Mr and Mrs Smith (Complete)

*****

"So it sounds like you had a good first day," Kevin said through a mouthful of pasta Bolognese - Kevin's main culinary speciality.

"Yes, but it certainly felt like a long day, and by lunchtime, my head was spinning with all of the stuff I need to learn. I'd better get in early and finish typing up all of my notes so I don't forget anything."

"I'm just a bit worried that this boss of yours is a bit of a slave driver."

"Well, I get paid overtime, so the money will be good. And actually, I rather enjoyed it. The Boss seems very fair, he knows what he wants and he doesn't muck about. He's decisive and - what's the trendy word? 'Focused', that's it. He's undoubtedly the one that makes Jarrett's what it is, and the great thing is that everyone knows that, so he doesn't have to prove anything. They all respect him, so I hope they'll all respect me as his secretary."

"No creeps or gropers?"

"Only Neil, and he's sweet, really. He's shy and awkward around women, I can tell, and he likes to sneak a peek at my boobs when he thinks I'm not looking. But he's harmless, and I think I'll have him wrapped around my finger pretty soon."

"Just make sure that's all he's wrapped around." He smiled, then got up and massaged my shoulders. Kevin's pretty skilled at that.

"God, that feels so good," I said, realising how tense the day had made me.

"Would you like something else to make you feel good?"

"Oh, Kevin, I'm knackered. I don't know that I could..."

"You don't have to do anything. You just lie there and think of England. Only you look dead sexy in your 'smart office lady' outfit. Sometime soon, when you're a bit less knackered, perhaps we can play boss and secretary."

I smiled. Kevin led me up to the bedroom and undressed me slowly. Like I say, he's very gentle and thoughtful. He kissed and licked my neck, inside my elbows, the backs of my knees, along my inner thighs. He spent quite a lot of time on my breasts, which he knows I love. (He loves my boobs as well. Sometimes he jokes that the only reason he married me was because of my big boobs and hard nipples, which he first saw on a day I went bra-less on a school outing. I got into a lot of trouble with the teachers, but all the boys noticed me - especially Kevin).

Anyway, Kevin took his time and I just drifted on a soft cloud of lovely sensations. By the time he slipped his fingers into my pussy I was getting pretty wet, and I was soon a lot wetter as he slid down and traced my outer lips with his tongue, then slipped a finger inside me. He says he loves the taste of my juices and the feel of my pussy lips, likes to dip his tongue into me and tease my clit. I have to say that I also love the fact that he loves all that because I soon had my legs wrapped around his head as he slid a finger in and out of me and buzzed my clit with his tongue. Despite my mental exhaustion from the day I'd just had, Kevin made me come beautifully, as he always does. I just drifted along on a tide of lovely sensations until the current got too strong and I was moaning and thrashing about as I slipped over the waterfall and plunged into the whirlpool.

So yes, Kevin is very good at cunnilingus, and we both know it.

"Now, does that feel better, love?" he asked, smiling at me with my juices smeared over his face.

"Oh Kevin," I sighed, and just hugged him close.

"Ready for my turn?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I've got the stamina for a protracted suck tonight, love." I could feel the waves of sleepiness wash over me.

"As I said, you don't need to do anything, my dear. Just open your legs and hubby will do the rest."

I was one of those women who didn't usually get a lot out of the sex act itself. Don't get me wrong; I'd love it when Kevin was inside me and I was holding him close and he was kissing me or nibbling my neck and playing with my nipples. It's what loving someone should be about. But I didn't get a lot of direct pleasure from having him in me, and it was the same with my other boyfriends when I was at the Tech College. I'd guessed that the walls of my vagina weren't very sensitive, and no man had managed to find any great pleasure sensors in there with his dick. I could come if we were doing it doggy or cowgirl style and he was playing with my clit and my nipples, but that was it.

Anyway, Kevin knew what to do. If he carried on too long after I'd come, I could get dry and sore, so he just went for his own enjoyment, slowly and gently at first, then faster and harder until I felt - and heard - him coming. Then, as he always does, he took me in his arms and told me he loved me. It was a beautiful feeling.

