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14 Ocak 2023, 14:54
Even the most moral man can sometimes face a situation in which all that he believes about himself can be cast aside, allowing him to engage in the type of behavior he thought restricted to more profane people. That was the lesson Kyle Richardson learned on the day he interviewed for a replacement secretary. He wanted to believe there existed no situation that would have made him do what he did, and looking back on it he could find many factors that contributed to his lapse in moral judgment. His business was failing, he had just caught his wife having a year-long affair, the doctor told him if he didn't make his lifestyle more healthy then he was facing the chance of a heart attack within months. It was a very bad week, and a bad day on top of that with the utilities bills arriving in the mail along with a summons to appear in court because someone wanted to sue him. He was not in a healthy frame of mind when Sandy walked through his door. She was not a typical beauty, not the kind of girl that would make a man normally snap from his prudent belief system. In retrospect, he wasn't sure what it was about her that made him lapse. She was short for one thing, barely five-three at a guess, judging by how even in heels the top of her head was only level with his nose. Plump, too, with a round face and wide hips. Obviously not a girl used to attempting to look pretty, he thought, eyeing her rather frumpy flower-print dress that clashed with her too-dark pantyhose, the white clunky heels, and the fake pearl necklace. He couldn't decide if her hair was naturally curly or if it was a bad perm, but the color definitely wasn't natural, not with all those strange reddish highlights in what he figured was normally brown hair. Add the glasses on her face and the braces on her teeth, and she was not really anyone's ideal of attractive. So the erection he got as he talked to her confused him. She was a sweet kid, eighteen years old but still in high school, naive and innocent. And desperate. He sensed it even before she hinted at her desperate home life. Father recently laid off, a mother who had never worked at anything more than emptying wine bottles, she was eager for the job. And Kyle, normally istanbul travesti (https://www.istanbulbilgileri.com) never the kind of man to take advantage of anyone, experienced a significant slip in control. "You know the job is part time, right?" he asked her half an hour into the interview. "I can tell you, though, that if you do a very good job, I can give you more hours and a pay raise when summer comes. You know, when you can devote more than the afternoon to the job." "Yes, sir," she said brightly, sitting on the edge of her chair and smiling eagerly. "I can do the job, I know it. I've taken business courses at school, I can type and do data entry, I'm good at answering the phone..." "There's more to the secretary's job than office work," he said. It was true, but saying it nagged him. He said, "There's running errands, too. Getting me coffee Generally, you know, taking care of me." "Taking care of you?" she repeated, face scrunching cutely. "I... I can do that, sir." "Can you? I'm not sure," he said. He leaned back, looking down his nose as if judging her. "You seem awfully... well, let's just say innocent." "Innocent?" she repeated again, confused. "Haven't you ever heard of what secretaries normally do for their bosses?" he asked. His erection twitched as if in surprise, and he was actually startled. It was as if his intention was sneaking up on even him. She was innocent, and the question could have been just meant to show her that fact. But he didn't mean it that way, and he knew it. She pursed her lips into a thin line. "I... yes, sir, I think I have," she said. Her blush told him maybe she did understand. "I have to know how much you want the job, Sandy," he said. "I only want to hire someone who can really do the job. Who is willing to go the distance. I don't want to have to replace you in a few weeks because... well, you know. Because you can't do what's required." "What's required?" she said. She had a habit, it seemed, of repeating things he said when they surprised her. She licked her lips, blushing a little more darkly. "I... I really need a job, Mr. Richards," she said. "I can do it. Anything." "Anything?" he asked, surprised at her and himself both. Her istanbul travesti (https://www.travestiistanbul.info) eyes darted up, met his, and danced away. She nodded curtly. He said, "I don't think you know what that means, Sandy. I think that if you really, really wanted this job, you'd go lock the door and pull down the shade. If you think you should look elsewhere, then just go out the door. That's all I can say." She sat there unmoving for half a minute. Kyle was seething at himself inside. What the fuck are you doing? he screamed at himself. She's in high school! Yeah, but she's also legal, he reminded himself. She's an adult, legally an adult, and she can make this decision for herself. She's qualified to do the work, willing to work for the small amount he can afford, and it was only his feeling of inadequacy brought on by his teetering business and his adulterous wife that caused him to proposition the girl. Still, now it was out there and he couldn't easily take it back. She got up. He wanted to tell her to sit, to tell her he was just joking, but he couldn't make himself speak. She walked to the door and opened it. He felt like shit. Then she closed it again. He heard the click of the lock. He still felt like shit, but now he was filled with excitement. Was she serious? Would she go through with it? Sure, she wasn't magazine cover material, but she was still cute in a nerdish kind of way. She tugged on the drawstring and lowered the blinds. She didn't turn around for a long moment, and when she did she kept her eyes on the floor. "I... I don't know... what now?" she stammered. Kyle's heart felt like it would explode from his chest. "Come here," he said tersely, voice nearly cracking. She hesitated and then obeyed, shuffling in her clunky heels over to stand in front of him behind his desk. He took her pale hands in his. They were cold and trembled. "It's okay, I won't hurt you," he told her. He could fuck her, he knew it. She'd allow it. But opportunity doesn't equate to the joy of desire. She would give herself to him only because he demanded it, and that he couldn't stomach. He had never been with a woman, or a girl, who was not fully participatory. Yet how could he istanbul travesti (https://www.istanbullife.info) stop now? A moment ago he thought only of his own impending pleasure, and now he only felt concern for her. He pushed back, rolling his chair away from her, and pulled her by the hands so that she shuffled after him. He turned her so that she was up against the desk. "Sit," he ordered. She got up on the desk one buttock at a time, shuffling backward, pushing aside things. He placed his hands on her nylon covered knees. Her legs were shaking. "Relax," he said quietly. "It's okay. I'm not going to do anything." Her eyes held an unspoken question. If he wasn't going to do anything, why was she still up on his desk? "Okay," he allowed, "I want to do something, but I think you'll like it. Let's make a deal. If you don't like it, then I'll give you a week's pay and you don't have to work for me. If you like it, then you come to work for me. Okay?" "Uh... okay?" she replied in a timid, confused way, making a question out of her response. Kyle was excited. He felt angry at himself for wanting her, for wanting to go through with this, when it so clearly violated his own moral code. Opportunity can be a potent motivator, he realized. She remained willing, his desire remained strong, and morals only got in the way. He ran his hands up her legs, feeling soft skin beneath the coarse nylon. Fingers slid beneath the hem of her dress followed by hands, and the cuffs of his shirt pushed her dress higher as his hands climbed. She trembled more, prompting him to bend over, to plant soft kisses on her knees, on her thighs, wanting to calm her. It worked, strangely. The trembling lessened. One of her hands lightly touched his head, maybe wanting to push him away and at the same time wanting him to stay. At least that's how he wanted to think of it. He smelled her as his kisses moved higher. She had obviously not had time to shower before coming to the interview. He pictured her rushing in from school and throwing off her normal clothes, putting on this dress and these hose, spritzing some cologne, and rushing out. He smelled her crotch. Sweat and musk, the odor of a girl who had been active but not overly so. The scent of a girl who kept herself very clean, the smell of a pussy that had probably never been used. His erection throbbed. His lips caressed her inner thighs, hands prizing apart her legs. She spread them a bit reluctantly, but she was determined to go through with this. Her resolve was impressive.