the window of indecision closes

"Come." The CEO's authoritative voice finally called out.

I pushed the door open hesitantly and peeked into the lavishly furnished office. Instantly I felt three pairs of eyes on my tight little body: The CEO and two other men I hadn't seen before. They looked rich in their shiny suits; probably guests from a city bank or something. I felt their gaze move to the curves of my body, lingering a while there. Then to my heels. One of the men smiled and nodded appreciatively.

"Yes?" The CEO peered at me over his glasses.

I had been instructed to expect this. Apparently, the CEO liked to impress his guests by pretending to be surprised at interruptions to his meetings.

"Hello sir," I responded as I had been told to. "I was wondering if you would permit me to dance for you sir?"

The only other prior instruction I had been given me was that I should then start to dance. Even as I closed the door behind me, I stripped off the trench coat I was wearing and started to sway my hips. I stepped cautiously into the room, placed my hands on my hips, and started to wriggle my body, just as I had seen the whores on TV movies do...

The CEO reclined back in his high-backed chair and lifted his feet onto the desk. One of the guests leaned back against a wall. The other man remained seated in a comfortable looking armchair across the office. They were positioned such that as I turned and wriggled my body for them, no part of it was hidden from their gaze.

I was on display. The CEO had bought and paid to have this tight teen slut dancing in his office and there I was, gratefully dancing for him. I must have seemed so willing, so eager to be wriggling my breasts for them, so grateful to have the opportunity to prance around in those pink Italian stripper heels with my tits on display and my tight shinny thong wedged into my taunt teen ass and display myself to him...

After a few minutes they seemed to get used to me being there, since they appeared to get back to business. They discussed loudly and proudly how wonderful the South of France was at that time of year - a good time for property apparently, and how they really must sell that old yacht and get a newer model...

Meanwhile, I danced. I wriggled, paraded back and forth, turned, twisted, pouted, ran my fingers through my hair, leaned forwards to show off the curves of my bum.

The meeting dragged on and on. At least an hour by now. They discussed numbers and percentages... Honestly, to this day I have no idea what it all meant. I just kept going, doing what was required of me dancing running my hands over my body degrading myself as some sort of kinky side show for these old rich men...

When I heard a knock on the door, I tried not to let it distract me. I turned and kept wriggling my rear, vaguely aware of someone entering the room behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw what i imagine was one of the CEO's many bleached-blonde secretaries place a pile of papers on his desk. She wore the usual micro-length skirt and heels. she had an air of superiority about her and even though I was in medical school and she was a secretary she clearly out-ranked me – It was I who was dancing topless in her presence, wriggling my bottom for her and these dirty old men...

She was so young though - not yet twenty! How could someone so young possibly be allowed to see me dancing topless like that?

"Stay and take notes, Nicola," the CEO invited her.

She sat in a vacant chair, clicked her pen and busied herself scribbling on a pad of paper.

I kept dancing. I brushed my fingers down the sides of my breasts, my hips, my thighs, my bottom. I was too embarrassed to look at her, but I felt her eyes on me. How could this girl - at least five years younger than me - be considered senior to me!? It didn't make sense. She should be the one performing, shouldn't she?

Nicola sat silently while the men talked. I dared a quick glance over at her once or twice. She was staring right at me, clearly enjoying the spectacle of my naked torso writhing for her entertainment.

"young lady," the CEO said eventually, after what could only have been an hour of continuous dancing. Why hadn't I thought of asking how long each session would last? My legs ached terribly - those ridiculous heels were difficult enough to walk in, let alone dance in.

"Yes sir," I answered promptly, not daring to stop dancing however much it hurt.

"I want you do dance for Nicola until we get back."

WHAT?? I was tired and while it was humiliating enough to be **** to dance and **** myself for the CEO and his friends dancing for this girl my age... a lowly secretary was beyond too much...