Message-ID: <2081eli$9707151105@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo) Subject: New TG: The New Secretary by Amy Brett (04/11) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <5qfinr$f4j@nienor.in-berlin.de> Hi. This nifty submission is not included yet, but it will be in next one during the upcoming weekend. This story is a refelction of the current jobmarket and conclusions which may occur under strange and rare situations. So folks be happy if you had a job. As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null. If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for story postings and for nothing else. Enjoy the story. Ciao Nostrumo >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 4___The_New_Secretary_______________________________________by_Amy_Brett_ "Do you have one you've done before?" "Sure," he said and went to the credenza behind his desk and got a bound report about half an inch thick. He handed it to me. I scanned it quickly as he stood at my side, looking over my shoulder. It looked like most of the material was already set and only a few pages at the beginning were tailored to the specific potential client. "This looks pretty easy," I noted. "Yeah. Not bad. A few hours work but I can never seem to get a block of time during the day when I can concentrate on things like that." As if to punctuate the statement, the phone rang. He started to get it but I intercepted him. "Let me," I said. "Mr. Miller's office. May I help you?" "Yeah. This is Ed. Let me talk to Bill please, hon." "One moment please." I pressed the hold button and handed the phone to Bill. "Ed?" "Oh, yeah. Ed's marketing," he explained as he sat down back behind the desk and pressed the button. "Hi, Ed. What's up?" He listened and looked up at me and smiling after a few seconds. "Yeah. Yeah, excellent as far as I can tell so far. Yeah." He chuckled. "That, too." I had the feeling I was the topic of conversation and wondered if this was one of the marketing types the girl in the bathroom was talking about. "Yeah. No. I don't think so," he said, looking up at me. "Thanks. We'll see. No. No. No fucking way. Yeah, bye." "Is there anything else I should know?" I asked as he hung up. I didn't have to speculate much on the call. I thought I could have carried on the other end of the conversation at one time. And I was pretty sure I didn't want to fill it in when it was applied to me. "Not right now," he said. "You can start on these." He handed me the handwritten memos and I returned to my desk. In the next two hours, I answered the phone a half dozen times, finished the memos, and looked at the proposal on the computer. He was pleased when I gave him the memos in the first hour. I finished my first day of work as a woman relatively uneventfully with a five minute pep talk from Bill about how well I was starting and left the building on time. 9. Chapter We celebrated our first day at work (and getting hired) by going to the bar on the way to Margaret's. She was buying. We went straight to our usual booth and ordered our usual drinks. That's where the similarities to any other time ended. First, when we walked through the door, every eye in the place turned to us or came to us within a nudge or two. Next, when the drinks came, the bar girl, who was all smiles, told us somebody at the bar had bought them for us and when I looked, a guy smiled and saluted toward me. In about another minute, we had second and third drinks, delivered at the same time from various parts of the bar. We still sipped at our drinks, as we always had, but with glasses that seemed to be bottomless, we were all drinking more than usual and getting happier in the process. Thanks to that, we talked about absolutely nothing serious. If we had, it wouldn't have worked because we were interrupted every 10 minutes by another guy or pair of guys or group of guys who came to "talk". They all wanted one or all of us to join them, to buy drinks for us in spite of the groaning table filled with them already, or to offer the rest of the night out somewhere else. We got offers for movies, discos, and more than one apartment. They seemed to concentrate on Michelle and I but Paula and even Margaret had to fend off offers when they went to the restroom. Needless to say, even when we left after about an hour and a half or so to go home, we didn't discuss anything even marginally serious. What I'd thought important that afternoon, wasn't even important to me by then. In fact, I'd entirely put it out of my mind for the night. With another beer at home and the hamburgers we'd picked up on the way, we were all ready for bed and sleep. * * * I'd never had a secretary. Too lowly. And I'd never really known one. But I had an idea I knew what a secretary should do. Anticipate what your boss needs to do his job and try to do as much as possible without step by step guidance. So that's the way I approached my first real morning of work. I made it to work a few minutes early. Nothing remarkable. Just a few minutes. I pulled up the calendar and printed out a copy of the day's appointments. When Bill came in, I smiled, said hello, handed him the printout, and went for coffee. It didn't look like he'd even gotten settled behind his desk when I came back with the coffee, set it on his coaster, and sat down. "If you have any additions to your schedule, just let me know," I told him with what I hoped