So get that stupid dress off.

‘This is an office, not some goddamn club,” you say.

The teen grins again and steps back, reaching behind to undo the zipper on her top, then freezes as she suddenly notices your assistant behind you. “If you have an issue with Ms. Bishop being here, then we can’t come to an arrangement on your mother’s job,” you say. “She is indispensable and accompanies me everywhere.” You lock eyes with the teen. “Continue or get out.”

She smiles again, a little weaker this time. She pulls down the zipper and dress falls away, revealing a pair of pert tits, not quite her mother’s, but they’ll do. “Is that what you wanted, mister?” she teases, obviously attempting to regain her previous confidence. Her eyes keep darting to Ms. Bishop’s impassive face. "You want to see my cute little titties?"

“You know you’ll have to do more than that,” you say blandly as you unfasten your pants.

She gives a mock-pout before wiggling out of her skirt, then straightening up and spreading her arms like she’s done a magic trick.

You keep a stone face as you pull out your cock and point to it. She drops to her hands and knees and crawls toward you. “The boys say I give the best blowjobs,” she coos as she positions her lips at the head of your cock. Taking your prick in hand she guides it into her mouth, stopping less than halfway in to bob gently, sucking it like a piece of candy as she looks up at you with amused eyes.

Those eyes grow wide, though, as you grab her head in both hands and begin slowly pushing in. You don’t get particular far before you can see those eyes panic, her nostrils flare. The moment you let go her head flies back, and off-balance she falls to the floor, gagging.

“The boys lied,” you say coldly.