Terms of Employmentbykrr1957©
This story deals with themes of reluctance and coercion in a lesbian setting. If you think you might be offended please try another story.
The first time it happened will remain with me forever.
The night before my husband had phoned to tell me that he thought that we should make our 'break' permanent and, as if that was not bad enough, I arrived at the office the following morning to find that Sue had got the promotion that I had been hoping for.
My boss then added injury to insult by telling me that she had double booked her interview candidates and asked me if I would help out. I was tempted to tell her to get Sue to do it but I could not afford to antagonize her; things were going to be tight if I was going to be living alone in the long term.
I looked at the c.v. and, on the face of it, the girl was eminently suited for the role but Marcia had added a pencilled note which said bluntly "Just go through the motions. We have two better prospects." This, in other words, was a complete waste of my time.
I went down to reception to greet her and almost did a double take. Why this girl wanted a job as a receptionist when she should have been making money as a model was not at all clear. I was put in mind of the actress, Alice Eve, which was ironic given that she rated very highly in my husband's list of 'most beddable'.
I led her to the interview suite and even I had to admire her long tanned legs shown off to devastating effect by a breezy summer dress.
Her answers to my questions were considered and intelligent but I wondered if she had dressed with a male interviewer in prospect. Once or twice she leaned forward a little to make a point emphasising her ample charms.
I started to bring proceedings to a close and asked one final question.
"Sum up for me, in thirty seconds, why you should be offered this job."
She paused and then held my eye unwaveringly.
"I have the qualifications, experience, personality and the look to represent the front desk of an international bank. "
Her answer was assured and succinct and, had it been my choice, I would have put her forward but only Marcia was vetting for this particular job. She must have sensed my problem.
"...and I will do whatever it takes."
I told myself to get a grip. Had I been a man her remark could clearly have been misconstrued but, nevertheless, I felt my heart quickening just for a fleeting instant...
The words hung in the air and left me off balance. At twenty-one she was nearly ten years younger than me but I suddenly felt like the ingénue.
I began to straighten my papers but, as I did so, she reached out and put a hand on mine.
"Does your husband make you come when he goes down on you?"
For a second or two I thought my heart had stopped and I struggled to draw my next breath. If her intention was to shock she had succeeded in a big way. She could not have known it but she had touched a particularly raw nerve.
When we were courting my husband professed to love performing oral sex and I was a very willing, and sometimes greedy, recipient. Unfortunately, I had great difficulty in returning the favour. I do have a sensitive gag reflex but, in truth, it is something much more psychological.
I was completely honest with him and he assured me that it was not a problem but it came to matter in an ever bigger way. He began to accuse me of being selfish and his own performances, which had always been a little perfunctory if truth be told, tapered off altogether. It was not our only marital problem but it was a significant one.
I desperately tried to marshal my thoughts. Even now, she had only asked a question, albeit an outrageous one, but her next enquiry left little room for doubt.
"Is the door locked?"
I should have stopped it right there but I found myself nodding yes. The 'Engaged' sign was illuminated outside and the door could be unlocked with the push of a button.
She rose from her seat and came around to my side of the desk. Looking me in the eye she wheeled my chair back and slowly knelt in front of me.
Ever since I was a teenager I had fantasised about making love to another woman but I regard myself as strictly heterosexual and I had never felt the urge to actually make it a reality even when I had had too much to drink.
I resisted as she rested her hands on my knees but she just smiled and I shivered she ran her fingers beneath my skirt.
She lifted her eyebrow in approval when she encountered the bare flesh above my stay up stockings and, bizarrely, I gave silent thanks that my underwear was fresh out of the packaging that morning.
When her fingers reached the border of my panties she arched her wrists and flipped my skirt out of the way.
I had never felt so wanton, or so aroused, as I did at that moment. Here I was, in the middle of a work day, putting myself on display whilst this young woman held out the promise of fulfilling an impossible dream.
