The Interview
Office Party Part One
Andie Devaux
Contents
Copyright
Blurb
The Interview
Customer Satisfaction
Also by Andie Devaux
About the Author
For adults only. This is an erotic romance that contains material that is not suitable for children.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Andie Devaux. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
Visit the author’s website at www.andiedevaux.com
Edited by Editing 720
Cover designed by GoOnWrite
First Edition February 2014
Blurb
Faith Wilson needs a job—badly. She’s willing to do anything she can to secure a position with Lawrence & Associates. But when she’s told the job involves satisfying her coworkers and clients in every erotic way the boss deems necessary, she hesitates. But a little time in Mr. Lawrence’s office convinces her to throw caution to the wind and give it a shot.
But while the boss directs the show, he won’t touch her—not until she’s passed all of his tests. Faith thinks Mr. Lawrence might be worth the challenge, and she’s determined to make him desire her as badly as she wants him.
The Interview is an erotic short story with light BDSM elements. It involves a hot encounter between multiple male partners with one female interviewee (MFM) who is about to have her limits explored. It is not intended for young readers due to mature content. Adults only.
The Interview
Faith wanted the job so badly she could taste it.
Seeing the office decided it. Not only was it nicely decorated with furniture that suggested they’d actually be able to pay their employees as promised, the air conditioning was divine.
Financial health was important, especially considering her last job—as a secretary for a small fly-by-night injury attorney—still hadn’t paid her for her last month in their employ. Collecting had been pretty much impossible when they’d simply closed up shop and neglected to tell her. And it wasn’t like she had money to track them down.
Before she’d even bothered to send a resume in for this job, she’d checked and double-checked that they were on the up and up with the friend who’d offered her their apparently secret fax number. He’d reassured her that not only were they solvent, they’d been around for decades.
Of course, things had changed in the last couple of weeks. Her checking account balance said she’d have to interview for this job even if the place had been furnished with folding chairs.
Nervously, she tugged at the expensive skirt-suit she’d maxed her credit card out to purchase, and gave the receptionist a polite smile when the woman said Mr. Lawrence would be with her in a few minutes.
“Nice office,” she told the woman—Tara, according to the nameplate. Buxom and blond, she was more beautiful than anyone Faith had ever seen up close. But she seemed nice enough, and she flashed her big, bright teeth at Faith’s comment.
“It’s a very nice office.” Tara winked, then laughed. Her slight Southern accent softened what seemed to be an inside joke.
Faith didn’t get the joke, but she chuckled politely and did her best to pretend she wasn’t pretending. She needed this job, and if she had to laugh at jokes she didn’t understand to get it, she would.
It had been a hell of a month. Not only had she not been paid for her last few weeks of work, her boyfriend had split the second she’d suggested he start paying half the rent, since he crashed at her place pretty much every night he wasn’t passed out drunk on one of his buddies’ couches. To be honest, she hadn’t been too sorry to see him go, but she did miss the sex and the companionship.
Well, mostly just the sex. Her pet goldfish Puff was nearly as good a conversationalist as her ex.
“He’s a little behind today with all the interviews. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water? We have some sodas, but I’ll have to check what kinds.”
“I’d take a water, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing, hon.”
Faith did her best not to fidget, forcing in a deep breath and trying to remember all the things her mom used to tell her about survival. You do what you have to, baby girl. I’ve no doubt you can do anything you have to in order to survive.
Blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes at the thought of her mother, she smiled at Tara. The receptionist gave her a reassuring smile and handed her a bottle of water.
“Thank you.” She stood and accepted the water, then the sound of a door closing made her pause. A few seconds later, a man appeared from the hallway.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he filled the room the moment he entered it. His dark hair was cut in a close business cut, but waved a bit on the top. A tailored suit adorned his body, simultaneously professional and sexy. Dark blue eyes locked on hers, and the ability to breathe escaped her for a few seconds.
She stepped forward to shake his hand—he had to be Mr. Lawrence, because she couldn’t see this man being anything but the boss.
Gaze sliding away from hers, he halted and turned. “Thank you again for coming by, we’ll be in touch.” He shook a diminutive Asian woman’s hand. The pretty woman smiled at him shyly and turned to leave.
Faith clenched her hands into fists at her sides. What the hell was wrong with her? Sure, he was an impressive-looking man, but she hadn’t even noticed the woman walking beside him. Being that unobservant wasn’t likely to get her the job, for crying out loud.
So embarrassing.
“Miss Wilson?” His gaze swept over her, evaluating, but his expression didn’t reveal a thing.
She gave him a quick nod, unable to find her voice.
“This way.” Briskly, he turned from her and headed down the hall, not bothering to turn and make sure she followed.
Rushing after him, she tried to clear her thoughts. This job wasn’t optional—she needed it. Get your brain together, Faith.