Chapter 2. Working for the Man

We slept well after that, even though it was quite early, and the next morning I was in the office before eight. On my desk were a few minor corrections to the minutes I'd typed up the night before.

"Morning, Julie. Coffee please," came the shout through the door. I went to the machine and got us a cup each, took it in to him - he looked up and smiled - and went back to correct the points he'd marked up. I was pleased to see that they were all to do with quite technical things; my typing, spelling, grammar and punctuation were all apparently to his satisfaction.

Later that day he asked me to work on a sales proposal. The engineers had written their bits, but their English was pretty poor. "Try to tidy it up and make it more readable," he'd said, so I did - formatting, fixing punctuation and spellings all over the place and structuring the text into paragraphs. When I gave it back to him a few hours later, he seemed surprised that I'd been so quick. After about half an hour he called me in.

"You didn't tell me you could write sales documents. This is exceptional."

"Thanks, Boss. I - I typed a few at my previous job and I used to make little corrections here and there. I just try to think 'if I were the customer and reading this, what would I make of it?' I guessed that the customers aren't all as technical as the engineers, so I tried to make it a bit clearer. I was good at English when I was at school."

"You did very well. Perhaps you could also help with this bit. It's called the compliance matrix. It needs someone to read the question and our response and decide whether we've answered it properly. Sometimes the customer asks two or three things inside the same requirement, and we have to make sure we haven't missed anything. Do you think you can do that?"

"I'll have a try, sir."

I have to admit it was tricky. Some of the questions - and a lot of the answers - were very technical, so I marked it up where I couldn't decide one way or the other, and by late afternoon I handed the document back to him.

"Here's a marked-up copy of the document, showing what I've changed and what I didn't understand. I hope that's OK sir?"

"Thanks, Julie. I'll look at it straight away and let you know."

It was just after five when he stepped out of his office. "Got a minute?" he asked, half looking at me and half at the document in his hands.

I went straight in and sat opposite his desk. "Julie, this is excellent. I thought I'd have to spend most of tomorrow reviewing the compliance matrix, and you've done more than 90% for me. If you like, we can go over some of the technical terms that are new to you, and explain a few of the new concepts you'll need to know in the morning, but I think I owe you a drink for this. Fancy a swift one?"

I wasn't sure about going for a drink after work with a man I barely knew, but he was my boss and I thought that I needed to get to know him better, so I agreed. In the pub, he bought me a white wine and a beer for himself, and we sat down at a quiet corner table.

"So - how do you feel you're settling in?"

"Well, it's only my second day, but the work is interesting and new. It's a change from scheduling typists and answering the phone all day."

"Yes, I can see that. You're certainly not afraid to try new things, and you seem to be ready to put in the hours required. I'm impressed by what you've achieved so far."

"Thanks."

"Tell me about yourself. What's your Mr Smith like?"

I told him about Kevin, what he did, his personality. All the while, I watched the Boss's reaction. He listened attentively, didn't say much but asked a few questions - mostly about where we'd met, how long we'd been married.

"Any kids?"

"No - not yet. We've been trying but nothing's happened so far. How about you?"

"Two kids - daughters. Abi's seven and Ellie's nearly four. Both of them are beautiful, so they must take after their mother. I just never seem to see enough of any of them. Karen keeps telling me that I'm married to the job."

"You certainly seem to work long hours. Do you have to travel much?"

"Jarrett's have acquired half a dozen other businesses around the country over the past ten years. Mostly specialist design or manufacturing outfits. Things were tough at first - we've just been through the worst recession in manufacturing I've known, but we were able to pick up the businesses cheaply and turn them around. Since then, they've been profitable enough, in the main, but they need to be watched quite carefully. I usually visit them all a couple of times a year, and sometimes more frequently if they're having trouble. That takes me away from home a fair bit. And it's not like it's glamorous. Most of the places are on industrial estates in unattractive towns. But they're doing OK. Just like Jarrett's, they mostly have good people but the previous management wasn't really motivating or driving them properly. Even if the work can be a bit of a slog at times, it's satisfying to see a failing business turned around by the people who've worked there for a while and are loyal, with just a few tweaks in the right direction."