She pressed her hands together, as if in prayer, and eased them between my thighs this time finding no resistance.
"You have lovely legs..."
She gently spread me open, running the back of her finger across my inner thigh, and I felt a sudden heat centred on my sex. I am proud of my body but I think my legs shade my breasts when it comes to deciding my best feature.
Her finger continued its exploration moving ever upwards until she began to trace the contour of my mons. She touched me in a way that suggested that she was far from new to this and I wondered if she was exclusively in to women but, more than that, I wondered if I particularly appealed to her as a woman.
I suspected that, if I had been a fifty year old harpy, this would not be happening. As it was I knew that I had been blessed with more than my fair share of attractiveness due mainly to the Italian genes I had inherited from my mother.
Her hands found the outside of my thighs and I had one last chance to back out. Her fingers slid inside my panties and she needed me to raise myself if they were to be removed. She could have simply moved them aside but it felt as if she was offering a reprieve.
I sat frozen, my every instinct telling me to stop, but most compelling of all was the simple fact that I was using her in the knowledge that I actually had nothing to offer in return. With great reluctance I steeled myself to do the sensible thing but then she completely disarmed me.
She leaned forward and placed a single kiss at the centre of my exposed panties.
"I want to taste you..."
No one had ever said anything like that to me before and certainly not with such feeling. Perhaps she had intended to seduce me whatever the outcome.
She pulled away just a little before she spoke again.
"Do something for me...I want to see you naked."
For a brief moment I was dimly aware of the subdued noises out in the real world, a slammed door, the distant ringing of a telephone, but I could focus on nothing beyond the immediate bounds of our private universe.
She remained on her knees as I stood up and slowly began to remove my clothes. As my breasts were revealed she reached up to touch them and then, almost reverentially, she stripped me of my stockings and panties.
I know that I have a body that makes men look twice, and I am guilty of playing up to it, but she gazed up at me as if I were a statue of marbled female perfection. Her hands reached out to graze my waist, my hips and my thighs making me feel special in a way that no man ever had.
I could feel my sex starting to melt and this was confirmed by the slightest flaring of her nostrils and a knowing smile.
It occurred to me that she was of a generation that routinely went in for total depilation whereas I retained a carefully sculpted growth of raven black hair but any thoughts that she may have found it off-putting were quickly allayed.
"I love a real woman..."
Catching me unawares she licked upwards along the length of my sex with the flat of her tongue and my knees threatened to buckle. She laughed and pushed at me gently.
"You'd better sit down and make yourself comfortable. This might take some time.."
I did as she asked and she interposed herself between my legs preventing me from following my natural inclination to close them.
"Forward just a little. I want you wide open."
She was like a concert player preparing for a performance with her mouth and fingers and I was her chosen instrument. She paused for just a moment and then the music began.
She repeated the long stroke of her tongue and it was if she had struck a chord that made my whole body vibrate. Before it had died completely away she played it again and I could feel my labia swelling.
In the past my excitement came more from the knowledge that my partners were abasing themselves than from the actual physical sensation but this girl took me to new realms.
It had taken me a long time to appreciate that one side of me sex was more sensitive than the other but, as she sucked and licked at each of my labia in turn, she divined the knowledge within minutes.
She immediately refined her technique to strike a balance. Her flicking tongue beat out quavers and minims raising me towards a crescendo and I became acutely aware of my sex leaking in response.
With an uncanny understanding she forestalled my embarrassment by dipping her head and licking the crease of my thigh with a broad sweep of her tongue.
"I love the taste of you..."
Her words only served to make me wetter still but she just murmured appreciatively and licked the whole expanse of my opened legs.
I could have come just from this alone but it was her composition and she now commenced the second movement.
Her mouth returned to my sex but this time she slipped her tongue inside. At first she remained still, slowly acclimatizing, but then she began her survey triggering sensations I had never felt before.
