I Dressed for the Interview, Hiding a Secret

I never knew whether they called me because of my résumé or because of the photo I had attached without thinking too much about it. It was a picture I had saved from the summer: a pronounced cleavage, dark-red lips, and a half-smile that could be read in many ways, almost none of them innocent. I sent it anyway. I wanted that position, and I had long since learned that my weapons weren’t only the ones that appeared on paper.

The company occupied three floors of a glass tower downtown, one of those places where expensive suits walked the halls with their chins held a little higher than necessary. I crossed the lobby slowly, measuring every movement of my hips, feeling the tap of my heels against the marble like a countdown.

The receptionist barely held my gaze. His eyes dropped for a second too long, then shot back up, and he cleared his throat.

“You may go in. Mr. Belmonte is expecting you,” he said, and I noticed the slight tremor in his voice.

We’re off to a good start, I thought.

The office was at the back, with an entire glass wall overlooking half the city. And behind the desk was him: white shirt rolled up to the elbows, two- or three-day beard, collar unbuttoned just enough. He looked up from the screen and openly appraised me, starting at my heels and moving upward, stopping where a well-mannered man supposedly shouldn’t.

I closed the door behind me without waiting for him to ask.

“Valeria, right?” he asked, in a deep voice that sounded accustomed to giving orders.

“Yes, although almost everyone calls me Vale,” I replied, sitting across from him and calmly crossing my legs.

“Pretty name.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

He picked up the folder with my information and flipped through a couple of pages without really reading them. His eyes kept returning to the edge of my skirt, the line of my fitted blouse, the delicate necklace resting right at the beginning of my cleavage. I made no effort to cover myself. That was why I had dressed this way: a tight white blouse, pencil skirt, high heels, and, underneath it all, my little secret tucked safely against the black fabric of my underwear.

“I see you have experience in customer service,” he murmured, setting the folder aside. “Tell me, how good are you at dealing with difficult people?”

I raised an eyebrow, amused.

“That depends a lot on the customer.”

He leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers over his abdomen. The afternoon light fell across his face, and I saw the corner of his mouth curve slightly.

“Let’s say I were a difficult customer. One who’s never satisfied. How would you serve me?”

The air in the office had grown thick. I felt it at the nape of my neck, in the way he was breathing a little more slowly.

I leaned forward, slowly, letting my posture speak for me.

“Would you like me to tell you about it,” I asked in a low voice, “or would you prefer a demonstration?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His eyes said everything: they dropped to my lips, rose to meet mine, and stayed there, trapped.

***

I stood up unhurriedly and walked around the desk. He didn’t stop me. On the contrary, he moved his chair back a little and opened his legs slightly, as if his body had decided on its own before his head could. Beneath the fabric of his trousers, an obvious bulge was already showing, thick and throbbing against the seam, unmistakably outlining a cock that had been waiting a long time to get out.

I knelt before him on the carpet, my skirt tightening across my thighs, and began undoing his belt without taking my eyes off his. He followed every movement of my fingers with his eyes, hypnotized, holding his breath. I tugged his belt, popped the button, and lowered the zipper tooth by tooth, deliberately brushing my knuckles against the bulge.

“Right here?” I whispered, lowering the zipper. “In your little office, with the whole city watching?”

He barely nodded, unable to form a word.

I pulled his trousers and underwear down in one motion, to his knees, and his cock sprang free, hard and swollen, its tip already gleaming with the transparent drop that never lies. Big, thick, with veins standing out beneath the taut skin. I took it in one hand, weighed it, and squeezed lightly at the base so the head would turn even purpler.

“Well, Mr. Belmonte,” I murmured. “I’d say you like me.”

I brought my mouth close and ran my tongue slowly, flat against him, from bottom to top, following the thick vein running along the entire underside, feeling his whole body shudder beneath that single touch. I reached the tip, licked the glans in circles, gathering that salty little drop with my tongue, and held his gaze while I tasted it.

“God…” he muttered through his teeth, gripping the armrests with whitening knuckles.

I spat on his cock, a thick strand sliding down its entire length, and used my saliva to start stroking him with one hand while I sucked his balls, one first and then the other, taking them into my mouth and tugging gently with my lips. A hoarse growl escaped him, deep in his throat, as if feeling that good hurt.

Then I took him for real. I opened my mouth, relaxed my throat, and began taking him all the way in, inch by inch, until my nose bumped against his pubis and I felt the tip brushing the back of my throat. I stayed there for a moment, my eyes beginning to water, swallowing hard to squeeze him with my throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he murmured, his voice broken.

I began sucking him with a slow, deep rhythm, pulling him almost all the way out, playing with my tongue at his frenulum, then swallowing him back down to the base. Each descent made a wet, filthy gurgle that filled the office as if nothing else in the world existed. Threads of saliva ran down my chin and stained the cleavage of my white blouse, and I didn’t care in the slightest.

