Journal — Week 4
Monday 22nd June
Great news—I will meet the customer later this week! Mr. Wilson trusts me enough and seems so pleased with my work that he wants me to attend when he presents to them. I look forward to it. If the meeting goes well then surely he will grant me more responsibilities.
All I need to do is make sure the upcoming presentation proceeds smoothly. To do that I just need to impress the customer and do a good job representing our company. Sounds easy enough.
The fact that Mr. Wilson plans to take me along shows how he thinks I represent the company well. He intends to spend the rest of the week coaching me on what he expects of me during the presentation. Mr. Wilson is such a great mentor and I learn so much from him.
To start, we talked about personal presence. Mr. Wilson told me, yet again, that my appearance and presentation looked good. What a great boss to let me know he appreciates the effort I take with my clothing.
The discussion turned to a disadvantage women experience when presenting themselves, namely our height compared with men. A bit of a surprise after all our equality talks, but it makes sense.
He told me how even though modern society does treat women and men equally, at least the enlightened parts of it, that some things still put women at a disadvantage. One of those things is our shorter height compared to men.
Mr. Wilson talked about how an executive needs to meet and talk with customers, suppliers, employees, and competitors on an equal basis. And unfortunately, many people see a smaller person differently. Due to their shorter height, women are not always given the same respect as their taller male counterparts—it is not consciously done but it happens.
I knew what he meant. I always stood much shorter than men around me, such as the male students at university, and surely that caused an effect. Part of it made me try even harder and helped me earn the excellent grade that I did.
Then we talked about how to mitigate that problem. One thing he said some women did was to act aggressive, but I told him that seems counterproductive. He praised me and called me smart to realize that fact so quickly.
He is a very tactile person: while he praised me he kept touching my arm. I felt a little uncomfortable at first, but I realized it is fine for him to touch me that way. Just a nice gesture of his pleasure with my progress, like when he hugs me. These sort of tactile expressions are perfectly acceptable so I forced myself to relax about it.
Anyway, after we knocked around a few ideas, I almost jokingly suggested that I could wear higher heels to make me taller. I was not serious, but Mr. Wilson thought it a good idea that would work quite well.
At first I was unconvinced. I always thought high heels made a woman look—well, to be blunt—trashy. I said so. But Mr. Wilson explained that it was all about the women themselves. A trashy woman wearing high heels remains a trashy woman, but when an intelligent, professional woman wore them she remains an intelligent, professional woman.
I felt not particularly convinced though. I hated wearing heels. But we talked about it for a while and Mr. Wilson always provided a good argument against each of my objections.
Now that I think back to it, I cannot believe my concern. It is important that I present myself equal to any male competitor in the world of business and thus my petty worries about high heels are irrelevant now that I think about them in hindsight.
Anyway I will find out tomorrow. Since all my shoes are flats, Mr. Wilson will dip once more into the miscellaneous expenses budget to buy shoes for me. What a great man! I know that he pursues a bit of an ulterior motive as well since he wants me to look the best I can for our meeting later this week, but even so he acts very generous.
Tuesday 23rd June
When Mr. Wilson showed the three pairs of shoes he purchased for me, I reeled in surprise. The heels looked enormous! Five or even six inches, I think.
Yes, I knew he bought me shoes with heels, but not that high! Of course I should have really expected it. The point was to make me taller, after all. Mr. Wilson patiently explained how I need to wear such high heels to sort of overcompensate for my smaller stature.
I felt unsure, but he explained it all to me with his soft deep voice and now it all makes complete sense. He is such a great teacher, I learn so much from him. And he stays so patient. Surely nobody else would have spent the time with me today to make sure I understood the importance of wearing high heels. I feel so grateful. A larger company would never devote themselves so much to my training program and thus at a different company I might never reach the heights of senior management.
Mr. Wilson even helped me put on a pair of my new shoes. Such a sweet man. He knelt down at my feet while I sat on my chair, then he helped take off my old shoes and buckle on the new ones.
Only later did I realize that during this shoe-changing I accidentally flashed him. I sat there on the edge of my chair while he helped with my shoes, lifting my feet to take them off. The natural position was to lift my knees up and apart. I did not even think about it at the time, but certainly this meant he could see up my brief, already bunched-up skirt. And it would have been quite a view since today I wore one of my tiny thongs. I wonder if he saw anything. If so, he did not mention it at the time.
