The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Dammit, Jim! I’m head of financial services not a goddamn money tree.” Despite her tone Rachel Woods appeared perfectly calm and that only made her all the more intimidating. Jim Dewar, the head of human resources, cowered slightly. He was a narrow slip of a man with tousled dark brown hair and a relatively meek persona

“The employees are only asking for what other banks have already granted their own. Quite frankly, I think their position is rather reasonable,” Jim continued, trying not to sound like he was pleading.

“But Mutual Guaranty Trust isn’t like other banks. That’s precisely what makes us successful,” she replied haughtily. “And regardless, I simply don’t have the ability to agree to what you’re asking.” She shrugged her shoulders and brushed a piece of fluff off her finely tailored black pantsuit. She had been the interim head of financial services for nearly a year, but only recently had the position confirmed as permanent. She needed to put her foot down on a few issues to shore up her authority.

“If we keep adding all these new benefits we’re going to have to cut somewhere else. With the way those idiot industry regulators are breathing down our necks we need to rein in costs. They already think we’re blowing the taxpayer money that subsidized us last year.”

Jim opened his mouth to interject but Rachel waved her hand dismissively and continued.

“If these staff members want Cadillac medical benefits, then they can pay for it themselves. We give them what they require based on the letter of the law. The same goes for all these other proposed programs. Mortgage assistance, education funds, flex-scheduling,” she ran her finger down the table of contents in a large black binder. “Who on earth in your department is coming up with this nonsense?”

She stood up abruptly, strode across the marble floor in the conference room and opened a large wooden door. Jim frantically shuffled through a stack of paperwork spread out on the conference table before him and called out to her: “I’ve got to give them a bone. What about just the medical plan? On a trial basis. 6 months. No. 3 months.”

“Fine, but nothing more,” Rachel replied over her shoulder as she left the stately room and turned the corner. Jim collapsed in his chair, shaking, and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

As Rachel rounded the corner she was immediately set upon by a slightly older looking woman carrying an armload of files. Her black hair was streaked with grey and pulled back tightly into a bun. Her pantsuit was similar to Rachel’s but perhaps a year behind in style. They began walking together through the maze of cubicles towards an elevator on the other side of the room.

“Good morning, Ms. Woods. Does Jim have any balls left?” She asked slyly.

“He didn’t have any to begin with,” Rachel replied with a smile. “What’s our plan today, Kim?”

“We’ve got a meeting with the Newport Rep. at 8:45, coffee with David Krantz at 9:10, and then Simon from Support Services wanted to see you at 9:30 about your upcoming move to the company’s executive condo.”

“Is it as pink as I remember from Paul’s retirement party?” Rachel interjected.

“Yes. That was the doing of Mrs. Weatherfield. She has an interesting taste in decor.”

“She’s a turgid twat is what she is,” Rachel chuckled.

Kim continued. “At 9:45 you have some time to return some phone calls. A Mr. Brownstone called while you were meeting with Jim.”

Rachel stopped walking and swiveled to face her assistant. “Brownstone? Robert Brownstone? The Chairman of the Board at American National Bank?”

“I…I don’t know. He didn’t say,” Kim stuttered.

Rachel was already dialing the number on her blackberry. “Mr. Brownstone. It’s a tremendous honor to speak with you,” she enthused over the phone.

“Yes, dinner would be wonderful. Thursday the 24th—that’s three weeks from now?” She glanced over to Kim who flipped through a leather book and quickly shook her head no. “Of course I’m free. The 24th works well. I will see you then sir.” She hung up, ignoring the resigned shrug of her assistant.

“American National Bank’s CFO is retiring to spend more time with his two ex-wives, his wife, and his mistress,” Rachel said, responding to Kim’s quizzical look. Kim slowly smiled as she understood.

Rachel relaxed briefly as she sat down in her office and admired the view of the city. The office was tastefully decorated with carved wood, luxurious rugs and a large glass desk in the centre of the room. She smoothed down her dark brown hair, which was pulled up severely into a tight bun. CFO at American National Bank. She imagined the possibility. Already she was the youngest head of financial services in the company’s history. She’d probably be the youngest CFO in the country if she could convince Mr. Brownstone to give her the job.

Kim entered the office through a large wooden door opposite Rachel’s desk, deftly balancing two large binders, a black shoebox and a pair of lunch-sized salads in her arms. She proceeded to sit in a leather chair opposite Rachel’s desk without so much as a nod from Rachel.

“Oh thank god,” Rachel exclaimed as she noticed the shoebox. Her feet had been killing her all day. She immediately cast off her shoes and sat in her chair to put on the new flats proffered by her assistant.

“Kim, you are the only competent person in this whole department,” she said gratefully. “Besides myself, of course.”

Kim handed one binder to Rachel and began flipping through the color-coded pages that outlined her schedule for the rest of week. Rachel absent-mindedly picked at her salad and yawned.

“What’s this note here regarding a meeting with Karl Frentzen? Is he that stiff from the legal department?” She asked Kim pointedly.

Kim ruffled through her pages. “No, he’s from the BMT health clinic. Some sort of psychologist. I believe he’s your contact point regarding the new health plan and he wants to meet each week to oversee the implementation of the plan.”

“How much time is this fucking health plan going to take up?”

“Cancel it?”

“Yes. Do.”

Kim stroked it out with a heavy black marker.

Despite what the binder might have said, the next afternoon there was a soft knock on the door exactly on time for the cancelled appointment.

“Come in,” Rachel replied expecting Kim with a fresh cup of coffee.

Instead an odd-looking man with a large leather case strode into the room. He was tall, too tall, with an angular face and darkened, almost sunken eyes that were a piercing blue. His curly grey hair was closely cut. A slightly unruly looking mustache hung just below his long nose and pair of glasses two-sizes too small were perched atop it.

He spoke with a slight German inflection. “Good morning, miss, I’m Dr. Frentzen. I’m here regarding the health plan.”

Rachel searched her memory. “Oh, Dr. Frentzen. I apologize but we cancelled this appointment. There must have been a mix-up at your end.” She hesitated, expecting the doctor would graciously leave. In fact, she thought, why didn’t Kim stop him out front?

“Ah. I see. Well, now that I’m here, wouldn’t it be a good idea to briefly meet?”

Rachel was slightly surprised by his boldness. People normally knew better than to question her.

“No. Again, I apologize, but I am simply unable to meet with you at this time. I have a…” A buzz from the intercom cut her off.

“Ms. Woods, Mr. Marshall just called. He’s running late and won’t be able to meet with you until this afternoon.”

Rachel cringed. “Okay, Kim.” She released the intercom and turned to see that Dr. Frentzen was already seated across from her and unpacking his bag.

“Dr. Frentzen, I’m sorry, but despite what that message might have implied, I am tremendously busy and cannot meet with you at this time.” She made to get up and show the doctor the door.

“Miss Rachel, I don’t wish to be presumptuous, but would I be correct in assuming that given the various shoe boxes stacked about that you’re suffering from a bit of foot pain?” He said as he glanced at her feet through the glass desk.

