After our long Tuesday together, life went back to normal—at least on the surface. However, my phone soon started buzzing with a series of intriguing credit card notifications. First came a substantial charge from an upscale lingerie boutique downtown. An hour later, a notification popped up for a specialty wig and hair studio, followed quickly by a hefty line item at a high-end cosmetics counter and a boutique shoe store.

​I sat back in my chair, staring at the bank app on my phone with a smirk. Jennifer was clearly assembling a wardrobe—or a complete persona—and she wasn't cutting any corners. I almost asked her about it that evening, but the playful spark in her eye told me to keep quiet and let whatever she was brewing play out. The anticipation was half the fun.

​One day later that week, I found three resumes sitting perfectly centered on my desk. Now, I hadn't put them there, but I presumed Jennifer had. When I opened the folder containing the documents, a neat note was attached to the inside cover:

​"Dear Mr. Brandson,

Here are a few pre-screened resumes for you to peruse over the next couple of days. Please leave the one you would like to interview on your desk, and I will make all the arrangements, sir. The interview will be next Tuesday, so make sure you have suitable interview questions ready."

​I gave them a passing glance and saw each one was unique, belonging to a different fictional woman, but I didn't read through them thoroughly just yet. I had to get to work.

​By 10:00 AM, the trades had closed for the day. I was feeling pretty good about my profits, so I picked up the folder my wife had left me. The first had the name Shelly at the top. It read almost like a normal resume, except I noticed a few key, tantalizing differences. The standard administrative assistant and office manager fluff was there, but what caught my attention was the "Client Services" section. It briefly described normal hospitality services, but then added: "A full listing of provided services can be discussed in detail during the interview." Subtle, but interesting, I thought. Under the Office Manager role, it listed typical duties but ended with, "I am always willing to assist and support any needs of the executives and clients. Further details can be provided in person." Both bullet points seemed harmless to the untrained eye, yet incredibly suggestive.

​The next was Sarah, coming from a small product business. The basic secretary skills were present, but again, when it came to managing the office and clients, her phrasing grew intriguingly specific.

​Sandra was the last. She was a stay-at-home mom looking for an opportunity to work a few days a week to help provide income for her family. Her resume was rather plain but radiated an eagerness to please. "Would be willing to do anything needed around the office in order to maintain the position. Very open to trying new things and always eager to please."

​Hmm, that's not suspicious at all, I thought with a smirk. I put the papers back in the folder and headed off to the gym. So, she wants to try something new with this whole secretary thing. As I drove, I made my decision: I was absolutely going to play along.

​I worked out for a few hours, then headed back home to round off the day. I worked on the interview questions while I scoped out trades for tomorrow. I needed questions that sounded professional but allowed us to get deep and naughty without being too direct.

​My first was easy: "Tell me about your experience in your previous role."

​The second pushed the boundary: "Tell me about the services and levels of treatment you provided to your clients."

​And the third: "How would you service and help retain our clientele?"

​Satisfied, I closed up shop for the day.

​That night, we were lying in bed when Jennifer softly asked, "Did you see my folder?"

​I nodded, suddenly second-guessing my playful attitude from earlier. "Yeah, I got it. I read them, but I have some questions for you."

​She gave me a quizzical look. "You put a lot of work into those, and yes, I caught the subtle hints. But why?"

​She offered a half-smile, but the confused look didn't leave her eyes. "Why? What don't you understand?"

​"Why all this work to create a scenario like this?" I elaborated gently, laying it all out. "Are you unhappy with our sex life?"

​Her jaw dropped, and she instantly sat up. "Oh, God, no! Please don't think that. Please."

​I let her catch her breath before asking, "Then what?"

​She paused, taking a deep, vulnerable breath. "Well, I worry you'll get bored with me. I mean, you've put up with a lot with all the surgeries and stuff. Not to mention the parts of my body I'm self-conscious about. The other day, when you were joking about the 'dress code,' I knew you actually meant you'd like to see me in something sexy more often. But I'm still super self-conscious, and I struggle with it."

