The Interview

Looking back I have no regrets. In fact, I don't think my husband would have any either. After all, the job's mine and I'll be earning more than he does, so in a sense I'll be wearing the trousers - at least for the first couple of years or so of our marriage. Except, of course, I won't actually be wearing any trousers at all in this job - or panties for that matter. Michael made it clear that he expects me to follow the dress code he described in my interview, and to be pantie-less whenever I was in his presence.

It started nine months ago. Gerry and I had long agreed we'd get married that weekend, and even though it was really just a small affair at the Lutheran chapel in his home town with about twelve people in attendance, we decided not to cancel when his expedition came through three months ahead of expectations and he learned he'd be leaving for Bolivia the morning after our wedding. He'd be gone for three months, and we thought about postponing the wedding, but it really didn't seem to make sense to do so. Instead we spoke about how great it was that all the permissions had come through at long last and that his team could finally get on with what they had trained for and complete what would be groundbreaking scientific research into high altitude cereal yields. There were some big players backing this project with serious money, and we knew how much potential this trip had to make a difference to people in the real world. We joked that we'd still have out wedding night - and at that point we were still even thinking that I might be able to fly out to La Paz sometime in the first couple of weeks and join him before the team left for the remote interior where I would not be allowed to follow.

So that bright March morning we went ahead and got married anyway. Gerry got drunk at the reception and passed out on the bed in our hotel room, I slept on the couch and I waved him off the following day at the airport a virgin bride. Well, of course that's not entirely true. We'd had sex before we got married - a few times in fact, and I'd had three lovers before I met Gerry (and one after), but I found myself thinking of myself as pure because even two weeks after my wedding I had yet to feel what married sex was like. Little was I to know that my first experience of that was about to come - and it would have little to do with Gerry!

The first shock was opening the mail about four days after Gerry had flown. He'd Skyped from his team base in La Paz to confirm everything had gone well and that he would try to Skype me a few more times before they left for the mountains, but he'd said nothing about how he'd maxed out our credit card. I was to find out in the coming months that in order to get the go ahead from the Bolivian government he'd had to pay a few people off. Apparently there was a Chinese expedition lined up to go in their place unless certain sums were relayed to certain people in the Bolivian government whose signatures were required on papers. Nothing too unusual for Latin America, but it left us £10,000 under, and with no savings. I realised I was going to have to get a job to make ends meet for the next three months.

I'd trained as a librarian and had some waitressing experience but the only answer I got from my first round of applications came from a law firm. I figured they had got me mixed up with another candidate because I certainly had no training as a legal secretary, which was what the job seemed to be. However, when the letter came offering me a first class return train fare to London and a night at the renowned Hazlitt Hotel as part of the interview package, I figured why not go for it? I could enjoy their hospitality, fail the interview and go back with a good tale to tell - and a five star hotel dinner instead of a supermarket meal-for-one!

I duly accepted the offer of an interview and on 2nd April took the train to London, arriving at the Mayfair offices of the law firm around 1 PM. I was ushered to a plush waiting area by a receptionist who looked like a model from L'Oreal, and I was asked to wait for Mr. Kellmann, the guy who would be interviewing me.

I sat nervously and practised what I would say. My story would be that I was here expecting to be interviewed as a researcher, and that my CV must have got mixed up with the pile of legal secretaries. I fidgeted as I waited and hoped I wasn't perspiring. It wasn't too hot but I hadn't worn my outfit before and I was afraid my blouse left gaps through which my lace bra could be seen unless I got my posture absolutely right. I had on a beautiful Mitsuko jacket that I'd bought on a whim the previous year for £2,000 after I got an unexpected tax break. I'd only worn it twice before and I knew I looked great in it. The rest of my outfit was designed to look like a suit even though all the items were bought separately. The white silk Dior blouse went well with the deep purple Gucci skirt, and the jacket had three or four tiny purple flowers embroidered into its lapels that seemed to match the skirt's colour so that worked well. I'd bought new black sheer stockings from Coco de Mer's online store the week before, and since the page where you pay had had one of those "Customers who bought this also liked..." features, I'd thought why not and bought the black silk panties that went with it. The bra had been lovely too but I couldn't wear a black bra under a white silk blouse, so I'd decided to wear a white one Gerry had pick out for me in Victoria's Secrets catalogue the previous Christmas. I knew I looked great, but I still felt a little stiff and awkward, so it was a relief when after only seven minutes or so I was called through.

