By Captain Dunsel
Ashley Parker walked into the foyer of the Cox Building, a trendy business loft in SoHo, just east of 6th Avenue, and stopped in front of the bank of intercoms. She took a deep breath. This was it. An honest-to-god interview at last. Her chance to break out of the tawdry world of erotic modeling and have a real career. The kind of career she planned to have when she graduated magna cum laude from Emory University with a BA in Economics.
Ashley smoothed the contours of her chic business suit. She hadn’t worn this outfit in four years, not since that summer internship with Deutsche Bank, and she had gained fifteen pounds since then, ninety percent of it in her boobs and ass. Those well-placed pounds had transformed her from lissome to voluptuous, which had definitely helped her modeling career, but the suit was now a little snug. Especially the lavender silk blouse, which was threatening to pop its buttons if she breathed too hard. But it was mostly hidden by the crop jacket. She was more worried about the miniskirt, which was also way too tight and tended to work its way up her thighs with each step she took. The last thing she wanted to do was accidentally flash some cheek or panty during her interview… or worse yet, have it look like she was doing anything like that on purpose, like she was trying to use her body to get the job. That would be mortifying… not to mention a career killer.
Well… it was too late to do anything about her outfit now, she’d just have to be careful. If she got hired, she could buy a whole new professional wardrobe that actually fit. Ashley pushed her long blonde hair away from her face and off her shoulders, took another deep “this is it” breath, and pressed the intercom button for Midtown Financial.
As she waited for a response Ashley perused the mailboxes and raised a brow, impressed. It looked like the firm occupied the entire top floor. That was actually pretty gutsy, considering rents in this neighborhood and the fact that Midtown Financial had only been incorporated two weeks earlier. Ashley had done her homework. As a matter of fact, from what she could tell it was quite possible she might be the brand-new company’s very first hire… assuming, of course, that they hired her.
A few moments later a light came on under the security camera built into the intercom, and a man’s voice spoke.
“Ms. Parker. Right on time,” the voice said. Obviously, whoever it was could see her, so Ashley smiled her best eager-but-coolly-professional smile. She had been practicing it in front of her bathroom mirror all week.
“Yes, sir. Mr. Harmon?” She was pretty sure she recognized his voice from the phone interview. David Harmon was the founder and sole proprietor of Midtown Financial and she had read up on him. This was his newest venture after having brilliantly managed a regional cable company, two high-tech electronic firms, a chain of cutting-edge hypnotherapy clinics, and a robo-brokerage outfit. The phrases “Renaissance Man” and “Steve Jobs meets Warren Buffet” appeared often in the online articles about him.
“Yup, it’s me all right,” Harmon confirmed casually. “C’mon up.” He had been quite casual and easy-going when conducting the phone interview too. Ashley supposed that was a good sign, but it made her a bit uncomfortable. One of the many reasons she wanted to escape the modelling world was that it was a little too casual. The line between her professional life and her personal life tended to become blurred. All too often, photo shoots morphed into wild parties. That sort of thing didn’t happen when you were employed in the finance sector, of that she was sure.
Not that she would know from personal experience. Despite her fancy-pants degree in Economics, other than that one summer internship she had yet to actually work in the finance sector. But that, she vowed, was about to change.
There was a buzz and the inner door to the building unlocked. Ashley entered the tiny lobby and walked to the elevator… feeling her miniskirt crawl up her thighs. She pressed the call button with one hand as she tugged the skirt back down into place with the other.
When the elevator car arrived, a businessman stepped out, his eyebrows lifting as he saw her. His head turned as they passed, his eyes following her into the elevator. Ashley sighed to herself. She was used to that sort of reaction, but it still annoyed her. Ashley knew she was a head-turner, with her innocent-pouty cheerleader’s face and her curvaceous stripper’s body. It was why over the past four years she had enjoyed plenty of success finding work as a lingerie model and absolutely none finding work as a financial analyst. The simple fact was, in the world of high finance looking like an uber-busty Playboy centerfold was not an advantage. Absolutely no one took you seriously. She ignored the businessman’s slack-jawed longing as the doors slid closed and pressed the button for the eighth floor.
Ashley scowled as the elevator lifted. The truth was, she was a very successful model. Her spread for the latest Gossamer Lingerie catalog had earned her a bunch of money and had solidified her position as one of the top intimate apparel models in New York. But she was sick and tired of depending on her good looks for her livelihood. Tired of being considered nothing but brainless eye candy by the men she worked with. Tired of being nothing but a well-paid sex object. Tired of being looked down upon, even by her female “colleagues,” because she wouldn’t sleep with every guy who ogled her tits… which, let’s face it, was every guy. She yearned to be treated with respect, to be viewed as a smart, well-educated human being first and a woman second. And this job interview was her big chance. Maybe her last chance.
The elevator chimed and let her out into the Midtown Financial foyer. The glass doors leading into the reception area, newly etched with the firm’s logo, were wide open so she walked inside. There was no one at the reception desk. There was no one anywhere. Beyond the glass walls of the reception area she could see several well-appointed offices, all with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on 6th Avenue. The place was deserted. Fully furnished and tastefully decorated but deserted.
“Hello?” she called.
A moment later David Harmon appeared from deeper in the loft, trotting down the hall toward her, a smile on his face.
“Hello, hello,” he said as he neared. Ashley couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t quite as good looking in person as he appeared to be in the photos she had seen. Not unattractive or anything, just sort of… middle-aged, slightly balding ordinary, like any guy you’d see on the street. Obviously, it was not his looks that made him one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors. Not that it made any difference to her. He could have been a hideous troll, as far as she was concerned, as long as he hired her and was a fair, supportive employer.
He reached out to shake her hand. “Welcome, Ms. Parker. Dave Harmon.”
“Yes, sir. A pleasure to meet you,” Ashley said, flashing a winning smile as they shook hands. She gave Harmon high marks for not immediately gawking at her boobs as most men did. Wonder of wonders, maybe he was genuinely more interested in her brain than her body. There was a first time for everything.
“Follow me, please,” he said, beckoning her in. He threaded his way back into the loft and Ashley had to trot to keep up with him. The man was a bundle of energy, as advertised. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m on the phone with a very important client. Well… potential client.”
“Oh,” Ashley said, not knowing what else to say. They entered an employee lounge of some sort, comfortably furnished with leather sofas and chairs. Smooth jazz music played from hidden speakers.
“There’s a pot of coffee on, Jamaican Blue Mountain,” Harmon said, pointing to a well-furnished sideboard. “Help yourself. Just give me five minutes.”
“Oh, of course, sir,” Ashley said. “Take your time.”