He buried his fingers in my hair, not to force me yet, but to hold on to something, like someone afraid of falling. His breathing broke into gasps every time I moved up and down.

“You suck so fucking well, fuck…” he murmured, his voice cracking. “What a mouth, holy shit.”

I released his cock with a wet pop, rubbed it across my cheek and over my smeared lipstick, and licked him from balls to tip as if he were an ice cream. I smiled at him with my mouth open and my tongue out, letting it rest on his glans.

“Do you like the way I serve you, Mr. Belmonte?”

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” was all he managed to say.

I took him all the way in again, this time faster, letting him push my head a little while I set the pace with my own hand at the base. I could feel his thighs tightening, his balls contracting, and I knew he was only a couple of thrusts away from coming in my mouth. But I had already decided it was time to raise the stakes.

***

I slowly straightened, my mouth still glistening, and turned my back on him. I felt his eyes fixed on me, waiting. I put my hands on the edge of my skirt and lifted it little by little, inch by inch, revealing my thighs first, then the tight black fabric and, outlined beneath it, the unmistakable shape of what he hadn’t expected to find.

I heard his breath catch.

“What…?” he began, unable to finish.

I turned to face him. My secret was no longer a secret: a firm, hard cock poked out from the edge of the black fabric, pointing upward, its tip already wet with pent-up endurance.

“Surprise?” I said with a mischievous smile, pulling my underwear all the way down and letting everything show.

He sat frozen in his chair, lips parted, his eyes traveling from my face to my cock and back again, trying to rearrange everything he thought he knew. His own, however, was still hard as a rock against his belly.

“No… I didn’t expect that,” he finally admitted, his voice hoarse.

“Too much for you?” I asked, taking a step closer and casually stroking mine with two fingers.

“I don’t know. You’ve completely thrown me off.”

And then, instead of closing himself off, he did the opposite. He stood slowly without looking away from me and began unbuttoning his shirt with fingers that trembled slightly. When he let it fall to the floor, his chest was rising and falling rapidly. He came closer and, without warning, grabbed my cock, weighed it as I had weighed his, and jerked me off two or three times with his dry palm, with the curiosity of a newcomer.

“It’s just that you’re… fuck,” he murmured.

“I’m hard, that’s what I am,” I cut him off. “And so are you. So stop fooling around.”

He knelt now and looked up at me with a strange mixture of embarrassment and hunger. He stuck out his tongue, shyly, and licked my tip. A short lick, testing. He liked the taste. He did it again, longer, and by the third time he had me halfway in his mouth, sucking me clumsily but eagerly, choking a little whenever he tried to go deeper.

“Very good, boss,” I said, grabbing his hair. “You learn fast. Suck me the way they sucked you.”

I fucked his mouth slowly, setting the rhythm with my hips and watching his cheeks hollow every time I went in. He drooled, his eyes filled with tears, and he kept sucking me as if discovering something he had kept hidden for years.

“I’ve never been with a woman like you,” he said when I released his head and let him breathe.

“Then get ready,” I replied, gently pushing him back toward the chair, “because you’ll never forget this interview.”

***

I climbed astride him, one leg on either side, and we stayed that way for a moment, our foreheads nearly touching, our two cocks rubbing together between our bellies, wet with saliva. I ran one hand along his jaw and over his rough beard, and he closed his eyes as if that caress disarmed him more than everything that had come before. I lowered my hand, grabbed both our cocks together, and jerked us off at the same time, my palm closed firmly around them, feeling his glans throb against mine.

He grabbed me by the waist, his hands suddenly firm and decisive. All the doubt of a minute earlier had turned into hunger.

“You’re going to make me addicted to this, you know that?” he murmured against my neck, biting it.

“For now, you can’t deny that you’re harder than you’ve ever been in your life.”

I took a small bottle of lubricant and a condom from my purse; I was always prepared for mishaps that, in truth, were never really mishaps. I put the condom on him myself, unrolling it over his thick cock with my mouth and snugging it tightly at the base. Then I poured a generous amount of lubricant onto my fingers and brought my hand behind me, between my buttocks, right in front of him, without the slightest hesitation.

I inserted one finger first, slowly, and let out a low moan. I held his gaze while I worked myself, opening myself, adding a second finger, then a third. His stare was pure electricity. His mouth hung open, and he ran his tongue over his lips without realizing it.

“Fuck, the way you open up for me,” he murmured, grabbing one of my breasts through my blouse.

“Because you’re going to put it all the way in,” I told him in his ear. “And I want to enjoy it, not waste it.”

When I was ready, I raised myself a little, took his cock in my hand, positioned it right there, and slowly descended, feeling its thick tip open me, feeling the first ring give with a pinch, then with a long wave of heat. I lowered myself inch by inch, holding my breath, until he sank all the way in and I felt his balls against my ass.

“Fuck… you fit so well,” I gasped with my eyes closed. “You’re so big, fuck.”