His office was huge, with tall ceilings, decorated in a very masculine manner with dark, oversized furnishings. The desk stood in the middle of the room, facing the door. If it had been her office, she would have faced it toward the amazing view of Lake Michigan. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the dark water below.
Breathtaking.
“You like the view.”
It hadn’t sounded like a question, but she answered him anyway. “It’s incredible. I’m surprised you don’t turn your desk to face it.”
A hint of a smile touched his lips, and a surge of elation hit her. She’d amused him, and the man didn’t smile much. She didn’t have a lot of money to bet right now, but she’d have bet it all on that fact.
“I like to look at pretty things,” he conceded, eyes still locked on her. “But beautiful things can be distracting, if you allow them to be.” He gestured for her to sit on one of the guest chairs in front of the desk.
Heat snaked up her neck to touch her cheeks. The man wasn’t just talking about the view, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a bit of mischief danced in in eyes.
Before she could think of a way out of the awkward conversation, he continued. “So, Miss Wilson. You recently graduated college?”
“That’s right. Four months ago.”
“And you heard about this job…how?”
She grimaced, having dreaded this question. He wasn’t going to like her response. The job hadn’t
been advertised in any papers, nor had it even been mentioned on the company’s website. But she’d promised she wouldn’t tell where she got the company’s fax number, nor where she got the—rather limited—details about the job. But she’d planned for this. Word about jobs got out no matter how tightly companies kept the lid on a search, so she’d be vague and hopefully he’d move on.
“I heard about it through the grapevine,” she said, finally. “Can you tell me more about—”
“That’s impossible, Miss Wilson. This job wasn’t public knowledge. No grapevines carry word of our positions—and applying is by invite only. My personal invite. In fact, it’s only my curiosity that got you this interview. Our applicants are usually carefully screened before they set foot in our offices.”
She bit her lip. It felt like his gaze could bore its way through her eyes and reveal her thoughts. But she’d given her word not to say where she’d gotten the fax number, and she wouldn’t break it.
“Fine,” he said when the silence grew long. “Thank you for coming in, Miss Wilson.” He stood and tossed what must have been her résumé onto a stack of papers on one corner of the desk.
“That’s it?” she asked, aghast.
“That’s it. I don’t hire people I can’t trust. And my curiosity has been sated.” He clicked a button on his office phone. “Please come and show Miss Wilson out, Tara.”
Desperate, she stood but didn’t move toward the door. “I gave my word not to reveal my source, Mr. Lawrence. And I don’t break my word. I would think that would count for something. At least enough to make me worthy of a full interview.”
He blinked at her. “You sound angry.”
Angry? Heck yes she was. But she wasn’t about to admit that at a job interview. “I’m willing to fight for what I want, and I want this job.”
“You know nothing about this job.” Of that, he sounded confident.
“I know enough to see this is a professional place. Enough to see you pay your bills. Enough to know I can probably learn a lot here.”
A glimmer of a smile touched his lips. This time it actually seemed to reach his eyes.
The door behind her opened, but she didn’t turn to look, didn’t lower her gaze from Lawrence’s. “I would think my willingness to keep a confidence would be held in my favor. Please. I’m smart and I work hard. Give me a chance.”
He watched her for a few seconds longer, and she tried to communicate her intent through her eyes. How much she wanted—needed—this job.
“Leave us, Tara,” he ordered finally.
A tiny bit of the tension she’d carried with her since entering his office faded from her shoulders, and she sat back down. He followed suit, placing his hands on the desk in front of him.
“Why are you so desperate for this job?”
“I need the money,” she said honestly. “And more than that, I need to find a place where I can put in the effort and see something from it. A place where I can fit in.”
“There is a reason we don’t advertise, Miss Wilson. This job isn’t…typical. Tell me, honestly, do you like sex?”
She gaped at him, but he simply watched her. Shaking herself mentally, she forced herself to get a grip. This was a test, and she wouldn’t allow herself to fail it. “I like sex.”
He arched a brow at her.
Honesty. He was looking for honesty, she reminded herself. “I’ve had two boyfriends. One in high school, and one in college that I split up with recently. They were both my age. And the sex was…fine.”
“Just fine?”
“It was fun. Ish. Fun-ish. But, you know, nothing like you’d read in a book or see in a movie. Nothing earth-shattering.” She wasn’t even totally sure the mind-blowing sex she’d seen in fiction was actually possible.
“Thank you for your honesty.” He leaned forward. “How would you like to experience earth-shattering?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m risking a lot telling you about this, Miss Wilson. I’m counting on that ironclad discretion you showed me earlier. This job isn’t simply for an assistant—although most of your working hours will call for office tasks, the type you can use on a résumé later. This job also requires for you to make yourself available. Sexually.”
