The Yellow Pages Girl – Part 2 by P_Anderer..,

The second part of YPG. With grateful thanks to Foxtrot52 for her input and beta reading. Looking forward to your feedback and comments!

If you haven’t done so already, please read Part 1… this will all make more sense if you do. Enjoy! 🙂

31st March 1995

It was the weekend of the annual Sales Conference. All the sales staff, from telesales to field sales, plus all the middle and senior management, would be in attendance at the massive venue in Birmingham.

The event was intended to be enjoyable — a chance for everyone to let their hair down, with a little semi-serious business thrown in. Starting on the Friday evening, there would be a meal, followed by awards for the year’s top performers. Then live music and dancing until the small hours, with plenty of free drinks to help ensure a lively evening. The next day would comprise a couple of keynote presentations and a couple of breakout workshops, but the organisers recognised that most of the delegates would either be severely hungover, or half asleep, or both.

I arrived at the hotel around 4pm, as I’d received a request to meet my new boss for a chat. Having checked in, I deposited my luggage in the assigned twin room, noticing that there was already a pile of assorted bags and cases in one corner. The company didn’t extend to the luxury of single rooms for lower-tier employees at events like this. I then headed down to the public lounge area. Spotting a young woman sitting on her own, a Compaq laptop computer opened on the table in front of her, I strolled up and tentatively asked, “Excuse me, are you Gemma, by any chance?”

The young woman looked up and said, “Yes, that’s me. Charlotte?” She half stood to offer her hand, which I shook.

“Please, have a seat. Would you like a coffee?”

“Yes, thanks, I’m gasping. It’s been a long drive, with the Friday traffic.”

Gemma caught the eye of a waiter and requested coffee for two. We chatted about the state of the roads, the endless roadworks and various other things, until the coffee arrived. Then Gemma closed her computer and looked up at me.

“How’s it all going then? Work-wise?”

“Not too bad. A lot of businesses still feeling the pinch, so they tend to be reluctant to spend as much as they used to, to be honest.”

“Hmm, OK. Let me tell you where I’m at. Basically, I’ve been given a temporary promotion to area manager. There’s been a bit of shuffling round to cover some maternity leave, so I’ve got about 9 to 12 months to prove myself, and hopefully get the promotion confirmed. You’re on my team, so I’m keen to see you succeed.

“At the moment, you’re a bit below target, like a couple of others. I want to try and help fix that. You’ll earn more money, with commission and bonuses, and so will I. So you could end up a lot better off if we can close more deals.

“So, what I want to do, is come out with you on the road for a week or so. We’ll re-visit some prospects, see a few new ones, do some deals and hopefully bump up the revenue. Does that sound good?”

My initial reaction was one of slight dread. I’d never really liked being closely observed and monitored but couldn’t help feeling that a bit of help wouldn’t go amiss either. Besides, this Gemma seemed very pleasant. She hadn’t got the arrogant air about her that most of the established, mainly male, managers had.

I studied the young woman in front of me and guessed she was about my age, maybe a year or so older. Quite a pretty face, with nice, deep brown eyes, framed by dark brown, almost black hair, cut in a bob. She looked like she had a fuller figure than me, with quite an impressive bust straining the buttons of her blouse, a gap revealing a hint of black bra underneath.

I quickly decided, particularly as this seemed to be a done deal, it would be best to be, or at least appear, positive. “You know what… that would really make a nice change… to have a bit of company, someone to talk to, and bounce things off. All the driving and nights in hotels on your own does get a bit dull.”

Which was quite true. Apart from my rather lovely interlude with John and a couple of other very forgettable one-night stands, my social and sexual diary was pretty vacant.

“Fantastic,” replied Gemma, a smile breaking out across her face. “Hopefully, it won’t be all work. We can maybe go out on the town a bit, have a laugh too. Sometimes, when you mix in a bit of fun, work becomes all the better.”

The prospect of a few girlie nights out cheered me up. “That would be lovely, honestly. It’s impossible for a girl on her own to go out anywhere, it just wouldn’t be safe. Are you single too, Gemma?”

“Yeah, footloose and fancy-free, that’s me… hey, that rhymes! I should be a poet!”

“And you know it,” I added. We both laughed as we finished our coffees.

“Anyway,” Gemma stated, “we’ll wrap it up now. I want to go and have a lovely soak in the bath and get all spruced up for tonight. Might even get lucky later on!” she added with a grin and a wink.

