Customer Service Rep

When I first met her, I was the sales manager for a Chicago based national distributor of hardware products; nuts, bolts, chains, hammers, and what-nots. My name is Dan Raymond and I worked for Accent nearly 25 years. It was my first job out of college and I started off in inventory control and worked my way up to the sales manager's position.

Periodically we needed to hire additional Customer Service Reps (mostly due to expansion). The process took anywhere between six and eight weeks and 'new blood' always brought some excitement to the department. Business was good, so it was time to begin another search.

Kay Wiser was selected to interview for the Customer Service Rep position based on her outstanding résumé. All of the applicants had outstanding résumés; which is amusing since most applicants single-handedly saved their company from ruin (wink). Those selected for interviews had more believable résumés, but we still needed to separate the wheat from the chaff.

It took less than ten minutes to put Kay at the top of the 'bring back' list. Her presence was comfortable and self-assured. The answers she gave to our questions were logical and amusing. For example her response to "How do you handle stress?"

Kay smiled and said, "Well, sometimes I drink heavily." After a few laughter filled moments, she went on, "Actually I have a couple of ways. First, I try to remember most stress is actually someone else's problem pushed upon me to solve. So, I try my best to solve it without letting it get to me. Second, I try to exercise and do things to remove myself mentally from the stress. I must admit, however, a nice glass of wine does help when the first two don't."

I loved the forwardness and honesty. Kay was open and candid and I felt I could trust her. I did glance for a wedding ring and she was married; very married. The rock was huge!!

Now comes the part where I tell you how hot she was, her dancer's body, her perfect breasts, the derriere for which to die, and capping it all would be her model's face. Folks, this is America; the land of overweight people! Being in her forties, the mother of two, a career woman, and a wife, Kay looked her age, but not in a bad way.

Kay was good-looking and still had a decent body. She was curvy in the right spots; sporting a medium C top and hips which flared nicely from the waist. Her hair was salon coiffed and colored dirty blonde. Her nails were groomed and painted to perfection. Kay's lip coloring was a seductive pink.

Her combination of attitude and attractiveness was appealing. As I aged, my tastes expanded from purely looks. She was the type of woman I was drawn too.

The final interview had a traditional aspect to it. The candidate was told it would be held after hours, lasting typically between two and three hours. What we didn't tell them was the offer was presented at the beginning and when (if) accepted, they would be taken to dinner and introduced to their new co-workers. Only on rare occasions was our offer not accepted, but the co-workers still went out to dinner. After all, a party IS a party.

When Kay entered my office, I could tell she was nervous. She really wanted this position and had asked for it directly during the second interview. Her thank you notes also indicated her desire to work for the company and with me. I found it interesting when she said, "I think your honesty and candidness will be a pleasant change. I get a feeling of trust and you seem to appreciate the efforts of your subordinates. This excites me about the position. I would love to work under you."

My mind immediately went to work on the ways this woman could work UNDER me. But the appreciation and trust thing threw cold water on my fantasies. Plus, I was old enough to be her 'very older' brother.

This highlights the one of the stories of my life; most people trust me and look to me as their confidant. Even my ex said I was the best friend she ever had as she left me for a "skirt chasing gigolo." Actually I think it was his money, lifestyle and access to the drugs she loved so much. I still listen to her sob from her mansion as she confides in me. I just don't have the heart to tell her to "Fuck Off," plus we continue to meet periodically for a bit of kink.

Kink is another story of my life. Because of the honesty and trust thing, I seem to attract the 'good' women. The kind of woman desiring a house in suburbia for the two kids, dogs, cats, SUV and it needed to be close to schools and churches. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with a 'good' woman just as long as they also were game for some kinky sex. I felt like I was in a never ending search.

My secretary, Allison was always asking me why I wasn't married. She'd say things like 'too kinky for white bread America' while spreading her legs to give me a bit of a show. Trust me, I would have done her in a heartbeat if she wasn't an employee.

Back to the interview...

Kay sat across from me at the desk. She had a pleasant and professional look about her. Her blouse was open slightly and I could see the lace outline of her bra as it cradled her breasts. Kay's hands were folded in her lap as she waited to begin. Without delay I started.