Mouth suddenly dry, she had to swallow hard before she could speak. “To you?” That idea didn’t sound half bad, actually. She was attracted to Mr. Lawrence, achingly so. He wasn’t just good looking and older, he had the aura of a man who was devastating in bed. Take charge. She’d never really experienced that kind of man, and the idea of it was…interesting.
“If you make it through your trial period, then yes. But not just me. You’ll be available to other employees. Clients.” His hard blue eyes narrowed. “You’ll spread your legs, open your mouth, for anyone I tell you to.”
She gasped, trying to ignore the sudden heat and wetness between her thighs at the thought of being sexually available at this sexy, strong man’s whim. “What are you? A pimp?”
“No. But I ensure that everyone in my company—and serviced by my company—is satisfied. That would include you.” He pushed up and walked around the desk, then knelt next to her chair and then swiveled it so she was facing him. The man was huge and she was petite, so it put them at eye level. “You’re innocent, Miss Wilson. Not my usual employee. But there’s something about you. About the way you blush.”
Half her mind told her to run. Was screaming this was a terrible idea. Wrong. Immoral. And downright dangerous.
But the other half wanted to see exactly what kind of satisfaction this man could offer her.
She’d never been sexually adventurous. Not because she hadn’t wanted to be—hadn’t been curious—but because she’d never been brave enough to take the plunge into anything crazy on her own before. This man was offering her the chance, attached to what was likely to be a very good paycheck.
Why the hell not?
“Okay,” she murmured. Then, unable to hold his gaze, she looked down at her hands, which she was clasping nervously in her lap.
“Then your trial starts today.” He stood, towering over her. “I don’t have to tell you that no matter what happens today—and whether you pass your trial period going forward or not—I do expect your discretion?”
“Of course.” She forced herself to look up at the man towering over her. “You can trust me.”
“Good.” He gave her a short nod. “Then the interview will begin.”
In the blink of an eye, he was back on the other side of his desk, punching a four-digit number into his phone. An extension, then.
The other side of the line was picked up almost immediately. “Yes?”
“Get in here, Black. We have an interview,” Lawrence said without preamble.
“Martinson is with me,” Black said.
Lawrence’s eyes locked on hers for a moment before he answered. “Good. Bring him with you.” He hit a button and the line clicked off. “Let’s see what you look like under those clothes.”
Her mouth dropped open. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to her that it would all start so quickly. The proposition hadn’t seemed quite seemed real, and her mind was still wrapping itself around the possibilities.
With a slight challenge in his gaze, he merely watched her. Waiting.
She stood.
“Take your jacket and shirt off first.”
With her heart beating wildly in her chest, she took off her jacket. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she followed with the light blouse, pulling it over her head. Her breath caught when it hit her that she was in an office—practically a public place—in a thin, almost translucent bra.
“Red looks good on you,” he said, eyes locked on her bra.
She blushed and a small chuckle escaped him. He held out his hand, and she handed him the clothes. To her surprise, he folded them carefully before setting them on the corner of his desk.
“My skirt?”
“Leave it on. The heels, too. Over
here.”
She followed him behind his desk, where the view was truly astounding. A good fifteen feet of space between his desk and the window made the size of the office even more apparent.
He reached into one of the bottom drawers in his desk and pulled out a length of rope.
Her sex clenched. “Is this like…BDSM or something?” she asked, wishing she sounded more worldly, more sure of herself. But she wasn’t even sure she had the letters in the right order, let alone what the term meant exactly. Sure, she had vague ideas of leather and whips, but she didn’t know anything real.
So why did even the idea of it make her knees feel even weaker?
“Not exactly.” A slight smirk touched his lips before seriousness took over once again. The man always seemed so serious. “There are no rules. No contracts. But I do like rough sex. And a little pain—a little bondage—can add to the experience.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she couldn’t find any words. She shouldn’t find the idea of rough sex so appealing, should she?
“There are no safe words here. But”—he reached out and slid the rope down her jawline—“we won’t do anything without your consent. And if you want things to stop, they’ll stop.”
A rush of relief hit her. Part of her wanted to see what would happen if her control of the situation was entirely stripped, but the rest of her knew she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet, anyway.
“Don’t look too relieved.” His dark blue eyes flashed wickedly. “That doesn’t mean we won’t push your limits. Now get on the floor. On your hands and knees.”
Only a few short feet from where his desk ended, the flooring changed dramatically, from the sort of industrial carpet she’d expect to see in an office to something that looked like a workout mat, only built into the floor. The light color went nicely with the sky and sea backdrop, and it looked easy to keep clean.
She swallowed hard. Then, squaring her shoulders, she walked to the mat and then, with Lawrence’s help, went down to her knees. The position pulled her skirt up above her knees and made it tight against her backside.
The Interview: Office Party #1 Page 1