Getting Ready to Meet the CEO

You don't wake until close to noon the next day, and the only reason you wake THEN is because somebody is hammering on your bedroom door.

You rise from under your covers and ... waitaminnit, where ...? It takes you a moment's confusion before it all comes rushing back to you: the contest, the free vacation, the job offer, the long, long flight ... and Malee.

Malee! She's at the door, and you're supposed to be ready to go! You're meeting the man whose company paid for all this, who wants you to model ... you, a model! ... for him for the next year. You stumble out if bed and across the luxury hotel room to the door, cracking it open and then stepping back to let her in.

Malee is already smiling as she enters wearing a lightweight, gray silk skirt and pure white blouse, but her smile widens as she looks you over. "Well," she chuckles, "I see somebody liked my panties more than a little bit."

You look down your torso and then blush furiously as you remember the penultimate event of last night, your premature ejaculation and disappointing Malee so badly ... and then the mortification of being given a pair of her panties to wear home, followed by the awkward silence of the cab ride here, to this luxury hotel.

"Sorry, I ... I was just so tired when I got in ..."

Her smile brightens, and she comes up close and runs her hands up your belly to your chest, over your shoulders, and then down your back before slipoing under her panties and firmly squeezing your ass cheeks. " Ssshhhh. Don't spoil the moment with apologies," she says, kissing you, "You're sexy like this. In fact ..." she steps back and places her index finger on her cheek, considering something, "why don't you wear those to our meeting with Mister Dantanavanawong?" Her voice takes on a bit of a sing-song timbre. "You might earn yiurself a little rewaaaaaaard ... before we start your stamina training ..."

The mention of "stamina training" throws you off, and the idea of wearing women's panties ... even Malee's, who thinks they're sexy on you, and even though nobody else will know ... is embarrassing enough to make you feel your face redden again. But "earning a reward" from Malee, especially so easily, is an insanely attractive option.

"What ... what kind of reward?"

Her smile gives way to a thoughtful look, and she circles around you, surveying you from head to toe as long as you can see her, and then again as she returns to your field of vision. The appraisal somehow excites you - you do know she claims to think you're sexy - and you're half erect again by the time she returns to her starting point. She sees this and smiles again.

"Tell you what," she begins, "It's not much of a favor; you don't have to do much at all, but I want your dick in my mouth. How about a blowjob?"

A blowjob from this beautiful, smart, personable young woman sounds like a great idea, and you let her know that before agreeing to wear her panties for the rest of the day.

Malee explains, as you're sbout to throw on anything you can find and rush out the hotel room door, that she had suspected you'd oversleep, having dealt with jet lagged guests before, so she'd rescheduled your meeting with Mister Dantanavanawong by an hour and a half. She then pushes you into the ludicrously opulent bathroom, tells you she will not consider you clean if you're out in less than forty minutes and that she will pick your wardrobe for you, and leaves you.

You shower thoroughly ... more thoroughly than strictly necessary, maybe, but you've got the time, and you never know when a stinky perineum might affect your job chances ... and then shave. You don't really need to, having just shaved yesterday and not yet producing much facial hair, but again, you've got the time and make the effort. Then you slip the panties on, feeling more than a little weird about it, and go to see what Malee's chosen for you.

Malee has laid your clothes out on the smoothed surface of the bedspread. The clothes ... the clothes are new, and not choices you would ever have made for yourself. You wonder for a moment how the hell she could have gotten them in here in the time you were in the bathroom, but then you see the shopping bags and realize she'd probably just brought them with her and left them out in the hallway when she'd made her entrance.

The clothing makes a much smaller pile than you're accustomed to, consisting of a pair of black shorts, a sleeveless jersey, and a pair of black flip-flops. You can also see the glint of gold in a couple of small, open boxes next to the clothing.

You look at Malee, your apprehension obvious on your face, you hope. The shorts are VERY short, so short, in fact, that you're kind of worried about the lace edging of the panties you're wearing ... at Malee's request ... showing. The shirt is sleeveless, but it's not a tanktop. It's too loose-fitting, and the complicated folds in its fabric make it look more like a blouse, though you can't imagine any woman with ANY modesty wearing it with its low neckline and armholes that will drop from the shoulder straps to within a few inches of your waist. And it's pink. Well, more salmon, but still.

"Ah, Malee ..."

"Do you like it?" she asks, eyes shining.

"It's ... not really my style ..."

"I know! Sorry, sexy, but you SERIOUSLY need a wardrobe and style upgrade."

