The Price My Boss Set for the Job

Darío and I had been arguing for weeks. I complained about the hours he spent away from home, far from me and our daughter, who, even though she was already grown, still missed her father. He always defended himself with the same excuse: that he worked so hard to support the comfortable life we had. That morning I finally shouted that I was going out to look for a job, that I needed some air, that I was sick of the routine of the house. I had quit my secretarial position at a clinic at his request, and it still hurt.

As soon as the two of them were gone, he to his office and the girl to school, I went upstairs to the bedroom. I took off my nightgown, showered slowly, and crossed naked in front of the mirror. I wanted to like myself again. I chose a white lace set, bra and thong, and then slid sheer nude stockings up my legs. A ruffled blouse, a straight burgundy skirt to the knee, and matching ten-centimeter heels. Too much perfume. And off to look for work.

I spent the morning in a café with a coffee and the classifieds spread open on the table. The first interview was at a boutique: the hours didn’t work for me and they paid a pittance. The second, at an accounting firm, they wanted experience with systems I didn’t have. The third was a logistics company looking for an administrative assistant, exactly my field, with morning hours until two.

I was received by the owner. It took me a second to recognize him, and when I did my stomach dropped. It was Marcelo, a high school classmate we all used to laugh at because he was fat and ugly. He recognized me at once.

—I can’t believe it. You’re gorgeous —he said, kissing my cheek with a confidence he hadn’t been given.

He was still a huge man, with a thick beard that made his face look even bigger. He had me come in, offered me coffee, and we started reminiscing. I kept crossing and uncrossing my legs from nerves, sitting on the other side of his desk.

—I pay well —he explained—. I own all this. I need an efficient administrative assistant, with availability and a willingness to help me with whatever I need.

The salary he mentioned was almost double what any ad offered. I was still thinking about that when he stood up and began walking around the office, until I lost sight of him behind my back.

—You’re divine, Lara —he said, and put a hand on my shoulder.

He didn’t take it away. He began talking about that time, about how we had rejected him, about everything he had suffered for being the ugly kid in class. His hand pressed my shoulder, soft but firm, marking something I still didn’t want to name.

—Now you could make up for some of all that —he went on—. You’re gorgeous, and you’re in my office.

I felt him lean over the back of my chair. His two hands slid from my shoulders to my breasts. I sprang to my feet.

—What do you think you’re doing? —I asked, still steady-voiced.

—Fucking you. I wanted it since high school and I’m not letting it pass.

—You’re making a mistake. I’m a married woman. I came for work.

He walked around and stopped in front of me, staring straight at me, not a trace of shame on his face.

—I’m willing to pay you very well —he said—. But my administrative assistant will have to accept certain conditions. The ones I set.

Leave right now, I thought. But the number he had said kept turning over in my head, and the monotony of my house weighed on me like a slab.

—I could accept —I said at last, measuring every word—. But with the real position and a fixed schedule.

He didn’t let me finish. He lunged and kissed me, holding my arms with those big hands of his while his tongue pushed against mine. I froze, not reacting as a decent woman should. And yet I didn’t pull away.

I gave in thinking that after all he was just a man, that the money was worth it, that I needed to get out of my routine even if it had to be like this. We kissed. I felt the scrape of his beard on my face, his hands running down my back. Little by little I loosened up, and a shiver climbed up my belly.

—I knew you’d understand —he murmured against my ear—. Now do what I tell you.

And that sentence, said like that, with that owner’s calm, lit me up in a way I hadn’t expected.

***

—Take off your blouse —he ordered, sitting down in a low armchair against the wall—. Slowly. I want to see you.

I obeyed. I unfastened button after button while he watched me without touching himself, his legs open, owning the scene. I let the blouse fall, then the skirt, and I was left in lingerie, stockings, and heels.

—Like that, still —he said—. Don’t move until I tell you.

He lowered his pants and was left in tight white boxer briefs. Beneath the fabric, a thick bulge stood out, and something in me, some part I didn’t recognize, wanted to check it for myself.

—On your knees —he ordered.

I did it. I knelt on the rug in his office, with my heels awkwardly behind me, and stroked the bulge over the boxers. It felt hard as stone. I slipped my hand inside and took it out: thick, not very long but so thick my hand couldn’t close around it.

—That’s it —he said, burying his fingers in my hair—. Now with your mouth.

I obeyed because obeying, suddenly, was turning me on more than anything else. I kissed it, licked it, took it all the way in while I heard him groan.

—What a divine pussy you are, Lara —he panted.

I was thinking about my friends, about the old teasing, about what they’d say if they saw me there on my knees, sucking the class ugly boy’s cock. And the idea, far from stopping me, soaked my thong.

He lowered one hand and touched me between my legs, over the stocking and the fabric.

—You’re soaking the stockings —he said, almost laughing—. Look at how wet you get when you do what I order.

I didn’t answer. No need. He pinched my jaw with two fingers, lifted my face, and forced me to look at him.

—Tell me what you want.

—I want to have you inside me —I said softly, and I was ashamed of how true it was.

***

He stood up, turned me in one motion, and pulled my stockings and thong down to my thighs. He leaned me back against the armchair and, with one firm hand on my nape, pushed me forward.

—Your hands there. Don’t move.

I rested the head against me, trying to enter, and I had to guide him myself because the thickness made it difficult. He barely went in and I was left breathless. He stopped, waiting for me to get used to him, both hands dug into my hips.

—Slowly —he asked—. You set the pace until I take over.

I pushed back little by little. The cock slid, opening me, until his pelvis hit my ass and the pain became something else. Then yes, he grabbed my hips hard and started fucking me with everything he had, relentlessly.

—You like it like this? —he asked, breathless.

—Yes —I moaned—. I like it. Don’t stop.

He held me by the ankles, shoved deeper with every thrust, caressed my ass over the ruined stockings. I was truly enjoying myself with that man I would never have looked at twice, and I was thinking of Darío, of how easily I had given in, and still I couldn’t stop the pleasure rising from my belly to my chest.

There was something in obeying him, in feeling like I was his for a while, in having let myself be commanded, that ripped more pleasure from me than the sex itself. He pressed me against his body on the last thrust, holding me against him, and came inside me with a long growl. I felt his cock throbbing inside me, hot, while I lowered one hand and finished myself off, fingers on my clit.

—I’m yours —I said without thinking, and I came trembling against the backrest.

When he came out of me, I stayed there for a second, empty and panting, stockings up on my thighs and my heart racing.

***

Once we were dressed, both of us seated on either side of his desk as if nothing had happened, he straightened his tie.

—Maybe it’s better if you don’t work here —he said with a half smile—. I won’t be able to concentrate with you in front of me. But I’m willing to give you money if you visit me every now and then.

I laughed, my body still loose.

—No. I accept the job —I replied—. We’re adults, we know how to behave. I’m going to be an efficient, proper secretary, and I’m going to put your company first.

I paused and looked him in the eyes.

—And I liked what happened. I wouldn’t mind if it happens again. With your conditions.

Marcelo grinned from ear to ear, stood up, walked over to my chair, and kissed me again, slowly, as if sealing a deal we both understood without writing it down.

I left the office with shaking legs. I got home, took off the stained stockings and thong, and balled them up at the bottom of the hamper. While hot water poured over me, I thought about what I had done, how far I had gone, and how little I regretted it. I had landed the job in record time.

The only question left was how I was going to behave the next day, once I was settled at my new desk. Am I really going to be my boss’s secretary with benefits? The water kept falling, and from some new place inside me I answered myself: why not?