REPOST: PARKER11.TXT -- M/F, NC -- 4/4
CAREER OPPORTUNITIES
by Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: There's not a lot of sex in this one. Mostly just
the setup, really. Still, if you stick with it, there's
bound to be some of that sort of stuff in the future.
Copyright 1994 by me (Parker). Feel free to distribute
(unaltered) as you will, but be discrete.
=================================================================
Carol stretched, lazy and catlike, her small, white foot extending from
beneath the thick quilt. "So," she asked, yawning contentedly in the aftermath
of the lovemaking, "Jerry was pretty excited?"
Brad snorted. "Excited isn't the word," he answered. "You couldn't get him
to shut up about it. Most of the office has probably heard about it by now." He
got up off the bed and padded, naked, towards the bathroom.
Carol watched him go, hungrily eyeing his ass. Less than ten minutes after
a long fuck session, and she was ready to go again! Must be all this talk about
Barbara, Carol reasoned. A small, delicious shiver ran through her body at the
thought of what she... what they were doing to that bitch.
Carol's thoughts were interrupted as Brad came out of the bathroom. She
looked hopefully towards his crotch as he came back into the room, but was
disappointed. He had put on a robe.
Damn.
Ah well. Back to Barbara...
"So you think everyone knows about it?" she asked.
"Probably," Brad told her, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Word gets
'round."
"Good. The more people the better."
Brad shrugged. "Well, one thing's for sure. She won't be going into the
stockroom again anytime soon."
Carol just smiled. "We'll see about that." Her pussy was getting wet just
thinking about what had happened to Barbara in the stockroom. And what was
still to come.
The couple fell silent for a moment. Brad looked at the floor. "Actually,"
he said, "I've been meaning to ask you something."
Carol looked over at him, waiting. "I mean," he explained, "I know you
hate Barbara and everything... and you've got reason. But... but, well, how far
are you going to go with this thing? I feel..."
"How far?" Suddenly angry, Carol sat up in the bed. Brad started to look
away, but his attention was captured by her breasts, small but firm. Perfect.
"In case you've forgotten, I'm going to lose my job in a little over a month.
Thanks to that bitch! I don't think that I will have gone too far until..."
"No, I don't mean..."
Carol stopped in mid-rant, suddenly deflated. "Sorry," she said quietly.
"I just get so angry sometimes."
Brad leaned over and gathered her into his arms. "That's OK," me murmured,
resting her head on his shoulder. "I do understand. It's just that I heard
about Baxter yesterday, and..."
"Baxter?" Carol pulled away and looked him in the face. "What happened
with Baxter?"
"Didn't you hear? He had a heart attack. He's dead."
Carol fell silent, stunned at the news. Brad watched her as she turned
away; as she looked down; as her shoulders began to shake silently...
"Carol..."
Carol turned to him.
She was laughing.
"Carol?"
"Don't you see," she asked, laughter dying down. "It's perfect. I needed
just one more thing to finish her off... and that's it. It's perfect."
The young blonde woman started laughing again.
Brad just looked at her, uneasy.
What was she talking about?
*****
WEEK SIX:
Another trip to the beauty salon.
Tammy was a little happier with the result this time. Still no artificial
nails, but by this time her "customer's" natural nails had grown out a fair bit
- Barbara had been forbidden to cut them - so the nail polish looked a little
more appropriate. Tammy also liked the colour a bit better: a nice hot pink,
which perfectly matched the new colour of lipstick. And, as per instructions
from Carol, Tammy had laid things on a little heavier this time: a little more
makeup; a more metallic blonde hair colour; a slightly wilder hair style.
Barbara hadn't said anything through the entire session. She just sat
there, staring straight ahead while Tammy worked. A little spooky, Tammy
thought, but what the hey?
The money was good.
Barbara pursed her lips, examining her makeup in the mirror. Everything
looked in place. The new lipstick was a little tarty for her taste, but it
wasn't like she had a choice.
Only another five or so weeks...