“Thanks. Be right with you.”
He disappeared out the door and into the bowels of the loft leaving Ashley on her own. The coffee smelled delicious, so she dropped her bag in one of the chairs and headed over to the sideboard. She poured some of the fifty-dollars-a-pound brew into a Waterford bone china cup and added a dollop of real heavy cream, grinning. This was a long way from the coffee vending machine in the basement of the Economics building at Emory.
Cup in hand, she strolled over to the windows… feeling her skirt creep up and tugging it back down with her free hand… and looked down on Sullivan Street. The coffee was amazing, rich and full-bodied, and the heavy cream almost made it taste like desert. She watched the inching traffic and listened to the muted honking for a few moments, then decided her time would be better spent going over her talking points one last time, especially the stuff about the journal article she got published while she was at Deutsche Bank. She headed over to the leather chair and sat down, placing her scrumptious coffee on the side table and pulling her phone from her bag.
Ashley scrolled through her notes, reminding herself of the key points she wanted to highlight in the interview… but before long she found herself drowsing a bit. The chair was so comfortable, and the coffee was so delicious, and the music was so pleasant the whole effect was almost… hypnotic. She blinked, nearly nodding off.
Oh dear. That wouldn’t do. Ashley drank down the remains of her coffee, hoping the caffeine would restore her alertness, then put the cup down.
She tried to concentrate on her notes, but soon found herself blinking again, fighting to stay alert. The words on her phone were swimming and double-exposed. Ashley yawned, but she wasn’t sleepy, exactly… just… sort of woozy. It actually felt lovely… warm and comfortable and inviting… but she certainly didn’t want Mr. Harmon to… to walk in and… and… find… her… find… her…
Ashley heard the voice… or voices… there may have been multiple voices, overlapping... as if from far, far away.
Ashley blinked and opened her eyes, woozy. Her vision swam for a moment, but then she recognized the handsome, sexy face of David Harmon smiling down at her.
Wait. He wasn’t handsome and sexy. Was he? No. No, he was quite ordinary looking. He wasn’t ugly or anything, but… why had she thought he was handsome and sexy? Wait. Had she been dreaming about a handsome, sexy version of David Harmon? It seemed like maybe she had been… sort of… for some reason. Weird. But mostly, why was she thinking about this at all, why did it even matter what the guy looked like? So what if he was handsomer and sexier than she had first thought? Except… he wasn’t. Was he? No. Well, maybe, but… no, not really.
“I guess you nodded off, hm?” Mr. Harmon asked. Ashley blinked, forcing herself to come fully awake and alert and stop thinking about how handsome and sexy the man was… or wasn’t. Those sorts of thoughts were completely… what did they call it? Unprofessional. Or, like… inappropriate. One or the other. No matter how handsome and sexy he was. Or wasn’t.
Ashley suddenly realized that she was slumped in the chair, all but falling out of it in fact, her miniskirt twisted up practically to her waist. Oh God, how embarrassing! She hoisted herself back upright into the chair and tugged her skirt back down, trying to hide her mortification with a smile.
“I’m… so sorry, Mr. Harmon,” she said. “I don’t know what happened.”
“I left you alone too long, that’s what happened,” he said. “It’s entirely my fault.”
Ashley glanced at the phone in her hand. It had shut off automatically, which meant that at least ten minutes had passed. She jiggled the phone to show the time. 11:36. Holy macaroni, more than a half hour had passed! Had she been sleeping this whole time?
“Oh, no, it’s my fault,” Ashley insisted, blinking and trying to clear her head. Her thinking was muddled, and she was having trouble following a chain of… whatchamacallit… thought. For some reason. Weird. “I was up late last night preparing for this interview and I must have, like… y’know… dozed off. I’m so sorry, sir.”
“Don’t apologize for being prepared,” he reassured her, which was very sweet of him. He might not be all that handsome and sexy, but he was very sweet. Ashley felt an unexpected surge of affection for the guy. “I shouldn’t have ignored you for so long, but I was really hoping to hook that fish.”
Ashley giggled. Hook that fish. What a clever metaphor. He was very clever. No wonder he was one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors. Clever and funny in addition to being handsome and sexy. No, wait. The jury was still out on that one. But he was definitely clever and funny.
“Did you hook him, sir?” she asked, grinning, playing along.
“Not yet,” he said, grinning back, “but I still have some more bait to dangle.”
Ashley laughed again in appreciation of his sharp wit. It would be nice to work for a man who was this intelligent and clever and sexy.
“Bait. Right. As if he were a fish. I get it.”
Then her smile faded a bit as she considered. Wait. That wasn’t really all that witty, was it? It was just an ordinary metaphor, wasn’t it? Or was it a simile? Or an idiom. Or, like… a joke. Or something like that. Ashley was really having trouble focusing her thoughts. Did it even matter? Well… sure… it mattered because she shouldn’t be sitting here giggling like a schoolgirl if he was just using an ordinary… whatchamacallit… joke, or whatever… and not actually being witty. God. Why was it so hard to, like… think and stuff?
“Well… shall we begin the interview?” he said, sitting down across from her.
“Certainly, sir,” she replied, wishing she hadn’t stayed up so late preparing. Maybe if she had gotten a good night’s sleep, she wouldn’t feel so… slow. Sluggish. Stupid. No, not stupid. She just wasn’t firing on all… whatchamahoozie… calendars. Was that right? Whatever. She’d just have to stay on top of things and answer his questions with her usual… whatever.
Ashley shifted in her chair, suddenly wishing she had worn something a little more… flirty. Something that showed off her body more than her brain… considering that her brain wasn’t firing on all colanders. Something sexier than the humdrum suit she was wearing. She was feeling sorta sexy for some reason and she wanted to look sexy too.
After all, a girl should use every asset at her disposal. That was just, like, a smart business tactic. Or… what was that other word? Strategy. That was it. Absolutely. It was a smart business… thingamabob… to distract the guy with your bod. If four years as a lingerie model had taught her nothing else, it had taught her that. Guys were totally distractible.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, crossing her legs to show them off. Which was smart. She should have worn a shorter miniskirt. Or better yet, a bikini. Or better yet, nothing at all. She bit her lower lip and smiled, stifling a giggle at her own naughtiness.
“Well, let’s see,” Mr. Harmon said, referencing his phone. “Bachelor’s degree in Economics from Emery. Magna cum laude, top five percent of your class. Very impressive.”
“Thanks, babe,” Ashley said cheerfully, “I worked, like… really hard at Emerson. Emery.” Some part of her brain was chiding her for being too bubbly and familiar, for not being coolly detached and professional, but that was silly. Men like David Harmon liked girls who were vivacious and cheerful and friendly. If four years as a sexy model had taught her nothing else, it had taught her that. That, and the thing about showing off your bod.