When I thought about it later, it turned into another of my sexy daydreams. I still regularly have naughty fantasies about Mr. Wilson at work. These fantasies feel wonderfully delicious, and I figure it harmless to enjoy them.
But I wonder if subconsciously I want some of these sexy incidents to actually happen, and maybe that is why I allowed myself to sit in a position where Mr. Wilson could look up my skirt?
Anyway, after helping put on my shoes, he then helped me stand in them, saying I might be a little unsteady on my feet to start. How kind of him to help me get used to my heels.
Though my heart did skip a beat since, to help me keep my balance, he put his arm around me. I imagined for a moment what it might feel like if, while doing that, he reached around and held my breast. Of course it was just my imagination running wild. My boss would never be so crass as to grope me, no matter what my over-active libido might want.
Still, the fantasy of him cupping my breast stuck in my head all day. My dirty mind just has not let me think about anything else. Quite distracting trying to focus on work while my naughty libido played wicked fantasies in my mind.
I continued working today, like yesterday, under Mr. Wilson’s patient coaching, learning what to do at the upcoming presentation. But my fantasies must have distracted me more than I realized, because now when I think about it, I do not really remember anything he said to me. Oh well, I guess I will just have to pick it up during the next coaching session.
In any case, I did feel taller wearing those shoes. Once I overcame the fear of falling over, they seemed not that bad to wear.
It will take me some practice to grow accustomed to walking in heels, but I really think wearing them will do me a world of good. That is what Mr. Wilson said too.
Thursday 24th June
Gradually over the course of this week I learned how to walk in high heels. The trick is to sway my hips. I need to sort of tilt and swivel my hips back and forth to maintain balance. The motion of my wide hips twisting makes my skirt sort of swish while I walk. If I can get my skirt to swish and bounce a lot with each step, then I know I have it right.
Of course, a swishing skirt tends to accumulate static and with each stride my skirt flares out a little more. Sort of floating up like a halo around my waist, showing off more of my legs.
I worried a bit at first that my bouncy skirt might flare up so much to reveal something improper. But nobody said anything, and there is nothing to do about it anyway, so I made myself stop worrying about it.
It took some time to learn how, but now I enjoy how it feels to wear heels. At least it provides good exercise for my leg muscles, helping tone my thighs.
Also, heels make me look really good. Besides the added height, they feel elegant and stylish. Somehow wearing heels just makes me feel more attractive and thus more confident. More confidence surely leads to more professionalism.
It took me awhile to figure this out, but once I did I felt really glad that I started wearing heels. I even checked a little bit online, about the effect of heels on posture and appearance, and learned stuff I never thought about before.
With heels my legs look longer and shapelier, the first and most obvious plus. Also, toes pointed down causes my hips to tilt forward a little, which means my back arches slightly. A healthier posture I suppose, and it also means my butt juts up a little more seductively and my breasts thrust forward slightly. A subtle effect that serves to make me look and feel just that little bit more attractive. And feeling attractive is a big part of confidence.
It all makes a good deal of sense, and now I appreciate the importance of wearing heels. Helping me represent the company better through a confident professional appearance.
Furthermore, reading online I found out that wearing high heels enhances the strength of pelvic muscles which helps increase sexual arousal and causes stronger orgasms. That makes sense too, because I noticed my libido steadily increasing all week.
Friday 25th June
Today was an interesting day. Mr. Wilson took me along for his presentation to the customer’s executive team. I practiced for this presentation all week, under Mr. Wilson’s coaching.
He clearly looked nervous this morning, which surprised me to see him like that. It clued me in how important this meeting was to him and I realized how much trust he placed in me. So I pledged to myself to do the best job I could.
Mr. Wilson told me that I did not need to do anything in particular at the meeting since primarily I attended as his backup.
Basically, since I helped put together the brochure, it was important to introduce me to the customer and make a good impression. Also it might be useful to have me there for certain other aspects of the presentation.
The customer’s office is located about an hour away from ours. We drove there in Mr. Wilson’s car, a nice Mercedes. His car seats felt comfortable and I immediately relaxed into them.
I settled into my seat and let myself drift off in thought. For some reason, riding in his car made me feel sleepy.