“Excuse me?”

“Foot pain.” He continued, moving his piercing gaze up to meet her eyes. “It’s one of many items covered by our premier health plan. For example, we could arrange for some prescription heels to help deal with foot pain.”

“I didn’t realize you could prescribe a shoe,” Rachel replied drily.

“You can. In fact, I’ll make a note right now and have some sent over post-haste.” He said, with a flamboyant twirl of his hand.

Rachel simply nodded. She eyed a simple modern clock on the wall to her left and wished her visitor would conclude.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the doctor said, leaning back in his chair, “why won’t this fellow just finish up and get out of my hair?” He chuckled softly. “But I’m not as foolish as you may think. Prescription heeled shoes can do more than prevent foot pain. For a woman such as yourself with, inevitably, a shorter stature than your male counterparts, shoes that increase your height could readily assist you in…intimidating your opposition.”

The doctor spoke slowly and evenly, carefully choosing each word, but his face revealed the menace underlying his suggestion.

“You must never underestimate the effectiveness of looking someone in the eye.”

Rachel paused. This doctor was wholly bizarre. Yet he clearly had at least some understanding of the obstacles she faced. She glanced at his piercing gaze and shivered, as if a cool wind had just blown through her office. There was something about those eyes that made it hard for her to look away.

“Well,” she said, “that is a benefit that I had perhaps not thought of.” She stood up and walked around the table so that she stood over the doctor and met his gaze. “But now I’m going to have to ask you to leave. As I said before, I am terribly busy.”

“Of course I understand, Miss. I am busy myself.” He stood up and made for the door.

“Perhaps I will have time to meet next week,” she called after him. Rachel winced and immediately regretted her politeness.

“Yes, perhaps.” He replied with a wink as the wooden door shut behind him.

In the end, the doctor was right. Over the previous two weeks she had kept wearing the heels that had shown up in a pink box on her desk the morning after their meeting. Being unable to look her underlings in the eye was something that had always annoyed her, but she’d never found a pair of heels comfortable enough to wear regularly. These shoes, however, were remarkably comfy. Now she could look eye-to-eye with the other executives, which made intimidating them that much easier. And, she decided, the 3-inch heel was relatively modest enough.

This fact was at the forefront of Rachel’s mind as she presently listened to the babbling of some marketing executive named “Dave”, who was extolling the virtues of developing a long- term branding strategy that targeted a younger demographic.

Rachel raised her hand and signaled for Dave to stop. “I’m going to have to stop you there. I see where you are headed with this, and frankly, you’re wrong. The demographic with the most significant financial assets in our society consists of people over the age of 50. That’s our target market and anything that doesn’t reach them is a waste of my time. The types of customers that we’re targeting won’t think twice about transferring their wealth if the financial benefits are sufficient.”

As Dave stood to leave the room, Rachel stood up as well and approached him, keeping her eyes locked directly on his. “Come back to me in 30 days with a better plan or I’m going to have to let you go.” Dave cowered slightly and rushed out of the room, glossy marketing sketches in hand.

As Dave rushed out the door he nearly bumped into the lithe and unkempt figure of Dr. Frentzen as he approached the office. The doctor held out a gangly arm to hold the wooden door open and then snuck around it and stepped into the lavish office.

“Good afternoon Miss Rachel.”

Rachel flipped through her appointment book looking for an appointment. “Oh…I’m sorry, Dr. Frentzen was it?” Rachel was well aware of whom the doctor was, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Yes. We had scheduled an appointment for this time at the end of our last meeting.” He walked slowly towards the desk, keeping his piercing blue eyes locked on Rachel’s.

Rachel was positive they had made no such appointment. Yet he seemed so certain. She hesitated, and an uneasiness washed over her as the doctor maintained his intense gaze.

She nodded.

If he was so certain of their appointment it must have been an oversight on her end.

“Dr. Frentzen. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Rachel made sure Dr. Frentzen noticed her new shoes as she rose to greet him, though the doctor showed no sign of surprise that she had taken his advice. “How is the implementation of the health benefit plan proceeding?”

“Oh, I’ll get to that in a bit,” the doctor chided, while motioning for Rachel to take a seat. “First, I wanted to show you something we’ve been working on for a while at the clinic. As a manager I’m sure you’ll appreciate the importance of finding efficiencies to reduce the cost of health benefit plans for employers.”

Rachel sighed. She wished that Dr. Frentzen would merely provide a report on the implementation rather than taking up her time with this apparent tangent. “Yes, I do, but where exactly are you going with this?”

“Well,” the doctor announced with great aplomb, “we’ve developed a portable breast scanning instrument.” He reached into his tattered leather bag and pulled out a device that looked like the end of an ultrasound machine.

“Have you patented it?” Rachel, ever the business mind, asked.

“Oh, yes, of course. Would you like me to show you how it works?” The doctor replied excitedly.

“No, no, doctor, I’m afraid we have too much else to do right now.” Rachel wasn’t about to become a guinea pig for this man—she still didn’t trust him.

“Nonsense! This can all wait,” he said, gesturing to Rachel’s paper-covered desk. The doctor looked Rachel directly eye to eye. “You want to try this don’t you?”

Now Rachel was unsure. The doctor seemed terribly convincing for some reason. “Alright, you have five minutes,” she decided, pointing a finger at the doctor accusatorily.

“More than enough, my dear. Now, you’re going to have to remove your jacket for me—but I’m just your ordinary doctor, there is nothing to be ashamed about here.” He was already fiddling with dials on the machine.

“Fine, but be quick,” she remarked sternly.

As soon as Rachel was ready the doctor flipped a switch and a bright red light began to be emitted from the device. “It works using lasers you see!” He excitedly remarked. “Now, you’ll feel a slight tingling in your chest when I place it on you.”

Rachel gasped as he placed the end of the device on her chest and began moving it slowly across. It felt like a thousand feathers were tickling her upper body. As soon as the sensation started it was gone as the doctor flipped off the switch and the red light dissipated.

“Well,” Rachel said indignantly, “you really could warn people a little more about that!”

“I’m apologize Miss Rachel. I wasn’t aware the sensation would be so dramatic for you.” He looked genuinely apologetic, but that didn’t placate Rachel.

She hurriedly began to put her jacket back on. “So, the results, doctor?” She asked impatiently.

“Oh, I don’t have the results now.” He calmly replied. “We need to plug it into a computer for analysis at our lab. Tell you what - I’ll give you a call with the results. Also, before I forget, you should be aware that your breasts will likely be a bit sensitive for a few days, but that should go away.”

“Alright,” Rachel replied, feeling alternately disappointed that the results weren’t immediate, and confused about why she felt so. “Why don’t we turn our attention to the actual benefits plan?” She said firmly, regaining her sense of composure and control.