was a bright smile. He smiled back every bit as brightly and moved himself and his coffee to the chair in front of his desk again. "I like your outfits," he said, disconnecting me somewhat. This morning, I'd chosen one of the shirt-cut dresses that the rest of the girls thought was flattering to my figure but not revealing. The skirt fell to the top of my knees. "You know though that the boss's secretary, as well as being the most beautiful in the place, usually dresses slightly more what should I say? Sexy? "You know," he said with a wave of the hand. "Shorter skirts. Maybe tighter. Maybe the tops a little more revealing." I was really stunned. No boss in the world could suggest how a secretary should dress, unless it was more conservatively, without expecting trouble. But I bit my tongue and slowly nodded agreement. >From there, he made small talk for another 15 minutes, interspersed with tidbits about his evening at home (unexciting in the extreme) and observations about the business. I responded in kind and left when he said he'd tell me if there were additions to the schedule or anything else he needed. I answered the phone, checking with Bill about salesmen and others before connecting some, and fending off the rest or redirecting them to other people. He wrote another half a dozen short memos that I typed, taking them to him with the mail. The mail produced a dozen letters in response that I also typed. I went to lunch with Paula and noticed that something seemed to be a problem but she just shook her head when I asked and said it was nothing. I should have pressed her on it. At two, I got coffee for Bill and I, and was greeted with a big smile as I brought them and most of the letters. He sat at the other chair in front of me as usual while we talked pleasantly enough. I felt less self-conscious with each of these meetings, almost feeling at ease. This time, however, I noticed that he seemed to study me unlike any other time I'd been with him. Even during the initial interview. It was disconcerting, in a way, since he was actually staring as much as anything. And staring at parts as I hadn't noticed him doing before. First he stared into my eyes, my face, as if memorizing every contour. Then he stared at my neck and chest (something I was coming to expect if not to thoroughly enjoy). Then he talked to me but looked at my crossed legs, the hem of my dress, and my hands where I'd set them over my bared knee to keep from fidgeting. Sometimes I had a difficult time concentrating on what he was saying or asking me for wondering what, exactly, he was looking at and trying to remember if he'd done that before in our short experience together. I didn't think so but I wasn't sure. Wasn't sure enough to run, although I did blush at his intense scrutiny. Did all women undergo this kind of inspection from some men? Was he attracted to me? What was it? And, most important to me for some reason. Was this new or something I just hadn't noticed before? As had been the case since the previous afternoon's session, I was happier when he finally said we needed to get back to work, dismissing me as he stood up to return to his desk. I was just reaching out for the door, my mind racing at 90 miles an hour, when he said, "Oh Andy?" I turned and said yes, awaiting the question. But no question was forthcoming. He just stared at me, a smile slowly spreading on his face as his statement sunk in. My throat clenched as I started to correct the situation. But all I could do was stand there with my mouth working silently like a fish out of water and my mind whirring with possible ways I could undo the damage I recognized now. "Come back and sit down," he said. I hadn't had that much trouble walking on the high heels since the first minutes I'd worn them Friday. "I had lunch with Roger today and he told me a most interesting story," he began as I sat down nervously, again knee to knee with him. "He said his new secretary dropped her purse this morning and, being a gentleman, he helped her pick her things back up. "But one thing he picked up was her driver's license. He said he was very surprised when he saw the name on it and recognized a former employee. Now he said that though Paula seems to be an excellent employee he's had some ... well, say strange vibes from her." I was trying to control my breathing to stop my chest from heaving as it was. "May I see your driver's license?" he asked softly, still pleasantly. I started to say it was in my purse at my desk. Then I knew it really wasn't necessary. "You don't need to," I said. He nodded. "So what now? Am I fired for gaining employment under false pretenses?" For far too long, several seconds that allowed me to listen to the surge of blood through my ears in the silent room, he stared at me with a slight smile. "You're very good," he finally said. "You're a very good secretary. At least from what I've seen so far and I expect that will continue. But, as Amy, you're very good. Normally poised. I can understand why you're not right now. Beautiful. Better. You're sexy as hell." He looked at me some more. Silently. "You must have wanted this job very much." I nodded. "But I don't think even that motivation could make you so thoroughly ... believable. I've seen women ... real women that is ... who are not nearly so feminine or appealing. Certainly appealing. I've been thinking very un-boss-like thoughts, ones the EEOC would