Satisfy Mr. Horace

"I think Mr. Horace sounds like he could use my help," you say.

Heather raises an eyebrow, but there is a hint of good humor to her look of concern.

"Starting at the top?" She asks.

"I just like to be," you pause, "observed."

"Oh my," Heather laughs and then stands up. "Come with me, my dear."

You follow behind her, admiring the sway of her hips and the way her butt wiggles in her tight professional skirt. She leads you to a uniquely ornate wooden door and opens it with a key hanging on a thin chain around her neck. When she pushes the door open you nearly gasp.

The room has high ceilings and a skylight that fills the still air with sunbeams. The floors are polished marble and the burbling of a fountain echoes against the walls. Along the walls on either side are row upon row of dressing closets, each filled with dozens of garment bags. Before each is a mirror and an oak bench.

"Since this is your first time," Heather explains, "why don't you get cleaned up and I will select something for you to wear."

You're too busy marveling at the scale of the dressing area to reply. Heather places a hand on your shoulder and guides your gaze to a frosted glass door.

"Through there, Joy," she directs you. "There are towels and anything else you might need in the bathroom."

"T-thanks," you stammer as you walk to the bathroom.

The shower area is no less impressive. After taking in the ceramic tiles and the erotic freizes, you select a body wash and shampoo and take a thorough shower. The warmth of the water on your breasts and the thought of your new career are each arousing in their own way. Knowing Heather is waiting, you resist the urge to play with yourself.

You towel your body dry and rub jasmine scented oil into your skin. You wrap yourself tightly in a pink towel and emerge.

"You look refreshed," Heather remarks as you step from the steamy bathroom.

"Mmm," is all you can manage at first. "Yeah, it was pretty nice."

"Come sit down, I'll show you what I've picked out," Heather pats the bench on which she is seated.

You comply, careful not to drip any water on her blouse.

"You even smell fantastic," she says and leans into your neck for a sniff. "Is that the jasmine oil? That's my favorite as well."

Heather shows you the sheer black babydoll trimmed with crimson silk she has picked out for you. She explains that Mr. Horace enjoys fancy lingerie as you slide the black lace thong panties up your long legs and over your firm butt. Heather seems to be enjoying the show. The babydoll hugs and lifts your breasts perfectly and your nipples are just barely hidden by the lacey flourishes on each cup.

The billowing sheer fabric that covers your waist and parts at your bellybutton does little to hide the panties beneath.

"You look amazing," Heather observes.

"Thanks," you examine yourself in the mirror. "It does look good."

Heather stands up from the bench and steps behind you. She places her hands on your shoulders and makes eye contact with your reflection. She leans her head over your shoulder.

"Now," she begins, her breath warm against your cheek, "Mr. Horace's assistant, Gustav, will be here shortly in his limousine. Normally, I am the one who takes care of Mr. Horace. I'm happy to let you go it alone, but if you would like me to join you..."

Heather leans closer so her red lips are pressing against your ear and sending goosebumps up your arms.

"I'd be happy to come along," she finishes.