“However… I note that in the three years since graduating you haven’t held a single position in the finance sector,” he continued. “Mostly modelling work.”
Ashley’s smile faltered a bit. This was the part of the interview she had been dreading. How was she going to explain this? It wasn’t like she could tell him the truth, that she was so beautiful and sexy and had such big tits that no one in the financial world would take her seriously. That would sound desperate and… what do you call it… defensive. Not to mention conceited. Even if it was true. She had amazing tits and a killer bod. Everyone said so.
And then Ashley had a brilliant idea. She couldn’t tell him that she was too hot to be hired by a respectable financial firm, but maybe she could show him. Let him figure it out for himself. And if nothing else, it might distract him from asking awkward questions.
“Well, sir, there’s a simple explanation,” she began. “You see, I’ve been… umm… do you mind if I remove my jacket? It’s rather warm in here.”
“Oh. No, not at all,” Mr. Harmon said with a little wave, “make yourself comfortable.”
Ashley took her time removing her jacket, using her modelling skills to turn it into a sexy little performance, practically a striptease, making sure to thrust her impressive chest out as she slid the sleeves down her arms. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed showing off her body to an appreciative male. That was one thing she would miss about the modelling profession. She was pleased to note that she had Mr. Harmon’s full attention. Or rather, her tits did. Smiling, she folded the jacket over the arm of her chair and turned back to him.
Ashley vaguely remembered being worried that her blouse might be a little too snug and a little too see-through, but of course that had been silly. She was glad she had worn this blouse. The ghosts of her cleavage and her lace brassiere were clearly visible through the taut fabric, and the buttons were so tight they looked like they might pop open any second. They wouldn’t, of course. That would definitely be unprepared. No. Un… professional. Right. Whatever. Ashley crossed her legs again and sat back proudly, her amazing rack on full display.
Mr. Harmon was an astoundingly disciplined man. Most men would have been staring, if not drooling. He barely gave her boobs a glance, his confident smile never wavering. Still, he had definitely glanced. He had noticed them. She had succeeded.
“I wanted to experience the, umm… the economy… from the point of view of… like… an ordinary working girl,” she continued, proud of how skillfully she was making this stuff up, “before I became a… whatchamacallit… a financial… uhh…”
“Analyst?” Mr. Harmon asked with a smile and a tilt of his handsome head.
“Exactly!” Ashley replied, pointing, pleased that she had so skillfully bullshitted the guy. She had him wrapped around her pinky finger.
“Well, I’m afraid that plan was doomed to failure,” he said, still smiling.
“It was?” she asked, a little worried that maybe he had seen through her.
“Certainly… because you are anything but an ordinary girl, Ms. Parker,” Mr. Harmon said.
Ashley couldn’t help but giggle with delight. Oh yes… he had noticed her boobs. Her clever gambit had worked. He had seen for himself that she was too beautiful and sexy to be a financial analyst, which explained why she had been employed as an uber-sexy model. Crisis averted.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, batting her eyes coyly. Mr. Harmon looked down at his phone again.
“So… you did an internship with Deutsche Bank … and while you were there you got an article published in ‘The Journal of Labor Economics’, hmm? Very impressive.”
Ashley giggled again. He was complimenting her. She would have preferred to have him compliment her killer bod, or her pretty face, but heck, she’d take what she could get. She loved being admired by handsome men. It was the best feeling.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
Ashley blinked uncertainly. “About the article?”
“Yes.” He read the title from his phone. “‘The Development of the Neoclassical Tradition in Institutionalist Economic Theory’. Just give me a summary.”
Ashley’s brow furrowed. This wasn’t a surprise. She had expected he would ask her about the journal article. In fact, she remembered hoping that he would, rereading her work last night in preparation.
But now, for some reason, it had all gone out of her head. No… no, it was still there in her head… but she was darned if she could make sense of it. There was all kinds of stuff about… ohhh… the difference between institutionalists and neoinstitutionalists… whatever that meant. It all seemed so silly and confusing and boring now. She panicked for a moment, not sure what to say… but then she remembered how easy it was to distract men. Even astoundingly disciplined and handsome men like David Harmon.
“Well… y’know…” she said as she casually unbuttoned her blouse a few buttons and fanned her chest with the silk fabric, pretending to be warm, “it’s all about, like… institutions and… economics and stuff.” She leaned forward, folding her arms across her knees, knowing that Mr. Harmon would have an unobstructed view of her big tits, which were practically bulging right out of her skintight blouse. “It really is rather warm in here, don’t you think?”
“It certainly is,” he said, smiling as they shared the sexy double entendre. “As a matter of fact—”
An alarm buzzed on his phone and Mr. Harmon muted it.
“Ope… I need to call my fish back, see if he’s taken the bait,” he said, standing.
Ashley giggled at his funny joke and stood up as well, pleased that her boobs jiggled a bit as she did so, and even more pleased that Mr. Harmon noticed them jiggling.
“Oooh, well then you’d better go reel him in,” she said, joining in the clever repartee. Just being with this man made her feel smarter, even though she was feeling like a bit of an airhead today. “You go ahead, hon, I’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Ms. Parker. You have another cup of coffee.”
“Okey-doke,” Ashley said, trying not to leer at his crotch. The bulge there was very intriguing. She was startled out of her erotic reverie as Mr. Harmon stepped closer to her and put his arms on her shoulders, squeezing with his hands. That gave Ashley a very pleasant tingle through her whole body. She was definitely feeling very sexy today.
“Say,” he suggested, “how about you give me a little kiss to send me on my way, hmm?”
Ashley blinked, hesitating for a moment. Some distant part of her brain was trying to tell her that it was… what did you call it… inappropriate… for Mr. Harmon to ask her for a kiss. And that it would be… whatever… wrong… for her to kiss her perspective boss on the first date… or rather… interview, not date. But in the end, she decided that distant part of her brain was being a silly old stick in the mud. After all, it wasn’t like he was… what was the word... harassing her. Not at all. He had asked, very politely, for a kiss. Nothing wrong with that. As a matter of fact, she thought it was very sweet. And a little sexy. Nothing wrong with being a little sexy on the first date. Interview. Whatever.
Ashley giggled with girlish delight, leaned up and in, and kissed him on the lips. It was nothing sexual, of course, no tongue or anything, not the kind of kiss she wanted to give him, just a little professional smack. Perfectly appropriate office behavior for a financial firm. She pulled back away, smiling. Then she saw the smear of lipstick on Mr. Harmon’s lips and giggled again.