not approve of at all, since the moment you walked in the door for your interview." Now he grinned from ear to ear. "We find ourselves in a rather unique position," he said then, tapping his front teeth with a fingernail. "You obviously want this job. I need you to do the job. You qualify in all ways." He stopped. "But one. "One, I think, that anyone would be hard pressed to discover without your direct assistance. Without your telling them outright, in fact. I don't think you're inclined to do that. Am I right?" I nodded jerkily. "Did you and Paula do this on your own or did you have help?" he asked quickly. I opened my mouth but nothing came out luckily. Only after I thought about it did I question saying anything. "Ah, Margaret. Of course. She had to be in on it. She did the background check. You couldn't have manufactured qualifications quickly enough to fool her." I choked again but he didn't need an answer. My face had been answer enough for him. "Okay. So it's not likely she'd give you away to anyone who matters. Neither would Paula. She's in the same position you're in. In fact, she and Roger already had this little talk and came to an arrangement. "In fact, the same arrangement I intend to suggest to you." I could only wait. If there had been a ticking grandfather clock or metronome it couldn't have ticked off more clearly than the beats of my pounding heart. Perhaps I couldn't have heard over it anyway. A drummer leading the way to the gallows couldn't have made any more noise in my head. "One of the reasons I've succeeded in business is that I'm a very pragmatic man. I know what works in real life and what doesn't. And I know when an opportunity is offered to me and how to take advantage of it." I must have been a few beats back in this music, still trying to react to his initial statements. "I'm ... I'm not fired?" I said, seeing the grim job search again. The frustration. The feelings of complete loss of self worth. "No. Or at least it's leaning that way. But I need to know that you are totally loyal." I nodded my head. "To me and to the company. That you're not going to turn us all in to the EEOC at your first opportunity." "No!" I said in answer. "That you're not going to use your unique situation to take advantage of us." He stood up and I stood up with him. "Some odd kind of sexual discrimination suit." "No. How " He towered over me and, before I could finish either my thought or my statement, put one arm under mine and pulled me close against him. He didn't do it hard enough to drive the wind out of me. The unexpected action did that to me instead as I caught myself with a hand on his chest and the other on his strong arm. If I had the breath to say more, it would have been wasted as his mouth covered mine. My eyes probably sprung to two inch circles with the surprise I felt at being kissed by this man. By any man. "This is the test," he said softly, his lips still brushing against my lipstick. "Pass or fail." Strangely, I felt a sort of relief and, as his mouth covered mine again, sighed into it. Though Paula was really a man, our bedtime games had been as women usually and only with a strange mental shift did my mind approve that. But this was surely a man. A big man. Hot against my front and leaning over me so my neck was bent back with the pressure of his kiss, his hand hard in my back. There was something about feeling my breasts pressing into his hard chest, his leg pressing between mine. I felt like a woman in a man's arms and I reacted like one. My hand moved from his chest where it had made a feeble attempt at holding him back, to the back of his neck to hold his kiss. When his tongue delved into my mouth, it was already open and accepting. When I felt his dick hard against the side of my stomach, it felt right and I was glad I'd caused it. Minutes later, wildly pleasurable minutes, adoring minutes, he broke the kiss and slowly lowered himself to the chair again without moving his hand from its place in the middle of my back. I found myself between his legs on my knees and my head on his chest for a few minutes. I felt disappointment when he moved me away and curiosity when he let go of my arms, my hands resting on his legs. It shows you how ready I was that I only watched his hands move as he unbuckled his belt, unzipped, and put his hands in the sides of his underwear to push them down below his knees. He sat back in the chair, slid forward slightly, and moved the leaves of his shirt to the sides. He stood hard and straight from the patch of dark pubic hair, an inch in diameter for at least seven or eight inches to a mushroom shaped, flared purple head topped with a drop of clear liquid. His hand moved under the back of my hair and pulled me toward it as I stared. His knees were at my sides as he lifted it straight out from his body so I was looking down its length. My hands on his thighs, I didn't resist mor e than slightly as the flared head was guided to my lips. I opened my mouth to accept it and looked up into his opened mouth, as if he were demonstrating for me. A little more pressure on the back of my neck and I had to resist as it touched the back of my mouth. "Take it all," he gasped. "Just once. All the way." I bent my head forward and swallowed. I can't say what it was like since I'd never experienced anything like it before. As it entered my throat and my thoughts were of retreating, he pressed down much