Later that week Rachel found herself at work, standing in her private bathroom, peering at her breasts. She swore that they had gotten bigger. She carefully cupped underneath one of them and felt its weight. I couldn’t do this before, she thought, fighting to stay calm against an increasing feeling of panic. She picked up her blackberry off the granite counter and called Kim.

She heard a rustling at the other end before a groggy voice answered the phone: “Hello?”

“It’s Rachel. I think that a breast scan Dr. Frentzen gave me last week has caused a side effect. My breasts are… a bit swollen. Call him for me and schedule an appointment to see me.”

“Ok, Ms. Woods. I’m on it.” Kim replied while silently cursing the interruption of her sleep. It was nearly eleven at night. “Oh, by the way, have you been to the new condo yet? The movers were all done at six.”

“No, I haven’t been there yet. Hopefully it all went smoothly and I can get the painters in to get rid of those heinous pepto walls.” Rachel hung-up and returned to fiddling with her too tight bra and white blouse. As the day had worn on she had felt her bra growing increasingly tight. There was undoubtedly some swelling.

A heavy rain was falling as Rachel’s yellow cab wove through the still crowded streets towards her new condo. The cab swung rapidly around a tight corner and Rachel grabbed the handle on the door. The tightness in her chest seemed to be giving way to an ever increasing itchiness. She struggled to discreetly scratch her breasts without catching the eye of the portly cab driver and was relieved when the driver screeched to a halt in front of the glass-covered condo building.

Rachel quickly tossed a handful of bills towards the driver and scooted out the door. She rushed through the rain, struggling to avoid dipping her heels in any of the puddles that covered the street. Just as she reached the entrance to the condo a rush of water came cascading off the fabric canopy in front of the main door and crashed on top of her.

“Shit!” She yelled, soaked from head to toe. She rushed through the deserted lobby and was relieved to finally get up the elevator and into her new home. What a day, Rachel thought to herself as the elevator ascended the posh building.

As she opened the door to her new condo it was clear that the support services staff at the bank had done their job. The luxurious apartment was spotlessly clean. Rachel threw her drenched coat into the closet and slipped out of her shoes. She stripped out of her soaked pantsuit and hopped into a pair of flannel pajamas that were laying on her bed. Grabbing the remote she flipped the large LCD TV to BNN and crashed onto the sofa with a hot mug of tea.

Rachel groaned as she opened her eyes and was blinded by the bright sunlight that was streaming into her living room from the giant picture windows. She rolled over, intending to go back to sleep, but just as she was about to shut her eyes she noticed the blinking red light on her blackberry. She abruptly decided it was time to get up, reached for the phone and began listen to the messages.

“Hi Ms. Woods, Kim here. I spoke with Dr. Frentzen and he’s able to meet with you at your office today at 10 a.m. Let me know if you need anything else. Bye.”

Rachel glanced at her watch and then marched towards the bathroom in a rush. She yelped as she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her breasts had swollen further overnight.

“Shit.” She exclaimed and leaned into the mirror for a closer look. After poking, prodding and examining her more voluminous chest for several minutes, she finally turned towards the shower and began to wash. This proved tricky, as her breasts were not only larger, but slightly more sensitive as well.

Rachel finally emerged from the shower and rushed into her bedroom. She flew open the door to the walk-in closet and launched into it to find an appropriate business suit. Her closet was filled with options, primarily black, navy and grey. She liked to keep her wardrobe simple and professional.

Nevertheless, she found it difficult to find a suit that wasn’t stretched by her swollen chest. She scowled as she looked in the mirror at the latest grey suit, which was pulled tight across her ribs. No matter how she manipulated the fabric, it seemed a hint of cleavage was always visible. “It’ll have to do.” She rushed out the door and towards the office.

Rachel crossed and uncrossed her legs uncomfortably and fidgeted in her seat. She tugged down on the fabric of her jacket and then smoothed her hands over the wrinkles. Her chest felt tight as well, as her swollen breasts were pressing against her bra and straining the fabric of her blouse.

There was a soft knock at the door and Rachel beckoned Dr. Frentzen to enter her office. She was desperate for some answers on her irritated breasts, and prepared to grill the doctor if necessary.

Before he could even take his seat Rachel launched into him. “Dr. Frentzen. I don’t know what that contraption did to me last week, but this is a totally unacceptable side effect!” Rachel yelled, motioning towards her chest and pointing an indignant finger at the doctor.

“It’s nice to see you too, Miss Rachel. I must say that jacket looks simply marvelous on you,” Dr. Frentzen responded, ignoring her vitriol and focusing his gaze on Rachel as he strode towards Rachel’s desk.

Rachel was momentarily confused by the doctor’s response. She felt like she should be angry, but the reason for her ire had drained away, as if it were just beyond her grasp and lost in a fog that had descended over her mind.

“I’m sorry, you think what?” Rachel queried.

“I was just commending you on your fashion sense. I have many female executives as clients and they rarely seem to grasp the asset their gender can be in the business world.”

Rachel furrowed her brow. Where on earth was he going with this, she thought. Her gender had put up nothing but road-blocks throughout her career.

“You see,” he continued, slowing his speech and emphasizing each word, “a woman can naturally use her appearance and style to attract people. In a male dominated profession, a woman’s attractiveness can help her build relationships and improve trust between colleagues.”

For some reason this seemed to make sense to Rachel. Yet the implication also seemed somewhat archaic and sexist. She struggled with the contradiction. “So, your proposition, basically, is that if women show a little cleavage they get farther in the business world?”

Rachel sensed her conviction return as she made the point. The doctor simply leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. He eyed her carefully.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect a woman such as yourself to be so crass about it. Surely you’re not blind to the reality of the business world.” He said, gesturing broadly, as if it were all around them. “You can do as much impressive work as you want, but if you’re going to get ahead, people need to know who you are. This, my dear, is all about self-promotion.”

“Quite frankly, doctor, I don’t feel the need to self-promote. The results that I’ve gotten in each position I’ve held speak for themselves.” She replied assuredly, despite some creeping doubt in the back of her mind.

“Ah, and that’s where you’re wrong, Miss Rachel. Surely you can see that it’s relationships that get you ahead in this world. There are millions of people with drive and intelligence out there. And yet you find yourself with this powerful position at this bank—that’s because of the strength of your business relationships.”

Rachel struggled against a haze in her mind. “I hardly think I obtained this position just because some people with influence decided that they liked me!”

“Well,” the doctor retorted, “my information says that your father happened to be an old college friend of a certain bank governor.” He winked, as if he were a schoolyard pal keeping a secret from the teacher.

“How do you know about that?” She sneered, stunned at the doctor’s impressive knowledge of her past.

“My dear, it’s because of my own professional relationships. For example, I’m aware that Bob Brownstone over at American National Bank deigns to speak with you. And I’m aware that he already knows all about your results. But he still wants to meet you first, and, as the Bard would say, there’s the rub! He’s not going to be evaluating your ability. He’ll be evaluating your personality. I’m telling you, Miss Rachel, it’s relationships that count.”