“Here,” she said, reaching up and wiping it away with her thumb. Then she playfully thumped his nose with her finger. “There. Go make your call, sugar plum.”
Mr. Harmon was smiling down at her and it was all Ashley could do not to kiss him again… and this time use a little tongue. She was just about to do that very thing when he let go of her shoulders with a little squeeze, turned, and headed off.
“Be back in a jiff,” he said, waving to her as he exited the lounge. Ashley watched his ass as he walked away. Oh yeah. The jury was back in and had delivered a verdict. David Harmon was both handsome and sexy. It was weird that she hadn’t seen that before. As a matter of fact, he was just about the most fuckable guy she had met in a long, long time.
She giggled merrily, delighted with how the interview was going. She was obviously making a positive impression, or he wouldn’t have asked for a kiss. And she had successfully distracted him from all those silly questions about economics and stuff. Ashley glanced down and undid another straining button on her blouse while she had the chance. Might as well show him the merchandise, show him what he had to look forward to if he hired her. When he hired her. The job was practically hers.
She walked over to the sideboard… pleased that her skirt was riding up her thighs and letting her cheeks peek out… and poured herself another cup of coffee. Sipping from her cup, she sauntered contentedly over to the window, practicing the swivel-hips walk she knew men loved. She briefly considered going over her notes again but decided there was no need. Not as long as she could dazzle the man with her tits. And she so could. She raised her cup in a little toast.
“Here’s to looking like an uber-busty Playboy centerfold!” she said aloud, giggled, and took a long drink of the delicious brew.
For a while she was content to just stand there looking out the window, swaying ever so slightly to the smooth jazz music coming from hidden speakers, sipping coffee. The music was just amazing, even if the recording was a little distorted. Almost like there were voices mixed in. Almost like it was speaking to her. She’d have to remember to compliment Mr. Harmon on his musical taste… and suggest getting a better sound system.
The coffee was out of this world yummy and Ashley found herself gulping it down much faster than she usually did. After a few minutes of watching the traffic down below and enjoying the Jamaican Blue Mountain, the cup was empty.
Ashley decided the coffee must be decaf because she could feel it going to work on her, slowing down her thoughts and making her feel warm and content and even a little, like… stoned. Really great coffee. It felt very nice. Very sexy. If Mr. Harmon were here with her right now, man oh man, she wouldn’t hesitate, she would shove her tongue down his throat and tear off his clothes and…
Ashley leaned against the windowsill and let her hand discreetly travel downward and snake in between her thighs.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” she groaned as her fingers brushed against the moist mound. Ashley giggled. She hadn’t realized how horny she was.
“Ohhhhhhhhh!” Amazingly horny. So horny that even just lightly touching herself was… was bringing… was bringer her… to… to… to…
“Nnnnneeeeeeeee!” Ashley squeaked as she orgasmed, shivering enough that she almost dropped her empty cup. She sighed and sat back against the windowsill.
“Ohhhhhh. Oh my god.” She giggled. “Oh Ashley, you are bad.”
God, what if Mr. Harmon had walked in while she was happily masturbating in his employee lounge? Well… he would’ve gotten one hell of show. And she doubted very much he would’ve complained. He was a real man.
Ashley giggled and pushed herself off the sill, heading back to the sideboard. She was weaving and stumbled a bit from all the decaf, but easily caught herself on the back of the leather sofa. She poured herself another cup. For some reason her hands were a little clumsy and she accidentally sloshed some coffee on the sideboard as she poured, but easily mopped it up with a napkin. Most of it, anyway. She’d clean up the rest later, after she finished the interview. It would be her first responsibility as a new employee.
Cup in hand, she made her way back over to the sofa, weaving a crooked path and knocking over a lamp which fell on the floor and broke. Oops. She giggled, making a mental note to clean that up later, after she fucked the boss. She plopped down clumsily on the sofa and drank deeply from her cup. In a matter of moments, it was once again empty. Her head was spinning, and the cup slipped from her hand, but she hardly noticed as it fell to the carpet. She was too busy watching the pretty lights changing colors.
Ashley blinked, grinning stupidly, her head lolling back against the sofa cushion. She considered getting up and pouring herself a fourth cup, because it was so delicious, but that would be a lot of trouble and she was… feeling… drowsy… again…
Ashley heard the voice… or voices… there may have been multiple voices, overlapping... as if from far, far away.
Ashley blinked and opened her eyes, woozy. Her vision swam for a moment, but then she recognized the handsome, sexy faces of David Harmon smiling down at her. Two of them, overlapping slightly. And not entirely in focus.
“Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, Misssster Harmon,” she drawled lazily, a happy grin on her face. She leaned on her elbow and tried to sit up on the sofa… but she only managed to slide off it and onto the floor.
“Ummf!” she grunted. Apparently, she was too relaxed from all that decaf to sit up straight on the sofa. This was amazingly funny, so she started laughing. She laughed for quite some time, because it was amazingly funny.
“How we doing there?” Mr. Harmon asked. Ashley grinned up at him.
“You may inform the media that we are doing great!” she proclaimed with a little flourish of her hand, and then she giggled at her own wit. Ashley knew she was an airhead dum-dum but being around Mr. Harmon made her feel witty.
“I’ll do that,” her smiling boss-to-be said. “Here… let’s get you on your feet.”
“Correct,” Ashley agreed as her handsome wanna-be boss reached down and wrapped his manly, muscular arms around her waist and hoisted her up, “because… it is not… would not be… professional of me… for me to conduct an interview sitting fat on my flat ass.”
“I guess not, “Mr. Harmon agreed, “even though it is a lovely fat ass.”
“Ohhh, you are so sweet,” Ashley sighed, grinning. He was so sweet. And so freaking hot! No wonder she wanted to have sex with him. She wasn’t sure why, but she was convinced he had a huge cock. She just knew it, like a fact she had learned in college or something. Someone had told her that. Over and over again. She was sure of it. David Harmon has a huge cock. Just thinking about it was getting her soooo hot.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled herself closer, and kissed him full on the mouth. No tongue, not yet… she wasn’t one to rush things, even when she was feeling incredibly horny and was eager to fuck any man who wanted to fuck her… but not just a peck this time. The kiss was wet and a little sloppy and it lasted a while. She wanted to make it clear to this gorgeous man that if he wanted her, she was his. Their lips made a little smacking sound as they parted company. “That… is just a little kiss hello.”
“I see,” Mr. Harmon said, smiling. “Sort of a welcome back.”