She turned just as the door opened. It was Carol of course; the bitch
never announced herself. And Phyllis was no use whatsoever; once the eleven
weeks were up...
"Well," Carol smiled approvingly, "I must say, you look quite something.
Quite the little slut."
"What do..."
Carol just laughed. "Don't start bitching at me. You got off easy this
week. A simple trip to the beauty parlour is hardly a problem for a girl like
you."
Barbara quit trying to protest. She couldn't figure out what the hell the
blonde woman was going on about. Best just to shut up and listen. Besides, she
*had* gotten off easy this week.
"Anyway," Carol continued, "I need you to pick up some stuff for me from
the supply room." She put a piece of paper on Barbara's desk. It was a list of
numerous office supply items.
"Ask a secretary," Barbara snapped. "Get Phyllis to do it. It's not
like..."
Carol silenced her with a stare. "I'm asking you."
Once again, Barbara fell silent. "Yes Carol," she acquiesced quietly. Best
to go along with it.
Only five more weeks...
Barbara was extremely conscious of the shortness of her skirt as she bent
down to pull some supplies from a shelf. It hadn't been obvious, but the skirts
had been getting steadily shorter. The one she was wearing today must have been
a good eight inches from her knees, not so bad when she was sitting behind a
desk, but definitely an embarrassing disadvantage when bending over. Luckily,
she was alone in the stock room. Sighing, she bent over and reached across the
shelf. It would have been better to have gone around to the other side, but if
she could just reach...
Barbara was startled to feel a hand on her ass.
"Hey!" Shocked and alarmed, she tried to back up, but there was someone
standing directly behind her, blocking her path and trapping her as she stood,
bent at the waist with her upper body stuck between two shelves. "What are
you... what's going on..."
No answer.
Or at least no verbal answer.
A hand reached around under her chest and roughly squeezed her breast.
"Noooo...." Barbara was now beginning to panic: WHO WAS DOING THIS TO HER???
Frantically, she tried to twist her upper body, attempting to turn her face and
get a look at the person who was abusing her. Just as she did so, however, a
piece of heavy cloth was dropped over her head: someone's jacket? She tried to
grab ahold of it to pull it away, but her wrists were taken and fastened to the
railings at either end of the shelf. She was now blind and helpless, bent in
two with her ass hanging over one end of the shelf and her face over the other.
Her panicked cries were muffled by the jacket as she felt her short skirt
being rolled up her legs until her ass was completely exposed. A pair of hand
grabbed her panties - the pink, frilly ones, as ordered by Carol - and yanked
them free. Angrily, she tried to kick back at her tormentors, but her ankles
were quickly tied about three feet apart to the lower rails of the shelf.
"You bastards," she yelled from beneath the jacket. "I'll... umph..." Her
cries were cut off as a hand reached under the jacket and rudely stuffed a
small bundle of cloth into her open mouth. Her sense of smell told her what it
was: her panties. "Hmmmm..." She tried to push the foul tasting cloth out of
her mouth, but a hand was held over her mouth, holding them in.
Barbara was beginning to panic in earnest now. She felt a finger between
her legs... squeezing... pressing... She tried to close her legs, but the
bindings at her ankles kept them spread. She was totally helpless.
Exposed.
"Hah," came a male voice, "The slut's already wet. Little whore really
wants it."
Barbara felt her face burning beneath the jacket. It was true; for some
reason, her pussy was moist. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep
her body from betraying her. And the language they were using... calling her a
"bitch" and a "whore"... With every new epithet, she felt a shiver of pleasure
run through her.
Just like last week with Jerry.
Jerry! She *did* recognize the voice. It was...
Her thoughts were interrupted as a thick cock was inserted into her
exposed pussy and buried inside with one brutal shove. She squealed and rocked
forward, trying to jerk away from the cock, but it was no use; she was trapped
by the shelves. All she could do was stand there, bent over at the waist, as
she was raped from behind. The man pistoned his hips back and forth, riding his
cock in and out of her now sopping pussy. In a way, she felt almost grateful
for her arousal; the lubrication spared her a lot of pain.
