Chapter 29 – Paris starts her new first day

I’ve taken this train ride, at this time in the morning, dressed up as a woman for months now. I get the occasional look and once in a great while a lewd glance or gesture. But that’s it. Yeah, people look, but that’s become normal. My pride might not like admitting it, but I make an attractive woman. And just like I’d take a look at any attractive woman in front of me, people take a look at me on the train. But today is different. It can’t just be the clothes. Or the heels. Or the nails. Or the hair. Or the makeup. It’s all of it. It adds up and combines to make something greater than its component parts. Pretty, sexy, hot, beautiful, and sensual have all combined to make me Sultry. Kinky, even.

I can see that clearly on the men’s faces. They’re attracted and turned on. They’re undressing me and imagining unspeakable acts. I mean, what guy hasn’t had the ‘train girl’ fantasy. Standing behind someone like me and seeing how far their hand could get up under my skirt. Or standing in front of my seated form, at the perfect height for my lips to… no... they can imagine that, but I won’t let MY mind linger there. It’s not just the men though. The women have looks for me. Some, most, are flippant and dismissive. They can’t and won’t understand why a woman would dress like this. In public. At five thirty in the morning. But some, at least a few, are… jealous? They’re not judging me, they’re admiring me. Making a mental copy of me so that they can get a similar top or do their makeup the same way.

At the end of most days, I can feel the effort of smiling on my cheeks. They feel strained and stiff. Today I already feel that way when I walk into the office as it’s so difficult to maintain this perky happy attitude.

Terry, the security guard in the lobby, is extra attentive as I wait alone for the elevator. As a matter of practicing my new **** attitude, I make sure to turn to him with a smile and a wink as I step into the elevator. I swear as the doors close, I hear his coffee mug hit the floor. My first stop is the thirty first floor today as I promised I’d say hi to Trixie. I’d love to skip it, but she came in early just to see me before I started my shift, so I owed it to her. Walking through the administrative floor at this early hour is a little creepy making Trixie’s squeal all that much more startling when I hear her from across the office.

“PAAARRRRIIIISSS!!!!!”

Turning, I see her moving her little feet a million miles an hour while moving toward me at just slightly faster than normal speed, her arms held out wide and her face open and smiling and happy as she greets me. When we meet, I pull her in for a hug and take in her excitement like a battery taking a charge. Anything to get me enough power to get through the day. We chat for just a bit as I have to get going and start the day but seeing Trixie turns out to be a good idea as it really does lift my spirits.

That is, right up until the end. As I’m heading back to the elevator with my smile honest and my head held high, I hear Trixie behind me call out “Paris, Malachi isn’t going to be able to keep his hands off of you today!”

When I get to the office I start the day like any other. I set my purse in the lower drawer and lock it. My phone gets turned to silent mode and slipped into my upper drawer. I go through my and Mal’s emails and then organize his voicemails. With that set, I head to the break room and start a pot of normal coffee for everybody and then work on Mal’s first cuppa of the day. As I’m finishing off with the cinnamon and nutmeg, I see that the nutmeg dispenser is almost out and figure now is as good as any time to refill it. Opening the lower cabinet, I have to bend forward and try to reach to the back to grab the big industrial sized container of nutmeg. When I push the powdered milk and cinnamon containers out of the way I see that someone has put the nutmeg all the way in back. I can either bend further and put my head into the cabinet or get down on my knees and risk my new expensive stockings getting a run.

There is no way I’m going to start this new phase of work with a less than perfect outfit for Mal’s inspection. Bending further, I duck my head and get it into the cabinet, one hand above holding onto the countertop for balance with the other reaching to the back. Just as my long fingernails scrape along the top of the nutmeg container, I feel it. A sharp heavy smack to my upturned ass. Its loud ‘SMACK’ fills the room and is accompanied by my high-pitched surprised yelp, along with my head banging on top of the inner cabinet. Almost worse than the spank to my ass, the hand doesn’t remove itself and instead starts massaging me back there. As its fingers start to grip and wiggle in-between my cheeks I hear Darnell’s deep voice behind me, “Damn Trixie, if I’d known you were going to come up here for coffee and to tease me, I’d have been in here earlier!”

I’m shocked on so many different levels that I’m frozen in place. As nice as Darnell has always been, I’d have never imagined him bold enough to just walk up and slap my ass. Or Trixie’s ass. And he thinks I’M TRIXIE!

My thoughts are shattered as I feel Darnell move directly behind me. His hands move to my tiny waist where they both grip me and pull me back against his body. As I feel something hard in his pants throb against my rear, I hear his voice practically dripping with arousal, “Hey, wanna see if we can do this here? I promise baby, I’ll be quick! No one will know!”

That thought, that requested act, spurs me into action. At first, I try to push my way out of the cabinet, but that only pushes me harder up against Darnell, where I feel him throb again against me. Knowing he will have to let me out now, I finally find my voice and thankfully speak without sounding crazed, scared, or with my voice cracking, “Darnell, it’s me. Paris.”

Darnell steps back and let’s go of me so suddenly that I almost lose my balance as I hear him mutter quietly “oh shit!”

I’m able to back out and stand up right, taking just a moment to pull my hair over my shoulders and get it back into place. With my stomach churning, I realize this is my first test. Mal was clear, I had to flirt. With all men. I can’t do what feels natural right now which is to stomp out. Instead, I blink a few times and **** that smile back into place. Pushing the urge to vomit down as I utter this, I finally say “Hey there, I didn’t say you had to stop!”