I thought that I knew my body, and all that it had to offer, but she was showing me just how much I was missing. I was soaring so high that I barely noticed as her tongue slipped away only to replaced by her fingers.
This was not the accustomed crude intrusion but a perceptive appreciation of the notes that augmented my arousal. Time ceased to have any meaning and my whole frame of reference was determined by the climax towards which she was conducting me.
Her lips and tongue came back into play whilst she reached up to smear my mouth and nose with my own offering as if bestowing the gift of femininity. I had only ever experienced a fleeting taste before but now I devoured her fingers like a harlot.
She, for her part, perfected her embouchure as she took my clitoris lovingly between her lips and I felt her tongue flitting, with an incredible rapidity, as she played out the allegro of the final bars.
My body tensed almost to the point of cramp and then there was a release the like of which I had never experienced. I cried out with the intensity of it, heedless of my surroundings, and my body was no longer mine to command.
I jerked spasmodically as she coaxed out every last ounce of pleasure and when I finally opened my eyes it was to see her smiling face looking up from between my legs dripping with my outpouring.
That single image was seared into my memory and all else seemed hazy. I kissed her, tasting myself on her lips, and then there was the frenzy and anxiety of getting dressed.
I escorted her from the building regretting both what I had done and that I had not had the presence of mind to ask to see her again.
In the days that followed I convinced myself that it was an aberration, the result of my personal circumstances leaving me vulnerable, but the more I thought about it the more I wanted to know.
I was of course in a unique position. I knew her name, Fiona Phelps, I had her address, north of the river, and I had her phone number. I had already impugned my professional integrity and now I was about to compound my felony.
Marcia gave me the files of her preferred candidates and asked me to finish up. What that meant, in reality, was to try and get some personal background.
Over the years professional references had become completely anodyne with no employer wanting to say something for which they might later be held liable. It fell to us to use our contacts to try and get a more informal appraisal.
I spoke to the personnel and line mangers of both the girls and presented my findings to Marcia who looked them over with a raised eyebrow.
"Are you sure about this?"
On my interpretation one of the girls had time-keeping issues and the other had, on occasion, allowed ambition to cloud her judgement.
Marcia knew that I was one of the best at this and she was generally prepared to trust my instincts even if it called her own into doubt.
"What about the girl you interviewed?"
I gave her my scores and a brief overview.
So it was that Fiona got the job. I had no doubts that she was professionally capable, and so I had not compromised the client, but I found it hard to admit to myself that I may have been manipulated.
The one positive thing to come from it was that Fiona was now a client which meant that any ongoing relationship had to be kept totally professional. The problem was that I now found myself checking out as many women as men.
Over the next month my life seemed taken up with the details of my formal separation and ultimate divorce. Whilst I had some regrets I knew that it was for the best and I wanted it sorted out as soon as possible. The strain of the final weeks had begun to show, personally and professionally, and the proof was that Sue now had the job which should have been mine.
Things seemed back on track when I got an e-mail from Marcia asking me if I would handle Fiona's follow up.
Many of our clients are too small to maintain a personnel department of their own which is why we provide everything including recruitment, training, payroll and even disciplinary functions. The investment bank that had hired Fiona was one such and, as part of the service, I now had to sit down with Fiona and her manager to make sure everything was going okay.
I had been dealing with her supervisor, Gail Meadows, for a couple years and we had arranged four successful placements to date. She was about the same age as me and I got on well with her. We had even done the breast cancer moonwalk together baring our bras for the annual charity event.
Gail had booked a board room which had opposed sofa's set in a glazed alcove with spectacular views across the business district. We sat together and exchanged notes until Fiona arrived and took up station opposite us.
When I saw her again I felt my breath catch. She was wearing a dark business suit, with an abbreviated skirt, over a crisp cotton open necked blouse. She greeted me warmly and I was not sure whether or not to be disappointed that there was not the tiniest hint of our previous intimacy.