Pain.
A hand slapped the side of her ass, causing her to buck and screech in
shock. "C'mon bitch," the voice said. "Fuck me back. I know you like it." The
hand came down again, sending a shiver of pain and... and pleasure through her
body. Slowly, and then with greater energy, she began to fuck back against the
cock, sliding her hips back and forth as she felt her own arousal building.
"Uhh... Uhhh... Uhh..." She began to grunt in time with the thrusts.
After a few moments, the man behind her stiffened and came, shooting his
load of sperm straight into her pussy. Barbara moaned with frustration as he
pulled out; she was so close! She heard laughter in the room - how many men
were there? - as she futilely bucked her sweaty ass back against the air. She
must have looked ridiculous, but she didn't care. "Please..." she moaned
through the soggy panties. "Please..."
Her muffled wish was quickly granted as another man came up behind her and
jammed his cock up her pussy. She squealed, this time with pleasure, and began
vigorously fucking back at him. As she did so, she felt the hand at her mouth
pull away, taking the sopping panties with them. Barbara opened her mouth to
groan, but it was immediately filled with cock. She tried to push it away, but
her wrists were firmly fastened to the shelves. All she could do was suck at
the cock and try not to gag.
The sudden intrusion of the cock in her mouth momentarily threw off the
rhythm of her arousal, but she soon picked it up again. Moaning with lust, she
bucked back against the cock buried in her pussy and sucked hungrily at the
cock in her mouth. Her first orgasm came about thirty seconds later, a mind
numbing burst of pleasure which left her gasping for more.
The two men came at the same time, simultaneously pumping sperm into her
mouth and pussy. She swallowed as fast as she could, but was unable to prevent
the hot jism from bubbling over her lips and dribbling down her chin.
Both cocks pulled away and were quickly replaced.
By the end of the session in the storeroom, she must have fucked at least
a dozen guys (or, maybe, fewer than a dozen and some of them twice; it was
impossible to tell). After the first few, she had sunk into some kind of sexual
daze where she had remained for most of the session, grunting, bucking and
panting like some kind of wind-up sex doll. The only exception had been when
they had begun fucking her in the ass rather then in the pussy. The pain had
momentarily woken her from her daze, but after the first couple of ass fucks,
she no longer felt it.
Nothing but orgasm... after orgasm... after...
When she finally regained her senses, she was lying on the floor of the
storeroom, her ankles still tied to the lower railing of the shelves. Moving
stiffly, she had untied herself and staggered to her feet. Fortunately, her
clothing was still pretty much intact, albeit cum-stained, and she was able to
repair her general appearance. After wiping away as much of the sperm as
possible with the inside of her skirt, she left the storeroom and walked as
quickly as possible to her office.
She would have to repair her makeup as soon as possible. Couldn't let
Carol see her like this...
Phyllis looked up, quickly hitting the ENTER key on her computer, removing
her boss's electronic diary from the screen. Barbara, hair and makeup repaired,
but still in something of a daze, walked past and into her office, not even
acknowledging the secretary's existence. Behind her, Phyllis stared at the
closed door with a curious mix of longing and anger. "Steady girl," she
muttered under her breath. "You'll get your chance."
A quick glance through the window revealed that Barbara was not using the
diary - she had not even turned on her computer. Phyllis smirked and called it
up on her screen. There was an important meeting tomorrow.
A few more changes and...
*****
"...and I just don't have time for this," he stated, almost shouting in
anger. "You've been cancelling these meetings for the last couple of weeks, and
I finally get a chance to see you and you don't bloody show up!" Harold Simpson
slammed his beefy fist down on the boardroom table, frustrated and angry. "And
now you tell me that the report I specifically came here to get won't be ready
till next week."
Barbara fought to hold back the tears. "I'm so sorry Mr. Simpson," she
apologised frantically. "I thought that the meeting wasn't until..."