“You have no idea how I feel,” he replied, grabbing my ass with both hands. “You’re squeezing me completely.”

I placed my hands on his chest and began to move. At first slowly, setting the pace myself, rising until I nearly slipped off him and then swallowing him all the way again, letting him feel every inch. My cock, between us, bounced with every downward movement, hard, leaving a trail of pre-cum across his abdomen.

He tried to follow my rhythm, gasping, his fingers digging into my buttocks and spreading them so I could take him better. He drove all the way in, pulled out, and plunged back to the bottom with a sticky, obscene sound that bounced off the windows.

“You have to…” he began, but didn’t finish. I bit his ear, licked his neck, and the rest of the sentence dissolved into a moan.

“Fuck me like a real boss,” I whispered in his ear. “Like you hired me by the hour. Break my ass, fuck.”

That turned him on completely. He suddenly lifted me with a strength I hadn’t seen in him, without pulling out, and threw me onto the desk in one movement, face down at first, my cheek pressed against the wood. Papers flew, and the laptop rocked at the edge of the desk. He arched my ass upward, spread my buttocks with both hands, stood up, and entered me again, this time without any delicacy, driving all the way in with one thrust.

“Yes,” I moaned, gripping the edge of the desk. “Just like that, holy shit, just like that.”

He began fucking me hard, without pause, with long, dry thrusts, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the balls. Each blow made his hips smack against my buttocks with a slap slap slap that filled the entire office, and each one tore a broken moan from me that I no longer bothered to hide.

“What a little slut you turned out to be,” he panted, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back. “With that good-girl face, and then begging to have it shoved all the way in.”

“More, fuck, harder,” I begged. “Break me.”

He let go of my hair, turned me over as if I weighed nothing, and tossed me onto my back on the desk, my legs spread and dangling over the edge. He grabbed the backs of my knees, lifted them, and opened them until they nearly touched my shoulders, then entered me again. From that angle I felt him even more, deeper, touching me inside at exactly the spot that made me see stars.

He held my hip with one hand and my neck with the other, not squeezing, only making it clear that he was in charge now. Every thrust made everything left on the desk tremble. The city continued outside, beyond the glass, indifferent, while inside that office the whole world had narrowed to the two of us and the wet sound of a cock entering and leaving a hungry ass.

“Look at me,” I asked, seeking his eyes. “I don’t want you to close your eyes. I want you to watch me come with your cock inside me.”

And he watched me. He watched while he fucked me faster and faster, his jaw clenched, sweat shining on his forehead and running down his chest. I brought my hand to my cock, already soaked with my own pre-cum, and began jerking myself in time with his thrusts, squeezing it tightly and sliding the skin up and down with my palm.

A few seconds were all it took. I felt the current surge suddenly, from the prostate he was massaging inside me with every thrust to the tip. I let out a long moan, almost a scream, and came in spurts over my own white blouse, long, thick strands of milk splattering my neck and chin, all the way to the edge of my lips.

“Fuck, fuck, the way you come, fuck,” he muttered, never stopping his thrusts, watching as my cock kept spurting between his fingers.

“Come inside me,” I said in a broken voice, sucking a finger covered in my own semen. “I want to feel it. Fill me.”

He obeyed. He thrust two, three, four more times, each one faster and deeper, and on the fifth he stayed buried to the hilt, eyes closed and mouth open, letting out a deep, savage moan as his whole body shook over mine. I felt his cock throb inside me, swell a little more, and empty itself in pulses against the latex, with those dry spasms that tore a gasp from him each time.

We stayed that way, joined together, breathing heavily, the afternoon light tinting the glass wall orange and a layer of sweat sticking our skin together.

***

He slowly pulled out and had to sit down, his cock still hard, the full condom hanging heavily. It took him quite a while to recover his speech. I sat on the edge of the desk, my skirt bunched at my waist, my semen drying on my blouse, and deliberately rearranged my hair while he collapsed into the chair, his shirt still on the floor.

“I have no idea what just happened,” he said at last, running a hand through his hair.

“An interview happened,” I replied, picking up my purse. “You tell me how you think I did.”

He let out an incredulous laugh, still out of breath. He stood, came over, and gave me a slow kiss, different from everything that had come before, almost shy considering what we had just done. He tasted himself on my lips, tasted me, and didn’t care. Then he held my gaze for a second too long.

“Should I call you tomorrow about the contract?” he asked.

“Call me whenever you want,” I said, already at the door, giving him one last look over my shoulder. “But don’t let it be only about the contract.”

I left the office with the same slow step I had entered with, still feeling his gaze fixed on my back and the trail of his come running down the inside of my thigh despite the condom. The receptionist lowered his eyes again as I passed. This time I gave him a full smile, my lipstick smeared and a stain of dried milk on my cleavage that he pretended not to see.

I knew the phone would ring. And I knew, too, that it wouldn’t be the last time I crossed that glass door.