​She paused, and I tilted my head, giving her the signal to continue.

​"So I figured, why not give it a try? The other night when I dressed up, yes, I was nervous, but it wasn't bad. Then, when we went out for coffee, I was scared to death someone would see us... but nothing happened. It made me think about what else we could do if I'm pretending not to be me, and what that could do for my confidence."

​Her explanation made perfect sense, but it still didn't answer the nagging question in my head. "So you're not unhappy, and you're not looking for a creative way to say you want to sleep with other people?"

​She chuckled, her shoulders relaxing. "No, babe. Just you. I only want to sleep with you. To be honest, I thought a little fun and games couldn't hurt."

​"Okay," I said, posing the next hard question. "So if I really get into this, you're not going to get mad at me?" Before she could answer, I added, "Like, really into it?"

​She smiled warmly. "Oh, honey, I actually hope you do. I want you to."

​I pursed my lips, thinking it over. "So if I don't treat you like my wife for the day, you're not going to be mad at me later that night?"

​She grinned, leaning away from me just a bit to look me in the eye. "Deal. We will say office days are Vegas Rules days. No talking about it later, no getting mad about it, no getting jealous. And I mean that goes for you too, Jack. You can't be getting jealous if I do things I normally don't do."

​I thought about that for a moment. Here I was, worried about doing something to piss her off, and I had never considered she might do something to make me angry. But I agreed.

​"Okay, Vegas Rules," I said. "Every other Tuesday is office day."

​She just grinned. "Until you retire this fine ass." She leaned over, kissed me deeply on the lips, pulled back an inch, and whispered, "Now get over here and fuck me already."

​I eagerly obliged, making sure she came several times before we finally slept.

​The following morning, I got up early as usual and placed Shelly's resume on the corner of my desk with a sticky note: "Mrs. Brandson, please set Shelly up with an interview and trial run next Tuesday. Please have her read and sign the uniform policy and be prepared to have a full day at the office."

​Later that morning, after I had closed all my trades for the day—and let me just say, trading is infinitely easier when you have plenty of capital—I began drafting the next series of interview questions.

​The fourth question was a must: "There is always privileged information in our office. How do you feel you could retain confidentiality for even the most sensitive of topics?"

​The fifth was practical: "Long hours and travel are sometimes expected within your role. Do you have anything that would hinder you from being available for late nights or sudden travel?"

​The last question was the boldest: "This is a high-performing workplace and requires high performance at all times. How do you feel about constructive criticism and discipline in your work environment?"

​After a quick run to the gym, I came back to the office to finish up. I printed out the questions and built three neat folders for my desk, placing the resume and the interview sheet inside.

​The following week went by exactly as expected. Nothing major happened; Jennifer and I made love several times, and the secretary roleplay was never mentioned.

​Until Tuesday morning.

​The kids went to school, and Jennifer left for work—or so I thought. When I walked into my office, I found a note on my desk: "Shelly's interview, 9:00 AM."

​I began my day working like I normally would. Sure enough, at exactly 9:00 AM, the front door opened, and Jennifer walked into the house wearing a long leather coat in the middle of summer. Except she didn't look like my wife at all.

​She was sporting a sleek black wig. Beneath the coat, she wore a tight mini skirt that barely covered her thick curves, towering stilettos, a short crop top, and a sheer, see-through button-up shirt over it. Her makeup was thick, dramatic, and flawlessly applied. She even had a fake tattoo on her arm and a long necklace that dropped straight down into her cleavage.

​She walked in and said in a confident, sultry voice, "You must be Mr. Brandson."

​I nodded, holding out my hand. "And you must be Shelly, my nine o'clock."

​She grinned, shaking my hand firmly. "Yes, sir, I am. For the secretary job?"

​"Very good. Let's step into my office, then." I gestured toward my small workspace.

​"Hmm, a little small, but intimate. I like it," she purred, walking past me. I pointed her to the seat across from the desk.