I looked at him and realised why his wife felt he was married to the job. Even though he'd expressed regrets about not seeing enough of his family, it was clear that what drove him. Jarrett's was his real family.

*****

The Boss and I worked very well together, but I never felt, in those first few months, that he was particularly warm with me, like some previous bosses have been. In a way, that was a relief; one or two of my colleagues and managers had been a bit too friendly, even flirting at times. I had a husband that I loved at home, and I didn't need an affair at work.

The Boss maintained a distance between us; not cold, but certainly not overly familiar. We got to know each other slowly and by degrees and, as he'd promised at the outset, he became more demanding as he became more confident of my abilities. I was soon a key part of every bid review, and he had me mentoring other members of staff, designing templates and writing procedures. At the end of my probationary period, I had a pleasant surprise; not only the promised £5,000 pay rise but a further £2,000 'performance bonus'.

"I hired you as my PA, but you've shown talents I wasn't expecting. If I'm not careful, you'll have Frank sniffing around to get you on his team, and I'm not standing for that. I need you where I can see you."

That was the Boss's idea of a compliment. Frank Adams was the Sales Director, and he was clearly pleased with my ability to improve his proposal documents. The Boss had told me, in confidence, that since I'd joined, we'd won around 12% more business than in the previous six months, largely - he felt - through better-quality sales proposals. Frank probably felt a bit threatened, as I'd come in and changed how things were done based on what my Boss wanted, rather than what Frank had made happen. It would obviously be better for Frank if I worked for him, so he could claim the credit for the improvement. Instead, the Boss was quick to point out that it was me who was responsible for the changes. He wasn't trying to score points over Frank - though I don't think Frank saw it that way - but rather, in his own very direct way, to show how talent was appreciated and to encourage people to improve their own performance.

Then one day, around nine months after I'd started, he made an odd request.

"Julie, when you come in tomorrow, could you please wear that little lycra number you wore for your interview?"

"OK Boss, but why are you asking?"

"You'll see from the schedule that Frank and I have a meeting with Jim Paget of Associated Plastics. We're after a big deal with them, extending a current contract and taking on some new services. Jim's a bit of an old goat and he likes looking at attractive women. If you're dressed in the way you were for your interview, and play the attentive assistant during our meeting tomorrow, I think he'll be sufficiently distracted to be swayed by our sales pitch. Would you be prepared to do that?"

I was flattered, although if anyone else had asked that of me, I'd probably have felt patronised. Obviously, the way I was dressed at my interview had made an impression. It had been months earlier, but the Boss clearly remembered and, I guessed, recalled the impression it had had on him. The fact that the remark was sexist - as was what he wanted me to do - didn't bother me. This was the nineties, and sexism was much more the norm back then. Anyway, I felt appreciated and respected enough in our day-to-day work to realise that this was a special request from a valued colleague to help the business and not some demeaning order passed to the office tart.

"Of course, Boss. I'd be very happy to help Jarrett's win some business in any way I can." Short of having to sleep with the customer, I thought.

"I warn you; Jim's old school. He may make some pretty risqué remarks and he could be a bit - shall we say, personal. Would that offend you?"

"I probably had worse at college, Boss. I can handle it."

The next day, I put on the dress that the Boss requested. Kevin had already left for work, so I spent a little longer getting ready, applying rather more make-up than usual for a workday. I looked at myself in the mirror and was pleased with the effect, though I think Kevin would have been a bit surprised to see me going out to work like that. As I was tidying the bedroom before leaving, I managed to snag my tights on the corner of a bedroom cupboard; there was a splintered bit that I'd kept asking Kevin to fix. I cursed and went for another pair. In the drawer, I saw some of the stockings I kept for special occasions, and on an impulse, I put on a suspender belt and a pair of black seamed ones. I also got out a higher pair of heels, which were less comfortable but looked a lot sexier.

Just as I was about to leave, it occurred to me how Kevin might react if I came home dressed like that, so I threw some make-up remover, cotton-wool pads, another pair of tights and some sensible shoes into a bag and headed for the car.