Gail had already confirmed that she had exceeded their expectations and now I asked Fiona herself how she thought things were going. She was totally enthused and, to my surprise, she told me that Gail had already made arrangements to move her on from the front desk to take up a trainee investment post.
I mentally chalked up this little "win win". We would get the kudos for introducing Fiona and now we would probably be asked to recruit again for the receptionist post. It all looked good for my quarterly bonus.
I decided that we could wrap things up but Fiona had not finished speaking.
"You could say that Gail and I have struck up a special relationship..."
It seemed an odd, slightly presumptuous, thing to say not least the use of Gail's Christian name. She usually insisted that the junior members of staff refer to her as 'Mrs. Meadows'
I looked at Gail to find that she was blushing deeply and I suddenly had a premonition. Everything could still be innocently construed so why then did I feel an irrational pang of jealousy? Fiona had a slight smile on her face and I had a feeling that she was weighing us up.
For a few seconds everything in the room was very still and I was aware of the odd mote of dust caught in the sunlight. That same brightness lit up the sofa on which Fiona was seated and, as I watched, she slowly allowed her knees to part a little.
I thought she was going to get up but, beside me, Gail swallowed back a muted gasp. I looked at her again but her eyes were locked on Fiona's legs.
"Oh dear god...please don't."
Like the parting of a stage curtain Fiona opened her legs wider and, whether by design or otherwise, the light now fell between them. Innate good manners made me immediately turn away as if I had witnessed something accidental but Gail was transfixed.
Her gaze drew mine as Fiona sat there imperiously. Her bare legs, the colour of palest honey, looked impossibly smooth as did the mound of her sex. It was a perfect tight closed casket that seemed to hold infinite promise.
I wondered, fleetingly, if she always eschewed underwear but it was clear that Gail was already familiar with this particular shrine as Fiona now made evident.
I fought to keep my jaw from falling open as Gail got up and then dropped to her knees in front of her latest employee.
I desperately tried to make some sense of this world gone mad. Gail was happily married, a woman who successfully juggled the demands of both a high flying corporate career and raising a young family. Yet, here she was whimpering almost pathetically.
"Please...this has to stop."
Fiona reached out and stroked her hair.
"You know you don't mean that...and who am I to deny you?"
I could see Gail physically struggling with herself, the sheer effort making her body shake, but Fiona now had a single finger at her sex with the perfectly varnished nail pointing the way.
Gail turned her head a little towards me, without averting her stare, and simply said.
With that she surrendered. She began to softly kiss Fiona's sex, anointing the whole delta, until, obeying some unspoken command, she brought her tongue into service.
I was tormented by so many conflicting emotions. Anger, that Fiona could contemplate this and anger too at Gail's weakness but, at the same time, I was undeniably aroused. I was also strangely excited by the idea that it was possible for one person to hold sway over another in this way.
Gail was licking with greedy eagerness but Fiona looked totally composed. I understood, then, that it was not about her pleasure but simply a demonstration of her authority with the subtext that she could have what she wanted whenever she wanted.
As if to underline this she pushed Gail gently away and turned to me with a sly look. I wondered, just for a moment, if she was going to make a demand of me and I still do not know, to this day, if I would have acceded.
In the event she did not press the issue.
"Gail tells me that I wasn't the first choice for this post so I guess you are owed some thanks. You had nothing to lose if I didn't get the job."
I was interested to note that Marcia had obviously already spoken to Gail prior to the appointment but I stored that away for later as Fiona continued.
"As I see it I am going to be a real asset to Gail and so I think it only proper that she should be the one to thank you."
The implication of her words was not lost on me nor on Gail who was still kneeling shame faced on the floor. The mischievous suggestion was completely outrageous but why then was I suddenly feeling so tremendously aroused?
Fiona put her finger under Gail's chin and lifted her head just a little.
"I bet you've considered it haven't you?"
Gail made no reply but I looked at her afresh. Was it possible? Had she thought about me in that way?