​"I prefer the close nature this space provides," I replied smoothly. "Makes things really efficient and quick."

​She nodded as she took her seat, elegantly crossing her legs. I walked behind my desk, sat down, and pulled out the folder with her name on it.

​"Well, Shelly, let's cut to the chase. You're here to interview for the secretary position, and I take it Mrs. Brandson briefed you on the basics of what this role will entail?"

​"Yes, sir," she replied. "She was quite thorough with the items I would be responsible for. To be honest, it sounded quite easy compared to my other roles at the law firm. She mentioned you are growing your clientele list and building your business."

​"That is accurate," I said. "Mainly, your job will be assisting me in my day-to-day operations and making sure I can focus entirely on trading."

​"I think that sounds perfectly reasonable."

​"Very well. Let's get to the interview."

​She shifted her crossed legs, offering a subtle flash of thigh. "Ready when you are, sir."

​"Tell me about your experience in your previous role. What did you do with the law firm?"

​She gave me a confident smile, leaning back and sensually smoothing her skirt down. "Well, sir, I was with the firm for several years. I started out as an entry-level secretary to one of the junior members. I quickly proved myself to be more than capable, and his client list began to grow. Over the course of three years, we increased his roster from four to over twenty. He placed me in charge of his personal affairs as well as managing all of his clients. He mainly pitched to white-collar clients, and I was able to care for and provide very... attentive service to them. When he was promoted to a senior level, I was tasked with assisting and servicing several high-profile clients and members of the firm."

​I nodded, mentally noting how heavily she leaned on the word servicing. "So why leave?"

​She sighed, giving me a grave smile. "Well, sir, to be honest, I had a bit of a life change. My boyfriend was a little insecure about the role. So, I began to search out other possibilities."

​"I see. What drove his insecurities?"

​"Well... he felt that maybe I was caring for the clients and the firm a little bit too much, and that I wasn't taking care of things at home."

​Hmm, I wonder if I should kick that door open, I thought.

​"Ah. So, did he know the full extent of the services you were providing your clients?"

​She blushed flawlessly, her voice turning a little breathy. "Well, not exactly the full extent, no."

​"I see. So I would imagine long nights and spontaneous trips are out of the question?"

​She hesitated playfully. "Not exactly, sir. I put in a lot of long nights with the firm and had to make several long trips for cases and discovery. I think a few late nights or early mornings here and there wouldn't be inappropriate."

​"Good, because both will be required for this role," I said. I shifted in my seat.

​She shifted in hers, slowly uncrossing and recrossing her legs. She did it deliberately, providing a breathtaking view straight between her thighs. The little half-smile growing on her lips told me she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

​"Shelly, given your work history, I'm sure you understand the need for confidentiality regarding what goes on in the office," I said, moving down the list. "How do you feel you would handle highly sensitive matters or knowledge?"

​She flashed a fox-like grin. "Sir, if I can say anything, it's that being trusted with the most sensitive information has always been at the center of my work. Let's just say my previous employer trusted me with tasks that required the absolute highest level of discretion."

​"Not to put too fine a point on it, but if you were exposed to something that a client wouldn't want their significant other to know, and that significant other demanded the information... how would you handle it?"

​Her smile widened. "Depending on the situation, sir, I have many tricks of the trade. First, I would try to divert the subject. If that didn't work, I'd try to calm the situation. And if that failed, I would give the significant other false information—whatever was needed to maintain the trust of the client." She leaned forward slightly. "In my previous role, I was very good at managing not only my employer's significant others, but my clients' as well. I befriended them, ensuring I was in a position to influence and manage any... unwanted discoveries."

​I grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper. I wrote: Vegas Rules on office Tuesdays. No exceptions. No jealousy. What happens on office Tuesdays stays on office Tuesdays. I drew two lines at the bottom.

​Looking up, I made a decision on the fly. "Well, Shelly, that is great to hear. But you'll forgive me if I ask that you sign this NDA for the safety of my office, myself, and my clients."

