying the spotlight, basking in the waves of lust coming her way. She put some extra sway into her hips, pleasantly conscious of a dozen pairs of admiring male eyes following her every move,

The situation was rather delicious, Melissa thought, experiencing a thrilling sense of her power (in every sense) over these men.

Should I be a real prick-tease, she wondered, glancing at the table just behind her.

Yes, why not.

She sauntered to the table and sat on it. She held all the cards here and she felt like indulging herself. Felt like being a little bit wicked.

Melissa got herself comfortable, perched up on the table. An accomplished temptress, she knew precisely where the focus of the room now was: her legs. She let the men's hopeful anticipation gather and grow for a few moments, then she slowly crossed one leg over the other, tight skirt riding up her thighs, and was duly rewarded with an outbreak of painfully longing expressions.

Melissa almost burst out laughing. Men were so easy to wind up!

Some of the poor saps were actually blushing, she noticed. No doubt embarrassed about drooling over the boss's sexy legs. She decided there and then that tomorrow's skirt would be a few inches shorter than today's.

The certain knowledge of a dozen imprisoned cocks getting stiff because of her gave Melissa a smug frisson of pleasure and she continued sitting on the table as she carried on speaking.

Toying with the transfixed men, she kept shifting position and languorously crossing and re-crossing her lovely legs, her sexy skirt sliding up a little more each time. She loosened one of her shoes, let it slide down her foot and dangle precariously from the edge of her toes. Every so often, just to really drive the guys wild, she drifted a finger under the hem of her skirt and lazily scratched a pretend itch up high on her thigh.

The sexual tension in the room was palpable, an agonised lust for Melissa etched ever more plainly across the sea of perspiring male faces.

It wasn't fair, Melissa knew, teasing the poor things like this, especially when they worked for her, but it was too much fun to resist! Hilarious and such a buzz to sit there and casually tantalise them with her long legs, coolly enjoying the impact on her victims, watching them try desperately to keep their arousal in check, eyes sliding away from hers, unable to meet her amused and level gaze when she caught them leching.

Apart from one guy, that is, one of the younger ones who she'd noticed had been giving her the full head-to-toe appreciation treatment ever since she'd started her spiel and who was now quite brazenly checking out her thighs.

He was rather yummy looking, Melissa thought.

Mmm, quite the hunk!

Perhaps because of this he had the swagger and confidence to ogle her quite blatantly. Unlike Roger Hargreaves, and indeed most of the others, he was making no attempt to pretend he was doing anything other than feasting his eyes on her physical charms.

Melissa was partial to handsome young men and she'd been encouraging this one with plenty of reciprocated eye contact. She grinned at him again now, as she slid off the table and resumed the pacing around for the remainder of her little talk.

Melissa went to the young hunk first when she'd finished her pitch and it was time for the old "ok now it's your turn, let's have everyone stand up and introduce themselves," routine. Bryce Mulroy was the name. He told her he'd been with the company just a couple of months.

"Great to meet you, Bryce, honey," she purred when he'd said his piece. "Gosh, you must be the baby of the office, am I right?"

"I guess. Twenny one, Miss Reynolds," Bryce said, grinning insouciantly at her, emphasis on the Miss. He'd noticed the lack of a wedding ring. They all had.

Melissa grinned back at him. As well as persecuting Roger Hargreaves, she was planning to create a favourite in the office, a guy who she'd treat much better than everyone else simply because he was easy on the eye, and this Bryce was most definitely pencilled in for that!

"Call me Melissa," she pouted. "That goes for all of you guys. It's Melissa, ok?"

An appreciative ripple of assent from the employees.

"Ok, yeah. Melissa," said Bryce, grin wider still as he sat down.

"So, who's next?" said Melissa, looking at Paul Monk, a heavy-set, bearded individual who was sitting next to Bryce Mulroy.

Paul got up and introduced himself.

"Ok, thanks, Paul," said Melissa, smiling sweetly at him. "Next?"

Next was Marcus Barnaby, a laidback young guy with long blond hair and a bit of a hippy thing going on.

Then John Bosstick: tall, angular, very thin. Paulo Reggazoni: Italian, small and wiry. Tom Shultz: half German, open face, crew-cut.

Michael Kim, Jerome Kilmarnock, Bob Baker ... and so on and so forth, moving swiftly through the group, Melissa being courteous and friendly with each of them whilst restraining from the distinctly flirtatious tone she'd adopted with Bryce Mulroy.

"Right, good, so who's left? Ah yes, you ... middle of the front row there."

Melissa was pointing at Roger Hargreaves, pretending that she didn't already know who he was. Roger lumbered awkwardly to his feet.