“Exactly. Welcome back,” Ashley said, and she kissed him again just because she wanted to. Their lips made the same little smacking sound. “You will have to forgive me. I don’t usually kiss men on the first… interview, but… I just wanted to.”
“Understood,” he said, backing away a step or two but still holding her… which was good because she didn’t think she was entirely able to stand on her own two feet at present, given her present state of decaffeination at present. Mr. Harmon glanced down at her mostly open blouse and the bared cleavage within. “I see you’ve made yourself a little more comfortable.”
Ashley giggled. “Nnnnnnnnn… well… see… I wanted you to take notice of my big tits… because they are not on my… what do you call it… resume.”
“Mmmm… you are an exceptionally beautiful young woman,” Mr. Harmon said. Ashley’s grin widened by fifty percent. He thought she was beautiful. Here he was, the handsomest, sexiest, smartest, hottest, most eligible man in New York City and he thought she was beautiful. Not just beautiful, exceptionally beautiful. This was the best day of her life.
“Thank you, sir,” she said gratefully, wondering if now was the right moment to confess that she wanted to sleep with him. No. Soon, but not yet.
“As a matter of fact,” he continued, “let’s sit down and talk about that, shall we?”
“Excellent idea, sir,” she told him as he helped her sit back down on the sofa. She noticed her empty cup sitting on the table and suddenly craved another hit of the decaffeinated coffee. It was soooo delicious. “May I have some more coffee, honey bun?”
Mr. Harmon sat down beside her, then held her waist to keep her from sliding off the sofa again.
“Not right now,” he said. “I need you semi-coherent.”
“Right,” she agreed, holding up a finger, her half-lidded eyes crossed. “I need to be somewhat complacent… co… whatever.” The she stared at her finger, puzzled by the fact that there were three of them overlapping. She giggled.
“Miss Parker, are you listening?”
She dropped her hand and swayed toward him.
“Oh yes, sir! Absolutely!” she assured him. “I am listening with all my might.”
“Okay, so, it’s about time I told you what this job is all about,” Mr. Harmon said, placing a hand on her thigh… which made her smile and bite her lower lip. “Y’know, what your duties will be.”
“Yes, sir,” Ashley answered, her smile wavering a bit. She was worried he was gonna ask her to do some… whatchamacallit… financial analysis or something hard like that. All she wanted to do was show off her bod and have hot sex with handsome men, just like in the job description.
Wait. Was that what was in the job depiction? She couldn’t remember. Well… it should have been.
“Well, if things go as planned,” Mr. Harmon was explaining, “we’re gonna have some high rolling clients passing through here, almost all of them men.”
“Yes, sir?” she asked, a bit more hopeful. She licked her lips at the idea of lots of handsome men staring at her tits. Excellent.
“Your job… and the job of the other girls we’re gonna hire… will be to entertain them.”
She blinked, a little confused, but smiling now.
“Entertain them, sir?” she asked. “You mean, like… sing them songs and tell them jokes and stuff?”
“No… no, not exactly,” Mr. Harmon chuckled. “I mean flirting with them. Batting your eyes and laughing at their jokes and letting them look down your blouse or up your skirt.”
Ashley blinked. Were those the duties that had been described in the job… thing? Description. Somehow, she had a vague sense that she had been expecting something… else. That her duties would involve, like… money and numbers and… whatchamacallit… financial stuff. But god… that would be no fun at all. Flirting with rich, handsome, powerful men would be soooooo much better, and right up her alley too. She grinned.
“Oh! I can definitely do that, sir!” she said enthusiastically. “I’d love doing that!” And she knew it was true. She would enjoy being eye candy for a bunch of horny guys. She was good at that.
“Well, great, but there’s more,” Mr. Harmon said, leaning in. “When I tell you to… and only when I tell you to… you’ll need to have sex with them.”
Ashley didn’t even blink at that. She had, in fact, been hoping he would say that. Not only because it would be tons of fun to be a bimbo sex toy for all kinds of rich, handsome, powerful men, but because it was a brilliant business… thing. Stratosphere. Or whatever. It was perfect. What better way to build up customer loyalty and have a loyal bunch of… of clients and business… customers… than by letting them ogle a sexy girl with huge tits and then fuck her silly. It made perfect sense. And she would finally be making use of her college degree from… wherever it was she went to college. Emma… something.
“That’s brilliant!” she chirped, eyes flashing. “Cuz believe me, Mr. Harmon, once they have had sex with me, they will be loyal client customers forever.”
“That’s what I’m counting on. But remember… only when I say it’s okay, right?”
“Oh, sure! I understand. I should only have sex with them when you specifically tell me to. Got it,” she said, nodding. “I can control myself, Mr. Harmon, honest.”
“Heck, at my last job everybody wanted to have sex with me, but I only had sex with a few of them.”
“Well… most of them, actually,” Ashley admitted with a wry grin, remembering a lot of late night ‘photo shoots’ after a few drinks or some of those pills the guys always had. She vaguely recalled being ashamed of those sessions and trying to put them out of her mind, trying to pretend they never even happened. Weird. They had been a lot of fun… as far as she could remember, anyway. “But not all at the same time, of course. One at a time. Mostly.”
“Of course. Good. That’s good. But look… it’s not going to be as simple as just having sex with them,” Mr. Harmon continued. “If I just wanted to hire an office prostitute, I wouldn’t need a girl with your unique qualifications.”
“That’s right!” Ashley agreed. “I won’t be just the office prostitute.” She nodded wisely. Absolutely not. She would be so much more. She would be the office bimbo sex kitten who seduces all the high rollers and wraps them around her pinky finger. And then of course, has hot sex with them. Lots and lots of hot, hot sex. She squirmed in her seat, smiling.
“Correct. So… first, before you even meet them, you’re gonna have to do research on them,” he explained.
“Research?” Ashley blinked. She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. It sounded hard.
“That’s right. First, you’re gonna use that magna cum laude degree in Economics to help me choose which marks… that is… which potential clients to cultivate.”
Ashley blinked at him, worried now.
“I will?” she asked. He sensed her uneasiness and smiled, squeezing her hands.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The conditioning has made you stupid for the moment, but I can adjust that on an as-needed basis.”
Ashley blinked again, trying to understand.
“It made me… stupid?”
“Uh-huh. Between the two sessions, the conditioning lowered your virtual IQ by about twenty-five points,” Mr. Harmon told her. She blinked earnestly, trying to follow. “And of course, the conditioning also heightened your libido and removed those silly inhibitions you had about showing off your body and fucking complete strangers.”
Ashley had given up trying to understand what the heck he was talking about. Something about how the air conditioning was making her horny or something. It was good air conditioning, all right, because she was definitely feeling horny. She hoped Mr. Harmon would want to fuck her as part of the interview, to make sure she was a good lay. She wanted to prove to him that she was. She really, really wanted to prove to him that she was.