harder than before and my mouth sunk all the way into his pubic hair. "That's it!" he gasped, releasing the pressure on my neck so I could react as I'd wanted. I wondered if I was going to lose the contents of my stomach and realized I wasn't. It wasn't even reacting against the thrust. I swallowed hard when it was again near my teeth, taking a deep breath. The pressure returned and I went with it all the way down. "Ah!" he gasped and released me again. "Oh. Shit. Amy." This time, his hand vibrating still on my neck, I purposely swallowed, took another deep breath, and plunged down on him myself. "Ohhhh!" he gasped more loudly. I had control now and moved out immediately, his hand weak against my shoulder. Again with the same result but more a gurgle. This time I moved around the hard head before going down again and quickly back up, drawing him with me. And I did draw him completely. He gasped and filled my mouth with come. So much that I had no hope of keeping up with it as he went through spasm after spasm. I swallowed most of it but lost some down the sides. To keep from letting it mess him up, I sat up quickly and grabbed for the box of Kleenex on the front edge of the desk. Two pieces caught it before it went into his pubic hair but made him gasp, probably with pain now, as I touched the sensitive head. "Pass or fail?" I had to ask. "Magna Cum Laude," he said, slumping in the chair. His in-taken breath was a shudder. "Do you need anything else, Bill?" I asked in my most efficient secretary voice. "Huh uh," he moaned before I got to my feet and leaned over to kiss him gently before leaving. I waited at my desk for a few minutes before calling to tell him I needed to go to the restroom so he would cover the phones. 10. Chapter The rest of the afternoon was easy. Easy enough that I began writing this between the few telephone calls. Just before five, Bill asked me to come back into his office. I sat down in my customary place but he stayed behind the desk. "Do you think that was sexual harassment?" he asked. I thought back to my human resources experience and knew the answer. "Of course," I said. He chuckled. "You're honest." "I worked in your HRD department with Margaret for several years. From being a 'woman' for two days work here, I know enough to realize there is a widespread and pervasive atmosphere of sexual harassment throughout the company. Far worse than the preferential treatment given men before." "What does that mean?" "It means that the right woman with the right motivation could probably shut your business down," I noted unnecessarily. "Why hasn't it happened to this point?" "I imagine a number of reasons. Some enjoy it. Some are using it as a stepping stone, learning new things and going new places. Some are probably afraid or have been compromised by their own actions enough that they can't report anything without implicating themselves too deeply." "Why haven't you reported it?" "The same. I can learn a lot here and need the job. I can't do it without deeply embarrassing myself and probably hurting a lot of other people." "And?" I looked at my hands and then back up into his eyes. He wasn't smiling but he was looking at me pleasantly. "And because I enjoyed it, too." "So what now?" "Exactly. What now? Are you going to fire me?" "I never thought I would. Why would I? You went to a great deal of hard work to be here. It must be very difficult. To change yourself over so completely." "We sort of enjoyed it," I said with a smile slipping onto my lips. "Are you really blond?" "Yes. Not as long, of course." "It will be. When it is, I hope you'll wear it naturally. Curled, of course." I nodded. "How much of that is yours?" He pointed toward my chest and I shook my head. "Have you thought about hormone treatments?" "I first tried any of this Friday," I noted. "If you're interested, I have a friend who's a sex therapist. Psychiatrist. He could help you." He shifted in his chair, the grin spreading somewhat. "You know, before I said anything. I looked at you very carefully." "I noticed. I wondered ..." "There are a few things physically different in a man's body. A prominent Adam's apple. Knobbier knees. Narrower hips. Thicker waist. Harder tush. Different musculature in general but particularly noticeable in the upper arms, thighs, and calves. More facial and body hair, of course." "How did I do?" I asked. He nodded. "Your Adam's apple is small. I've seen women with larger. Same with your knees. You do have narrow hips but I've seen well, you get the idea. Same all around. Each slightly masculine and maybe, taken together, you could put together a case for being male. Something like fingerprint identification. Enough points makes it true. But it would be very hard without verification, in your case. In fact, I wouldn't have thought to look before Paula's discovery by Roger. "When I called your name, if you'd looked at me like I was a fool, I would have still dismissed the entire idea." He smiled again. "You should have expected that possibility. Maybe someone calling to another friend by that name or something." "There aren't that many people named Andy," I said. "Yeah. Probably true." He looked at me again for quite a while before speaking again. "Would you come here, please?" I stood up and went around his desk as he turned in his executive chair to follow my progress until I was standing knee to knee with him again. "You have great