​She read the paper, her grin turning wicked. "Of course, sir. I would expect nothing less." She took my pen and signed the name Shelly on the line. I signed Jack beneath it and pushed it aside.

​"Now that the formalities are out of the way, I believe I can be a little more forthcoming," I said, leaning back in my leather chair.

​"Oh, please do, sir. The corporate dance makes it so hard to articulate certain things."

​I chuckled. "You do it well, Shelly. Not to be too bold, but chances are once we begin bringing in clients, you will be exposed to certain... rash and proactive behaviors."

​She cut me off smoothly. "Sir, when I read the uniform code, I had the idea that's exactly what I'd be walking into. I assumed you were wanting to provide your clients with an amazing view while in the office. Would I be correct?"

​"You would be," I smiled. "Along with myself. Most of my morning is filled with looking at red and green blocks on a screen. Let's just say a short skirt can always brighten up a red day."

​She laughed, slapping her thigh lightly. "I completely agree. I take it your previous secretary had concerns with that kind of attention?"

​I shrugged. "Not exactly. Previously, my wife was helping in this role. And although I thoroughly enjoyed the view, I didn't think it was good for business to have clients daydreaming about bending her over, or me wanting to knock them out for a quick grab on the way in while I was trying to explain their Q3 earnings."

​She giggled at that, but quickly sobered into her sultry persona. "I understand completely. I mentioned earlier that we grew my old boss's list from four clients to over twenty. Well, that was mainly due to the atmosphere I brought to the office."

​Seeing an opportunity to test just how creative my wife was, I leaned forward. "You implied much with that statement. Since we need to build our clientele here, would you mind disclosing exactly how you achieved that feat?"

​She paused, sitting back and crossing her arms beneath her breasts, lifting them beautifully. "Well, sir, that is a delicate subject. To keep my promise of secrecy, I can't give you names. But I think I can give you the highlights."

​"Just the tactics and techniques," I assured her.

​"It began when one of our clients was going through a messy divorce," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "He was in the office one day, and I noticed him watching me from under my desk." She uncrossed her legs, letting her knees fall open an inch or two. "My boss had asked me to be extra nice to him because he was in a dark place. As you can imagine, with the divorce, it had been a while since he had... relieved himself. When I checked in and found my boss was running late, I offered to make the client comfortable while he waited."

​She paused, biting her lip. "This part might be better if I demonstrate, sir."

​"Go ahead."

​She stood up. "Before I went out to fetch him, I shimmied my skirt up a bit to give him a nice view." She tugged the hem of her mini skirt higher, then walked a slow, swaying circle around the small office. "Then, I brought him in."

​She walked over to my chair and held out her hand. "Sir, why don't I make you comfortable in the office?"

​I took her hand, and she guided me around the room. "I noticed his hand falling down to my ass," she narrated bluntly, immediately taking my hand and sliding it down over her curved backside.

​"When I got him seated, I fixed him a drink, handed it to him, and then sat on his lap. Like this."

​She straddled my right knee. It was a breathtakingly revealing angle.

​"I asked him if he was feeling better, and I noticed he was growing uncomfortably large." She slid her hand boldly over my crotch, stroking the growing bulge through my trousers. "Not wanting the client to be uncomfortable, I... took care of things."

​She reached up, tying her dark wig back into a ponytail, and then slid off my knee, kneeling directly between my legs.

​"Once he was taken care of, I returned to my duties, and my boss joined him a few minutes later." She stood back up, elegantly pulling her skirt back into place, and walked back to the chair opposite my desk. "After that day, the client came in regularly to check on his case. I was given my own office to entertain them. Several of his friends brought their legal needs to our firm. Each visit was money in our pockets. And on the slow days, I made sure my boss was equally taken care of, so he was always ready to perform at the highest level."

​I nodded, utterly captivated by her performance. "I had a feeling it was something like that. What about the long nights and business trips?"

