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.
“OK, thanks, Frank. We’ll talk over the implications of the new deal and the bids at the Board meeting on Thursday. Now, Julie, could you get me a coffee, please, and then we need to go over my schedule for the next two weeks.”
I went back into my office, grabbed my bag and headed to the ladies. Off with the suspenders, stockings and heels, on with the tights and comfy shoes. I was about to clean off the excess make- up but changed my mind. I’d do that before heading for home. I got the coffee, plus one for myself, and headed back to the office.
“Julie, that was a hell of a performance. I really can’t thank you enough. You went well beyond what I asked for, and you could see the effect it had on Jim. I just hope that you never try that on me – I might not be able to resist.”
I left the compliment unanswered. It was the first time that the Boss had ever directly expressed any form of attraction for me, and I didn’t know how to react. Perhaps he understood my uncertainty, my embarrassment.
“Take Kevin out for a meal, on the company. Somewhere nice, a bit special. Just present me with the expense claim and I’ll sign it off. And if we win the extra business, there’ll be a sales bonus in it for you. Now, you and I have some planning to do.”
*****
That Saturday, Kevin and I went to the Mostyn Park Hotel, generally thought of as the poshest place around. We booked a cab both ways and had a full bottle of a very nice and rather pricey wine between us. I wore the same outfit I’d worn to the office to please the Boss, including the suspenders (together with some rather alluring matching black lace underwear), stockings and killer heels. We had a gorgeous meal, and when we got home, I pulled my dress off and gave Kevin a long, slow blow-job, kneeling in front of our bedroom mirror in my sexy lingerie and heels. I even very deliberately and ostentatiously re-applied my lippy, as I know that Kevin likes the feel of it on his cock. I did something I rarely did – I let him come in my mouth. I’m not fond of the taste of semen, but just this once I thought I’d give him the treat. There was about a glass-full of the wine left in the bottle we’d had at dinner, and Kevin had cheekily taken it with us. I grabbed it and took a swig to get rid of the taste, then I pushed Kevin to the floor, shimmied out of my panties and straddled his face.
As I said, Kevin enjoys – and is very good at – cunnilingus, and it didn’t take long before I was moaning and yelling in abandon, grinding my pussy down onto his hot mouth and impaling myself on his flexible and very-skilled tongue. I was almost there when he suddenly lifted me off him, turned me around to face the mirror and slipped his dick into me from behind. As he started to thrust, I felt him unclip my bra, and then one hand cupped a breast while the other one enveloped my pussy and started stroking my clit.
I looked down, and there was Kevin’s hand, skilfully rubbing my slit, and I could just see his dick sliding in and out of me. The sensations from my pussy were getting almost as good as when his mouth was there, he was teasing my nipple just the way I love it, and the sight of him thrusting in and out between my stocking-clad thighs was very sexy.
And just at that moment, for no reason I could tell, I had an image of the Boss come into my mind. It wasn’t my darling husband shafting me vigorously and teasing my sensitive areas, it was my big, strong, inscrutable Boss, giving it to me over his desk because I’d dared to go into his office dressed up like a tart to please a customer – and him.
Ten seconds later I was coming almost violently. All the time I was moaning and crying out, and even as I felt Kevin’s dick pulsing inside me, I couldn’t shake the image from my head. I felt guilty and cheap and sexy and incredibly turned on, all at the same time.
“You were amazing tonight, darling,” Kevin said as he held me close on the bed. We were both naked, my semen-streaked stockings soaking in the bathroom basin and my underwear scattered across the bedroom floor. “I don’t know why your boss is so pleased with you, but whatever it is, you should do more of it. It was a great meal and the most delightful bonk we’ve had in a while. And thanks for swallowing; that was a real treat.”
I kissed him and held him close, partly because I loved him and partly because, at that moment, I was feeling terribly guilty about not only imagining sex with my Boss, but also finding the idea exciting enough to make me come.
“Thanks, baby,” I said, resting my head on Kevin’s chest so I didn’t have to look into his eyes. “I helped him to close a lucrative deal with a customer and you know how he appreciates it when someone does a good job.”
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“You must have done a really good job to get us a meal like tonight. Don’t tell me you had to suck the customer’s dick?” He grinned.
For a moment I didn’t know what to say. “Of course – and I had to swallow his semen. But that was just a practice run for tonight.”
Kevin slapped my bum playfully. “Tart!” he said with a laugh.
“And your point is?” I threw back at him.
He kissed me, and we started another session, this time of slow, gentle lovemaking that culminated in him sucking my clit until I screamed. I told him I was a little sore from earlier, so he poured some oil over my breasts and rubbed his dick between them until he came again, over my neck and face.
“You were amazing tonight, love. I’ve never seen you like that before.”
“Thanks. I just felt very hot for you tonight. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Well, me, mostly,” he grinned.
I slapped him playfully and got up to clean the sticky goo from my body and face. When I came back to bed, we cuddled and kissed as usual, then curled up to go to sleep. But my mind kept going back to the weird experience of imagining the Boss as my lover instead of my husband, and I found it rather disturbing. It was probably over an hour before I finally fell asleep.