"Bullshit!" The enraged client heaved his considerable bulk up out of his
chair and began pacing. "I called your secretary yesterday. She confirmed the
meeting."
"But..."
"I'm sick of excuses."
Barbara fell silent.
Simpson looked over at her and sighed. She used to be one of the best
business contacts he had ever worked with: tough, smart, hard working. But
now...
He had been shocked at her new appearance when she had stumbled into the
meeting almost forty-five minutes late. The platinum hair; the pink lipstick;
the short skirt and high heels... she looked more like some bimbo secretary
than the tough businesswomen he remembered. At first he had assumed that the
changes were just cosmetic - that she had just gotten a new boyfriend or
something like that - and was still as efficient as ever. But that assumption
had proved wrong. And he just couldn't risk leaving his business to someone
like that.
"Barbara," he said, "I'm sorry, but this meeting is over. I'll be calling
Riker this afternoon and arrange to get my files transferred back to my
office."
Barbara just stood there, stunned. Simpson was firing the firm! Oh god...
he was one of their biggest clients. Riker would fire her for sure!
"Please... Mr... Harold," she said, walking slowly forward. "Give me
another chance. It won't happen again."
Simpson just shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he answered. "It's just
too..."
He broke off speaking just as she came up to him. In a flash of insight,
she understood why: it was her. He was attracted to her; wanted her.
Wanted to fuck her.
Her first reaction was one of nausea. Quite apart from her firm policy not
to get involved with clients - and Simpson wasn't the first to be interested -
Harold Simpson was far from an attractive man. He was grossly fat, with a red,
jowly face and receding hairline. But still... he was one of the Company's
oldest and richest clients; a client the Company could not afford to lose. That
loss would spell the end of her career, and she had gone through so much -
eight weeks of hell, thanks to that bitch Carol - to keep her job and get the
promotion.
And how bad could it be? She'd already fucked half the guys at the office?
Forcing a smile onto her beautiful face, Barbara moved right up to the
angry client. He tried to say something, stuttering impotently, but she shushed
him with one, brightly painted fingernail on his lips. "It's alright," she
purred. "You don't have to say anything. I know what you need."
She leaned into him and brought her lips up to his mouth. His lips were
thick and soft... and wet. She almost gagged at the feel of him, but at the
same time felt a thrill of lust run through her body. She didn't understand it,
but counted it a blessing as he opened his mouth and sucked hungrily at her
tongue. How else could she possibly go through with this?
After a long, sensuous kiss, she slowly sunk to her knees in front of him,
her fingers pulling down his zipper and carefully coaxing his slug-like cock
free from his trousers. He gasped and then leaned back against the boardroom
table as Barbara's hot mouth engulfed his cock and began sucking.
Perhaps, he thought, he should reconsider his decision to fire her. She
may not be much use for business any more, but the beautiful bitch certainly
had her uses...
*****
WEEK NINE:
This couldn't be happening.
It just couldn't.
She had come into the office that monday morning, wobbling a bit on her
new stiletto heels, but still feeling pretty good. The end was in sight: just a
couple more weeks. And not only did she still have her job, but Riker had
indicated to her that he expected the promotion to become permanent in the near
future. Apparently, Simpson been very... enthusiastic about working with her.
She shuddered a bit, not the least because of the memory of her own reactions
the fat bastard had...
Well, best not to think about it.
The letter had been on her desk when she had arrived, sitting beside a
steaming cup of coffee. Phyllis must have brought it in, Barbara had mused,
taking a long sip as she reached for the letter. She had opened it immediately
and scanned its contents, wanting to delay the inevitable moment when she would
turn on her computer and read that week's orders.
To say that the news was a shock would be an understatement. She almost
swallowed her gum as she collapsed back into her office chair. Baxter was dead!
That was enough, but there was more. Much more...
Panicking, she reached over and punched the desk intercom. "Phyllis," she
ordered, "get Fawkner and Tymmens. Tell them to get to my office right away."
