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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Subject: New TG: The New Secretary   by Amy Brett  (04/11)
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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

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