“We’ll get together on Sunday and work out an itinerary for the week, line up a whole lot of prospects, then hit the road Monday morning. What room are you in, Charlotte?”

I’m hopeless at remembering room numbers, so I delved in my handbag and fished out the key card in its little folder. “618,” I read. Gemma laughed and said, “Oh, brilliant, they’ve put us in the same room!”

With that, we headed for the lifts and made our way to the room. Having agreed which bed was whose, we unpacked what we needed and started to sort out clothes for the evening. The event wasn’t formal, but it was an opportunity for the women to glam up in party dresses and look their best.

“I’m going to pull rank and claim the bath first,” declared Gemma. “How about you nip down to the bar and get us a couple of drinks? I want to get in the mood for tonight! I’ll have a large white wine. You get whatever you want; put them on the room tab.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, quietly thinking that I was going to enjoy having a boss like Gemma.

By the time I returned with the drinks, Gemma was clearly in the bath, judging from the splashing sounds the other side of the door. “Room service!” I called out through the door.

“Can I have it in here, please?” Gemma shouted back. Door’s not locked!”

I gingerly opened the door, clutching the glass of white wine, which immediately sheened with condensation from the steamy room. Gemma was wallowing in a foot-deep bath, a thick blanket of suds completely covering her, except for her head, shoulders and the tops of her substantial breasts.

“Complimentary bubble bath!” she exclaimed, with a beaming grin. As I handed her the wine, Gemma reached up and turned slightly; as she did so, her boobs surfaced from under the water, partially covered with suds, her skin shiny with wetness. I couldn’t help but notice that hers were at least twice the size of mine and felt a rush of emotions… some surprise at Gemma’s bravado, mixed with a brief moment of envy at the size of her breasts; some slight discomfort at the fact that Gemma seemed quite relaxed to be seen naked in front of me, when we’d only met minutes before. Feeling slightly disturbed, I left Gemma to her bathing in peace.

It was a while later, when Gemma finally emerged from the bathroom, with a large bath sheet wrapped round her body and another, smaller one wrapped round her head like a turban. “Your turn,” she said. “I’ve started running a fresh bath for you. I even left you some of the bubble bath.”

At this point, she loosened the towel from round her body, so she could complete drying herself off. Glancing round at me, she said, “Look, I hope you don’t mind, but if we’re going to be sharing rooms for a while, you might as well understand that I’m not bothered about being naked in front of you. It will save awkwardness if we just get that out of the way, eh?

“Besides, we’ve both got the same bits, after all,” she added, having completely removed the towel, which she was using to pat herself dry with.

I couldn’t help but stare at Gemma’s breasts. No longer camouflaged by the bath suds, and now fully out in the open, they could only be described as impressive, verging on spectacular. I’ve always liked my own boobs, their size and shape… but Gemma’s were in a different league. The size of honeydew melons, they swayed from side to side as she towelled the various parts of her body. I also couldn’t help but notice, how her nipples crinkled to hardness, in response to the cooler air in the bedroom.

I’ve never been attracted to other women sexually but had to admit that Gemma’s breasts were quite fascinating. I found myself wondering if they would feel the same as mine, or whether they’d be softer. I quickly pushed that line of thought out of my mind.

As far as I could remember, I’d only ever been seen naked in front of other females in the showers at school, so I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the prospect of prancing around with no clothes on in front of my new boss. I’m just not wired up that way. I mumbled, “Sure, OK,” mentally admitting that Gemma did have a point, but shyly, still only stripped to my bra and panties, before disappearing into the bathroom.

By the time I’d bathed and washed my hair, when I came out into the room, Gemma was already dressed in her finery, ready for the evening. Forgoing the usual ‘little black number’, she had elected to wear a short, sequinned dress in a sea green. But the most eye-catching feature of the dress, was the plunging neckline. Gemma had obviously chosen a push-up or underwired bra, because her ample breasts were almost fully on display, with an enviable cleavage, looking for all the world, like a medieval serving wench.

“Good grief, Gemma! I know you said we’ve got the same bits as each other, but… just not the same amount, by the look of things!”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m planning on getting some horizontal action later on tonight, so I thought I might as well put the goods on show,” she said, with a giggle.

“I think that sends out a pretty clear ‘fuck me’ message, to be honest with you. But if you’ve got it, flaunt it, as the saying goes…”