Heart racing, she leaned back in her chair to think. Those assholes had
gotten her into this mess, and they could bloody well get her out of it. If
not, she'd make certain to take them down with her...
Brad slumped back against the wall, biting his lip with worry, while Carol
paced angrily back and forth in the office. Only Barbara, sitting calmly at her
desk, seemed unmoved. This was, however, an illusion; inside, she was bleakly
reviewing the destruction of her hopes and plans. There was no doubt about it:
she was going to jail. The money was gone. Those four words...
"Suing?" Carol had been flabbergasted, staring at the letter.
"That's right," Barbara agreed. "His estate is suing for the $120,000 we
embezzled from the Company."
Brad, typically Barbara thought, had been confused. "Well what do you
mean? Did you owe Baxter the money or something?"
Carol had answered: "Not exactly. The way they set up the embezzlement
scheme, the money went into Barbara's account. In order to reduce taxes, he was
going to accept it as a capital gain through a shell company." She looked over
at Barbara. "That's right, isn't it?" Barbara nodded tiredly. "So," Carol
continued, "when Baxter's estate went into probate, the money turned up as a
debt to his account. A debt from Barbara to his company."
Brad still looked confused, but the two women ignored him. Barbara cut
right to the heart of the matter: "I need that money back," she said. "We set
it up so that the debt is watertight. I have to pay; if not, they'll sue, and
this whole thing will come unravelled." She looked Carol straight in the eye.
"And if things come to that," she said menacingly, "I'll make sure everyone
knows what happened here." Carol swallowed and turned red. Barbara, enjoying
the feeling of being in control once again, repeated her request. "Give me back
the money."
Carol was silent.
It was Brad spoke up: "We can't," he said quietly. "The money is gone."
The money was gone.
Barbara's facade of calm crumbled, at first slowly and then more quickly
until she was literally in tears. Over the last few minutes, she had begun to
feel a sense of confusion come over her. It must be the pressure, she told
herself, making it hard to think. Still, she couldn't help herself from feeling
overwhelmed by it all: after everything she had gone through in the last few
months... and now to lose it all. It just wasn't fair. It just wasn't...
"...Barbara?"
Barbara stopped sniffling and looked over at Carol. The women had been
saying something to her, but she had been too wrapped up in self-pity to
listen. "W-what?"
"There's a way out of this," Carol told her, suddenly decisive. "Baxter's
estate hasn't actually sued yet. If you declare bankruptcy before they sue,
everything will go to the trustee in bankruptcy, and they won't be able to get
at it. No one'll know where the money went."
In her confused state, Barbara turned this idea over in her head.
Bankruptcy... but didn't that mean...
"You'll have to decide quickly," Carol stated, interrupting Barbara's
thoughts. "This letter says that they're going to sue right away. You have to
declare before that happens."
Barbara felt increasingly confused, but one thought stuck out in her mind:
if she didn't do it and the estate sued her, her career would be over and she
would be going to jail. She was certain of it. She wasn't sure about Carol's
idea, but... what other choice was there? Barbara shook her head, trying to
clear away the fog of confusion, but only succeeded in disorienting herself.
What...
"Well?" Carol asked. "What do you want to do? I can have a lawyer here
within half and hour if you want."
Barbara bit her lip and nodded.
She would declare bankruptcy.
It was the only way out.
Numb, she picked up her coffee cup and finished the dregs while the young
blonde woman picked up the phone and called the lawyer...
The lawyer turned out to be a woman named Terry McDonnell.
Coincidentally, Barbara actually knew her: the lawyer had worked on a file
for the Company a number of years ago. The deal had come apart and Barbara had
registered a complaint to the Bar Society. McDonnell had been disciplined, and
the Company no longer sent work to that firm. Fortunately, Ms. McDonnell didn't
seem to recognize Barbara, or remember who she was. For the first time, Barbara
was pleased about the change in her appearance.