"Come on, Malee, I'd be practically naked in this getup!"

"Oh, I see," she says more somberly, approaching more closely now. "Aaron, little flower, you are going to have to get past this body modesty of yours if you want to work in the fashion industry. Mister Dantanavanawong us going to want to see your body in order to make a final decision on whether he wants you as his model for the next year." She leans down and kisses your nipple, then sucks and nibbles on it, with ... predictable effects. "The clothes just ..." *lick* "make that process ..." *slurp* "easier. So try them? For me?"

The combination of sexual stimulation and ... no, it's just sexual stimulation; you want to feel that tongue, those lips, on your prick ... make you nod despite your unease about the clothes.

"Good," Malee smiles at you again, "that means I get to rub sunscreen on your pretty body. Why don't you lie on the bed, on your pretty belly, so I can do that?"

Her calling you "pretty" bothers you some ... doesn't she know the word "handsome?" ... but any time Malee wants to rub you down, you're ready. You lie down as she asks.

A long and ridiculously arousing time later ... the head of your cock is now peeking out from the panties' waistband ... you stand up, smelling of SPF 80, and struggle into the short-shorts.

The cut of the shorts is strange; they're as short as you imagined them to be, but the waistband rises to just barely below your navel, and they fit just fine (well, maybe a little tight) in the hips and ass, but ...

"Malee, I can't get the snap closed!"

"Sure you can, baby. Just pull a little harder ... oh, let me help ..." She takes the waist of the shorts in either hand and, knee against your thigh, gives a mighty pull. The waistband contracts around you, the snap at the top of the zipper slips into place, and you close it with thumb and forefinger. Now if you could just put your pancreas back where it belongs, you think.

"Can't ... breathe ..."

Malee giggles and slaps your right nipple. "I'm sorry, baby. But it's just for the meeting, okay? Then you can go back to your boring jeans ... or maybe we can go clothes shopping. Now put your shirt and sandals on."

You put your arms and head through the holes in the shirt and look at yourself in thr closet mirror. Yup, girly as hell. You're going to have to "lose" this shirt later, after Malee's forgotten about it. God, you hope this job offer is worth the shame of dressing like this.

After you toss the flip-flops on the floor and shimmy your feet into them - there's no way you're bending over far enough to put them on the normal way - Malee approaches you with the two jewelry boxes.

"What are these?" you ask, eyeing them with some trepidation.

"Gifts from Mister Dantanavanawong," she answers, opening both boxes. One contains a necklace in gold with a pendant in Thai script, and the other a gold wristwatch.

"Oh. Should ... should I bring something to him? I didn't know ..."

She reaches up and touches your lips, quieting you. "Don't worry, little flower. I've taken care of it .,, and these gifts are really rather ostentatious, even for a man as wealthy as Kuhn Kulap. But it would be impolite to not wear them."

"Okay." You lift the pendant. "What does this mean?"

"That is the name of the company. Phuhying Dek phuchay."

"Wouldn't that ... I don't know ... send the message that I'm already going to sign on?"

She smiles at you again. "It might if it weren't a gift. But baby, be honest with me: aren't you?"

You smile back at her. "Probably. Okay." You hang the pendant ariund your neck, where it hangs just above the bottom of your breastbone ... and the shirt's neckline.

You lift the watch out of the box as well. Its face and works are unusually small. "Malee, honey, isn't this a woman's watch?"

She's working on her phone again and looks up in what appears to be some annoyance. "Unisex, I think. Come on, sexy. Time to go."

You follow her down to the hotel lobby, terribly embarrassed by your wardrobe but determined to follow Malee's advice. After all, not only have you fallen deeply in lust with her, you still feel you owe her for your distrust ... and insult ... on your first meeting. And for the way she's so interested in you. And for offering to assist you with your "little problem." But none of that stops your face from reddening to your ears as you follow this professionally-dressed woman to the elevator.

In the lobby, it only gets worse. NOBODY is dressed as revealingly as you, not even guests headed to the hotel pool, who all wear hotel bathrobes over their swimsuits. Reddening by the second, you follow her to the concierge stand, where she asks for a ... her? ... car. The parking attendant sniffs ... is that disdain in his gaze as he looks at you? ... and runs off to get the car.

It's only a couple of minutes before you gratefully slip into the passenger seat, but that tiny timespan convinces you: you're being looked at with disdain, maybe even hostility. You try to take Malee's hand for comfort, but she slaps yours away. "No PDAs here," she hisses under her breath.

The car trip is thankfully short, because it's driven in silence.