The doctor’s mustache curled into a knowing smile as he gazed at her with his ice-blue eyes. Rachel felt herself continually being drawn to them, so much so that her surprise over the doctor’s knowledge of her meeting seemed to melt away.

“Well…” she trailed off, struggling to find words, “you make an interesting point, doctor.” She couldn’t seem to deny the logic, but somehow it just felt wrong.

“Because I like you,” the doctor continued, “I want to let you know, that I have it from a very reliable source that the esteemed Mr. Brownstone prefers the company of women who are…well-endowed physically.” The doctor said, releasing Rachel from his icy stare and dropping his eyes onto her breasts.

Rachel shook her head, as if trying to clear out cobwebs and looked around, feeling puzzled. She was usually not this out of sorts, but this doctor seemed to bring out the worst in her. “Why don’t we move on to talk about the actual employee health plan?” She said, her concerns about her swollen chest forgotten.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” the doctor replied, smiling pleasantly.

Rachel took a generous gulp from her second glass of wine and evaluated her outfit in front of the full length mirror. Something just wasn’t right about her pantsuit. It was tailored perfectly, but Rachel felt like it wasn’t good enough for a meeting with Mr. Brownstone. She fingered the white blouse and tried undoing the top button. She swiveled and, still dissatisfied, stripped off her jacket and blouse and headed back into the closet.

She emerged minutes later with a stretchy red top that was cut deeply to reveal the rounded tops of her breasts. A left-over from her college days, perhaps, she thought. She put the jacket back on over the top, but left the top button undone so that the cleft of her cleavage was visible between the lapels. Still proper, but enough to get Mr. Brownstone’s attention. She swilled the rest of her glass of wine, grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

As soon as Rachel arrived at the ritzy restaurant the maître d’ greeted her warmly and led her to a secluded table at the rear of the restaurant, near the kitchen. A portly man, bulging out of his too small suit rose to greet her. He was bald, with a fringe of white hair and a loud, charismatic manner.

“Good evening, Rachel. It’s tremendous to finally meet you.” He said, his eyes trailing towards her exposed cleavage.

“It’s a tremendous honor to meet you, Mr. Brownstone.”

“Oh, please, it’s Bob. I’m a banker, not the President,” he said as he struggled into the narrow, modern looking chair.

A waiter immediately appeared and poured Rachel a glass of wine. She hesitated; she was already feeling warm from her earlier drinks, but in the end sipped it gratefully as her nerves won out.

“Well, why don’t we look at the menu? I know I’m starving.” He said, reaching for a leather-bound book with a chubby hand.

Rachel thought the meal went very well. Bob was clearly impressed by her accomplishments and outlined that they were looking for someone who could battle to reduce costs for the bank at a time when their profits were shrinking and shareholders were getting nervous. In between the business talk, the plump chairman had consumed a veritable feast, and imbibed generously as well. Rachel, meanwhile, had been content to pick at a tossed salad and a bottle of Perrier to clear her mind. She didn’t want to muddle this meeting the way she had her meeting with Dr. Frentzen last week. She knew she needed her full concentration to keep up to speed with Mr. Brownstone.

“You know,” Bob interjected near the end of the dinner, “I like you. A lot. You’re smart. Your record is one of toughness and restraint. But…” he hesitated and leaned close. “You’re younger and, frankly, more…vivacious than I had anticipated. And I have a bit of reputation, if you will, in the industry. I’m a bit concerned that people may judge you and your appointment based on, well, your rack.” He chortled loudly and ogled her chest, nearly salivating like a bulldog eying a steak.

Rachel’s cheeks went bright red. Why did I wear this top? She thought, distressed. What on earth did I think I was going to accomplish by showing him cleavage? This was Bob Brownstone! She stammered for a response. “I…I can assure you, this is not my normal fashion. I would represent you and the Bank with the utmost of character and professionalism.”

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. “It’s not that I don’t like it. You’re fabulous.” He paused and looked thoughtful again. “Tell you what. Why don’t I speak with the Board and arrange a time for you to come speak with them?”

Rachel heaved a sigh of relief. “That would be a tremendous opportunity to meet with the Board. I would be delighted.”

“Great. Great. I’ll let you know. Now, how about some dessert?”

Rachel flipped through a magazine of hairstyles casually, while waiting for her appointment at the salon. Her mind wasn’t on the magazine, but rather what to do about her body. Her breasts had continued to grow. They stretched out the fabric on even her newer pantsuits, and drew lots of unwanted attention. Earlier in the week three different IT workers asked her on dates. She scoffed at the very thought of it.

Yet at the same time she found herself growing to like her new “rack” as Bob Brownstone had tactlessly put it. People treated her with more kindness. They said hello, asked her questions and seemed to appreciate her more. Rather than cowering in their cubicles when she walked by, they strained to see her. It was oddly gratifying.

“So, Ms. Woods, just the usual cut and color?” A skinny twenty-something with tri- colored hair and adorned with every type of jewelry imaginable was leaning against the counter looking suspiciously at Rachel’s new body.

“Yes, Penelope, just the usual.” Rachel replied. She found it was best to just ignore the stares and pretend nothing had changed.

The slender stylist led Rachel through the bustling salon and into a room near the back with washing basins, sinks and driers. Rachel leaned back in the chair and relaxed as Penelope draped a smock around her and began to gently wash her hair.

In the back of her mind, Rachel knew she should be more concerned about the changes to her body. She was certain Dr. Frentzen had said it would only be a few days. Yet, whenever she tried to turn her mind to the issue, she suddenly felt as if it wasn’t such a big deal. Perhaps she’d be best just to let it run its course. She trusted, Dr. Frentzen, didn’t she?

She put the thought of trust aside. In any event, she’d be meeting him that afternoon for another update chat. Perhaps she’d raise the issue with him then.

When Rachel returned to the office she found Kim perusing the paper and snapping on a piece of gum. Her nylon covered legs were resting on the top of her desk, topped off by 4-inch heels.

“Kim, what on earth are you up to?” Rachel asked incredulously.

“Oh. Rachel! I was just taking a little break. Sorry!” She replied quickly.

“Well, get back to work.” Rachel stormed past her oddly behaving assistant and stomped into her office.

As soon as she entered the room, Dr. Frentzen swiveled around his chair and rose to greet Rachel warmly. “Good afternoon, Miss Rachel, how are you today?” His piercing blue eyes were immediately upon her.

For some reason she felt comfortable with the doctor. It was odd, but she somehow always felt like confiding in him. “I’m well, doctor. It’s good to see you again.”

“You know, Miss Rachel, I quite like your outfit today. Very chic.” The doctor enthused, examining her beige skirtsuit and purple blouse closely. “It defies the stereotype of the unfriendly business-woman. I’d say it makes you approachable, and less intimidating.”

Rachel scoffed. “Less intimidating? Intimidation is crucial in this business. It’s how I got to be where I am today.”

The doctor leaned forward and stared intensely at Rachel. “As I recall, the last time we met you were telling me about how much you loved your new outfits and how you used a little cleavage and leg to help you build relationships. Wouldn’t this merely be an extension of that?”