​"Our clients were very needy, sir," she said smoothly. "That didn't leave much time for my boss. So, I would stay late to ensure his needs were met. As for the business trips, we would do discovery and casework during the day, and let's just call it 'client relations' at night in the privacy of a hotel." She shifted in her seat. "I am more than familiar with the need for secrecy, sir."

​"Good. Because I expect that level of dedication here as well." I paused, narrowing my eyes playfully. "Now, you mentioned concerns with your boyfriend earlier."

​"Ah, yes." She grinned. "As long as the client list is small and spread out, it shouldn't be a problem. The needs of the business kept me so drained I couldn't perform my wifely duties at home, which frustrated him. But as long as we aren't talking three or four clients a day, I can manage him." She paused, trailing her eyes down my torso. "One other thing... I can already tell you are quite... more than I'm used to. That will take a little time to adjust to, if you don't mind me saying."

​I couldn't help but grin. God, I loved this woman. "So, client visits and activities should be focused in the morning so you have time to recover before heading home?"

​"That would make things easier on me, sir, but I will always meet the needs of the business."

​"Excellent. My last question: I want this to be a highly performing office. How do you feel about constructive criticism and punishment for missteps?"

​Her devious grin returned. "As long as confidentiality is maintained, sir, I am open to any form of criticism or punishment you deem fit for my lacking."

​"Well, Shelly, I would say you sound like a perfect fit. I suggest we begin the trial phase of your interview today and see how you acclimate to the environment."

​"I'm eager to start wherever you like, sir."

​"Your days will mostly consist of meeting my needs, fielding calls, and light admin work. I do the heavy lifting; your role is to keep me from getting distracted." I stood up, discreetly adjusting myself. "Why don't you make me some coffee, and then you can help relieve my current distraction."

​Her smile broadened. "Of course, sir. Give me just a moment."

​When she stepped out, I couldn't help but smile to myself as I tidied up my desk. When she returned, holding a steaming mug, she saw me straightening the papers.

​"No, sir, I will handle that," she scolded softly. "Please sit down and take this."

​I sat. She stepped between me and the desk, her backside pointed directly at my face as she swayed her hips, putting the folder away in a drawer. "It's not going to bite, sir," she teased over her shoulder.

​I took the hint, running my hand firmly over her thick ass, pushing the mini skirt up a few inches to expose her lacy panties.

​"I knew it wouldn't take you long to get comfortable," she whispered. Turning around, she effortlessly hoisted herself onto the edge of my desk. She spread her legs wide, planting her stilettos on my knees. "I had a feeling you wanted a better look anyway."

​She slowly slid her fingers down her thighs, tracing the edges of her panties. I sat back, enjoying the incredible view as she touched herself for me.

​"You were right about that. Now let me see your breasts," I commanded, tugging at my crotch, which was straining against my zipper.

​She stopped teasing her core and seductively unbuttoned her sheer top, lowering her crop top to expose her heavy breasts. Then, her hands went right back down between her legs.

​"Mmm, yes... I think I'm going to like it here, sir," she moaned, sliding her thong entirely to the side. Her breathing hitched as her fingers worked faster. "Especially if you're as big as I think you are. I can't wait to have your thick cock inside of me... filling me up, pushing deep."

​Her moans were dropping into a primal, guttural register. I was rock hard. I freed myself from my pants and began stroking.

​"Oh, fuck yes, I want it," she begged, reaching down to grab my shaft.

​I eagerly complied. I stood up, hooking her legs over my shoulders, and pushed my hips forward, burying myself deep inside her. She let out a loud, breathless cry at the initial stretch, and as I established a rhythm, her moans echoed through the small office.

​"Oh, fuck! God, you feel so good," she gasped as I bottomed out. With every heavy thrust, the desk groaned beneath her. After her first intense climax, she started begging for more. "Fuck, you're so big. Don't stop, fuck me!"

​I picked up the pace, my hips snapping against hers. Pencils and notepads clattered off the desk and onto the floor. "Fuck yes, fuck me hard!" she screamed. She climaxed a second time, her inner walls clamping down hard on me—the undeniable signature of her deepest orgasms.

​When she finally unclenched, she pushed my chest gently. She rolled over, placing her feet on the floor and bending sharply over the desk, presenting herself to me from behind. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes dark with lust. "Now fuck me harder."

​I stepped in close, sliding back into her wet heat. I slammed into her hard and fast, the heavy oak desk inching forward across the carpet with the force of my thrusts.

​"Fuck! Fuck! You're killing me!" she cried out. "God damn, don't stop!"

​She came a third time, locking me in a vice grip. I was right on the edge. I slowed my pace, groaning, "I'm about to cum."

​She pressed her ass back against me forcefully. "Don't you dare stop. Fill me up."

​I let go, spilling deep inside of her with wave after wave of intense relief. Slowly, I retreated, collapsing back into my leather chair, completely out of breath.

​She stayed draped over the desk for a long moment, chest heaving as she caught her breath. Then she pushed herself up and sat on the edge of the wood. Looking down at the slick mess we'd made on the mahogany, she dropped her voice into that seductive, breathy tone. "Oh, yes. I'm going to like it here a lot, sir."

​She stood, adjusting her panties and smoothing her skirt. "Give me just a moment. I will clean that up."

​She swayed out of the office, returning minutes later with a fresh cup of coffee and a wet cloth. She took her time wiping down the desk, bending and arching in ways that would have won an Oscar for pornography.

​"Is there anything else, sir?" she asked innocently.

​I smiled. "Not for the moment. Come back in a little while, and we'll see what else we can do today."

​By noon, my workday was legitimately over. I'd checked the stocks, and I had nothing left to do.

​"Shelly, let's go grab some lunch," I announced.

​She gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look, suddenly remembering the real world existed outside the office. Knowing the anxiety she'd confessed to a few nights ago, I quickly added, "I know this great place in Cookeville that I think you'll enjoy."

​Cookeville was an hour and a half out of town. The chances of us running into anyone we knew were slim to none. Personally, I didn't give a shit what people thought—my wife looked incredibly hot—but for her peace of mind, farther was better. Her face instantly relaxed.

​"Of course, sir. I'll grab my coat."

​The long drive was highly entertaining. True to form, she dove even deeper into the character. She gossiped about the fake law firm, complaining about the other secretaries who were jealous of her, and bragging about how the clients adored her.

​We had lunch at a crowded little bar and grill, and the environment had exactly the effect I was hoping for. I watched her transition from being slightly self-conscious as we walked in, to absolutely basking in the heavy gazes of the men at the bar. By the time we left, she was glowing, positively buzzing with adrenaline. She even asked if we'd be doing "lunch meetings" often, and I assured her we would.

​On the ride home, she was bubbly and excited. I figured it was time to see just how far she was willing to push this persona.

​When we got back to the house, I asked her to put together a mock spreadsheet while I double-checked some trades. A little while later, she walked in and handed me the printout.

​I looked it over with a practiced, disappointed frown. "This is a somewhat passable first attempt," I said coldly. "But Shelly, this is not the quality of work I expect from you. You can do better than this."

​She looked abashed, immediately falling back into character. "I am sorry, sir. I will do better next time."

​She turned to leave, assuming that was the end of it. I had other ideas.

​"Please come over here," I ordered, standing up and adjusting my cuffs.

​She walked over hesitantly. I grabbed her by the hips and turned her around, bending her over the desk. I quickly pulled her skirt up around her waist and hooked my thumbs into her lace panties, dragging them down to her knees.

​I brought my hand down hard on her bare ass twice. Smack. Smack.

​"Now, in this office, I expect the very best," I said strictly.

​I slapped her again. Smack. Smack.

​"The very best, Shelly."

​Two more hard slaps. She let out a sharp gasp. "Ow! Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

​Two more. Her skin was flushing a beautiful shade of pink.

​"Ow! Yes, sir. I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice trembling with excitement.

