Vigilant Angel Guardians

You consider your eager new applicants. With your remote, the business doesn't really need to turn a profit. Once he gets home, Mr. Worthington is bound to see the wisdom in financing the whole operation. So no real need for technicians. And no reason you couldn't just run the business out of Roxanne's office.

No, the most useful job for these ladies was helping you find even more play things. You stroke your chin.

“I think I know right where you two might fit into our organization,” you begin.

“It's a new position, part sales and part customer service. If hired, you will be the guardian angels of our customers. You proudly bear the title of Vigilant Angel Guardians, or V.A.G.’s.”

“That that sounds perfect, Mr. Peters, Sir!” Roxanne enthused. “I would love to be a Vigilant Angel Guardian!”

“Me too! Me too!” Mrs. Worthington gushed. “I want to be a V.A.G.!”

“Well, I'll have to interview you, of course, but I have a feeling you both have VAG potential!” you say cheerfully and they giggle and fidget with excitement. You might have overdone just how excited you made them at the prospect of working for you. A trickle of moisture is running down Roxanne’s inner thigh.

“OK, let's start with a bit of roleplay,” you say. “We’ll have my lovely assistant, , be a potential customer and you two will be a couple of V.A.G.s out on a sales call. I'll put you two into some uniforms so we can make this as close to the real thing as possible.”

You play about with the remote, designing, then aim it at your applicants.

When the swirling light fades, they are in matching white uniforms tailored to fit their remarkable figures. Or almost fit. The tiny white shorts of the uniforms are leaving them with prominent cameltoes and the white halter tops seem to be struggling valiantly to contain their titties, but it isn't at all clear that they will continue to be successful for much longer. V.A.G. with little wings on either side is embroidered in fushia just above each protruding left nipple.

White leather boots encase their legs up to mid thigh. Atop their heads, a white ballcap is embroidered with winged V.A.G. under a distinctly yonical fuchsia logo.

The would-be V.A.G.s squeal in delight and each asks the other to check her ass to make sure the shorts look good from behind.

“All right, girls,” you say. “here’s the scenario: the two of you have come to KiKi’s home after she called asking about a security system. Now, all the technical details will be in the pamphlet you've brought her, so you don't need to sell the system. What you're selling is the company! You want KiKi to feel that we care about her as a person. That her security and comfort are our only priority. That we will do literally anything to make sure she's thoroughly satisfied. Think you can do that?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Peters!” Mrs. Worthington said.

“We’ll do our best!” Roxanne vowed.

“KiKi will be the judge of that!” you say, winking at your former boss.

KiKi blushes at your wink, then puts on her game face.

“Oh, you must be the girls from Vigilant,” she says in a faux-rich snob accent. “My name is Mrs. Peters! I'm interested in what your company has to offer me!”

You hadn't told KiKi to take on a pseudonym, but it's interesting to see where her fantasies are leaning. You may have to take her home to meet Ellen later.

But for now, you want to see just what the girls in white are willing to do for her.