First day at your new job

If your new house felt modern, the THM Headquarters was something brought back from the future. Most of the employees had their cars on self-driving mode and each one filed into an underground parking stall like some kind of synchronized dance number. The elevators recognized each worker’s face and took them automatically to the correct floor before saying something like, “Here you are Fred” or “Fred, this is your floor” if they were distracted on their phone when the doors opened.

You had decided to internally refer to each of these men by Fred until they somehow distinguished themselves. You felt that it adequately captured their banal nature and somehow helped you get over your shock at just how ridiculously similar and entirely average they all were. You stuck out like a sore thumb for obvious reasons (your physique, skin tone, and sense of style), but also for some more subtle ones like your posture and tone of voice. You should have drawn attention, but everyone seemed perfectly content to go about their routines without the slightest glance at anyone else unless they had a meeting scheduled. Maybe all the automation had somehow rubbed off on the Freds and they were just part of the machine now.

Upon reaching the fifth floor, you stepped out of the polite elevator as it wished you an enjoyable first day and instructed you to please follow the blue arrows on the wall displays until you reached your new office. You tried not to think about the fact that there must be cameras everywhere to pull this kind of integrated technology and instead just marveled at the convenience of it. Soon, you had successfully navigated the maze of sleek, silver accented hallways and entered your office. It was nice enough, being on the corner of the building with a great view of the neighborhood, but you could have done without the inner walls also being glass. You liked a little privacy. You took out your laptop and sat down to check the schedule for the day, but a bright flash of color moving down the hallway pulled your eyes from the screen.

She was the first woman you had seen in the building and she immediately broke the mold of eerie uniformity. While her tight skirt matched the men’s black suits, she wore a bright red blouse and matching heels that made a very satisfying, rhythmic clicking as she walked right to your door. She waved her hand a few paces before reaching it as if dismissing a compliment and the door opened on its own. You had a feeling it would have done that for her even if you’d locked it.

“Hello Nick. I’m Linda.” She glanced to the left where, through the glass wall separating your offices, a somewhat familiar looking Fred was sitting down at his desk. It was Lindsay’s husband, Hank. Apparently the company thought it would be good for you to be next- door neighbors in both places. The funny thing was that you didn’t feel even a twinge of guilt for what you were surely going to do to his wife very soon. He looked over at Linda and you, waving bashfully before turning back to his laptop. You could tell he was trying very hard not to take another glance at her.

She rolled her eyes at him, but her posture became a little more casual as she turned back to you. “For everyone else, it’s Miss Cardellini. But for you…” There was that same hungry grin; must be contagious. “Linda will be just fine. I’m going to be your liaison with the company. A… handler of sorts.” She slowly moved around your desk as she spoke and eventually leaned up against the same side that you sat on. The glass top created a ridge just under her plump ass.

You looked up from that sight and raised an eyebrow when she called herself your “handler.”

“Why is this the first time I’ve heard about you?” You didn’t ask with any kind of skepticism or distrust, but rather disappointment at not being introduced sooner. This got a smile out of her.

“Well you’re supposed to be unbiased in these arbitration cases, aren’t you? Wouldn’t look good if there were emails on file from me explaining how to give us the home field advantage.” She looked out the window for a moment before once again meeting your gaze and then giving an innocent looking shrug, “So we’ll just have to have our little ‘strategy meetings’ in person. That alright with you, Nick?”

“More than alright.” Your job just kept getting better. “But I have to ask what you mean by ‘strategy.’ Don’t I just listen to both sides and then pick yours when we reach decision time? Seems pretty cut and d- oh okayyy.” As you spoke, Linda suddenly reached down and grabbed your tie, pulling you out of your seat and into her personal space. She made a gesture with her other hand that the room picked up and responded to. The glass walls on all sides suddenly became a flat, opaque gray.

“Listen.” Her voice wasn’t nearly as aggressive as her actions had just been. “You’re gonna have to do something you don’t normally do, Nick. You need to act, or should we say… ‘roleplay?’ Let’s practice a little.”

“Okay!” You excitedly agreed. The term “handler” was starting to make more sense now.

“No no that’s not what we’re going for at all.” Having brought you up to a standing position, she patted your chest and straightened your tie she had pulled askew. “You’re a fair and objective third party, remember? You’re going to give me what I want, just like you’re going to give the company what it wants, but… you need to pretend that it’s not what you want.”

Linda reached down and grabbed your wrist next, bringing your hand to her waist. She looked into your eyes and instructed you, “Now pretend like you’re not enjoying this…” Then she ever so slowly guided your hand down, inch by inch, until it reached her ass. To your credit, you didn’t immediately grab a handful. It took all of your willpower, but you were determined to perform in this unexpectedly steamy first test so you left your hand open even as she placed your palm right against her skirt. “Ms. Cardellini…”

Her eyebrows raised in warning.

“Sorry. Linda…” you resumed the act, trying to sound calm and official. “I don’t think this is very professional or appropriate.” It was the best you could come up with under the circumstances. You could feel the hard-on beginning.

“Nick, these people are intimidated. They feel backed into a corner. They don’t want…” Linda let go of your wrist, put her hand directly over yours, and **** your fingers to grab that juicy handful you’d wanted since she leaned against your desk. It was such a perfectly supple yet firm ass. “...to act professionally. They want us to fuck off and leave them alone. Tell me to do that and I will.”

She grabbed your other wrist and directed that hand just an inch away from her breast. Then she paused, making it all too clear that her next actions would depend on how convincing you were.