Rachel tried to remember her last meeting. For some reason his recollection of the meeting didn’t feel accurate, but she couldn’t seem to recall the details. “Well, that may be so, doctor, but I’m doing just fine building relationships without needing to deal with people thinking I’m some sort of bimbo.”

“Yet, I heard how much Mr. Brownstone liked your tits. Apparently they even got you a meeting with the Board.” He chortled.

“That’s right.” Rachel stuck out her chest proudly. She’d put her breasts to good use when trying to get ahead.

Dr. Frentzen turned to face Rachel and became serious. “But I still think you’re going to have some trouble convincing the Board of your suitability for the job.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one, Miss Rachel, you’re intelligent. And as I’m sure you’re aware, an intelligent woman is always threatening to a man. If the Board feels threatened by you, they are going to resist hiring you.”

Rachel felt a pang of fear tighten her chest. It was true that many had fought against her being promoted to her present position—mostly older men on the Board. “Well, doctor, I think you may be overstating their fear a bit. But, in any case, what would you suggest I do?

“I think the smart move in this case is to become less intelligent.”

Rachel looked at the doctor quizzically. It sounded ridiculous when he said it, yet for some reason she felt herself nodding. Given what he’d just said, that made sense.

The doctor leaned in even closer, so that his eyes were mere inches from Rachel’s face, and whispered. “It’s not a matter of being dumb. By being dumb you’re really being smart. All you need to do is to pretend to be dumb, and all the men will feel less intimidated and much more accepting of your power.”

Rachel struggled to sort out the doctor’s twisted logic.

“Just try giggling,” the doctor suggested. Rachel awkwardly complied with his request. She had never been one to giggle.

“Again,” the doctor requested. Rachel giggled again, this time a little easier.

Soon Rachel found herself giggling at everything the doctor said. Each time he asked her to it felt more and more natural, so that soon she couldn’t even tell if she was acting or not.

Finally the doctor released his gaze and slumped into his chair.

Rachel shook her head, feeling decidedly odd. She giggled nervously. “Wow, sorry doctor, I think I zoned out for a minute there.”

“Not to worry, Miss Rachel. I was just admiring your fortitude in getting to where you are today.” The doctor leaned back in his chair comfortably, but looked drained.

“So, are we going to talk about that health plan?” Rachel asked with a glance towards the clock.

“Actually, I have another appointment to get to.” The doctor said, as he slowly struggled to his feet. He limply shook Rachel’s hand and shuffled towards the door. “Perhaps we’ll double up our meeting next time?”

“That sounds fine, doctor.”

“I’ll see you next week, Miss Rachel.” He smiled despite his exertions.

It was late Saturday afternoon and Rachel was idly nursing a glass of wine and looking over some documents from her file related to the employee health plan. She was perched on a stool in her bright kitchen, wearing a white t-shirt strained by her curves and a pair of pink shorts she had bought on a recent shopping excursion.

Rachel felt slow and sluggish. In fact, it had been so all week. Where she was normally a whiz at multi-tasking complex tasks, she had been tripped up by apparently simple financial concepts all week. In a presentation in front of the investor’s group she had made several glaring mathematical errors, and only been able to salvage the meeting by undoing a few buttons on her cardigan so that the group focused on her cleavage rather than the presentation. She had a tough time recalling if she had been pretending to be confused or was actually confused at the time.

Rachel stood up and wandered over to a mirror in the living room. She examined her long legs and jiggling boobs. I look really sexy, she thought, almost surprised by the revelation. No wonder that worked on the investors. She collapsed on her couch and flipped on the TV. BNN flickered onto the HD screen. Rachel tried to follow the ticker and to understand the commentator who was espousing about a liquidity trap, but she couldn’t seem to get her head around the details.

“This is so boring,” she said aloud. It was a weekend anyway, she figured. There was enough time for business during the week. Instead she flipped through the channels, pausing periodically to see what else was on, until she stopped on a generic sitcom. Rachel paused and watched the show, laughing along with the laugh track. It was amazing how much her boobs jiggled when she laughed, she thought to herself. She decided to refill her wine glass to help her relax—she still felt tense thinking about her rough week.

The next show was even funnier and had a really cute lead actor. By the time Rachel had finished off her fourth glass of wine she had discovered a handful of porn channels she’d never even noticed before. Rachel watched the action through heavily lidded eyes and felt a warmth developing between her legs. She lazily traced a finger around her nipple and shivered from her sensitive chest.

Soon her pink shorts were across the room and Rachel was casually thrusting fingers in and out of her warm and wet pussy. She leaned back on the couch and groaned, forcing her fingers to move faster and faster, before letting out a loud shout as she reached a climax. A few minutes later Rachel’s warm pink bubble was popped as a loud ring sounded from the floor.

Rachel groped below her before grasping the plastic case of her blackberry.

“Huzza?” The combination of alcohol and sexual release had made it difficult for Rachel to enunciate.

“Hi, this is Ryan from the marketing department. I was just wondering if you’d had a chance to look at the new uniform proposal?”

“I dunno,” Rachel slurred lazily.

“You…you don’t know? Because we’re having a meeting right now about them and we’d really like your input. Did you want to come to the meeting?”

“Wha’ever you wanna do, babe.”

“Oh. Ok, so are you approving the uniforms?”

“Sure, I’ll wear a uniform, as long as it’s, like, sexy.” Rachel giggled as her fingers found her sopping pussy for a second go.

“All right. Thanks for your input Ms. Woods—we’ll keep that in mind during our discussions.” Rachel hung up and returned to her pussy, which was pleading for some more attention.

When Rachel arrived at work the next day it was already a quarter after nine. She’d had a terrible time deciding what to wear and it had taken her much longer than she had expected to tease out her hair just the right way. As she exited the elevator and headed towards her office a series of heads poked around the cubicle walls to examine their beaming boss. Her bright yellow jersey strained against her ever-expanding tits, and her black miniskirt and 4-inch yellow patent heels invited ones eyes down her shapely legs.

As Rachel passed through the outer door of her office, Kim quickly closed the fashion magazine she was reading and flipped open a big neon pink binder on her desk. Rachel was stunned by her assistant’s appearance. The brown-haired vixen was wearing a slinky black mini- dress made of some sort of shiny material. The fabric ended abruptly only a couple inches below her crotch, displaying the full length of her pink panty-hose covered legs. Her black platform heels were at least 5 inches tall.

Rachel didn’t remember her assistant having such a bold fashion-sense. She made a mental note to ask whether she had a new boyfriend or something.

“Hey Rach. The guys from, umm…, marketing I think, were wonderin’ where you were ‘cause you had a meeting with them at like eight.” Kim put her pen between her bright pink lips and looked quizzically at Rachel.

“Oh, shit! I totally forgot about that meeting.” Rachel exclaimed.