"Clearly not the baby of the office," Melissa joked, before Roger could speak.

Sniggers from Bryce and some of the others; a tightly forced smile from Roger.

"Um, no," he resumed, clearly uncomfortable now. "Roger Hargreaves. I've been here since ..."

"World War Two," quipped somebody, which made the whole room laugh, including Melissa.

She could tell that the CEO's dismissive attitude to Roger Hargreaves was shared by the guys within the department. Well so much the better for what I have in mind, she thought, as she stared at him, a contemptuous smile playing on her full, sensuous lips. And no time like the present, she reckoned, deciding that here was a perfect opportunity to start having some of that fun with poor Roger that she'd promised herself.

"Ok, well it sounds as if I have a man of real experience at my disposal then, doesn't it?" she drawled, suggestively, and everyone tittered. "Not sure he's my type, though," she added, with a bitchy smile.

Roger had fallen silent, struggling to know how to proceed.

Melissa didn't help out. Cruelly, she let him stand there, stewing with embarrassment, while the other guys sat bantering amongst themselves about how ancient Roger was, how long he'd been working in the company, how he wasn't anybody's type.

As they made fun of him they kept looking at Melissa to check on her reaction and, egged on by her obvious amusement, their ribbing of Roger got increasingly nasty and personal.

"Yep, Fatty knows his way around here, that's for sure," snickered John Bosstick.

"Yeah, good old Fatty!" jeered Bob Baker.

Gales of laughter now, the atmosphere becoming decidedly raucous.

Roger's head twitched at the mention of his derisory nickname in front of the new boss. Still, maybe it was for the best. Least Melissa would be able to see now what immature dicks some of the other guys were and slap them down, force them to show him a bit more respect. His lack of authority around the place had probably cost him the chance of the HOD job, he reckoned, so if this Melissa Reynolds were to bring a greater discipline to the place, make people behave, then when she eventually moved onwards and upwards, who knows? Perhaps he'd get his shot at it.

This optimistic line of thinking lasted as long as it took Roger to realise that Melissa was laughing along with everyone else at the Fatty reference. "Is that his name around here then?" she said, eyebrows raised sardonically, directing the question to Bryce Mulroy.

"Yeah. Fatty Hargreaves," Bryce said.

"Hun, that's cruel!" Melissa scolded, but she was grinning at Bryce and the glint in her eye was telling him and the others: it's ok, guys, you just go right ahead and abuse this pathetic bastard as much as you want, I'm the boss and you have my total permission.

"Suits him, though, I suppose," she added, maliciously.

"Fucking does," Bryce sneered, having a great time now. So were the rest of them, who were all sniggering.

"Guy's a fucking ball of lard," Bryce continued, warming to his theme. "He's fucking disgusting. I mean, jesus, just look at him."

"I'd much rather look at you, sugar," pouted Melissa, triggering ribald laughter from everyone.

"Fuck off, you guys are just jealous!" protested Bryce. He was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying Melissa's flirty favouritism towards him.

Good, thought Melissa, because he was going to get plenty of it.

Wouldn't be just flirting either, she was planning to spoil Bryce rotten. There'd be long expense account lunches out with the boss, cosy little chats whenever he felt like it, and he'd be getting an absurdly large pay rise and a generally cushy time around the office. He was going to love working here, Bryce Mulroy was.

And letting him fuck her was most certainly on the agenda. Yes, she'd be inviting this young hunk into her office on a regular basis and locking the door and closing the blinds. The thought of having his firm twenty one year old cock pumping her dripping pussy while the rest of them toiled away outside at their desks was extremely appealing. If he turned out as good a fuck as he looked she'd be making it a daily treat. What better way to ease the stresses and strains of her new job than getting serviced on demand by a virile young stud!

Melissa gazed at the hapless Roger Hargreaves, stood there staring down at his shoes. He'd gone bright red and looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. Christ, the guy was utterly pathetic, she thought. Here he was, getting royally abused, being demeaned and degraded in front of the whole office, and he was just taking it. Couldn't even summon the gumption to at least sit back down.

Melissa had no pity. Roger's aura of helplessness, his inability to stand up for himself, only stimulated her inner sadist. She wanted to humiliate him further, wanted to make sure he knew exactly what was in store for him under his new boss.

She checked her watch. 4:15. Plenty of time.

"Wonder how much he weighs? Any ideas, guys?" she said.

A series of ever more outlandish suggestions were yelled out.

Melissa let this go on for a while before eventually putting a hand up to quieten things down. "Ok, ok, I get the general idea," she giggled.

"Melissa, please," Roger managed to blurt. He was looking at her imploringly.

"Just sit down and be quiet, Fatty," she snapped, enjoying herself immensely now.