“Anyway…” he was saying. Ashley redoubled her attempts to pay attention. But it wasn’t easy when all she could think about was his huge cock. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if she gave him a blow job while he was explaining her duties. “…I’ll adjust your IQ up and down as needed. And then, once we’ve chosen a guy, you’re gonna need to know everything about him. His wants and needs and desires and hopes and dreams and fantasies and kinks and… everything.”
“Fantasies and kinks,” Ashley repeated, smiling. She loved fantasies and kinks. She loved the way the lounge was spinning around her in lazy circles and she couldn’t keep a thought in her pretty little head. It was kinda like when the guys gave her those pills they always had, except better.
“Right. And then, using that information, you’re gonna turn yourself into that guy’s dream girl, his ultimate fantasy. I don’t want him to just fuck you, I want him to fall hopelessly in love with you. I want him to become addicted to you.”
Ashley giggled with delight. That, she understood.
“And that’s the way we’ll hook the fish,” she said, grinning wickedly. It was brilliant.
“Exactly,” Mr. Harmon said, smiling. Ashley clapped her hands together with delight.
“Oh my god! I am perfect for this job, Mr. Harmon!” she gurgled. She really was. It was like her whole life had prepared her for this.
“Well, I think perhaps you are, Ashley,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I’m sure of it.”
“You are?” she asked, hopeful. Did this mean he was going to fuck her… or rather… offer her the job? And then fuck her?
“Yes I am. Ms. Parker, I’d like to offer you the position,” he said.
Ashley squealed with joy. She hadn’t squealed since she was a little girl, but this, after all, was the best news she had ever received in her whole life.
“Oh my god!” she cried, clasping her hands, “Oh my god oh my god oh my god! Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!”
Ashley couldn’t help herself. She threw herself onto Mr. Harmon, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Hard. Lots of tongue this time, squashing her tits against him hard. She wanted him to know exactly how grateful she was.
“Mmmmnnn…nnnnmmm…” she moaned, wriggling her body against him, sure that he was finally gonna fuck her like she had always dreamed he would, her whole life long.
But David Harmon was an astoundingly disciplined man. Most men would have torn her clothes off and fucked her within an inch of her life right then and there… but not him. He let her kiss him, and clearly enjoyed it, but when she broke the kiss to come up for air, he gently pushed her away.
“You’re very welcome,” he said, grinning. He was such a sweet man. He didn’t try and make her feel embarrassed because she had thrown herself at him like a promiscuous slut. It was no wonder she had a crush on him. How could any girl not have a crush on him? As a matter of fact… she might as well face facts… she was in love with him. No use denying it. Head over heels in love.
She had to be careful not to let him know, of course. That could ruin everything. First things first. First convince him he had made the right decision in hiring her, then worry about trying to seduce him. Or better still, letting him seduce her. That would be better. He was the man, after all. The man with the huge cock. She squeezed her thighs together and sat back on the sofa, favoring her new boss and soon to be lover with an adoring smile.
“Well,” he said, “why don’t I show you around the place, huh?”
Mr. Harmon helped her to her feet and wrapped one arm around her waist. Which was great, both because it sent lovely tingles down to her… whatchamahootie… honey pot, and because she needed the support. Her legs were very unsteady for some reason and the room was spinning around and around. But that’s what it’s like when you’re in love, Ashley thought, grinning up at her new boss and holding tight.
He led her through the loft, helping her stumble-walk, wandering from room to room. He pointed out various boring things like the copier room and which computer applications they had and how the virtual filing system would work. Ashley only understood about ten percent of it, but she perked up when they arrived at what would be her new office. Her first office, ever.
She broke away from her handsome boss and unsteadily explored the room, pressing up against the floor-to-ceiling window and spinning on the swivel chair and fake typing on the keyboard and giggling with delight. Her very own office! Just like professional financial… people… had! She was so glad to have left the tawdry world of lingerie modeling behind her, even though it had been lots of fun and really hot. But her new job was going to be even more fun and, like, a zillion, billion times hotter. And she got her own office!
“You like it, hm?” Mr. Harmon asked, smiling fondly. Ashley felt a surge of affection for him.
“I love it!” she squeaked happily, then she pointed. “The first thing I’m gonna do is paint the walls pink.”
“Well,” he said, walking to another door and gripping the handle, “maybe we’ll save the pink for your private bedroom.” He swung the door open like a game show hostess revealing the grand prize.
Ashley squealed with delight and jumped to her feet. She staggered across the room to the doorway and peered inside.
“Oh my god!” she cried, hands to her mouth. Her own private adorable private little bedroom! “Oh my god, it is so cute!” She turned to her perfect, adorable boss. Ashley very much wanted to put on her pouty sultry sexy face and suggest that he help her christen the bed, right now… but she knew that would be inappropriate. It was her first day on the job, after all. It would be foolish to expect the boss to fuck every newbie who joined the firm on her first day, no matter how head-over-heels in love she was with him. But she promised herself that soon, very soon, she would lure her dream man into this beautiful bedroom and show him how much she loved him.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, smiling that smile that made her want him even more. “And you should feel free to make it your own, decorate it however you like.”
“Pink pink pink!” Ashley squeaked, pointing at the walls and the carpeting and the bed. “Oh, and maybe I can get, like, a thing… a… canopy bed! With lots of lace!”
“Whatever you want,” Mr. Harmon said, squeezing her waist. Ashley suddenly had a brainstorm and turned to him, her eyebrows shooting up.
“Oh! Oh! Mr. Harmon, I just had an amazing idea!” she said excitedly, squeezing his arms. “I can use this bedroom when I have sex with our… whatchamacallit… clients!”
Ashley could tell from the look on his face that he was very impressed. “You know, Ms. Parker,” he said, “I hadn’t thought of that, but that’s a brilliant idea.” Ashley giggled with delight, both at his praise and at the idea of having sex with lots of handsome men on her canopy bed. And even if they weren’t all handsome, that would be okay, they would still be men and she loved having sex with men. She turned back to her office… her office… and gestured.
“Yeah, like, I can seduce them in my office,” she strategized. “Y’know, lean over too far and sit on their laps and laugh at their dumb jokes.” She looked to her boss, seeking his advice. “Maybe even let them feel up my big boobs, whaddaya think?”
“Well you can play that by ear,” he said.
“Yeah,” Ashley agreed, enjoying this professional collaboration. This is what she had been missing in the modeling business. “Anyway, once it’s time to, you know…”
“Seal the deal?” Mr. Harmon suggested. Ashley laughed hard, burying her face in his chest for a few moments.