“Oh, they said its like, no problem. I’ll just let them know you’re here now.” Kim replied and slowly wrote a note in the binder before continuing. “Jim from Human Resources was by earlier, he was wonderin’ if you could sign somethin’ about continuing the new health plan.”

Rachel paused. “I’m not sure I want to keep that plan. I’m pretty sure it costs us a lot of money.” She frowned and shook her head, trying to get rid of the cobwebs. In the back of her mind she felt like something was wrong, but she couldn’t quite seem to put her finger on it.

“If anyone calls let them know I’m in a meeting,” Rachel called over her shoulder as she headed towards her meeting. Kim was already deeply involved in painting her nails and didn’t seem to hear her boss’s request.

“Ah, finally,” Rachel exclaimed as she found the conference room. She had been wandering around for twenty minutes looking for the correct room, but people kept stopping to chat with her. Or hit on her. Rachel giggled and pushed open the heavy wooden door. A group of 8 or 9 men in suits were animatedly discussing a powerpoint presentation that was projected on the near wall. As soon as she entered the room, Jim from Human Resources sprang out of his seat to greet her. Everyone’s attention swung to Rachel and the discussion stopped.

“Hey, babydoll, glad you could join us!” Jim happily greeted her.

“It’s Rachel, not babydoll,” she reminded him sternly. She was the boss, and needed to put her foot down, Rachel thought to herself.

“Sure, baby, of course. But you’re just such a beautiful boss. Why don’t you do a little twirl for everyone?”

Jim grabbed Rachel’s hand and before she could object she was twirling around for everyone in the conference room to see. One of the men let out a whistle that made Rachel blush. She knew this was probably a bit wrong, but she didn’t want to intimidate them. Plus, she felt really sexy with all their eyes on her.

“Alright,” Jim said, returning to his seat, “let’s get back to the matter at hand here.”

Rachel took her seat and tugged her miniskirt down so that she remained decent. Within minutes she felt her eyes glazing over. She couldn’t seem to keep up with the discussion as it bounced from marketing opportunities to future business transactions and branding. Perhaps, she rationalized, it’s just that I missed the start of the meeting. Rather than paying attention she began to doodle in her notebook.

“Rachel? Rachel?” She glanced up to see everyone looking at her. “What are your thoughts on this marketing plan?” one of the suits asked her directly.

“Oh, it’s…umm…good,” she stammered. She keenly felt everyone’s eyes directed towards her, and felt a mounting sense of panic as she couldn’t find anything further to say.

“You’re ok with how it skews towards a bit of a younger demographic?” Another suit asked, saving her from her predicament.

“Yeah.” Rachel struggled to come up with a way to get them moving on and away from her. “I, like, totally trust what you guys are doing here.” She said, flashing a smile.

That seemed to work. The group began talking about adjourning the meeting and dates for the next one. Someone shoved a bunch of paperwork in front of Rachel, and she carefully signed her name to each page, putting little hearts in the place of the o’s in her last name. Rachel leaned back in her seat. I’m such a good boss, she thought to herself, and my signature looks totally cute.

When Rachel returned to her office from her meeting, she was met at the heavy wooden door by her old confidant Dr. Frentzen, who was perched outside, poised to knock.

“Good day, my dear. How are we this afternoon?”

“Dr. Frentzen! It’s so good to see you. I have several…” Rachel paused, unable to remember the word she was looking for. “… things to talk about with you.” She guided him through the door and into her office and gestured for him to take a seat opposite her. The doctor’s gaze could help but drop to the expanse of smooth skin revealed beneath her short miniskirt as she settled into her chair.

“That sounds excellent. But first, let me commend you on the bold new direction in which you are taking the financial services department. Those new uniforms with the tight tops and skirts. The new ad campaign. The new brand. You’re really sending this ship in a new direction!”

“What ship?” Rachel asked, confused. In fact, she didn’t remember doing any of what he was talking about.

The doctor opened his mouth to explain, then stopped and shrugged. “Nevermind that, what are these questions you have for me?”

Rachel shook her head, trying to recall her questions. It was hard to think with his piercing blue eyes upon her. Uniforms? She thought to herself, I don’t remember anything about uniforms. She recalled feeling out of place this morning, as if something was wrong. It was as if she could reach out and touch her earlier thought, but couldn’t quite grasp it.

Before Rachel could say anything further, the doctor interjected. “You were going to ask me how to convince your superiors to adopt all these changes to the bank’s brand, weren’t you?”

Rachel felt the doctor’s steely eyes bore into her. She didn’t feel like that was right. But it did sound like something she should be concerned about. “Yeah, totally, that must’ve been it, doctor.”

“Well, in order to answer that, I’m going to have to be honest with you, Rachel. Sometimes, no matter how great your ideas, and how well you communicate them while remaining approachable, they just aren’t going to listen.” He paused deliberately, and watched Rachel as she leaned forward intently. “Sometimes, you need to appeal to their baser instincts.”

“Like what?” Rachel queried, looking legitimately puzzled.

The doctor continued without truly answering her question. “There’s a difference between being intelligent and being smart. You’re a beautiful girl. You have beautiful hair, nice tits and long legs. You’ve obviously got a keen fashion sense.”

“And how does that help?” She asked, missing the doctor’s rather crass description of her.

The doctor leaned back in his chair and smiled. “It’s easy. Men are weak. You can use your sexuality to get them to agree with you. You show a man a good time, and he’ll show you his chequebook.”

As the doctor released Rachel from his gaze she shivered. “I’m sorry doctor, what were we talking about?”

“Oh, dear, did you lose your place in the conversation again?”

Rachel nodded and instinctively leaned forward to give the doctor a good view of her tits.

“Well, I believe you were outlining for me some sort of plan where you were going to fuck as many bank directors as possible to get them to endorse your new marketing plan. Though, to be honest it sounded more like you were just really horny.”

Rachel giggled. “Was I?” That didn’t seem like something she would do, but then who was she to question Dr. Frentzen? And it wasn’t as though she had any better ideas on how to get the directors on-board with the new marketing plan.

Over the next few weeks Rachel found herself becoming increasingly adept at managing her staff through some reasonable sexual displays. In fact, she found that whenever she was confused about how to go about something, she could simply show off a bit of skin and someone would step in to take care of the situation. As a result her tops had become increasingly low-cut in order to make it a little easier to “convince” her staff to help her out.

Rachel giggled as she recalled when she had leaned towards a young male staffer to get some help with the copier and her top had slid down and exposed her nipple. The poor guy had nearly fainted.

However, even if things were still getting done, Rachel was becoming increasingly concerned over how dense she seemed to have been recently. It was one thing to simply act like she was a little slow to keep people from being intimidated, but it seemed to her that she actually was having a tough time keeping up with her work. She swore that just a few weeks ago she was able to whip through a financial statement like the one in front of her now in only a few minutes. Today it had taken her two hours.

Rachel’s train of thought was interrupted by the creak of her door as Kimmy stumbled into the room looking rather disheveled. Her hair had shaken loose from a pony-tail, her mini- skirt was wrinkled and there was a long tear down the side of her fishnet stocking.