"Kay, on behalf of Accent, I would like to offer you the position of Customer Service Rep. Are you interested?"

Her smile lit up the room as her tension melted away. I even smiled. She was contagious.

"Yes, very interested," was her reply, grinning ear to ear.

"Great! Now it is simply a matter of money. Kay, I want you to be happy with your salary and as you know every position has a range." It seemed she would have worked for free at this point.

I continued, "Think about a realistic amount you would like to earn, and if it is within the range of the position, I'll give it to you. Keep in mind how raises go once someone becomes an employee! I think all companies are the same in this respect."

Kay studied me for a second and then took a calculator out of her purse, crunched a few numbers and gave me a figure.

When I said, "You're hired!" Kay's mouth dropped and she nearly jumped out of the chair.

Briefly interrupting her enthusiasm, I explained the company tradition of meeting the department over cocktails and dinner.

As I drove to the restaurant we chatted like old friends. Kay told me about her kids being in college and how the money will really help; about her looking forward to a new challenge and how excited she is about the travel we discussed. When I mentioned about travel sometimes being a strain on the home front, Kay's reply took me by surprise.

Her "I'm not too worried about it" had a distinct undertone of an unfulfilling relationship.

Saying nothing, I was pleased.

Kay and I were the last to leave the dinner party. As I drove her back to her car she was still on "cloud nine." She kept asking about people, their names, jobs, etc. When I pulled into the stall next to her car, I waited as she finished her wrap up of the evening. She started laughing when she realized she was rambling.

For some reason I got out of the car, went to her side and opened the door. As she got out of the car I took one more look into her blouse. A bit of voyeurism is good for a person. Kay looked up at me and smiled affectionately.

"Thank you so much for a wonderful evening. I really am looking forward to working under you."

There it was again, 'working under me.' This time the booze allowed me to think of more possibilities. Kay got into her car and rolled down her window.

"Look forward to seeing you on Monday," she said putting her car in reverse. "And thank you for opening my door for me. It has been a long time. Dan, you're a true gentleman."

Waving good-bye, I said, "It was a good evening. See you on Monday. And a man should never forget how to treat a lady."

Our eyes met for a brief lingering moment.

Over the next two years my relationship with Kay grew both professionally and socially. I taught her the business along with the strategies and tactics required for success. We traveled quite a bit together and did fun things out of town: dinners, plays, golf and even sailing.

When we did extended trips, I always told her to invite her husband to join us on weekends. Personally I thought the guy was a loser. Since Kay never invited him, I surmised she felt the same way. Every time I extended the offer she would simply say, "You're so sweet, but Bill is busy then" without even checking the calendar or calling him.

On such a trip to Puerto Rico, it turned out to be cheaper to spend the weekend then to fly back to the US and then back to the island the next week. It was late Saturday afternoon and Kay and I were sitting on beach chairs at the water's edge, allowing the soothing warmth of the Caribbean to rush over our feet. We had just finished riding motorcycles around the island and decided to stay at a resort near Ponce on the southern part of the island.

Cocktails had been served and our affection towards each other was beginning to show. Kay broke the ice.

"I can't ever remember enjoying myself so much as I do with you Dan. If my husband had just the slightest bit of you in him, he'd be tolerable. And to tell you the truth, I don't feel even the least bit guilty being here without him."

I took the opportunity to lay my cards on the table. I had fallen for Kay and loved her more than anyone I ever met. The timing also looked right.

"Kay, I feel the same way about you."

I took a deep breath and continued.

"In fact, I am crazy about you. You are in my thoughts constantly and have been since the day we met. Kay, I long for you and want you with my whole heart and soul."

I moved from my chair and knelt next to hers. Taking her hand in mine, I kissed it gently and said, "I love you."

What happened next was unexpected. Kay yanked her hand away, jumping up in the process. She burst into tears and looking down at me said, "Dan, ours is a deep friendship. One I thought I could trust. I am married and regardless of its state, it is a union I must respect; always!"

She turned and ran to the hotel. It took me awhile to pull myself together and go after her. I saw her dash into her room, but she wouldn't answer my knocks on the door. She even refused to answer her phone.