While we drove he provided some last-minute pointers and instructions for what he expected me to do during the presentation but I think maybe I drifted off a little, since I cannot remember everything we talked about.
I do remember him explaining how since I chose the pictures for the brochure and in particular how I chose photos of elegant, professional businesswomen who looked similar to me, that for parts of the presentation he might have me assist like a sort of visual aid, to compare against the brochure.
I did not entirely understand but Mr. Wilson told me not to worry about details. The important point that I handle myself professionally, like he coached over the past few days, and did my best to present myself well and impress the customers. Hopefully I will learn more if I get to attend future presentations.
While we rode to the meeting and I relaxed, half-listening to him, I noticed it felt warm in his car. Perhaps the greenhouse effect of hot sun shining in the windows maybe combined with insufficient air conditioning, or something. Anyway, I started to feel a bit too warm.
Mr. Wilson apparently noticed my discomfort because he commented about it, talking sympathetically for a bit about how uncomfortable I looked. That only made it worse because his comments focused my attention on the feeling of warmth until I could not think about anything else. By then I felt rather uncomfortably warm, almost sweaty, and it only seemed to grow worse.
Maybe it was my imagination but my clothes started to seem stifling. Hot and sweaty. I felt an overpowering urge to unbutton my blouse and let air blow against my skin to cool off. I knew that would feel nice but a part of me worried about it, wondering whether it might seem improper.
Mr. Wilson again showed his astute perception, almost seeming to know exactly what I thought, because he reminded me how it is perfectly acceptable to undo buttons for comfort. Nothing wrong with unfastening my blouse, he reasoned, explaining in depth why it is okay. His voice sounded soothing and calming. It all made a great deal of sense.
So despite part of me feeling a little worried and embarrassed, I slowly unfastened the top button of my blouse to cool off. That felt nice.
He remarked how much more comfortable I looked, helping me relax and suppress my concerns a little, even convincing me to pop open another button. That felt much better. His calm logical observations helped me relax even more, and forget my earlier concerns.
When I feel warm, he told me, I should not hesitate to unbutton my blouse. Mr. Wilson explained how comfort shines through as stronger confidence and elegance. We discussed this sort of thing quite a bit already this week. Being comfortable helps me present myself better, he reminded. He knows so much wisdom.
Anyway, the boring car ride passed by uneventful, with no interesting scenery. I let my mind wander while idly listening to him talk.
Before I knew it we arrived and rang in at their front desk. I still felt somewhat dazed and spacey from drifting off in the car.
The receptionist escorted us from the lobby into a cozy, warm little private meeting room. There Mr. Wilson introduced me to a group of serious-looking foreign gentlemen. I cannot remember their names but they seemed quite pleased to meet us and eager to see what we offered them.
During introductions, Mr. Wilson told them I was pivotal in helping produce the brochure for them. This made me feel good to be introduced like such an important part of the project and company.
He even talked briefly about how I was part of his ‘executive training program’, and spoke some about how well I progressed in it. The executives all seemed interested in meeting me.
Mr. Wilson spent a while talking me up to them, making me feel important, almost more important than the brochure itself, like he was selling me instead of the brochure. I mostly tried to concentrate on standing there elegantly and confidently. I hope I presented myself well.
After the initial introductions, per his coaching, I moved to stand at the front of the room with him, near a flip chart of the brochure that Mr. Wilson intended to present. Moments later, he began.
Since not much remained for me to do during the presentation besides stand there, I must admit that I let myself drift off a little while he talked. I guess I listened to Mr. Wilson’s presentation so many times this past week that it no longer held my attention. My bored and relaxed mind wandered into a sort of warm fog.
Mr. Wilson talked about what worked best in their brochure, and in particular about the qualities of a professional woman’s appearance most important for the look they sought.
He aimed his laser pointer, using it to draw attention to various aspects of the brochure design on the flip chart, highlighting specific features on the photos of women.
Then he asked the businessmen to consider me as an example. Mr. Wilson left the flip chart and stepped over to stand beside me while he continued giving the presentation, pointing out my features and qualities and how they related to the brochure. We discussed this earlier and I more or less expected it. So I just stood still, relaxed into it, and continued drifting in thought while ignoring most of the presentation.
