Go to work

After your tests with the doctor, you leave for work. You have a part-time job at a fast food joint to cover your car payments, insurance, and set a bit a side for college. It's not much, but it's about as good as any of the other kids can do. As you come in the door your manager, Gina, calls for you. "John? Can I see you in my office?"

You follow her to the back. She has short brown hair, slender build, maybe a B-cup chest. On the whole, not bad looking, but no super model. Also she has always kept the strictest of professionalism, never giving even the slightest sway of the hips to suggest that she was anything but a business machine. "What can I help you with, Gina?" you ask, entering her office.

She closes the door and takes a seat at her desk. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, John." She tells you. "As you may have noticed, sales have been down the past few weeks. As a result, you and your coworkers have been getting few hours. Unfortunately, that is no longer enough." You have a sinking feeling that you know where this is going. "I need to let most of my part-time help go. I have plenty of full-time workers to cover the slack, and I can't cut their hours any more than I already have."

"Are you saying I'm fired?" you ask in disbelief.

"'Laid off' would be more accurate." She corrects. "Once sales are back up, we would be more than happy to have you back on board. In the meantime, I just can't afford to keep you. I'm sorry."

You can see your car, piece of crap that it is, being taken away from you. It's not much, but it was your four cylinder ticket to freedom. How will ever be able to take Mary any place with out it? "There must be something I can do!" you plead. "I need this job. I don't know how long it will take me to find a new one! I have a girlfriend, and well, dating takes money! What am I going to do?"

She sits with her chin in her hand, deep in thought. "I can only keep one, maybe two of my part-timers," she explains. "Frankly there are more than that who have more seniority than you do."

"Come on, Gina," you beg. "I'll do anything."

She pauses a moment. "Anything?"

There's an odd curiosity to her tone that worries you . "What did you have in mind?"

She stands and turns away from you for a moment. "First, give me your word that what is said in here goes no further than this room."

"Uh, ok"

"I could keep you on, if..."

"If?"

She turns to face you again. "If you were paid by me, as my personal assistant."

"Sure!" you smile, glad to have a ray of hope. "What would I assist you with?"

"You would have to make me orgasm, at least once a day."

You blink, clean your ear with your finger, blink again. "Could you say that one more time?"

"I think you heard me," she continues. "Now then intercourse is too risky, and would be more to your favor. You would have to eat me out everyday you work." She leans forward onto her desk. "Can you do that?"