When I collected Jim from reception, he clearly thought his luck was in. The guy was in his sixties, balding and with a paunch. I, or any woman of my age - or probably of any age - wouldn't look at him twice, but I smiled and did my best to look pleased to see him as I welcomed him and led him up to the Boss's office. When I took him in to see the Boss, Frank, who was also waiting, looked at me with eyes like saucers. The Boss showed no reaction at all to my outfit, except for a slightly raised eyebrow. As I left to get the coffees, I heard Jim say "My God, H, that's a real cracker you've got yourself there."

I paused outside the door to hear what was said. "Yes, Julie's very attractive, but she's also very efficient."

"I'll bet!" Jim replied. "You wouldn't lend her out to me for a few days, would you? I could do with some of that - er - efficiency myself." He laughed loudly at his own remark.

I smiled. It seemed that I'd made the sort of impression that the Boss had wanted. I came back about five minutes later with the coffees and biscuits, and pretended not to notice Jim - and Frank - virtually salivating over me. As usual, the Boss was inscrutable.

Several times during the day I popped in with coffees, a buffet lunch and on other errands. Each time, the three men watched as I busied myself, bending over occasionally to (hopefully) show off the outline of my suspenders under my tight dress or 'accidentally' flash some cleavage at Jim. Otherwise, I didn't dare budge from my desk, in case the Boss needed me for something, but mostly because I didn't want my other colleagues to see how I was dressed. Around three PM, the Boss called me in.

"Julie, we'd like you to write up the conclusions of our meeting. Jim's agreed to extend our existing contracts and to allow us to bid for two more. It would be very helpful if you could please capture the substance of our agreement and have it typed up before Jim has to leave." The Boss gave me a look that seemed to say 'there's a lot riding on this Julie, so do your bit.'

I pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing my legs so that I felt sure the men could see a bit of stocking-top, and leaning forward with my shorthand pad ready, giving a good eyeful of cleavage. The Boss dictated the form of words and at the end of every paragraph asked his customer to agree the wording, which Jim dutifully did. All the while, Jim was staring openly at me, almost drooling. When the Boss had finished, he asked me to read back what he'd dictated, and then said: "Happy, Jim?"

"Oh yes, delighted," Jim replied.

"Thanks, Julie. Could you please get that typed up for us as soon as possible?"

"Sure, Boss," I said, and carefully uncrossed my legs and got up. It wasn't quite Sharon Stone style, but I'm sure Jim would have got an eyeful of my panties and stocking tops as I stood and tottered out of the room on my over-high heels.

The document took around 15 minutes to type up, check and print. I took two copies back into the room, one for the Boss and one for Jim to read and check, carefully bending over to tease Jim a little further. It took Jim around 10 minutes to read it, as he kept looking up at me. Finally, he signed it, and I left the room.

I showed Jim out around 30 minutes later. In the lift, he 'accidentally' put his hand on my bum, and as much as I disliked it, I just smiled and pretended I hadn't noticed. I thought that as we shook hands for him to go, he was going to kiss me, but I managed to avoid that, smiled, said how nice it was to meet him and sashayed back to the lift. Only when the doors had closed did I let my smile drop. The heels and suspenders were killing me, and the people who'd seen me take Jim to Reception gave me some funny looks.

I got back to my office and went straight for the bag with my tights and comfortable shoes, but before I could do anything, the Boss appeared and called me in. Frank was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Julie, that was fantastic. Thank you. I realise it was difficult, but you carried it off brilliantly. Jim has extended our existing contract for five years, and has given us the chance to present a single-line bid - no competition - for two other substantial pieces of work that I know we can do for them very competitively and at an excellent margin for us. That was a better result than we could ever have hoped for, and a lot of it is down to you."

"Don't forget my sharp negotiating skills, H!" Frank grinned.

"They weren't as sharp as the tent in your trousers when Julie uncrossed her legs, you leery old goat," the Boss replied. "Honestly, Julie, after that performance, Jim would have signed his own death warrant."

"Thanks, Boss, but I'd rather not have to do that too often. It's a bit demeaning."

"I'm sorry if you feel that we've turned you into a sex object so we can manipulate a customer, but you were magnificent, wasn't she, Frank?"

"Absolutely!" he agreed. "I'd have bought anything - anything - from her." He left the comment hanging, as if to say that if any of it was for sale, he was buying.