I feel terribly embarrassed how I drifted off so much while Mr. Wilson made such an important presentation. But we discussed it a lot during the week while he coached me, and he said it perfectly okay if I did not pay attention. After all, I served mostly as a visual aid anyway. So I let my mind wander while he talked.
My drifting eyes naturally glanced around at the men all sitting there staring intently at me. I found myself idly studying their appearance. I remember thinking they all looked so serious and powerful and confident. And that made them rather sexy. I must admit, I found those powerful men quite attractive.
Meanwhile Mr. Wilson used the pointer to highlight while he spoke—at first about my gorgeous hair and clear complexion and then other parts of my appearance. I do not exactly recall since, daydreaming about all those powerful and sexy men, my thoughts paid little attention to Mr. Wilson.
While glancing around idly at those powerful, sexy men, drifting in thought, and without really intending to, I drifted into one of my little fantasy daydreams, a sexy and wickedly delicious fantasy.
I could not help it but my nipples perked up, swelling erect. Worse, it seemed like the way Mr. Wilson moved the laser pointer at the moment only served to draw attention to my big breasts—highlighting the lovely curve of my braless cleavage in the low-cut, tight blouse I wore.
Realizing all those men were looking at my deep cleavage made me feel hot. I wondered what they saw; did they look at the shape of my large breasts stretching the tight blouse, or at the dark circles of my areolae showing through the ultrasheer material, or at my firm nipples poking up the soft fabric. Those thoughts only fed back into my fantasy, making me feel even more hot and bothered.
I cannot believe I let myself drift into a naughty daydream like that during the presentation. But still, I knew it harmless to enjoy a little daydream. So I let myself keep thinking hot, sexy thoughts while Mr. Wilson droned on beside me.
All those steamy daydreams made me feel warm. My heart beat faster and my breathing quickened, warming me up even more. I noticed then that the cozy little meeting room actually seemed sort of stuffy as if the climate control turned a touch high.
Maybe it was just my imagination and the feeling of warmth due to how I kept having such hot, naughty daydreams. Or perhaps the thermostat in this room was just set a little high. Either way, I worried that I might start to perspire. The warmth began to feel uncomfortable.
God, I felt quite hot and bothered, almost feverish with lust. While Mr. Wilson droned on, the uncomfortable warmth started to become unbearable. Then I remembered earlier in the car what I learned to do when I get too warm.
So I casually reached to pop open a blouse button. That made me feel immediately more comfortable, and nobody seemed to pay any special attention, so I undid another. Unbuttoning feels nice.
The steamy fantasies kept circling in my thoughts, keeping me quite horny and hot. Still too warm. So I casually unfastened a couple more buttons. After each one, my hands habitually moved down to the next button, and the next, following the long-practiced rhythm of unbuttoning.
Popping open a button filled me with a surge of pleasant comfort. Each button unfastened felt even better, making me feel more comfortable and relaxed, making it easy for my fingers to float down to the next button. And the next. It feels so good to unbutton my blouse.
Thinking back on it, I cannot believe I was not worried that with so many buttons undone, and my big breasts straining against the tight fabric, that they might accidentally pop free from my blouse or something. I guess at the time I felt too relaxed and comfortable to be concerned about anything.
Anyway, I do not need to worry since apparently there were no accidents because nobody said anything. I suppose they all paid rapt attention to Mr. Wilson speaking. Maybe they did not truly even notice me. I cannot be sure.
Still feeling hot and bothered, despite a little nervousness, I undid the last button on my blouse.
That slight feeling of nervousness crept in I think because some part of me hesitated at having my blouse unbuttoned all the way like that. Yet, I know it sounds silly. Nothing wrong with unbuttoning. Perfectly acceptable to unfasten my blouse and feel more comfortable. Besides, perhaps nobody paid attention to me anyway, I figured they were all too busy listening to Mr. Wilson talk.
Mr. Wilson droned on. I paid no attention while standing there. Instead I noticed how I still felt sort of warm, like warm air trapped against my skin. So I flapped the sides of my blouse a bit, releasing open the constriction a little and fanning some air across my chest.
That felt nice, so I untucked the blouse from my waist and fanned it open more. The cool air felt nice against my warm skin and I relaxed further. I felt much better, open, cooler and more comfortable and I relaxed into that comfort quite deeply. My thoughts immediately drifted back to the warm fog.