“Hey Rachy! I’ve got some sorta files for you from downstairs. I went to Davey’s office down in marketing cause he said he had a package for me, and he gave me these while I was there!” The disheveled assistant licked her lips as she recounted the story.

“Thanks Kimmy.” Rachel opened the folder and examined the glossy pages within. Each page had a different scantily clad woman posing seductively with dollar bills tucked into their clothing and scattered on the ground. The text simply read: “We have bars for men, why not a bank for men. Mutual Guaranty Trust”.

“What the hell is this?!” Rachel yelled after Kimmy, who was heading for the door.

“Oh, Davey said those were the ads you’d approved a couple weeks ago. They’re totally sexy, don’t you think?” She tittered.

“I approved these?” Rachel asked incredulously.

“Well, of course, silly. You’re the boss aren’t ya?” Kimmy stuck her tongue out and ambled out of the room.

Rachel thought back over the past few weeks, but she couldn’t recall approving any such ads. Though, when she looked at them closer, she realized that the women in the ads were remarkably erotic. Perhaps this marketing ploy would be successful with their many male clients. A little bit of leg did seem to go a long way with her staff.

She pondered this comparison, before deciding that she had some work to do to convince the directors of her idea. And for that, she needed to do some shopping.

It was nearly seven o’clock and Rachel found herself posing in front of her mirror desperately trying to decide between a pink and black halter top and miniskirt and a fire engine red mini-dress. She snapped on her gum and blew a bubble while trying a series of different poses. The bubble popped and Rachel decided on the red dress. It did show off her tits a bit more, even if the hem came all the way down to her mid-thigh.

Any minute now she was expecting Tom, a director at the Bank to arrive for their date. They were going to some sort of executive dinner thingy. Rachel just hoped there were free drinks and somewhere private for her to go with Tom.

At that moment there was a ring at the doorbell and Rachel shuffled towards the door in her soaring gold platforms. “Hey Tommy, you’re like, totally right on time!” She giggled and surprised him with a lingering kiss on the mouth.

“Wow!” The suave looking middle-aged man in an expensive suit momentarily lost his composure. He glanced nervously down the hallway, and ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “You look stunning Rachel. Shall we?” He gestured toward the door.

Rachel made sure to hang on to Tom’s arm tightly and pressed her tits against him as they headed up the steps of the Hotel to a grand-looking ballroom filled with men in suits and ladies in various gowns and dresses. As they wound their way through the crowd Tom stopped to warmly greet a number of the other men. Rachel vaguely recognized several of the executives, but for some reason they didn’t seem to recognize her. Rachel decided it was probably best just to smile and look pretty.

Just as they reached their table an older woman with a white perm wearing an impressive array of diamonds approached Tom. “Ah, Mr. Devlin, how nice to see you again.” She exclaimed as they exchanged kisses on each others cheeks.

“And who’s your arm candy tonight?” The lady asked with a sneer of derision.

“This, Mrs. Moulet, is Rachel,” he replied, pretending not to hear her tone.

“Ah, Rachel. And what do you do, dear?” She queried haughtily.

“I, like, work at the bank.” Rachel replied, absent-mindedly twirling a strand of shiny hair around her finger.

“Really? Are you a receptionist or are you actually able to be a teller?”

“No, I’m the head of, like, financial services.” At least, she was pretty sure that was her title.

The lady and Tom laughed heartily. “Of course! I should have known!” She replied sarcastically, before turning to greet another guest. Rachel felt her cheeks go red.

“I don’t think she believed me!” Rachel said to Tom, pouting.

“Don’t you worry, baby. What she says doesn’t matter. How would you like a drink?”

Rachel nodded quickly and took her seat while Tom headed towards the bar.

As the dinner began Rachel found the conversation at her table difficult to follow. There was talk of bond markets, inflation and the fluidity of credit, none of which Rachel could offer much insight into. It almost felt like they were speaking a different language, the confused executive thought to herself.

Rather than becoming bored, Rachel tried to find other ways to entertain herself. As she sipped her appetizer, a butternut squash soup, Rachel leaned forward deeply for each sip so that her tits nearly fell out of their top and onto the table. An elderly gentleman across from her gagged on his own soup as he admired the voluptuous brunette on the other side of the table, resulting in an exasperated gasp from the dour-looking wife seated next to him. She enjoyed her aperitif by crossing and uncrossing her legs so that a table of younger executives got a clear view of her lace thong and moistening pussy.

By the end of the dinner Rachel was feeling remarkably horny from her exhibitionist displays. It was time to convince her date of the merits of her marketing proposal. She reached under the table and groped for Tom’s cock.

“Hey, Tommy, do you wanna go somewhere a little more private for a bit?” Rachel whispered to Tom as she leaned in and pressed her tits against the executive’s side.

The executive bolted upright in his seat. “I’m going to have to excuse myself for a few minutes everyone,” he informed the table with a smile.

“Wait for me, babe,” Rachel giggled as she grabbed his hand and stumbled after him in her platforms towards the lobby of the hotel.

Before they could reach the lobby though, the normally discreet executive pushed Rachel up against a wall near the elevator and leaned in for a long, passionate kiss. Rachel moaned slightly as Tom pressed up against her and began to fumble for his belt. She felt his hand slowly reaching underneath her dress and pushing the stretchy fabric up towards her waist. Briefly opening her eyes, Rachel caught sight of the hotel patrons walking through the lobby mere feet away before momentarily meeting the steely gaze of Jim from her office, who was standing near the entrance and staring intently at her. The realization of just how lewd her current circumstance was flickered across Rachel’s mind, but before she could act Tom’s finger found her sopping cunt and the thought was lost in a fog of rising lust.

The entangled lovers stumbled towards a storage closet and disappeared into the darkness away from the prying eyes in the lobby. Tom crudely pushed Rachel towards a rough wooden, though mostly empty, worktable, and Rachel leaned over it as he pressed his hardened member into her from behind. She gasped as he quickly found her pussy despite the thick darkness in the cramped room and heard him grunt as he began to thrust, slowly at first and then with increasing urgency.

As she came, her scream echoed all the way to ballroom, turning the heads of the gathered executives.

Rachel groggily lifted her aching head from her pillow and rolled towards the edge of the bed. Sunlight streamed onto her light pink bedding from a window above. She was naked, except for a barely-there pink thong that was tangled in her legs, so that she tripped on her way to the bathroom. She brushed back her flowing brown hair with her hands and examined herself in the mirror before grabbing a glass and taking a deep draft of tap water. Her mouth felt dry and chalky.

Today was her meeting with the Board at American National Bank. She’d attempted to be on her best behavior the night before, but as far as she could recall, it had ended with her and Kimmy dancing on tabletops with a circle of executives poised watching from below. She couldn’t recall much beyond that point, and it seemed her companion from the night before had already left.

