Going Down?

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If there’s one thing I hate more than school in summertime it’s job hunting. I fully admit I’m not the best at interviews, I get nervous, I get anxious, even when it’s not really a job I even want I still have an uncanny knack of blowing it.

I’d been looking around for something other than mind numbing temp work for sometime but hadn’t had much success. Not being in my own country didn’t help my prospects either. I’d floated over to Australia from Old Blighty six months ago, the originally plan being a one month holiday, see the sights, lay on the beach, get a tan and head back home. But something had happened. I’d fallen in love with the place and now I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Because of this I’d been forced to lead the life of the casual worker. One day I’d be manning the reception desk for a inner city law firm, the next I’d be pretending I could make cappuccinos at the local cafe. I’d been a typist, I’d been a dishwasher, I’d pulled pints, I’d even worked a day as a check out chick before realising I had to get out of this go nowhere rutt. It was time to find some steady work.

Of course this wasn’t easy. Even though I’d made the decision to give up my UK citizenship and become a permanent Aussie resident I was still waiting for that to come through so until then I’d have to get by on temp work, a thought I found less than appealing. What also didn’t help was the fact that I had no real idea what I wanted to do with my life. I’d drifted between jobs for the last five years as a means to an end but now at 23 I was beginning to realise I’d never found a career that I wanted to pursue long term. I sat down and began to think about what kind of work I would find rewarding. I didn’t mind the office environment as long as it wasn’t too dry. Ok, so rule out accounting firms, legal practices etc. I liked being in a creative space. Although I’m not particularly talented in any creative field, I’d always found being surrounded by people that were to be quite stimulating. Television? advertising? They sounded good. Great, I was finally narrowing it down. I knew I wouldn’t be any good at the creative side of things but I could certainly assist those that were. I had good organisational skills, my previous casual work had taught me to type, answer a phone and make a half decent coffee, all the prerequisites for…(drum roll)…Personal Assistant!

I closed my eyes and imagined myself in the role, helping out some suave business man and for once the idea of work didn’t seem too repulsive. This will probably prick up the hackles on the backs of the women’s lib movement but I quite liked the idea of looking after a man. Don’t get me wrong I’m not a pushover but having recently watched series one of Mad Men I began to imagine myself as the high heeled, short skirted, tight pink knitted pull-over wearing blonde bombshell PA. I liked this 1950’s dream, except I’m not blonde, I don’t own a pink sweater and even if I did I’d be going through a box of kleenex a day just to pad out my chest to fill it. Oh well, that day dream aside the idea of a steady job, decent wages and a bit of flirty action with the (hopefully) attractive boss seemed perfect.

Several days and newspapers later I’d found four promising leads. After responding to the ads I secured interviews with all four, unfortunately all on the same day. It was going to be grueling.

The day of the interviews came and my nerves were running high. I’d sorted my outfit the night before, going for a playful red floral dress cut just above the knee with a tailored black jacket over the top. I kept my makeup natural and pulled my hair back into a conservative ponytail. I wanted to be taken seriously but also, should the opportunity arise, be able to turn on the flirt factor. The suit jacket said ‘business’ but my hem line and heals said otherwise.

My first interview was with the creative director of a cable television channel. I arrived at the building just before the scheduled time of 9am but that was about as good as it got. The interviewer was a largish, 40 something year old woman with a pushed in face and a mess of hair like an untamed toperi bush. She looked me up and down disapprovingly, an eye brown raised, sighed and led me to the interview room. Needless to say it didn’t go well. I left feeling a little disheartened but glad not to be working for the toperi woman.

The second interview was with a small design house. It was going slightly better than the first until my nerves got the better of me and my gesturing hand knocked over a glass of water which spilled across the table, soaking my potential employers notes. Next. Third interview, with a graphic design company, was worse than my first. I left feeling dejected and a little useless, so far it had not been one of my better days.

It was now 2pm and I had one interview to go with a large advertising agency across town. As I crossed the Darling Harbour bridge, packed with human traffic returning from lunch a gust of wind blew through catching my skirt and hiking it up to my waist, giving everyone a nice 360 degree view of my nether regions, illegal bahis which were barely covered by a layer of thin black lace. I gasped in embarrassment and turned into the wind, trying to smooth my dress down with both hands but it was too late. A group of business men coming towards me pointed a hooted. One whistled. I felt my cheeks flush. “Now show us your tits!” one yelled, causing the others to laugh. They’d be going back to the office with the great story of how they’d seen some stupid girl flash her near naked bum in broad daylight. I held my skirt down, lowered my head and quickly walked past them. God, could this day get any worse?