legs," he said with a smile, never looking up from them. "Lift your skirt and let me see them." I hesitated first but then reached to the sides of the skirt and lifted it until he could see my legs almost completely. "Very very impressive. I think you should show off more of them. You certainly wouldn't give anything away if you showed as much as you are now all the time." "They don't even make skirts this short," I noted. "Well. Shorter, anyway. Okay?" I nodded agreement. "Now let me see the rest." Feeling very uncomfortable now, I lifted it further. "All the way up." I did. It was actually above my waist as he leaned forward, his hand touching my hip through the pantyhose. "Very impressive. Cute panties." His hand moved silkily across the front of my hip onto the front of my panties and rubbed down the intersection of my leg and trunk before going back up the other side. He'd crossed my tightly held and shrunken penis in the traverse. "Amazing," he sighed. "You know, I'm still not absolutely sure." Sitting back slightly, he reached to the sides of my pantyhose and slowly began pulling them down until they were around my thighs. I couldn't read the look on his face. The whole situation was so wildly alien to me that I was shaking with fear and one of the effects was that I was still as soft as I ever have been. Very carefully, he moved my panties back into place, making sure they were positioned just as they had been. Then he rolled the pantyhose back where they belonged as well. I wondered what he was thinking but there was no way I would even consider asking. I dropped my skirt back into place and jumped when his hands went to the front of the shirt-cut dress and began unbuttoning from the top as he looked up into my eyes. When he had it unbuttoned almost to the waist, he put his hands on the sides of it and opened it. I knew that the feminine cotton bra was filled almost perfectly with the breast forms and that it was tight enough that it pulled the small amount of my moderate chest flesh and muscle to a hint of a cleavage. "There's something called a miracle bra," he said softly. "They sell them all over. Get one. And some blouses that show more chest. And this nice little cleavage." He ran his fingernail down between the false breasts and sent shivers running down my body. I'm sure he saw the goose bumps it produced. He just grinned up at me and slowly rebuttoned the dress to a point between my breasts. When I reached up to finish it, he took my hands and moved them to my sides. "Leave it. Like that. I like it." He nodded to me by way of dismissal and I took the opportunity to walk back around the desk. "Do you need anything else?" I asked like a good little secretary, scared to death he would say yes. "You've got it, Amy. You really have. Now emphasize the feminine as much as you can without looking trashy," he said. "Feminine. Showy. Classy. Okay?" "Yes sir. If I can." "You can. See you in the morning." I nodded, went through the door, straightened my dress with a quickly dismissed thought of re-buttoning the top buttons, got my purse, and left for the day. When I got to the car, Margaret and Michelle seemed perfectly normal if a little concerned that I was a few minutes late. But Paula looked at me quickly and then away as if she was embarrassed. She sat with her legs crossed and her hands around her middle defensively. * * * Paula was uncharacteristically quiet as we made dinner for the others and while the rest of us talked about our days (without some of my experiences) and later when we watched television for a while. A little early, she said goodnight and, tired as well, I kissed Margaret's cheek, Michelle on the mouth, and followed her. She still wasn't talking as she washed her face and hung up her clothes. She surprised me when the first thing she'd really said, other than in direct response to my questions, was "Do you think I can wear sheer pantyhose?" "Of course," I said without hesitation. She has boyish legs and hips but the "boyish" is a feminine appellation. She's cute in an almost little girl way. "What about showing more top? You know." "You're not stacked," I pointed out unnecessarily. "But you have a cute shape. A feminine shape. You could pull it off with no problem." She nodded without further comment. "Why?" "Roger told me to." "To wear sheer pantyhose and show more top?" "Uh huh. Tomorrow." She looked distressed to me. "You know all through this I've been more comfortable in pants or leggings or something that covers everything up." "I know that's what you like. But I've always thought you were a little conservative. It'll be okay." "But what if I get caught?" she said looking into my eyes for reassurance. "I just know you can do it, hon. Really." She nodded but didn't look like she really believed it still. We got into our nightgowns and turned out the lights. I felt her laying on her back next to me as rigid as a board. I knew she had more but I could only wait and try to make it easier for her. I rolled onto my side and tried to get closer to her. "Cuddle with me, hon," I said. "You won't want me to," she said. Now I knew there was a problem. "What is it, baby?" I rubbed the side of her neck and head with one hand. She took a very deep breath. "I fucked up today," she began. "How?" "I ... well, I dropped my purse. That was first. But I let Roger help me pick things up." "I know," I said simply. There was a