Actually I drifted off so much that I completely stopped paying attention to most of the presentation. Mr. Wilson still used the laser pointer to highlight details of my appearance, shining the beam on me, calling the gentlemen’s attention to particular aspects of my professional appearance and complimenting those features in great detail, I think. But I tuned all that out. It all passed by in a blur.
I do remember at one point Mr. Wilson accidently dropped his laser pen and asked me to pick it up for him. So I turned around and carefully bent over to retrieve it. High heels made bending difficult, but earlier in the week I practiced for this situation and learned the trick of balancing by stepping apart and locking my knees as I bent.
For some reason I could not get a good grasp of the pen. My fingers kept slipping off it. Distantly I recalled Mr. Wilson suggesting that I take a wider stance and bend over a little further, that way I could get closer to the floor to reach for the pointer. That made sense, so I tried it.
To not waste time, Mr. Wilson continued with his presentation while I struggled with my efforts to pick up that darn slippery, elusive pen.
I think he talked about skirt fashion, even complimenting me to the gentlemen on how quickly I took to the fashionable female-executive trend of wearing ultra-short miniskirts. He used my skirt for an example, I think, pointing out details to the gentlemen. I am not sure though.
Not really paying attention to him as I still kept trying to grasp the pointer. It took me awhile, but I finally did manage to pick it up. I stood, feeling a little dazed, turned around, handed the pen to Mr. Wilson, and smoothed down my skirt. He thanked me and resumed his presentation, which by then moved into the end part, just closing statements.
Suddenly I realized we finished. I snapped out of my daze for the post-presentation chit chat. In a corner of my mind I became aware of a damp feeling between my legs. My thong panties felt all wet from my naughty daydreaming.
All the gentlemen shook my hand and smiled with their pleasure to meet me. They looked forward to working with me in the weeks to come. I guessed we earned the contract then, and I suppose the meeting today will be important to my future. Certainly Mr. Wilson said so afterwards, while we walked out the building.
Walking back to his car a breeze almost blew my blouse off. I realized it remained completely untucked and wide open. Thankfully nobody stood in the parking lot or nearby and Mr. Wilson was looking the other way. I quickly buttoned up my blouse and blushed with embarrassment and excitement at the brief exposure. I wondered if that parking lot used any security cameras. Embarrassing yet in a way the thought of being exposed like that gave me a thrill.
That was when it first occurred to me that maybe I accidentally had a nipple slip during the presentation. I could not recall anything like that happening for sure though.
Also, I realized that when I reached for the laser pointer, I bent over at my waist, so quite possibly I flashed those gentlemen my bottom too. But nobody said anything, so it must have been okay.
Actually, memories seemed to blur with fantasies at times. It almost seemed like I could remember standing in front of them holding my blouse wide open, baring my whole chest. Of course I never did that. Someone would have said something, so certainly that never happened for real. Just a particularly vivid fantasy memory.
During the ride back my mind occupied itself with these thoughts and I grew quite turned on by them. I felt my arousal soaking through my panties and after a while I thought I even detected the subtle, musky aroma of it. I blushed and squirmed a bit in my seat.
I was in some kind of hyper-aroused mood and felt a little frightened that Mr. Wilson might notice. Thankfully he seemed so pleased with how the meeting unfolded that he appeared completely oblivious to my musk and my flustered state.
Back at the office, I rushed to the bathroom. There I discovered my underwear positively soaked. My thin, sheer thong so wet it turned almost invisible. Good thing I did not flash those gentlemen under my skirt after all, since with my underwear so wet and clinging, stretched tightly between my legs, those gentlemen would have gotten a good, clear peek at me down there—Oh, but some wicked part of me did flush excited by that thought!
My thong felt so soaked and ruined that I needed to just take it completely off. Standing in the bathroom I reached under my skirt, hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my underwear, and slid them down. Stretching the elastic band past my wide hips and curvy bottom, feeling a slight thrill as I peeled the panties down my thighs, stooping to slide them down past my feet and step out of them.
Walking around without panties felt new and odd, but very exciting and sexy too.
Anyway, I finished freshening up and rejoined Mr. Wilson. He seemed so happy about how the meeting turned out that he gave me a tight hug.
Another naughty little fantasy popped into my mind right then as I imagined him reaching down to grab my bare buttocks beneath my short skirt. Thinking about him groping my bare butt sent my hyperactive libido into a frenzy. I kept having sexy daydreams about it, and about the meeting, for the rest of the day.
I fantasized all sorts of vivid scenarios where I revealed myself in naughty ways to those gentlemen. In some of them I even imagined what it might feel like if Mr. Wilson somehow manipulated me into those scenarios, controlling me.
The idea of him controlling me felt thrilling for some reason, though I do not completely understand why. I heard somewhere that powerful people often enjoy fantasies of giving up their power thus I suppose it natural for a future chief executive to have sexy fantasies like that.
Anyway, sexy daydreams about the meeting with the gentlemen kept me incredibly aroused all day. So exciting to think about. Then too, sitting at my desk without panties was certainly an experience. The fragrance of my arousal drifted from my bare lap, floating around me like a musky perfume.
I felt incredibly wet and aroused. Especially how my skirt rides way up around my waist to leave my bottom uncovered when I sit. That triggered a whole new batch of naughty daydreams.
When I got home from work, I brought myself off to a couple nice orgasms fantasizing about all these things.
Part of me almost wishes I really could have the opportunity to expose myself to those powerful gentlemen. It makes me horny when I think about it. I just know these fantasies will become a mainstay of my night-time activities for weeks if not months to come.
Looking back it seems amazing since previously nothing about these exhibitionist fantasies would have turned me on. Until I started work at Wilson Industries I never had fantasies like this and never felt aroused by thoughts like this. I can only guess that without the stress of exams and university it freed my libido allowing me to explore my true fantasies.
Anyway, enough of that. The long and short of it that Mr. Wilson seemed pleased with the help I provided during his presentation and he said starting Monday I will see a raise in my pay packet and he hoped to find me a more challenging role. Yes!
Saturday 27th June
I feel excited about next week and the promotion Mr. Wilson hinted at. Bubbling with excitement since yesterday. Surely Mr. Wilson will promote me. I am definitely on my way to the top.
And I felt unbelievably horny all weekend. Fantasies about the presentation really got my motor revving. I spent all evening last night playing with myself thinking about exposing my body to those gentlemen.
Feeling embarrassed, but also excited, I explored all sorts of fantasy scenarios—even some bizarre ones where Mr. Wilson essentially forced me to strip naked in front of them which makes me feel humiliated yet deeply aroused.
I playacted out a few of these scenes, standing in front of a mirror pretending to obey his instructions, stripping and posing at his command, feeling deeply embarrassed and yet excited too, imagining them watch me obediently display my body.
Before this I never really understood the appeal of stripping, why someone would want to take off clothes for an audience. Now I realize how it might actually be sort of fun, in a way.
While writing this I cannot help from letting my thoughts drift to these new fantasies and my heart begins to race, my nipples tighten, and I definitely feel a dampness between my thighs.
I wonder if I should write about this. However I remember clearly what Mr. Wilson said the first day about the importance of logging all significant things that happen to me and especially those that affect my emotions.
Drifting in daydreams, exploring fantasies, and playing with myself over and over all weekend. I orgasmed many times, it felt extremely thrilling but also tiring.
After my play-time activities I crashed pretty hard last night, exhausted. I did not even manage to dress in pajamas or anything before I fell asleep, therefore I ended up sleeping in the nude.
Honestly, it felt rather comfortable without anything constricting me in bed. I woke up today feeling quite refreshed so maybe sleeping nude somehow helped me get a better, healthier rest.
Thinking about it, I realized how pajamas always feel uncomfortable like they entangle me in a way, almost smothering. I never tried it before this, but now I realize how it feels much more comfortable to sleep naked.
Sunday 28th June
Sleeping without pajamas actually felt so nice that I decided to try it again last night, and enjoyed it tremendously.
I think I might try sleeping nude from now on. There is just something deliciously wonderful about the feeling of bedsheets sliding against my bare skin. The sensation must give me sexy dreams or something because lately I started always waking up feeling horny.
All weekend I stayed on edge and it felt wonderful. More aroused than I felt in ages and it makes a wonderful change. It seems wicked of me, but I found myself indulging my fantasies all day today. Barely an hour passed without drifting into daydream and playing with myself. I masturbated more often this weekend alone than I have over the whole last month.
God I am a naughty girl—but I deserve it! I proved my potential to Mr. Wilson and he will promote me again.