The lawyer entered the office and brusquely laid out a bunch of forms on
Barbara's desk while Carol and Brad watched in silence. "Now Ms. Dahlton," she
said, "you understand the bankruptcy process?" Barbara, still confused, shook
her head. "Basically, you sign over all your assets to a trustee, whose job it
is to distribute those assets among your creditors. The bankruptcy period lasts
one year, during which all of your wages and other income will go to the
trustee. You will, of course, be allowed to keep a certain percentage of your
income to live on, but everything else will be distributed. At the end of the
year, your creditors will accept whatever payment they get from the trustee,
and you are discharged." The woman paused for a breath before asking: "Do you
have any questions?"
Once again, Barbara shook her head. She didn't really understand, but
didn't want to appear stupid. Besides, McDonnell seemed to know what she was
doing.
"Fine." McDonnell nodded and gathered up a stack of forms. "I have your
assets all listed here, so I just need you to sign a few papers."
In her confused state, Barbara didn't think to ask how the lawyer had
already compiled a list of assets. She just took the first form and tried to
read it. It was, however, filled with dense legalese, and, after a few moments,
she gave up and just signed it. That form was followed by a second, equally
impenetrable, document; a third... On it went. After the first few, she gave up
reading and just signed them.
Finally, it was over. McDonnell gathered up the signed documents. "Thank
you," she said. "That will do it. I'll get these executed right away." She
turned and left the office, followed closely by Carol and Brad.
Barbara eased back in her chair and heaved a sigh of relief. Thank god
that was taken care of...
"...and you need to file these as soon as possible," McDonnell said,
handing Carol most of the forms, "Ms. Trustee." Carol took the forms; she was
now the trustee, the legal owner, of almost all of Barbara's assets - and
income - for the coming year. Plenty of time to arrange for the suitable
disposal of those assets.
"But this one..." The lawyer held up a document, a smile appearing on her
face for the first time since she had arrived. "This one I'll do myself. The
name change has to be published before it takes effect."
Carol smirked. "Fine Terry," she said, "but do it soon."
Terry McDonnell, who very clearly remembered the incident with Barbara
Dahlton, smiled a nasty smile: "I'm on my way now. It'll be in the classified
section of the final edition. By tomorrow, her name will officially be Barbie
Dahl."
*****
"...and, well, you've shown such a marked improvement these last three
months, we'd like you to stay on."
Carol smiled widely. Her one year probation period was finally up and it
looked like she was going to keep her job! More than that...
"As you may have heard," Riker continued, shifting uncomfortably in his
seat, "There have been some... difficulties with Ms. Dahlton's work lately.
We'd thought that things were back to normal - Simpson spoke very highly of
her; damn near insisted on working exclusively with her - but now this
bankruptcy thing..." The balding executive scratched his head. "Well... we'd
like you to take her job, on a temporary basis of course. See how you fit in."
Carol could barely contain herself. Not only was she being kept on, but
she was being offered a great promotion: Barbara's job, no less! This was too
good to be true. Wait until she told Brad!
Still... there was one thing.
"Well Ms. Fawkner?" Riker was a little miffed; he'd been expecting
something more of a reaction. It wasn't every day a junior employee got such
good news.
Carol shook her head. "I'm sorry Mr Riker," she apologized. "Of course
I'll be delighted to take the job. The company's been very good to me so far,
and I like it here. But..."
"But?"
"Well," Carol lowered her face. "It's about... Barbara. I know she hasn't
been 'on' lately, but... I think it's because of Baxter." Carol looked up,
gauging Riker's reaction. "I think she was hit hard when he died. They had been
working together for a long time."
Riker frowned at the mention of Baxter's name, but his face softened when
Carol explained Barbara's reactions. "It's nice of you to defend her," he
answered. "To tell the truth... well, maybe I shouldn't be telling you this,
but Barbara was never particularly complimentary about your work."
"I know," Carol looked upset. "But it just doesn't seem fair to fire her
just like that."