"Mrs. Brabanti, please come though and sit down," said Michael Kellmann. He waved me to a seat in front of his desk and sat not behind his desk but on it, looking down at me with what were obviously approving eyes. He had my CV in his hand. I could see he had removed the photograph I'd glued onto it.

"So, you'd like to work for Kellmann and Giles, would you?" he continued. "Can you tell me a little bit about yourself and why you think you'd be a good candidate for one of our positions?"

He had a kind voice and I noticed his eyes for the first time. Intelligent, blue eyes with a hint of steel behind them but twinkling still. He was probably about forty-five - say twenty-one years older than me. He wore a wedding ring and a light blue-grey suit with an expensive Italian silk tie. I found myself thinking how much easier it was to talk to a man I found attractive and I loosened up a little as I answered some rubbish I'd rehearsed about law being such a fascinating arena and how I hoped to gain as much as I contributed. I was conscious of my blouse gaping again as I leaned forward at one point and made a concerted effort to sit back, but it was hard because the chair's back seemed to be further back than I had thought. I eventually managed to shift back so that the small of my back was resting against it. My feet were almost off the floor though, and I couldn't tell if my skirt was letting me down.

Michael decided to move too and pulled up a chair to settle right in front of me. I found myself lost for a second in his amazing eyes and, embarrassingly, had to ask him to repeat his next question. He glanced down at his notes but I saw his eyes flash to my legs and realised with a shock that my skirt was tight across my lap which meant he had a clear view of my panties. I moved my legs together and he smiled and redirected his eyes to mine.

"Well, Mrs. Brabanti," he went on.

"Oh, please call me Emma," I said.

"Thank you Mrs. Brabanti, but I rather prefer to remind myself that you are a married woman," he said. "If that's alright with you" he added hurriedly.

"Yes, of course," I said. Then I found myself going on "Although, some days these past few weeks I haven't really felt like one."

Michael looked puzzled. Then that warm smile came back and he asked me what I meant. I told him about Gerry being away for three months and how he'd left the morning after our wedding.

"Wow, that's too bad." Michael sympathised. "But you had a nice wedding? Was it a large affair?"

I don't know why but I found myself drawn in. "Actually, no. Not very many people. Enough friends of Gerry's to ensure he got completely drunk, but not enough of mine to stop him." I laughed wryly and Michael smiled.

"I understand." he said. "So let's talk about this job. Maybe I can make some amends for the next few months when you're without Gerry. I take it you'd have no objection to making the odd business trip with me? I would need my PA to be at hand at irregular hours. It would seem you'd fit the bill nicely. You're free of commitments for the foreseeable future, I don't have to undo any of those silly habits legal secretaries seem to acquire at business school, you're willing to learn, you smart, attractive ... and married - so I won't have to worry about the appearance of impropriety accompanying our trips away together. If you're happy with a starting salary of £58,000 I think we can do a deal. I just have one more question."

My head was spinning. That was a lot of information to take in. But it sounded like I'd got the job after all - and with a salary far in excess of what I'd predicted. Moreover,it seemed Mr. Kellmann had already accounted for my complete lack of experience - and even made a positive out of it. I was relieved I wouldn't have to persist with the lie! Most of all, I had a job! And it was as PA to a man I had already begun to like.

"Wow!" was all I could think to say. "Er that sounds great. What's the question?"

He smiled and leaned forward. His face was a foot from mine.

"For the past twenty minutes, Mrs. Brabanti you've been kind enough to be flashing your panties at me. I may be a married man, but I'm still human. You're a very attractive woman and my job offer is not, shall we say, entirely because I admire your academic qualifications." He glanced between my legs which I realised I had kept open all the way through this disclosure.

"Those panties you're wearing. I'm thinking they're Coco de Mer, but they could be Stella McCartney. Which are they?"

My interview smile had frozen on my face, but his eyes remained calm and his question actually sounded logical and genuine.

"Coco de Mer," I replied, scarcely knowing why I was even replying to such a question but with a disturbing knowledge that I was beginning to get moist. Could this man be turning me on? And during a job interview?!

"Wonderful," he said. "I'm going to give you £2000 in cash right now and on your way back to your hotel please stop by at their boutique in Monmouth Street and buy yourself twenty more pairs. Dinner is on me tonight at the Hazlitt and I want you to wear that skirt with no panties underneath. You may wear the stockings and please do wear your wedding ring, but if you want this job you will wear no panties in my presence from now on. Is that clear?"

My head was spinning. I hadn't expected this question in all my practices for the interview. But his smile was seductive and I found myself nodding. I also noticed that my legs had remained parted slightly and I was definitely now becoming wet.