I arrived at my last interview 15 minutes early. I spied two other girls sitting in the foyer, regime’s on their laps. They were both prettier than me. I hoped to myself that they weren’t going for this job too. Annoyed, downhearted and still a little embarrassed from the bridge incident I walked to the front desk and asked the receptionist where the ladies room was and once pointed in the direction, went off to freshen up.

As I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror I could see my cheeks still burning. I felt beaten, I just wanted this last interview to be over so I could go home to a bottle of red, drown my sorrows and…

Just then I heard the bathroom door swing open and another women entered the room.

“Hello” she said sunnily as she passed behind me toward the loos.

“Hi” I offered back.

It was only a ‘hello’ but it was the first bit of pleasant contact I’d had all day and suddenly I felt rejuvenated. Why should I give up? That wasn’t me. I looked back into the mirror, more confident, ready and this time I was going to get that fucking job!

I pulled at the band holding my hair back and shook it out, letting it fall like a long black wave over my left shoulder. I stripped off my suit jacket and tugged at the neckline of my dress, pulling it down and pushing my tits up to achieve some cleavage. I reached into my clutch and retrieved my lipstick, applying it in generous red strokes. I rolled my lips together then pushed them out, pouting at myself in the mirror. And by jove if I didn’t look ever bit the modern equivalent of those Mad Men dames. I smiled to myself, smoothed my skirt down and click-clacked, heel to toe back to the main reception area.

As I approached the front desk the receptionist looked up and smiled, “Mr Lombard will see you now. 25th floor.”

I thanked her and padded towards the lifts. The one on the right was out of order so I stepped into the other and hit the number 25 button. The lift was terribly slow but finally reached it’s destination. Before the doors opened I made some last minute adjustments to myself and took a deep breath, my heart pounding.

DING! ‘level 25’. I stepped out of the lift.

I was greeted at the front desk by Mr Lombard who extended a large hand to shake mine, which looked like a baby’s in his big strong his grasp.

“Please to meet you Portia, call me Jerry.” he said, looking deep into my eyes.

“Lovely to meet you.” I managed. I gazed back into Jerry’s eyes and suddenly my nerves melted away. He was tall, well built, early forties. His dark brown hair was flecked with grey at the temples and his blue eyes looked very kind. He walked me to his office, high fiving another man walking passed us in the corridor. I could feel this guys eyes on my backside as he moved behind me but ignored it.

Other than that encounter, the next 20 minutes were like a dream. I was relaxed and calm. Jerry and I talked, laughed and not once did it even occur to me that I was in a job interview. He asked some questions, I giggled and touched his arm and by the end I knew I’d aced it.

“Well Portia,” Jerry said, looking into me with those dreamy blue eyes “it’s been more than a pleasure, thanks for coming in.”

I smiled back at him. “Thank you Jerry”

“Obviously I have some other girls to interview,” he continued “but I’ve got a good feeling about you. You seem like a very honest young lady, that’s something I always look for. I’ll be in touch in a few days.”

I thanked him again and we shook hands.

“I’ll show you out” he said.

We walked back towards the lifts and Jerry pressed the ‘down’ button.

As we stood waiting for the elevator Jerry continued.

“I must say I’m very impressed by you Portia. I’ve become pretty good at reading people over the years and you give off the kinda vibe I like.”

He smiled. Not quite knowing what to say I looked up at him and smiled back. God, he really was big, well over six foot and he seemed to soar above my 5 foot six inches. I couldn’t help my mind drifting to the obvious, was he in ‘proportion’?

The lift ‘pinged’ bringing me back to reality. The doors slid open and I felt Jerry’s big hand on the small of my back, gently pushing me towards the waiting elevator. His touch sent a shiver up my spine and I wobbled on my heels.

“Oops, watch that step.” Jerry joked. The two of us stepped into the elevator, Jerry hitting the ‘GROUND’ button. illegal bahis siteleri

Alone together in the lift I could smell his aftershave, god he was a sexy man. The lift was painfully slow again and as we descended together I found myself closing my eyes and saying a little prayer in my head.

