Nothing makes me feel sexier than wearing a skirt suit, heels, fancy leather briefcase, bun and glasses sitting at the edge of my nose. And I mean nothing. Well, maybe nudity...
I had no reason to want to feel this sexy. Lie. When I called and scheduled this interview yesterday afternoon, the man's voice on the other line caused a small flood in my panties. He was the executive director of this small law firm, looking for a paralegal. I was broke and looking for a job. My qualifications seemed to match what he was looking for, and he seemed more than eager to interview me. I was more than eager to see him.
I pulled up to the small camelback shotgun single off Tulane Ave., about 15 minutes before my scheduled interview. Clearly I knew what audience he was serving. I followed instructions, and walked up to the back door. I opened the door, walked through the kitchen to the back room. I knocked rhythmically on the door frame.
To be in the back of a shotgun, this office looked like something out of the movies. Floor to ceiling bookcases. Sexy mahogany. Large L-shaped desk made of the same wood. Everything was just so slick and sexy. Everyone too. The man behind the desk, we'll call him Mr. Edwards, stands up and walks around the desk. His height alone sends shivers down my spine. He had to look down a good foot and half to see me. He looked like a Hornets reject. Anyway...
Tall. Honey brown. Well trimmed goatee. Circle framed glasses that made me giggle yet shaped his face so well. And built like a fucking linebacker. LAWD JEEBUS!!!
"Mrs. Jamison", he said shaking my hand firmly.
"Mzzzzzz", I corrected sounding like a buzzing bee. He smiled and corrected himself. We both took a seat at the desk. We went over the generic interview questions. Strengths and weaknesses. Past work experience. As I was explaining my aspirations in life, I noticed his eyes aspire to learn what all my hint of cleavage lead to. I wanted to stop speaking and expose my full breast to him, but I restrained and finished my statement.
"Is that all, Mr. Edwards?" I asked.
"Yes, Ms. Jamison. Do you have any questions for me?" At this point, I made it up in my mind that I wasn't going to take this job. Why? Not because of the location. Not because of the clientele. But because I refuse to work for someone who is sexually attracted to me. I don't know why. Guess I've seen too many movies. Too afraid that sexual favors would be hung over my head. And because all these decisions were already made, I decided to be ratchet.
"Actually, I do. Were you looking at my breasts?" His eyebrows raised and a look of shock crossed his face. I thought I'd continue to torment them. "I mean, because if you were, I could give you a show."
Before he even has a chance to formulate a response, I climb up on the desk and kneel before him. I unbuttoned my blazer revealing my black lace underneath. I hear him gasp as his mouth opens. He clenches his fists in frustration. "You can touch", I say, tugging the blazer off my shoulders. He uses his hands to cup my breasts as he stares hungrily at them. I unhook my bra and let the straps fall down. I move my arms closer together, almost to hold his hand in place, but, also, to let the bra fall down more and expose my nipples. He pulls his hands back as I get up on my knees, inch my skirt up to my hips, put one finger in my honeypot (which is oozing) and rub my wetness on my nipples.
"Lick." I cup my breasts and hold them out to him. Instead of doing the obvious, he pushes me over. My hair is swiping the floor and I'm looking upside down at the kitchen. He spreads my thighs and rips my matching panties off. I liked them. Hmph. Anywho, he begins slurping all the my honey off the inside of my thighs, around my prize. He finds his way to my magic buzzer and rings the shit out of it. I begin slapping the floor, pushing and pulling the chair until I eventually knock it over. I make muffled moans as I bite my bottom lip.
"See, to work at this office, you have to be able to give great oral presentations", he says as he climbs off the desk and kneels down in front of me. My head is practically in his lap. Carefully, in my upside down stupor, I began to undo his trousers. Time to prove I would be an excellent candidate, if this were a place I could actually work. I take the tip into my mouth and make small, slow circles with my tongue. I take more and more of him into my mouth, I make him wetter and wetter and our juices mingle and drip on to the floor.
"How was that Mr. Edwards?" He doesn't respond. He just looks down at me with a fire blazing. I place my palms flat on the floor and kick my legs over my head. I land right in his lap. I squat above his knees and take him into my dirty little secret. I begin bouncing on his dick like a trampoline, grinding my hips greedily against him. He pushes me over and grabs the hair at he nape of my neck and pulls hard. He thrusts against me forcefully, and I call for the Lord in more languages than I normally speak. He forces me to stand and takes me while I'm bent over his desk. I'm grabbing for the mouse, the stapler, the hole puncher. I wiggle and try to get away but he has a vice grip on me and he is working my poor cooty pop out. He spins me around while still inside, and once he has me on my back, makes slow deliberate strokes. He looks down and watches me squirm from a place of power. I am putty beneath him. He deliberately hits my g-spot over and over, causing me to squirt all over nice pants that hang loosely around his waist. He meets me in ecstasy soon after.
I get up and began collecting my things, excluding my torn panties, with an evil smirk on my face. As I begin to head out the door, Mr. Edwards grabs me by the arm to stop me. I turn around to meet his glance.
"You got the job."
"I don't want it. But you have the number if you want more..."
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