A "Job" Offer

"You know," she began, wrapping an arm around you. "I could use someone like you in my office. Young, hard-working, willing to go the extra mile to satisfy their boss. I'd pay you too, I'm not talking some shitty work experience gig. What do you say?"

"But, Christie, I have a job here. My family would be shocked if I told them I quit FutaBucks."

"Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it. Triple it even, if you can show me you're worth it. Are you worth it?"

"...Yes?"

"Good answer. Now prove it."

Her arm slowly crept down from your shoulder to hug your waist. Meanwhile, she took her other hand and placed it on your thigh.

"Let me touch you," she whispered.

"C-Christie, this is inappropriate workplace behaviour, I c-can't... I don't know what to do."

"Listen, young man. Every day I come in here and order the same drink. But this day I ordered a chili hot chocolate. You know why? Because when I want something I get it. And when I want something different I get that too. And what I want now ... is you."

You looked around to see if you were being watched. Everyone was minding their own business, drinking their drinks or being served. Your boss noticed Christie leaning on you and gave you an approving smile and a customer service thumbs-up. If your boss was really okay with this sort of stuff happening to you at FutaBucks, you figured you might as well be treated the same way for three times the money.

"I'll do it," you said. "I'll work for you, Christie."

"Excellent choice," she growled. Her hands had worked their way under your uniform and were fondling your bare skin.

"Will this be one of my d-duties, Christie?" You gasped.

"Oh, this and so much more. There'll be real work to do and skills to learn, but I am hiring you to be my very personal assistant."

"Yes, ma'am," you shuddered.

By the end of the day you'd handed your FutaBucks boss your resignation and were looking forward to your new very well paid job as a personal assistant.