long silence. "You know?" "Yeah. Bill told me about it. How Roger found your driver's license. Everything." "But ..." she said, the confusion in her voice "... I was sure if Roger told Bill that, well, we'd get in trouble. That we'd probably all get fired." "We kind of came to an agreement," I said. "He knows about us? You too?" "Yeah. He knows." "W-what is he going to do?" "He said ..." I thought about what he'd said about me but switched my tack. "He told me Roger thinks you're too valuable to be fired." She was silent. "And the same for me. He, well, let's say that we decided that he couldn't make a deal out of it without making waves with the EEOC and problems finding people to replace us and we couldn't because it would hurt all of us." A simplification that left some things out but I figured she didn't need to know everything. "Did you tell him about Margaret and Michelle?" "Huh uh. He guessed about Margaret since she had to do the background checks. But not about Michelle." "I didn't tell Roger about anybody. Just me." "Yeah. Bill figured me out by himself with what Roger told him. We better tell them about it in the morning so they won't be surprised." "Yeah," she agreed. "You really think it's going to be okay?" "Sure," I said. In fact, I wasn't totally convinced by the current set of facts. A lot of things could happen. "So, Roger told you to wear stockings and show more skin on top." "Uh huh. That's really scary, too." "A little. But we'll be okay." "You said 'we.'" "Yeah. I got the same word from Bill. I wonder if they agreed to it at lunch?" "Maybe. I mean ..." She stopped and took another deep breath. "Well, when Roger saw my driver's license, he took me into his office and asked me everything. Made me tell him all about our ... change. You know. Nothing specific that involved any of you guys or anything. Just about trying the clothes Friday and shopping Saturday and getting used to things Sunday. And coming in and interviewing and everything Monday, of course. But he knew about that." I waited, knowing she wanted to tell me more. "That's why you were so distracted at lunch," I said. "Yeah. I was worried. The last thing he said was that he needed to talk to someone. But I didn't know he'd talked to Bill until they came back from lunch together. That's when I knew I might have got you in trouble, too." "So what did he tell you after lunch?" She gulped before speaking. "He took me back in his office again and said there were several conditions for me to keep working," she said. "First, keep my mouth shut about our arrangement." She stopped again. "Then," she took a deep, shuddering breath, "he had me show him my bra. He just grinned at me and nodded." "Lots of girls are small there," I reminded her again. "Yeah, but I have an appointment tomorrow with some psychiatrist friend of his he says can make real tits grow. He says we'll see how big they really get." Bill had offered me the same thing. Suggested it. But he hadn't made an appointment for me. "Then he had me take my leggings off, put the heels back on, and walk around for him." I remembered the short dress she'd worn during the day and knew how sensitive she was to showing her body. I could imagine her embarrassment and the way she must have looked during that. "That's when he told me to wear stockings." I nodded against her shoulder. "He had me come and sit on the edge of his desk and put his hand on my leg while he talked. "He said that sexual harassment pre-supposes someone of the opposite sex. First. Then he said that if both people had something to gain and a lot to lose, it was something just between the two of them. "He looked up at me and asked if I had anything to gain from staying working there and I said yes. Then he asked if I thought there was a chance that I might gain something from a sexual relationship with him." I was holding my breath, waiting for what she was going to say next. "I told him I didn't know. Then he said I should know that he has a lot to lose if ... what I am gets around or if, well, someone knew that he'd had a sexual relationship with a boy. He called me a boy." I nodded again. "What happened?" I said softly, prodding. "He lifted up my skirt and touched my legs and all around my panties and, then, the front of my panties." Her breathing was hard now. "Then he took them off and kept me sitting there on his desk, looking at me. "He said it looked like I was as much girl as boy anyway," she said and I wondered if that made her happy or unhappy. "He thought it was great, he said." I could only wait. Maybe she'd give me her reaction without my asking and embarrassing her further. "He said, 'You have a cute clit.' Do you believe that?" She sounded pleased so I said sure. "What happened then?" I asked. "He spread my legs real far and played with my pussy and licked my clit until I came," she said quickly, really breathing hard now. "I know you did that once but it's different when a real man does it to you." I didn't know whether to laugh or get upset. Of course, when I'd done it, I'd been dressed in a nightgown filled out with breasts and dragging long hair across her flat stomach. I hadn't felt like a man then and decided to dismiss the comment now. "I don't know how he did it. He didn't, you know, touch my butt then. Just between my legs. But it was exactly like he was playing with my pussy and -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /