I knew what the reputation at MacKay-Davenport was when I was hired on. My friend Lindsay told me all about it. The way she put it, we were eye-candy, part of an effort to make our office a place clients wanted to visit, and make the men we worked for look more successful.

So we dressed the part. Professional enough, but sexy in a way that challenged any acceptable definition of office attire. We also had clear instructions. If we caught a client checking us out, we smiled back. Outright flirting was also an option. Lindsay compared it to the TV show Mad Men, which made it sound fun, not morally bankrupt.

The HR videos didn’t cover any of this. Lindsay did. She told me what I really needed to know. Be a little flirty when it was needed, let the boys be boys, and have a thick skin.

“Just keep things light,” she said. “Don’t get in too deep.”

I wasn’t worried about that. Guys had been trying to get one over on me since high school. I knew how to handle myself and how not to get lost.

As much as all of this flew in the face of my feminist ideals, I was broke. It wasn’t just bills piling up; it was a mountain of debt that I couldn’t get out from under. I told myself that it was short-term. I’d make some money, get on solid ground, then figure out what I wanted to do with my life and go back to college.

I kept calling it a plan. It wasn’t. It was the only option I had. I was barely scraping by bartending a few nights a week, and the stress of that was getting to be too much.

I just wanted to be comfortable. I was tired of swiping right on Tinder, hoping some guy I had no interest in might buy me dinner just so I could eat that night.

Once Lindsay told me how much MacKay-Davenport paid, my mind was made up. I’d swallow my pride, put up with some shit, and try to get my life back on track.

When I got the job, Lindsay told me that I lucked out. I’d been assigned to a lawyer named Paul Davis. Early 40s, married with a couple of kids, totally normal.

“I might have downplayed a few things when you were asking about MacKay-Davenport,” she later confessed. “But Paul is one of the good ones. No worries with him.”

For the first few months, she was right. Paul was great to work for. He wasn’t cold, but he was a business-first kind of guy. He treated me well, but kept me at a distance, which I didn’t mind. I’d see other assistants going to lunch with their bosses, even travelling with them. I never would have guessed how much business the firm had at Hawaiian resorts. It didn’t take long to figure out who was fucking who, but Paul always kept things professional.

When it came to some of the clients, I got what Lindsay had told me. I’m not going to lie. It was fun. Judge me all you want, but having all these rich, powerful men walk through the office and seeing them check me out? Let’s just say it beat the sloppy drunks who used to hit on me during my Tuesday night shift at the bar.

My job was to give them something extra to look at. Half the time I felt like a walking pop-up ad for the firm. Having an office full of sexy women made the place worth visiting. You’d be surprised by how many men signed a deal because their dicks got hard every time they dropped by.

Lindsay noticed how quickly I adapted. “You’re learning the game,” she said with a wink and a smile one day over lunch. “Way ahead of where I was a few months in.”

Paul caught on, too. He was awkward about it, but appreciated my efforts. “I don’t ask that you do any of this,” he said nervously, talking like a lawyer afraid of getting sued, “but it helps with the clients. I get lots of comments about you and your, umm…” He let out a forced cough after that, and stood before me, not sure how to finish his thought.

I bailed him out. “It’s my pleasure.”

He warmed up to me after that. He became a little more open, more friendly. Paul made an effort to get to know me, where I was from, what my goals were, and he listened like he cared. He started slipping in advice, too. Little comments about how to get ahead, who to trust and who to stay away from. It felt like he was looking out for me.

“You’re smart. I want you to do this for as long as you want, but if you’re just here to make some money to pay for college, I think that’s great too.”

“I’ll get back to college for sure, but right now, I just need to get myself out of debt. Ya know?”

“Well,” he said, leaning in like he had a secret, “I’m working on something big, and if it goes through, there’ll be more money in this for you too.”

I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but that sounded perfect. I was already living better than I had since I moved out from my parents’ place and more money sounded like a dream.

It felt like maybe for those first few months, he was still trying to figure out what to make of me. He didn’t know if I was cut out for MacKay-Davenport, but once I proved myself to him, Paul started treating me more like a confidant than a personal assistant. Suddenly, I was getting those lunch invitations, grabbing $50 cheeseburgers at Au Cheval while we talked about office politics.

It started to feel like everything was falling into place. The lunches, inside jokes, knowing which of the girls were fucking their bosses… it felt like I actually belonged here, and I was a part of something important.

That hit home when I learned more about the big deal Paul hinted at weeks earlier. It turned out he was about to land a giant new client. A Hollywood production company that wasn’t happy with their New York representation. Paul was on the verge of stealing them away from a rival firm. Millions of dollars. It was the kind of move that would make him a named partner. MacKay-Davenport was about to become MacKay-Davenport-Davis. I was happy for him and knew that it had to be good for me, too.

We were a team, at least that’s how it felt. Paul handled the meetings, and I took care of everything before the meetings. The production company kept sending the owner’s son to meet with us. All he did was set up a laptop in Paul’s office so they could video conference with the guy’s dad back in LA, but the fact that he came to us gave me a chance to get into his head. And I did.

It was easy. His Instagram account was full of exactly what he liked.  Blondes with long hair, big tits, short skirts, and stockings. I was born with some of what I needed. I played up the rest. I turned myself into this guy’s dream girl. I made sure he always saw me smiling, or pretending to act like an embarrassed schoolgirl when he caught me looking at him. A few soft touches, a few well-timed flashes to give him glimpses of lace. That’s all it took.

Paul knew exactly what I was doing, and he loved it. When the client’s son wasn’t looking, he’d shoot me a smile and nod. After a meeting, he’d come by my desk and thank me.

“You’ve got that kid drooling on himself. I’m barely saying a word. He’s doing the work for me, practically begging his dad to sign with us.”

The night before the deal was to be signed, I got a text message from Paul. He asked me to go all out, full charm offensive to seal the deal. “Wear whatever you want. Push the limit. Let’s get this one over the line.”

I knew exactly what he expected, and I went all out. I showed up for work in a white blouse, thin enough so anyone could see the black bra I had on under it, tight enough that no one had to guess what my tits looked like. My heels made me three inches taller, my legs were wrapped in silk stockings I could barely afford, and my skirt was so short I was afraid to sit down.

I thought a small team from the production company was coming in, but when the time rolled around, the owner himself walked in. He flew in from LA to sign everything in person. Just him, on his own.

He spent hours in Paul’s office, then the two came out around dinner time.

“Listen, I’m going to be about 2 or 3 hours. I know you’re off at 6, but I want you here when I get back.”

I looked at my watch without trying to make it obvious. He wouldn’t be back until 7, maybe 8 o’clock. I wasn’t happy about that, but it was a big day and I didn’t want to let him down.

“Sure thing,” I told him.

As the two men walked away, Paul turned to me, grinning ear to ear. He pumped his fist, mouthing, “We got it!”

I was on my own with a couple of hours to kill. I needed to get something to eat, so I went by Au Cheval. I didn’t have a reservation, but Paul and I had become lunchtime regulars, so I figured they would fit me in.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I was told. “We can’t accommodate you this evening.”

The host didn’t have to say it, but the way he looked at me, the message was loud and clear. Without Paul, I was nothing to them. Being dressed halfway like a hooker probably didn’t help either.

I saved myself $40 by grabbing a burger from a diner, then headed back to the office.

A full hour went by before Paul came back. I almost expected him to be drunk, but he wasn’t. If anything, he was shockingly sober.

“How’d it go?” I asked as he came through the door.

“Good,” he said without really looking at me. A few hours ago, I’d practically been getting high-fives from him. Now he had his serious lawyer face back on.

“Give me a few minutes,” he said as he walked by my desk. “I’ll call you in when I need you.”

When he called me in, Paul was leaning against the front of his desk with his arms folded. His suit jacket was draped over the back of his chair, and his tie had been pulled off and tossed on the desk. There was an empty chair in front of him that he pointed to when I came through the door.

“Have a seat.”

Paul walked to the window and stared out into the city with his back to me.

“Today was a big day,” he said. “A lot of things are going to change around here now, and some of that is going to affect you.”

The tone of his voice made it sound like bad news. “How so?” I asked.

“How much do you make?”

“Um, $65k a year.”

“Not bad for a personal assistant. But you’re an executive assistant now. How does $85k sound?”

He looked over his shoulder at me to see my reaction.

“That’s…that’s incredible. Thank you, Paul. I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“It’s a lot for a, what, a 22-year-old?”

“Yeah, 23 next month.”

“Good,” he said. “That’s nice money for an almost 23-year-old without a degree.”

“It is, and again, thank—”

“The raise comes with new responsibility, and more… expectations.”

He turned from the window and came back to the desk, leaning against it right in front of me again.

“Of course, yes. Whatever it is, you know I’ll do it. I’ll learn if I have to, take courses. I really love working here, it’s been a dream job and I –”

“You look really good today.”

That caught me off guard. Paul never said anything like that before.

“That skirt really frames your ass. The heels do wonders for your legs, too.”

I heard him say it, but I didn’t want to believe it.

“Paul…Mr. Davis…I…”

“I wanted to talk to you about job security,” he said.

“Job security?”

“Yes. $85,000 is a lot of money.  You’ll be up to $100,000 in a year. And, I think you’re worth every penny of that, but the other partners? Sometimes they like to cut costs, and an assistant making that kind of money, well, that doesn’t always make sense.”

My head sank, and a sense of dread started building in the pit of my stomach.

“Chin up,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. There was nothing warm about it. “I’m going to fight for you, I promise. I need you with me, at my side now that I’m partner.”

I couldn’t speak. I might have cried if I tried.

“But, we have to talk about those new responsibilities.”

I knew it. I fucking knew it. “You want to fuck me don’t you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But I do want a blow job. Showing up for work dressed like that. You can hardly blame me.”

He made it sound like the outfit was my fault, like he didn’t text me the night before. I thought I was going to impress a client. Turns out, Paul wanted me dressed like this for him. I was his reward for closing the deal.

“Do we really have to do this, Paul?”

“No, we don’t. I’m sure there are other jobs out there, maybe not for the kind of money you’re making now, but it’s my understanding that McDonald’s is always hiring.”

I was warned about this from the beginning. I even saw it with my own eyes. I just never thought I’d be one of those girls. I let myself think Paul was different, and maybe I was special somehow, that it wouldn’t happen to me.

“What’s it going to be?” he asked.

“Please don’t do this, Paul. We work so well together. I look up to you.”

He shrugged. “Executive assistants have an expanded role. That’s what I need now. From you, or someone else.”

It didn’t feel like I had a choice, and Paul knew it. After everything I’d told him, he knew how much debt I was in and I couldn’t afford to say no. Dangling the promise of a big raise made it even harder.

I don’t know how long I sat there, trying to figure out what I would do if I left, but no answers came to me.

“Paul, please…”

“Suit yourself. You’re entitled to two weeks’ severance. No need to come in tomorrow. I’ll have one of the other girls fill in until I can find a permanent replacement.”

I couldn’t survive without this job. We both knew it. I slid off my chair and lowered myself onto my knees in front of him. He smiled, like he already knew it was going to happen. I reached for his belt, but he stopped me.

“Undo your shirt first. I want a better view of those tits I’ve been dreaming about.”

I looked down, feeling the shame, but did what he wanted. I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it open, letting him see my lace-covered breasts.

“Like this?”

He nodded yes. “Now the pants.”

He stood up from the edge of the desk and took a step closer to me. I tugged at his belt, pulling it loose, doing everything I could to hide the fact that my hands were shaking.

Paul reached over to a family photo he kept on his desk and knocked it forward so it landed face down. He used the same hand to reach down and pull my bra loose until my tits came out.

His pants fell to his ankles, and I could see the bulge in his briefs. He was already hard. Paul placed a hand on top of my head and ran his fingers through my hair.

“I’ve been thinking about this for months. I’ve thought about you while I was fucking my wife.”

He said it like that was supposed to flatter me. All it did was make me realize how wrong I was about him. I had to block out how much he repulsed me now and think about the money.

I took a deep breath and pulled his cock free from his underwear. I gave it a few slow strokes, staring up at him, maybe looking innocent, but my mind was full of betrayal.

“No teasing, in your mouth,” he said.

I ran my tongue along the length of his shaft, from the base to the head, then took it in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

Paul closed his eyes and tilted his head back. His free hand moved to his desk and grabbed it like he might fall over if he didn’t.

“Oh fuck, that’s good.”

I slid him in and out of my mouth, working his cock with my hand and tongue. For all of his confidence, I felt his control slipping away with each pass of my lips.

When I first took this job, it felt like I was compromising something. Over the last year, I’d given up little pieces of myself without really noticing. It was hard to not see that now that I was on my knees with my boss’s cock in my mouth. I’d become one of the office girls that I used to look down on.

“Get up,” he said.

“Paul...”

“Get up.”

He pulled my arm, lifting me to my feet.

“Bend over,” he said, guiding me to his desk and stepping behind me.

This was it. A blow job was one thing, but this was the moment I became everything I swore I’d never be. I didn’t fight it. I didn’t do anything. I just went along, like I was watching someone else make the choice for me. Money over pride.

I felt his hands pull my skirt up over my ass, then he began yanking at my panties until they were midway down...