As I take the moment to straighten my skirt, still a bit askew from where he put his hands on me, I look at the open cabinet and giggle… while dying a little on the inside… “But as long as we’re not going to do that, could you get the nutmeg for me?”

By the time I get back to Mal’s office I think my blush has died down. If I’m honest, I don’t think I was blushing as much as Darnell, but his dark skin makes that difficult to judge. He returned to his gentlemanly self as soon as he went in for the nutmeg and apologized for touching me ‘inappropriately’. I just couldn’t bear to lay the flirting on any thicker, so I simply accepted his apology while I made him a cup of coffee.

When I see that Mal’s door is open, I slow by my desk to set my coffee down and then head right into his office. I see that he just got here as he’s taking his jacket off, so I move to his desk and put his cuppa down. Turning toward him, I dive right into our normal morning routine, “Good Morning Malachi. You have an important email from McGregor corp that you should see to first. You have a couple voicemails from the executives that deserve your attention but they’re regarding other departments. Steve called in saying his flight was delayed and he’ll be a few hours late this morning. I added an appointment with Miss Thompson so that she can give you that personnel report you wanted and return your credit card. You also mentioned that you wanted to discuss our new relationship, did you want to do that now or wait until later in the morning?”

All the while I’m speaking, I see Mal’s eyes wandering over me. Where I was fully prepared to see his arousal at my appearance, seeing as I was presenting myself as his ideal sexualized secretary, I was not ready for this. His eyes wandering over me had absolutely nothing to do with sexually undressing me or imagining us doing unspeakable things. No, he was assessing me. I saw his eyes examine my hair closely. He noted each piece of jewelry. His eyes lingered on my chest, specifically on the bit of cleavage showing. He visually traced my curves from my breasts to my waist to my hips. He even moved a bit to the side so he could better see my heels and legs. When I finally finished with the question and a nervous swallow, Mal calmly sat down behind his desk, patted his lap, and said in his calm deadpan voice “Come. We’ll talk now.”

I surprise myself by not pausing, outwardly shivering or shuddering, or even losing my smile. Instead, I smoothly move to Mal, turn around, and lower myself down onto his lap for the first time. When I simply fold my hands in my lap, he clucks his tongue and shakes his head, “Tsk tsk tsk, that won’t do. You’ll fall. Here, let me arrange you.”

With the cold impersonal movements of a doctor, Mal wraps his arm around my waist and rests his hand on my hip. Using his other hand, he takes my arm closest to his chest and pulls it up and around his neck and shoulders. After a kindly pat to my hand, he then lifts and adjusts my leg so that I’m sitting with my legs crossed at the knee. Finally, he lays his hand cooly on my knee, his fingers drawing little circles on my stockings.

We sit like that for several moments. At first, I can’t help but sit stiffly. This is one of the positions I feared he’d want. I imagine soon I’ll feel him grow hard underneath me as I felt Darnell grow hard behind me in the break room. But the longer we sit there, and the longer that nothing else untoward happens, the more I relax. When I’m finally as close to comfortable as I can get sitting in a man’s lap, Mal speaks, “Good. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to do this. There are several things we have to get out of the way first. We’ll start with this; I don’t care what you think of me but I’m not some cartoon villain. In your own personal story, I’m sure that’s how I’d be portrayed and if that helps you sleep better at night, so be it. But I’m not cruel or evil or mean spirited. I do, however, get what I want. It’s what makes me successful at everything I do. It’s the biggest thing that Mrs. Birdie and Miss Thompson misunderstood about me and what you likely misunderstand about me.”

I open my mouth to tell Mal that he IS evil and mean spirited, but his eyebrows simply raising up in a questioning look is enough for me to snap my mouth shut and sit silently. With a nod, accepting that I recognized ‘my place’ he continues, “In the past I’ve wanted attractive women to be my secretary. Personal assistant. Office coordinator. Whatever term you want. Just as I want all of my staff to look appropriately attractive for their position, I wanted my secretary to look attractive sitting in front of my office, representing me and my department. I accepted and even looked forward to the type of women that were both attractive enough to catch my attention and forward enough to dress as I’d like them to in an office environment. While they would never get this position without the requisite skills, they weren’t exactly brainy. They certainly weren’t stupid, that’s a misnomer, but they weren’t deep thinkers. What they were was customer service oriented. They made people happy. We can talk all we want about gender bias and women’s liberation and sexual equity but look around. At any company, the people at the level I have to deal with are men of an age that remember when women were not ever executives. They remember women being nothing but sexual objects. And do you know what they like to see? They like to see reminders of those times. And if seeing my secretary sit out there, jiggling her breasts, painting her nail, and checking her makeup gives him a smile, then I’ve just gotten an edge. That edge might gain me millions on a contract.”

I absolutely hate to admit it, but Mal isn’t talking shit. What he’s saying is still outrageously sexist but that doesn’t make it wrong. “Take that to the next step and the people that work well in a department like this have similar ideas. They work with people that talk like that, think like that, and sometimes even act like that. If I want to hire those people and keep them happy, I need to play that part too. I need to be the boss of bosses. I need them to see my secretary as a sex object. As eye candy. When they see that, they’re more productive. And when they’re more productive, the entire department does better. So, just as I demand my men wear expensive custom-made suits, just as I demand my women wear designer clothes and expensive jewelry, I demand that my secretary look and play the part of a sexual object and office eye candy.”