Riker shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I don't know what else to do about
it," he told her. "We can't have her as an executive. Quite aside from the
quality of work, the bankruptcy will reflect on the entire company. And the
name change... did you know?" Carol nodded, fighting back a smirk. "Changed her
name to 'Barbie Dahl', for christ's sake." He shook his head in disbelief.
"Barbie Dahl. She's lost it completely."
"I know," Carol agreed. "But maybe she can stay on in another capacity."
"What do you have in mind?"
Carol smiled and began to explain exactly what she had in mind...
"Don't tell me..."
"Listen, you idiot," Carol cut the older woman off. "You're going to be
fired if you don't listen to me. Riker wants to let you go right now, but I
convinced him to give you another chance. He wants to talk with you. Now."
Barbara slumped back against her desk, instinctively patting down her
short skirt - if she wasn't careful, it got bunched up on her legs. Wavy blonde
hair perfectly in place, she stuck out her pink-lipstick covered lower lip in a
sexy pout as she considered her options. If Riker was going to fire her... Even
the thought made her lower lip quiver and her eyes brighten with tears. Without
thinking, she pulled the small makeup mirror out of her desk drawer and checked
her makeup; wouldn't do to have the mascara run.
Now, what had Carol said about saving the job?
"He wants to talk to me?" she asked, voice quavering.
Carol nodded. "Right now. I convinced him that we can still use you around
the office, but he wants to hear from you how much you want to work here."
Barbara sighed, breasts heaving beneath her skimpy blouse, and nodded in
agreement.
She did want the job.
"And don't forget," Carol added, following as the older woman left the
office. "If you get fired, there will be no money for the bankruptcy. You may
yet end up in jail."
This thought sent another chill of fear through Barbara as she hustled
down the hallway, walking expertly on the five inch heels.
Carol and Phyllis watched her go, the latter staring hungrily at Barbara's
ass.
"Well," Carol sighed. "This is it."
Phyllis looked up at and smiled hopefully. "You haven't forgotten..."
"No." Carol shook her head. "If things go as planned, she'll be all
your's."
"...and I really, really need the job Mr Riker..."
Even now, Riker couldn't believe the change. Just three months ago,
Barbara Dahlton had been one of the toughest, most competent executives in the
Company; a shoe-in for Baxter's job. And now...
"...I promise not to mess up again. That was..."
And now, here she was... looking like some kind of blonde sex-bimbo,
practically begging to be kept on.
"...so please give me another chance."
She finally ran down and fell silent. Riker let his gaze move slowly over
her body, starting from her five-inch pumps, up her long, sleek legs, barely
covered by the short skirt, up to her large, firm breasts and beautiful, tarty
face and blonde hair. God she looked hot!
"But you understand," he said, fighting to keep the lust from his voice,
"that you can't stay at your present position and salary?"
"Oh, yes Mr Riker."
And the gum; made her look like such a tart!
"And you don't mind acting as Ms. Fawkner's personal secretary? She's
pretty new..."
"Oh no," came the answer. "I like working for Carol."
Riker paused for a moment. She seemed awfully anxious to keep the job; and
she looked so sexy standing there like that... his dick was straining against
the fabric of his pants.
A thought occurred to him.
But... well, why not?
She was just another office bimbo now.
"I'm not so sure," he said lazily, getting up and walking around to stand
in front of his desk, "that you're really right for the job." He leaned back
against the desk, legs slightly spread. "How much do you want it?"
Barbara swallowed, eyes brightening with tears.
But she knew what to do.
Slowly, forcing a sexy smile on her vacant face, Barbara Dahlton - Barbie
Dahl - knelt down in front of Riker and reached over to undo his zipper with
her long, brightly painted nails...
*****
"What a bimbo!"
The small circle of people laughed as the object of the comment, Barbie
Dahl, entered the room where the office summer party was being held. As usual,
she was dressed provocatively: six inch heels, black stocking and ultra-short
leather skirt, tank top... on the whole, just barely within the bounds of
acceptability at the party. And, as usual, the clothes looked great on her; the
regular trips to Workout World had worked wonders on her body.