“Exactly!” she agreed, eyes bright. “When it’s time to… seal the deal…” She giggled. God, her boss was so clever. No wonder she was in love with him. “…the bedroom will be, like… right there, ready and waiting.”
“You are so right,” he said, his handsome face full of admiration for her business acu… acu… puncture? No. Acu…? Well, whatever. His look filled Ashley with pride, and not just because she knew he lusted after her pretty face and amazing bod. This was a kind of pride she never felt in the tawdry lingerie business, not matter how much fun it was showing off her amazing bod and having sex when they got her wasted. “I knew you were the right girl for this job.”
“Hey! Maybe I should wear some sexy lingerie!” she suggested, having another brainstorm. “That would really show off my amazing bod.” Ashley knew that sounded a little stuck up, but she knew you couldn’t get ahead in the financial world hiding your light under your bush. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling a little tingle in her bush, and giggled.
“Well… we can work out those sorts of details later, when you’re feeling a little smarter,” Mr. Harmon said. Ashley nodded, understanding.
“Ohhhh, cuz of the air conditioning,” she said. “It has made me feel pretty ditzy, I have to… y’know… admit.”
“Yes, but you’re so adorable when you’re ditzy, Ms. Parker,” Mr. Harmon said, then he leaned down and kissed her nose. Ashley giggled. “Besides, you were smart enough to have that brilliant idea about this bedroom.”
“That’s right!” Ashley agreed proudly. “So I’m not a total airhead with big tits and no brains and just, like… big tits.”
“Absolutely. And speaking of bedrooms,” her boss said, leading her away, “I have a special surprise to show you.”
“A surprise?” Ashley asked, happy to let him support her as she stumbled out of her very own office. She loved surprises. They were always so… surprising. “What is it? What is it?”
Mr. Harmon led her down a hallway the dead ended at a special door made of shiny steel and with a pushbutton combination lock. He entered the combination, the pad booping.
“Beep boop boop,” Ashley playfully imitated it, giggling. She wasn’t as clever as her clever boss, but she was pretty darned clever.
The big steel door slid open with a low hum and Mr. Harmon led her inside.
“Oh. My. God,” Ashley gasped as the lights came on automatically. It was the most beautiful room she had ever seen ever. Like something out of that cute movie with the hunky prince named Aladdin… she couldn’t remember the name of the movie, but it was like something from that. It was a huge room. The walls were covered in some kind of colorful satiny fabric and there was thick, fuzzy carpeting and fancy, like… like pillar things that were all fancy, and all sorts of, like… décor. Décor everywhere.
But mostly she noticed the beds. There was other furniture… vanities and armoires and big, comfortable chairs… but mostly it was the beds she noticed. There were eight of them, arranged around the room in a circle. Each bed was different, and each bed was gorgeous, like something a princess would sleep on. Or better yet, like something a princess would have amazing romantic sex on… with a hunky prince named Aladdin. Or David Harmon. It was like… like… every horny schoolgirl’s dream come true.
“Do you like it?” Mr. Harmon asked, leading her inside and letting her go. Ashley spun around, taking it all in, feeling the luxurious fabrics, touching the fancy pillars. There were doors leading off to huge, extravagant baths with clawfoot soaking tubs and doors leading off to huge, extravagant closets with room for all the clothes any girl could ever want. Ashley was almost overwhelmed by the overwhelming… overwhelmingness of it all. It was so beautiful… so romantic… so sexy… so… perfect!
“I love it!” she squealed. Then she turned to him. “What is it?”
“Well it’s your new home, silly,” her boss explained. “You and the other girls you’ll help me hire. These will be your quarters.”
Ashley put her hands to her mouth and squeaked. She was going to get to live here? In this… this… this dream palace from a dream? It was like a dream come true. Or like... something from, like… a dream.
“It’s like… like… like a whatchamacallit,” Ashley said, struggling to remember the Aladdin word. Then she had it. She grinned happily, her eyes alight. “A harem!”
Mr. Harmon chuckled, nodding. “So it is, Ms. Parker. So it is.” He grinned, amused by the idea. “Harmon’s Harem.”
Ashley giggled. He was so clever. She walked, still stumbling a bit, to her wonderful, handsome clever, generous, sweet, dreamy boss, her arms outstretched. Ashley wanted to tell him how much she loved him, not just as a boss but as a man, and how grateful she was that he had hired her and given her this wonderful new life, and how much she wanted him to throw her on one of these dream beds and fuck her until she screamed at the ornate ceiling… but she was at a loss for words. All she could do was throw her arms around him and kiss him with all the love and passion and lust and… like… lust she could show him. Which was, like… a lot.
They stood there in the dream harem making out for a while and Ashley was in heaven. She had hoped today would be a good day, maybe even the start of a whole new life, but she had had no idea! It was like she was a whole new person. A whole new sexy, lusty, ditzy, romantic, dreamy, happy happy happy person.
Mr. Harmon broke their kiss and smiled down at her. They were both flushed and breathing hard.
“All right, Ms. Parker,” he said, “you’ve convinced me. I was going to wait a few days, but not anymore. It’s time.”
Ashley blinked, not understanding but too happy to care. “It is?” she asked.
“Mm-hmm,” her gorgeous, wonderful boss replied. “Now listen very, very carefully.”
Ashley opened her eyes wide and listened very, very carefully, as Mr. Harmon spoke.
“Bimbo tigress,” he said.
She didn’t know who she was. She couldn’t remember her name. Or where she had come from. Or where she was. Or anything, really. But she didn’t care. None of that mattered.
She knew what was important.
She knew what she was.
She was a bimbo tigress fuck toy, a voluptuous, sexy girl whose sole purpose in life was to give pleasure to her man by aggressively seducing him and encouraging him to fuck her beautiful body as hard and as long as he desired. She was her man’s mindless, lust-crazed sex slave and that made her so happy happy happy! But it was also a serious responsibility. She had a job to do, whoever she was, and she was fiercely determined to do it and do it well.
She threw herself at her man… she couldn’t recall his name, but that didn’t matter… aggressively kissing and hugging and rubbing and grasping and practically tearing his clothes from his gorgeous, sexy body.
“Whoah whoah whoah, slow down,” her man said, but she ignored him, of course. She knew what her duty was, what her purpose was, so she pressed the attack, using all of her skill and talent and experience and female intuition to drive him insane with lust. She knew she had to make it clear to him that he was her man and that she was going to have him, consume him, devour him because she simply could not resist him. He was everything she wanted, the only thing she wanted, and she worked with wild-eyed eagerness to make sure he knew that.