“Please God, let me get this job. I know I haven’t been an all good girl lately but if you give me this I swear from here on in I’ll avoid all temptation and never let another man put his co…”

BANG!!! The elevator jumped and threw me forward. Jerry masterfully caught me before I over balanced and stood me upright again.

“Thanks,” I said nervously “what’s happened?”

“Bloody lifts, they’ve been playing up all week.” Jerry answered.

Looking at the floor buttons I could see we were stuck between the 20th and 19th floors. Jerry tried the service phone but there was no answer.

“Don’t worry,” he said “it’ll start up again in a sec.”

I must have looked worried or scared or both because he reached out in a reassuring gesture, gently stroking the side of my face with his big hand. I inadvertently closed my eyes at his touch, instantly my fears evaporated. But his hand lingered too long, sliding down the nape of my neck and came to rest on my naked upper arm. I opened my eyes. Jerry seemed so large it felt like he was on top of me. I tried to hold true to my promise to God, damn why did this have to happen now? I resisted his grip momentarily but I knew I was kidding myself. Force me to decide between a hot sexy guy and keeping peace with the Lord and I’m going to take the man every time.

I gave into Jerry’s caress, and let him pull me in close. God he smelt good. I let my head fall back and felt his breath on my neck followed by several small kisses up to my earlobe which he took into his mouth and sucked lustfully. I let out a whimper and ran my hands through his hair.

“Told you I was good at reading people” he whispered in my ear, before two big kisses brought his head down to my chest. His hands came up to the neckline of my dress, his fingers slid under the straps of both my dress and bra and with a single, quick movement he pulled outward roughly sliding both dress and bra straps over my shoulders. There was a tearing sound as the neckline of my dress gave in to the manhandling and tore slightly. I gasped in shock and awe. My breasts now totally exposed sat pert, my nipples hard.

“Fucking perfect,” he said, standing back and marveling at my chest “just how I like them” He reached out and cupped my breasts his big hands making them look tiny but he gripped them tenderly, working his thumbs over my nipples, driving me mad and melting my inhibitions away. He let his tongue slide over my tits, around the edges of my nipples then flicking it quickly against the hard nubs. Kneading and pushing them together, he planted small kisses across my shoulders and back up my neck, then wrapping his arms around me, kissed me deeply on the mouth. I was breathing heavily, I felt so small and vulnerable in his big, strong arms, completely enveloped in his caress. My knees were weak and I was so wet I could feel it running down my inner thigh.

Suddenly I was shaken from this glorious dream buy a massive jolt. The lift sprang to life and once again began it’s decent.

“Fuck!” I cried, scrambling to cover myself. I left my bra were it had fallen on the floor, kicking it into a corner and worked at getting my dress back on. Jerry helped me with the straps, then adjusted his tie. I made a motion to him to rub my lipstick from his lips which he did on the underside of his tie.

We’d barely got ourselves together when the lift stopped at the 17th floor. Half a dozen people stepped in eyeing the slightly disheveled man and panting girl with the torn dress suspiciously but saying nothing. We both smiled nervously and moved to the back of the lift, our backs against the wall. The doors closed and we started to move slowly down. Then I felt Jerry’s hand on the small of my back again. My body stiffened as his hand slowly slide down my back and over the swell of my arse then took a turn inwards and stopped on my inner thigh. I tried to keep my breathing in check as his fingers moved up my leg, under my dress and down the back of my panties. It took every ounce of strength I had not to moan out loud as I felt the warmth of his hand as it inched its way under my pants and over my naked bum. His fingers kept moving slowly down, down, down and then up between my legs and stopped on my soaking wet kitty. His index finger probed at my lips until he found my clit and then the magic took over. Never have I met a man that could locate and hit my spot as fast as this. Maybe it was partly to do with the intensity of the situation or perhaps he just had magicians hands but by the time we’d reached the 12th floor I was biting my lip and cumming all over his fingers.

As the end of the orgasm passed through my body he slide his thick index finger deep inside me, massaging my g-spot. It felt so amazing I could have cried and I was quite pleased canlı bahis siteleri with myself for not alerting anyone else in the lift to our games. I felt Jerry slowly pull his finger out of me and my body completely relaxed, I felt as light as a feather. Then…

“Ooooh!” I involuntarily squeaked. The other occupants of the lift quickly turned their heads in my direction. I smiled sweetly back in return, covering the fact that Jerry had just slide his now well lubricated finger right up my arse.