All I wanted to do was apologize. Christ, was I so smitten by her, I misread every utterance for the past two years? What a jerk I was and what a huge pile of shit I just stepped into.

I went to the bar and drank dinner alone. Sunday morning, slightly hung over, I again tried to contact her and again no response. Her motorcycle was still in the parking lot, so I knew she was still at the resort. I penned a sincere apology along with the message I was going back to San Juan. I told her the bill was paid through Sunday night and I would meet her for a business breakfast Monday morning at the hotel. I slipped the note and a map under her door and left.

The ride back was wild. I was dejected and didn't give a shit, so I streaked through the mountains at speeds which could kill. I needed the wind to push the hangover and the thoughts of my screw-up with Kay out of my mind. The thoughts of my error resurrected coping tactics of my past.

When I got back to my hotel room, I knew what I had to do. Boot up my laptop and surf the net for: "Escorts in San Juan." A half hour later I found what I was looking for; Mistress Miranda.

"Have you been bad? Do you need to make amends for your actions? Are you ready to submit and pay for your deeds? Then look no further, for I am your answer. Specialties include: role play, corporal, nipple work, invasive, showers, spitting, and all forms of kink not permitted in print. 787-832-9176. Cash only."

It had been a long time since I went to a Dom. But every so often when I fucked up, I went for restitution. Some how it helps me accept what I've done. I'm sure there is a name for this type of behavior, but right now I only knew what I needed.

The love for kink was taught to me by my ex. When she was mad at me for some reason, she would find some stranger, fuck him, and then make me eat his cum from her cunt or ass. At first I fought it, but by the time we split it was quite a fetish for me.

It was also one of the other reasons I couldn't tell her to "Fuck Off" when she called. Because after every call came a visit with a fresh load. We also did other things, but my cleaning her sent her over the edge and made me harder than steel. Our sessions lasted for hours with my submission being the focal point of her play.

Mistress Miranda answered on the third ring. We spoke for nearly twenty minutes. I told her of my experience in the realm of kink and how I really wanted to role play a boss who made an unwanted pass at a subordinate and needed to pay for his transgression. We talked about limits and the tribute. $2,000 would cover things nicely for the afternoon.

I was to be dressed in business attire and have food and wine brought to the room. Miranda would be at my room precisely at 2:00pm and stay until 6:00pm. This would give us plenty of time to make things right. The tribute was to be in an envelope, on the table by the door, along with proper ID.

The time was now 12:30pm and I needed to shave, shower, dress and get to an ATM for cash. Luckily I had enough credit on various cards to cover the cost of the afternoon. I ordered various hors d'oeuvres and had a couple of bottles of champagne brought to the room. The strangeness of the soon to come, aroused me and sent an air of recklessness through me. I needed this restitution.

My suite in San Juan over looked the Atlantic and included a salon type living room, a spa bath, and a large master bedroom with a king bed. Both the salon and bedroom had ocean views with large balconies off of them. Double French doors allowed easy passage between the main rooms.

I was ready when Mistress Miranda arrived. Her knock came at 2:00pm sharp. I went to the door and immediately entered my role.

"Miranda, please come in. I'm glad you could make it. We have a lot to cover."

Miranda was dressed in black from head to top. She wore a business suit without a blouse. It formed to her body like a glove. The exposed cleavage would have stopped any meeting in its tracks. The jacket cinching her waist flared slightly, giving way to a tight skirt ending mid thigh. Jet black, sheer stockings ran from under the skirt, down two incredible legs, and flowed into shiny, jet black stiletto heels, stopping at the pointiest of toes.

Behind her she pulled a black, wheeled carry-on and a black leather case hung from her shoulder.

Her look was professionally believable, but also one which demanded a second, third and fourth glance. She was stunning.

Miranda's hair was long, wavy and jet black. Her lips were ruby red to match her groomed and tapered nails. They looked like the extended talons of a cat. Her eyes were coal and outlined on both the top and bottom with black liner, which extended lustfully outward from the corners. Miranda's eye shadow started grey and ended in fuchsia tapering off at the end of her liner; her scent: intoxicating.