"My god," I thought to myself. "I actually think I'm going to cum!"

I didn't, of course. I managed to hold it together, and I left the office with £2000 in cash to spend on lingerie, which it turns out in Coco de Mer barely gets you twenty pairs of panties. However, I was careful to dress as Michael had instructed that evening, and at 8 o'clock I was in the restaurant waiting for him in a new silk blouse, the same purple skirt, wedding ring, black stockings and no panties. I'd ditched the bra too since I'd decided if I was going to go to these lengths to please my new boss, I may as well be comfortable.

He wasn't very late and we walked to the table together as soon as he appeared. The maitre d' evidently knew him and we were promptly shown to the best table in the restaurant, a subtly-lit corner table; very discreet. Michael held my hand as he guided me into my seat and as he took his seat opposite his hand glided to my knee and stroked upwards towards my thigh. "Did you buy yourself something pretty?" he asked.

I nodded. "But I'm not wearing them," I assured him.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to prove that, Mrs, Brabanti," he said. And he bent down as if to tie his shoelace.

My heart beat faster as I parted my legs. Although I couldn't see him, it felt deliciously wicked to know that another man, not my husband was gazing at my pussy. I started to get wet and imagined Michael's hands working their way up my thighs.

Dinner passed pleasantly enough. When our main course was cleared away he moved seats and sat next to me rather than opposite. His hands continued to wander and I decided to let them. Any pretence that I was a formal PA was, after all, ridiculous, but I found I didn't mind. I had missed more than Gerry's sense of humour and good company over the past few weeks and the prospect of being fucked by my new boss that night in this sumptuous hotel was distinctly exciting.

We finished dinner by sharing a dessert as neither of us felt we could manage one on our own. As it happened, though, I ate almost all of it - a creme brulee that Michael spooned into my mouth as I sat next to him with one leg draped over his and felt his free warm hand under the table stroking my thigh.

He took me to my room and looked around approvingly. He must have seen the Coco de Mer boxes on the dresser but his only thought was to have me strip for him which I did. Gerry was a million miles away by now. I knew Michael must have done this before with other married women but I didn't mind. A signed contract for a fixed term of one year - with an option to extend for a further year if I met all conditions, was in my bag. £2,000 worth of amazing lingerie was in boxes on my dresser and I was naked except for my wedding ring and about to be fucked by my new boss - the first fuck of my married life.

He grabbed my hair and scrunched it up behind my head kissing me deeply on the mouth. His fingers pinched my nipples and his other hand spread my thighs. He stroked my cunt a few times but I was so wet I couldn't have made it any more obvious I wanted him. He dropped his trousers and pants but kept his other clothes on. I felt the crispness of his shirt and tie on my breasts as he pressed down on me. Slowly his cock inched its way up my cunt until when he was fully inside me I squeezed his ass and he started to pump me. We kissed a few more times but I couldn't hold it any longer and I spasmed into an intense orgasm that seemed to last a full minute.

I kissed him hungrily and he pinched my nipples again while I gasped and bit my tongue. The pain was mixed in with the post-orgasmic pleasure such that I hardly knew what to do with myself. Eventually, his thrusting became more intense and I felt him shudder as he spurted warm sticky cum into my cunt. I pulled him tighter to me and we kissed again and lay there for ten minutes catching our breath.

When he pulled out, what seemed like a pint of his cum leaked out. I wasn't taking any precautions, and I knew there was a chance I would be pregnant but somehow it didn't matter - and it hasn't changed the way we have fucked in any of our subsequent nights together.

So what of Gerry? Well, he gets back tomorrow night. I will spend the day fucking Michael at his home while his wife is away at their house in the south of France. At 7 o'clock, Michael will drive me to Heathrow and I will greet Gerry off his flight. We will stay at the airport for a quick bite and at 8:15 I will excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I will meet Michael in the Executive Suite and fuck him one more time in the executive washroom before taking a taxi home with Gerry. This is a specific request from Michael. He wants to fuck me after I have seen Gerry. I totally get that it's a possession thing and I'm OK with that.

Gerry will want his virgin bride to lose her "marriage virginity" with him tomorrow night - and I'll grant him that wish. But Gerry's cock will be lubricated by Michael's hour-old cum every inch of the way inside my cunt. It excites me to know that.

And a week from tomorrow I'm off to Geneva with Michael for an extended business trip. I don't pretend I'll be any success as a legal PA. All I know is I'll be pantie-less, and eager to extend my career as my boss's whore.