We continued our downward journey, all of us facing towards the doors, Jerry’s fat finger wedged in my bum. It was a surreal scene. Finally we reached the ground floor. I had no idea what was going to happen next. The other people in the lift all exited and walked out into the foyer while Jerry and I stayed put at the back of the box unseeingly linked. Jerry reached out with his other hand and hit the ‘CLOSE’ button for the doors, then pressed level one. Then just as the lift lurched to life and began to ascend he hit the EMERGENCY STOP. The elevator grinded to a halt, suspending us between the ground and level one.

“Once again I’m right yes?” Jerry started, his finger still up my arse. “I can read all sorts of signs on people’s faces, I’ve become very good at it but the one thing I can gauge more quickly and easily than any other is what a girl likes and I could tell the moment I met you that you were a girl who likes it up the arse.”

He withdrew his finger and I blushed, looking down at the floor. Jesus, was I so easy to read? Had every other guy I’d ever slept with picked up on this too?

“Hey,” said Jerry “no need to be embarrassed.” He lifted my head and our eyes met.

“I’m not embarrassed” I lied “just don’t want you to think I’m like this with everyone.” I looked down again.

“I don’t think that,” he said, stroking my face “it’s just I can’t help reading people’s faces.”

“OK” I mumbled unconvinced.

Jerry took a soothing tone.

“You know what? I think you’d feel a whole lot better about all this if you told me yourself how you like it.”

I felt my face flush again. “They way you said.”

“Yeah, but tell me.”

Nervously I tried to pull my head away from his hands but he held me fast, turning my face back to look at me again but I still didn’t make eye contact.

“I want you to repeat after me.” he said “I’m a girl…”

I paused before responding…”I’m a girl”

“…who likes it…”

“who likes it”

“…up the arse.”

“up the arse.”

“Good girl.” continued Jerry patiently “Now look into my eyes and say it.”

I looked up and suddenly I was caught in those dreamy blue eyes again. He could have made me do anything, I couldn’t help myself. I looked straight at him.

“I’m a girl who likes it up the arse.” I said proudly.

“Then that’s how you’re going to get it.” he said.

Suddenly he was spinning me around, flipping my dress up and roughly yanking my panties down. Instinctively I bent over and wrapped my fingers around the side rails of the lift and looked back over my shoulder. Jerry flipped his belt buckle open and unzipped his pants, dropping both pants and underwear to the floor. My eyes widened at the sight of his gorgeous cock, he was mostly definitely in proportion. It jutted out from his body, a big, beautiful throbbing dick and I was going to get it.

He spat in his hand and started to rub it over his cock. I’ve always loved the sight of a man jerking himself and watching Jerry lubeing up his fat dick, his fist gripping it made my kitty wet itself again. Jerry must have been able to see. He approached me from behind and nestled his cock in between my buns like a hotdog. “Jesus,” he said “you really do want this don’t you? You’ve practically wet yourself” He ran his hands over my arse then slide them around and gripped my hips. He began to hump my arse cleavage with his slippery pole, his balls swinging up against my kitty and the underside of his cock rubbing against my arsehole.

“Heavens, you’ve got a sweet arse Portia” he said, his dick sliding up and down between my bum cheeks “You get fucked in it much?”

I tried to answer honestly, remembering his previous words to me.

“As much as I can” I answered.

“Good girl.” he said, slowing his humping and taking his cock from between my cheeks. “Let’s have a look shall we.”

He knelt down behind me and taking my white orbs in each hand gently parted them. “Gorgeous” he said “Mmmmm, beautiful. Like I said Portia, you have a fantastic arse, a little worked in but tight. Spectacular.”

“Thanks.” I managed. I’d met some butt lovers in my time but no one had ever complimented me so highly on my arse. It was a little strange I admit but still somewhat of a turn on, to think he thought so highly of it.

His face was close now I could feel his warm breath against my skin then I felt his tongue gently pass over my anus, then again, and again. Circular motions, tiny flicks, gentle stabs, driving me crazy. Longer licks now, over my arsehole and right up between my cheeks, his big hands spreading my bum wider, his tongue flicking on my rosebud. Then pressing against it, pushing inside of me, further than I could imagine, sliding in and out of my arse, then back out and around the sensitive edges.

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