Being void of all jewelry gave Miranda a more erotic look. I could only imagine what was in her cases and beneath her suit, but something told me I would soon find out. She entered the room and smoothly gathered the tribute and ID. Without speaking she dropped her bag and case by the salon sofa.

Walking to the sliding doors, she pulled them open along with the curtains, allowing the breeze from the ocean to fill the room. Her scent permeated the room along with the sunlight. With her back to me, she quickly studied the ID. She then turned, walked to the sofa, gathered her leather bag and inserted the unopened envelope into it; dropping the bag back to the floor. Taking a seat in the middle of the sofa, she placed my ID on the coffee table in front of it.

In a very seductive and un-ladylike manner, Miranda outstretched her arms across the back or the sofa and crossed her nylon clan legs in front of me. With a sultry voice, she spoke.

"Mr. Raymond, or may I call you Dan?"

She didn't wait for my reply.

"Danny, what is so important for you call me at my home on a Sunday? You know I was in the middle of a worship session when you called."

She was now slithering slightly along the sofa in a very come hither fashion. When she patted the cushion next to her, I sat. The excitement of the moment beginning to show and Miranda noticed the change immediately.

"Well, form the looks of things; it appears we need to get something straight between the two of us."

Her body was now next to mine with one hand very gently rubbing the back of my neck while the other came to rest on my upper thigh.

I was actually speechless; for real. My cock was completely stiff and badly angled in my pants. I looked at Miranda and her tongue did a slow, purposeful swipe across her lips.

Moving tighter against my body, she again asked, "Now tell me what was so important you needed to call me from home on a Sunday."

Her breasts were now inches from my face and I didn't hesitate. Closing my eyes, I allowed my head to drift into her bosom. No sooner had my cheeks touched her flesh, Miranda switched modes.

Jumping from the sofa she screamed, "How dare you touch me! Who the fuck do you think you are? Just because you're my boss, it doesn't give you the right to touch me."

I actually stammered my reply, "I..I..You were coming on to me, so.."

"Coming on to you? You egotistical pig."

She stomped around the room cursing in Spanish. Miranda was good; I actually thought she was mad. She turned towards me with her hands on her hips and her legs spread in an 'I mean business manner.'

"Do you know what I was doing before you called me?" This time Miranda waited for a response.

"You were at church" was my timid reply.

"CHURCH! What makes you think I was at Church?" Miranda still looked pissed.

"Well, you said you were in the middle of a worship session."

"Yeah, I was in the middle of a worship session alright. I was worshipping my husbands cock. In fact it was deep in my pussy when you called. If it weren't for the talking caller ID, I would not have answered. But nooooo, you're the boss and you need me."

She just glared at me. "Here you fucking asshole, let me prove it to you."

Miranda stepped onto the couch and straddled my torso; her skirt inches from my face. Lifting it she exposed her panty-less, hair-less, glistening mound.

"Do you see this? Do you see my wetness? My husband's cock does this to me. When he fucks me, it makes me flood. Touch it."

I looked at her and I knew she was serious. Extending my hand I went for her pussy. Miranda flew into another rage.

"Not with you hands, you son of a bitch."

Miranda started slapping my hands and face. I literally had to fend off her attack. She then grabbed a handfuls of hair with each hand and shoved my face into her cunt as she screamed, "Touch it with your fucking mouth."

Grinding her mound into my face she pinned my head against the sofa back. The smoothness of her bald mound made me harden even more. Her scent along with the distinct aroma of semen filled my nostrils. My tongue sought out every fold of Miranda's soaked pussy.

"Oh, yeah," she moaned, "so you're a little pussy eater. A real cunt hound. You like to clean fucked pussies don't you?"

My answer came through the fervor with which I lapped at her hole.

"Answer me, pig! You like to clean fucked pussies don't you?"

I gagged out a yes as her mound began to smother me. The opening to her vagina was in my mouth and I could feel the contraction of her muscles. Globs of sperm dropped into my mouth and my throat took it all. Miranda rode my face, grinding her mound into it. She was moaning and I knew she was about to cum.