THE BOSS’S SLUT 2: THE TRANSITION

THE BOSS’S SLUT

CHAPTER 2: THE TRANSITION

After my usual long commute home (two subways and a train), I drove my little car the last five miles to my efficiency apartment. I lived in the Western suburbs where we lived when married. After the divorce, he moved away so I stayed put, downsized. It was a relatively safe area and apartments were affordable for a lowly Accounts Specialist. Within the last mile, I stopped to buy two bottles of cheap wine. I was anticipating a long weekend of turmoil.

I committed to putting my mind to rest for the night and looking at the proposition from Mr. Woodburn with a fresh mind tomorrow. It didn’t work. I tried losing myself in something mindless on Netflix but that didn’t work. I then tried to get into the novel I was currently in the middle of, but that didn’t work, either. I walked around the little apartment. It didn’t take much time. I went to the kitchen counter, opened one of the bottles, and poured myself a glass. I walked back to the center of the apartment and turned a full 360 degrees. I had just viewed everything that was my current existence except for the cubicle where I processed accounts from information someone above me provided and even that might not have been from a first-hand contact with a customer. I specialized in forms, not clients.

I poured a little more wine into my glass and sat down at the little table in my little kitchen in my little apartment. I retrieved the three-page job description and benefits sheet. I reread the job description and pushed it aside. As Mr. Woodburn said, it didn’t really say anything meaningful. It was corporate words to satisfy auditors and HR managers. It was a new position and the real job requirements would evolve from the activity. But, there were real necessities that needed to be considered as I suggested to him. I started writing out my ideas, issues, concerns, possible ideas, and crazy ideas. Before I knew it, it was 11:00 PM and I had pages of written thoughts and an empty bottle spread over the table. I went to bed.

* * * * *

Saturday, I began wondering why I wasn’t more fixated on the “other” part of the job. I had never been a slut before. Could I even really imagine what that was like or what to expect? The last couple years I have had my share of guys coming through and I had been married so it wasn’t like I wasn’t familiar with sex, but … a slut …

I Googled it. Slut: noun; a woman who has sexual relationships with a lot of men without any emotional involvement. Well, yeah, that was already established. Mr. Woodburn and clients. But, what did that mean? What kind of sex? My mind led me to a conclusion that there might not be any defined answer for that. Now that my mind was working around this aspect, though, I decided to seek some guidance and took a chance to call Trudy Michaels. I logged into the firm’s system and found her contact information. Her cell phone was listed. I called late afternoon.

“Trudy, this is …”

“Tina, hi.” She laughed on the other end. “I already put you into my phone’s contacts.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that. She was so confident I would be taking the position? There was a period of silence and I realized I was causing it. “Trudy, I apologize to be bothering you on the weekend, but … I was wondering if I could ask you some questions … you know … about …”

She giggled, “I’ve actually been expecting you to call. Yes, I know what about.”

“The sex. You were his mistress so you know what he is like. What kind of sex might I expect if …”

“If you took this position? Tina, what I was and what you will be are quite different. I was strictly him. You will not be. He will be a primary for you, but not the only one. All I can help you with is what he was like.”

“It’s something …”

“Okay. Mr. Woodburn is an aggressive lover. Think of it as fucking, not making love. Count on oral and pussy with him.”

“Not anal, though.”

“Tina, that’s the thing about your position. The clients. Even if Mr. Woodburn didn’t want anal, and he might with you, some clients probably will. The client aspect is the wild card here. My personal advice for you is to expect anything. If you take this, you should anticipate someone wanting almost anything.”

Almost anything. What don’t I even know about?

I decided to change and do some necessary shopping. I slipped out of the loose shorts I had been wearing and only then realized my panties were soaked through. I took them off and couldn’t resist holding them up to my face. I had never noticed my panties so thoroughly soaking. My scent off the panties was intoxicating even to me. I had planned to wear leggings to shop, but decided on a simple dress. I might be buying some thigh-high stockings.

* * * * *

It was only 8:50 AM but I was outside Mr. Woodburn’s office. I paced around the area of his door but remained close by. At precisely 9:00 AM, I knocked on his door. Trudy looked up from her work and smiled at me as I heard Mr. Woodburn say come in.

I took a deep breath, turned the handle and stepped into the room. I walked deliberately past the sitting area and small conference table. As I approach, I decided on the proper location, between the two visitor chairs where I would be directly in front of him. As I took my position, I noticed him lean back into his chair, seeing it tilt back as he did. His elbows were on the armrests and his fingers were steepled at his lips. His eyes were solidly on me. He didn’t say a word. He only watched.

I had elected to wear one of my few dresses I felt might be close to executive appearance. It was a black sleeveless, sheath dress that went to a few inches above the knees. I took a breath as my hands moved behind my neck to unclasp the catch, then unzippered it down the back. The dress sagged. I moved my hands to the shoulders and pulled the dress slightly forward and down until it would fall to my waist. I pushed it over my hips and legs. Holding the dress from the top, I stepped out of it and laid it over the back of one of the chairs next to me. This time I was wearing black lace bra and panties. For some reason, even though I wouldn’t be showing them for long, it seemed important that my underwear be sexy. By the approving look on his face, I was correct. I unclasped the bra and dropped it onto the chair and quickly pushed the bikini panties down my legs. They followed onto the chair.