It had been a busy few weeks as she had set about convincing the bank directors to support her bold marketing plan. She had attended an endless stream of events, dinners, dates and parties, and used everything at her disposal to convince those more reticent directors. At some point, though, Kimmy had lost their list of directors, so Rachel was never quite sure who she should be targeting. Nevertheless, she was convinced that her campaign would result in the approval of her marketing plan.

And now, she was already moving on to another, bigger and better position. After a glance at the clock, she set about readying herself for the meeting with only a couple hours to spare. She was meticulous with her hair and make-up, and tried dozens of outfits before finally settling on one.

It was a hot pink number in a light stretchy fabric that clung to her voluptuous tits, revealed an enticing valley of cleavage and stretched over her hips tightly before ending just an inch or two down her thigh. She fastened a wide shiny patent belt over her midriff, which matched her six-inch black patent heels. Rachel twirled in front of her mirror, and then bent close to touch up her make-up one more time. Perfect, she thought to herself. She couldn’t imagine the Board trying to resist her.

Only a few minutes late for her appointment, Rachel’s cab pulled up in front of American National Bank’s headquarters. She tottered out of the car, grasping a ruffled pink clutch, and headed towards the entrance. A doorman was quick to open the door for her, and an equally helpful security guard helped her onto the elevator to the 21st floor.

After a snide glare from a rather prudish looking receptionist, Rachel was on her way through a pair of glass doors and into the chairman’s office. It was a highly modern office, filled with colorful art, stainless steel, and a broad view of the city from three directions. In the centre of the room Bob Brownstone was seated in an obscenely large leather chair, peering at a pair of LCD screens intently.

“Hey Bobby!” She giggled at the sight of the bulging, perspiring chairman, and promptly sashayed across the plush carpet and leaned over his desk for a deep kiss. “I’m ready to show your Board who their new FCO is!” She wobbled on her heels and looked expectantly at the stunned Mr. Brownstone.

The normally verbose chairman was momentarily struck dumb by his potential recruit’s appearance. “Rachel! What is this?” He exclaimed. “I mean, I’d heard the rumors and all, but…this!” His pudgy face was agog with surprise.

“Well, if I’m goin’ to convince your Board that I’m the person for the job I’ve got to use everything I can to sell them on me,” she explained with a wiggle, as though such an explanation should be evident.

Bob Brownstone sat down heavily in his leather chair and rubbed his temples with his fingers. He had heard of strange goings on at Mutual Guaranty Trust, but he’d discounted the rumors based on his recruit’s sterling reputation. Now, he was in a bind. “I simply cannot let you appear in front of the Board in this…manner,” he concluded, after some thought.

Rachel pouted. “But I was gonna be your special FCO!” She posed to give him a better view of her tits, which were straining against the fabric of her dress and threatening to slip free. “And I mean, special…” she repeated for emphasis while tracing her tongue around her brightly pink lips.

“It’s CFO, Rachel. CFO.” He rubbed his hands together in a nervous gesture. “Tell you what, I’ve got a proposition for you. I cannot recommend that the Board accept you as our CFO, but I can hire you for the position of Special Assistant—Executive Retention.”

Rachel considered this. She didn’t really get what his issue was, but any opportunity to work under someone as powerful as Bob Brownstone was worth considering. “What would my job be?”

“Well, let’s see.” He loosened his tie and fumbled for a job description. “Primarily your role would be in assisting the Board in our efforts to retain our top executives from leaving the organization.” He paused and eyed her carefully. “You have an evident ability to…satisfy…executives who require it. I can assure you it is a significant promotion from your current position.”

Rachel giggled. She was having trouble remembering exactly what her current position was. Something about marketing, she figured. She shrugged. A promotion was a promotion. “Okay. I’ll take it.” She smiled broadly and jumped onto the edge of his wooden desk. “Now, what are you gonna pay me?”

It was nearly five by the time Rachel sauntered back into the Mutual Guaranty Trust office. Only a few of the stream of workers exiting the building seemed to recognize the leggy brunette as she toddled against the flow of pedestrian traffic, though heads turned as she passed.

While in the elevator she fiddled with her hair and retouched her makeup while peering into the shiny metal door. She felt a dribble of cum inching down the inside of leg, and only then realized she’d left her underwear at American National Bank. “Shit,” she sulked, and returned to fixing her smeared lipstick and re-attaching her false eyelashes.

She entered her office and was surprised by the presence of two visitors—Jim, from Human Resources, and Dr. Frentzen. They were seated in front of her glass desk, discussing something in hushed tones. The office itself was a mess. Shoes, clothes and make-up were strewn across her desk and in several piles on the floor. A dildo sat erect next to her pencil holder.

Rachel strolled towards her desk. “Well, hello, boys, what can I do for ya?” She gingerly stepped over a pile of clothes, and then discreetly tried to brush a neon green thong from the seat of her chair onto the floor. She couldn’t let them think she was some sort of slut or something.

“Rachel, I’m sorry to set upon you without notice, but we had an urgent matter that we needed to discuss with you,” Jim started. “It seems that the Board has directed that there be a bit of an internal re-organization, and the bank directors want to shift you to a new role.”

Rachel raised a manicured eyebrow. “What role would that be?”

Dr. Frentzen raised a brief hand to Jim and continued. “Well, my dear, it seems that the position of Assistant to the Head of Human Resources has been vacant for some time. Frankly, it’s a role that would suit you quite well, given your skills at managing people and keeping them happy. Don’t you agree?” The eccentric doctor fixed his gaze on Rachel, and she felt a familiar shiver starting at the base of her spine, until, out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of her fingernails.

“Oh, shoot, my nail’s broken.” The long bright pink nail on her index finger had a distinct chip just at its tip. She held it up to examine it further.

“I’m sorry to see that, Miss Rachel. Now what do you think of this generous offer from the Bank?” He re-fixed his glare on Rachel’s eyes.

Rachel returned the glare. “You know, most boys just stare at my tits, doc.” She giggled and posed briefly for the doctor. “You like?” She wiggled seductively, then noticed that her handbag was vibrating. “Oooh, jus’ a sec. Hello?” She answered the phone.

The doctor shook his head in an exasperated manner and glanced towards Jim with a shrug.

“Mmm hmm…, yup. Totally. Okay, see ya soon.”

“I’m sorry, boys, I’ve gotta get going. I got a new job with American National Bank today and I think I’m gonna stick with that. I’ve got a welcome party to go get ready for! And I, like, totally need a manicure!” She grabbed her handbag and stood to excuse herself from the meeting.

Dr. Frentzen furiously began chattering in an attempt to keep Rachel from leaving, but could not seem to connect with his once pliable quarry.

On her way towards the door, Rachel reached across Jim to grab the dildo that was sitting on her desk. “Might need this.” She said, practically, before heading for the door. Jim considered taking matters into his own hands, but in the end watched helplessly as the doctor failed to convince her otherwise.

“Dammit,” Jim said under his breath as the buxom beauty shuffled out of the office towards Mr. Brownstone’s waiting limousine.