​I reached down, smoothly pulling her panties back into place, and smoothed her skirt down. "Now that I think we understand each other, let's try again. And this time, to the level of what you are actually capable of."

​Her eyes were glistening, but she didn't look distressed—she looked hungry. "Yes, sir. I will do better."

​She scurried out. Ten minutes later, she returned and handed me a new piece of paper. At the bottom, she had typed a single line: Do it again, but harder.

​I shook my head, suppressing a grin. "Shelly, this still isn't up to standard. I'm afraid we are going to have to revisit our conversation."

​I twirled my finger in the air. She knew exactly what it meant. She immediately turned and bent over the desk. "I am so sorry, sir. Please do what you feel is necessary."

​I pulled her skirt up and her panties down. Her ass was still rosy from the first round, but it quickly turned bright cherry red as I delivered several heavy, firm slaps.

​She cried out, her hips squirming. "Oh, fuck! I'm sorry, sir! I promise to do better!"

​I delivered another rapid succession of slaps. Her breathing hitched, her voice cracking playfully. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again. I promise to be good!"

​"A good what?" I asked, following it up with three more stinging smacks.

​"I promise to be a good girl for you!"

​I gave her two final, echoing slaps and rested my hand on her warm skin. "I appreciate that. But I don't want a good girl. I want something more."

​She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes dark and needy. "I promise to be good and dirty for you, sir."

​Without another word, she turned around, dropped to her knees, and freed my cock from my pants. Before I could catch my breath, she took me into her mouth, sucking hard and deep.

​I brushed the black hair out of her face. "And I thought you wanted this in the morning so your husband wouldn't get suspicious."

​With my hardening cock still grasped in her hand, she looked up and whispered, "Oh, I need this again. I'm sure he'll understand that getting back into the workforce is exhausting."

​She took me all the way down her throat. When I was fully hard, she stood up, leaned back against the desk, and spread her legs wide as an invitation. I pushed inside her, burying myself in her wet heat. We fell right back into a frantic rhythm. She rode my thrusts, constantly moaning about how big I was and how perfectly I was hitting her. Hearing her say she hadn't had cock this good in a long time drove me absolutely feral. Logically, it was my dick she was praising, but in the heat of the roleplay, the cuckold fantasy washed right over me.

​Since it was round two, it took me much longer to finish. We changed positions twice, eventually finding our rhythm again until I came deep inside her.

​Just like earlier, she lay back on the desk, panting heavily as I pulled my pants up. She slowly adjusted her wardrobe, her makeup slightly smudged, looking thoroughly and wonderfully wrecked.

​"Will that be all for today, sir?" she breathed.

​Seeing her exhausted, I was inclined to say yes, but a final thought came to me. "Just one more assignment for today, Shelly. There is a bedroom down the hall. Why don't you go freshen up... and send me some pictures? I can show my clients so they know the caliber of service they can expect when doing business with me."

​That hesitant look flashed across her face again, but it was incredibly short-lived. "Absolutely, sir. As long as they aren't shared too far."

​I grinned. "My private collection. Just for a little viewing pleasure. After that, you're dismissed for the day, and I will let you know further details about the role once we finish the rest of the interviews."

​She smiled warmly and swayed out of the office. Thirty minutes later, my phone buzzed. She had sent several pictures of herself sprawled on our bed, looking sexier than I had ever seen her. I saved them to a locked cloud folder.

​Not long after, another text came through.

​Hey honey, on my way home. Should be there in 30 min. Hooooo, I can't tell you how exhausted I am. Who would have known going back to work would be so tiring? See you soon.

​Hmm, I thought. I guess that means Office Day is officially over.

​I replied: I can imagine! Today was brutal. My interview went well, though. I think she is a great candidate.

​A minute later, my phone lit up: Well, that's great news, honey. But don't forget you have two more to try out before you make a choice. Let's figure out who is next on the list, and then we can decide who stays.

​I smiled, typing my reply. You are absolutely right, honey. I'll let you know soon.