She would have been happy to simply let him throw her onto the fuzzy carpet and fuck her brains out… not that she had or needed much in the way of brains… but she knew that would not be responsible. She had a job to do. She had to attack him so lasciviously, with such raw, animal passion, that he had no doubt that she wanted him, needed him, lusted for him.
And that was exactly what she did.
Ashley Parker closed the Excel file and sat back in her executive swivel chair. She still had to verify his overseas debt-to-income ratio, but she was pretty much convinced that Mr. Roger J. Schlotterbeck was ripe for the picking. The guy was wealthy, of course, with nearly six million he was eager to invest. But just as important: he was recently divorced from his frumpy wife. The poor sap had probably never fucked a really beautiful woman in his entire life. Ashely tapped her lips, considering. Judging by the prostitutes Schlotterbeck hired… yes… Tania would be the best choice. A little exotic but not too exotic. Ashley smiled. Yes, Tania would have the man eating out of the palm of her hand.
The door to Ashley’s office opened and Sherry poked her head in.
“Ms. Parker?” she asked. Ashley sometimes found Sherry’s squeaky little girl voice annoying, but it drove her carefully vetted clients wild.
“Sherry,” Ashley asked, he eyebrows arching, “don’t you have a ten o’clock meeting with Mr. Weinberg about his penny stock portfolio?”
“Uh-huh,” Sherry confirmed, “but I can’t remember, am I supposed to get him to buy more of them or just… what do you call it… diversify… the stuff he already has?”
Ashley sighed and brought up the conditioning schedule on her computer, looking to see what Sherry’s virtual IQ was supposed to be this morning. There it was. Minus thirty from her baseline. Ashley twisted her lips. It was possible that was overkill. Sherry wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack even when she was unconditioned. Hell, her B.A. in Economics was from some third-tier college in Alabama. Ashley knew Mr. Weinberg liked them dumb, but still. She decided to speak to the boss about it at their daily eleven o’clock conference.
“Sherry, dear,” Ashley said patiently. After all, it wasn’t the girl’s fault she was being a bubbleheaded bimbo. “We want Mr. Weinberg to drop DHX Media and buy Chesapeake Energy instead. He won’t want to, but you… convince him, right?”
“Right right right,” Sherry said, smiling and nodding. “And he has to sign the… whatchamahoozie.. the… stop-limit order.”
“Correct,” Ashley confirmed. “And make sure he doesn’t… Sherry… what are you wearing?”
Sherry opened the door wider and stepped into Ashely’s office, grinning, proud of how she looked. Ashely smiled and sighed. Well, the girl had reason to be proud, certainly. She looked like something out of a Gossamer Lingerie catalog. The sheer black babydoll she was wearing was very revealing, and sweet Sherry had lots to reveal. She was gorgeous… which was precisely why she had been hired, despite her lackluster academic record.
“I thought it would turn him on,” Sherry said, smiling sheepishly and pushing a strand of auburn hair away from her eyes.
“Yes, dear, it will,” Ashley said. This was not the first time she had had to explain this simple idea to one of the girls… and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. “But remember, he has to think that he’s seducing you.”
Ashley saw the familiar light of realization spark in Sherry’s pretty green eyes.
“Ohhhh, right right right,” she said nodding. She considered. “Would my orange top with the tigers and a leather miniskirt be boring enough?”
“Yes, as long as you leave the top buttoned up most of the way… at least at first,” Ashley answered with a maternal smile. “Wait until he’s fed you a few drinks before you show him the goods. Let him think you’re too sloshed to know what you’re doing, he loves that.”
“Right. Got it,” Sherry said, grinning. She turned to leave.
“And Sherry,” Ashley said, stopping her. “Not the red leather miniskirt, right? That one is reserved for select clients. Don’t waste it on Weinberg.”
“Right right right,” the girl nodded. “Thanks, Ms. P!”
Ashley smiled to herself. No, Sherry wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack, but she’d get the job done. Ashley was proud of all her girls. And that newest one, Marta, was settling in nicely. Built like Sofia Vergara and smart as a whip. A little too smart, in fact; the boss had decided to keep her V-IQ more or less permanently set at minus ten, just to be on the safe side. At least for a week or so, until the rest of the conditioning was firmly established.
Smiling, Ashley leaned back in her chair. She proudly recalled that the boss had kept her at minus fifteen for nearly a month, which meant she was the brightest bulb in the pack. These days it was hard for Ashley to even imagine not being totally devoted to David Harmon, not taking pride and pleasure in being his obedient sex slave… even on days like today when her IQ was at one hundred percent. In fact, there was something particularly delicious about being smart enough to know she was under his mind control spell and yet still be happy about it. Very happy about it. As a matter of fact, Ashley was convinced she would be just as devoted to the boss even if she wasn’t conditioned to love and desire and obey him. Though she had to admit, she wasn’t sure how she would tell the difference. She didn’t feel conditioned. She just felt like herself. Because this was herself now.
Ashley shook her head, scolding herself. No time for woolgathering, she had work to do. She still had to figure out next week’s appointment schedule since Britney was flying to Barbados with Mr. Rockwell. And his wife. Ashley grinned; that had been a surprise, but Britney, god bless her, had gone with the flow and now she had her hooks in both of them. Also, Ashley still had to do the preliminary workup on two more prospective clients before the end of the week. And she had a revenue-sharing meeting with Mr. Henderson right after lunch, which would no doubt take most of the afternoon. Ashley glanced at the bedroom door. The man was insatiable. She smiled in anticipation.
But before that, of course, she had her daily eleven o’clock conference with the boss. Ashley squirmed in her seat a little just thinking about it. She really, really hoped Mr. Harmon had time to fuck her today. It had been three days since he had last done her and she missed him. Besides, fucking just one man a day was… nuts. Who lived like that?Masturbation was fine, and her girls were always willing, but nothing beat a nice cock in your pussy.
Oooh, maybe the boss would even agree to lower her V-IQ, make her all scatterbrained and silly. Or better still, turn her into sultry bimbo, or tigress bimbo, or innocent bimbo. Ashley giggled. It was fun to be smart and sexy, but sometimes a girl just wanted to be a brainless fucktoy.
Ashley sighed and brought up next week’s schedule on her screen. Business before pleasure, and she wanted to make the boss proud.
Because she was proud. Proud to have a position of responsibility with one of the most prestigious and successful investment firms in the country. Proud to be finally using her degree from Emory… it was about time. Proud to have her employer’s admiration and respect. But most of all…
…proud to be the sexiest fucktoy in Harmon’s Harem.