"Who is she?" The speaker was a new trainee executive.
Carol smiled at her. "That's Barbie," she answered. "She's my personal
assistant. Just a sec, I'll introduce you." The blonde woman turned and called
out: "Barbie! Here, girl." The woman, Barbie, flushed a bright red as the
people in the room laughed, but she quickly came over, walking expertly on the
heels.
Barbara - Barbie - felt herself flush with embarrassment and humiliation
as she approached the group. Six months ago, she had been their equal or
superior, and now...
"Hello Barbie," Carol greeted her.
"Ma'am," Barbie nodded, eyes cast downward. Carol was very strict about
that: she was always to refer to Carol as "ma'am" in public. As well, she was
under strict orders never to talk about business around other people. In
private, Carol was happy to pick her brains about business and the Company, but
in public she was to be an airhead.
Pretty, but vacant.
"I want you to meet Sandra," Carol said, smiling. "Sandra Janson, this is
Barbie, my personal assistant." Barbie looked up at Sandra but didn't speak.
"Barbie," Carol admonished, "say hello."
Barbie flushed again. "Hello Ms. Janson," she said in a small voice. She
hated this; the girl was fifteen years her junior.
"Hello Barbie," the girl answered, smirking.
The group laughed.
"If you'll excuse me for a moment," Carol said to the group, "I just want
a word with Barbie. She gets so confused when she isn't told what to do."
Another round of laughter, and Barbie heard the new girl mutter "what a
bimbo" as she walked away.
"Barbie," Carol stated, matter of fact now that she was no longer
'performing', "Riker wants to meet with you in his office. And Simpson is going
to be here later." Barbie shuddered; she knew what that meant. For the last
couple of months, Carol had been using her to keep Simpson happy - using her as
a "business whore" Carol called it - while Carol did the deals and got the
credit. So far it had worked out great for everyone but Barbie - the Company
got the work; Carol got the credit; and Simpson got full use of Barbie usually
at least once or twice a week. Carol was so happy with the arrangement, that
she was planning to use Barbie in the same capacity with other customers.
("Between your pussy and my brains...") "He'll be expecting you to hang all
over him at the party and then accompany him back to his hotel room." Barbie
couldn't help but tremble at the small shiver of lust in her tummy; she just
couldn't help herself. She hated every moment of being with Simpson, but for
some reason, she just couldn't stop coming.
And the thought of being forced to sleep with other customers...
"I've spoken to Phyllis," Carol continued. "She won't be expecting you
home until tomorrow." Barbie shuddered again at the thought of the red headed
secretary. Between the drop in pay and the percentage taken by the trustee in
bankruptcy, Barbara had no longer been able to afford her own apartment. Carol
had arranged for Phyllis to take her in, and the two women now lived together.
Barbie was still not a lesbian, despite the best efforts of her roommate, but
she had learned how to suck pussy and fake excitement sufficiently well to
satisfy Phyllis.
She hated it, though.
Every second of it.
"Barbie!" The blonde bimbo heard her name spoken, this time by a male
voice. It was Riker, standing across the room in a doorway. "I want to see you
right away," he called to her. This brought another round of laughter from the
party-goers. Everyone knew what was going to happen at the meeting.
"Off you go," Carol told her, giving her a pat on the ass. "Have a good
time."
Flushing a bright red, Barbie walked across the room, followed by a good
number of lustful stares from the men in the room. It had been several days
since she had been gang banged in the storeroom, and they were getting restless
again.
This week for sure.
Carol felt a hand across her shoulders and looked up to see Brad smiling
down at her.
"Everything OK?" he asked. She smiled back and gave him a quick hug.
"Perfect," she told him. "Couldn't be better."
From behind her, she heard the booming voice of Harold Simpson as he
entered the party. He already sounded half drunk, and seemed ready to have some
fun.
She looked up at Brad and the two of them laughed. Maybe things would get
better...
THE END
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As usual, all comments are appreciated.
