Employee of the Month

I was feeling uncommonly good for someone wheeling a dented, gasping Civic into an employee parking lot on a Monday morning. I had a new space, perfectly located near the front door. Also, here in Year 3 of the Pandemic Depression, with 27% unemployment, I had a job, and the job had a salary. That was pretty good for someone my age. And best of all, I was the new Employee of the Month, ta-da!

I had worked hard and done well and all that stuff, but I had also come up with a new marketing ploy for our start-up: placing our products as props in other companies' ads. That's been done before, of course, but our new products were so extremely cool and trendy that the other the advertisers should be willing to pay us! I was going to make us zillions! Even the new reception bimbo gave me a "Nice job, Dave!" as I breezed through the lobby.

My first appointment was a big meeting with Marketing to set up a project team. I wasn't going to be in charge, but that was fine. Marketing wasn't my thing. I was happy that my stock was rising, and I didn't want to be difficult.

Then I had a meeting with Human Resources. I was hoping for a raise or a bonus, but all I got was a pat on the back and a meaningless job title. Our new HR guy just said to be patient. He probably meant, in English, to just sit down and shut up. Or maybe he meant that if we did make money, some of it would eventually come my way. I acted disappointed, which was easy, but being in Accounting, I knew I would be able to tell if my idea became profitable. I decided to wait and see. I really didn't like the new HR guy anyway. He was an authoritarian personality we had somehow acquired from a big multi-national, and he wasn't a compromiser.

My buddies in Accounting were all complimentary, but none of them knew whether the Employee of the Month award usually came with a bonus. It didn't get bestowed on accountants much, apparently.

Mildly bummed, I felt justified leaving work on time for a change. I probably looked thoughtful as I trudged through the lobby. The reception bimbo was just hanging up a call and she caught up with me as I walked out.

"For the Employee of the Month, you don't seem exactly thrilled, Dave." She peered at me like she was interested.

"I'm OK, Katie. Actually, I'm on kind of a lucky streak. I got a promotion. Too bad it didn't bring anything that pays rent."

"Don't take it too hard. They're really tight on cash. At least that's what I hear in the lobby. They're just breaking even." She didn't meet my eyes. She always seemed nice, but kind of timid for a receptionist.

We had already arrived at my new parking spot. I stopped. She stopped too, but the conversation lagged and it felt like we were done, so I opened my car. Before I could get in, though, she blurted out a question about how I won the Award, and that led to a long discussion about employment and compensation in the age of the Corona Virus, when disease-proof computers were competing for the few remaining jobs.

After a while I finally remembered I should ask about her own situation. Receptionists were an endangered species these days. Cynically, though, this one didn't have much to worry about. She had a willowy frame with amazing softball boobs, blue eyes and wavy, elbow-length dark red hair. Lean legs. Freckles. She was beyond cute. Computers couldn't do that.

"Actually, they pay me pretty well, but it's just because I look good. I'm the lobby decoration, in case you hadn't noticed," she confirmed with an ironic curtsey. "HR made it clear I have to dress right and do the adoring bimbo thing. You can't imagine how awful it is when you have to suck up to some sleazebag on a power trip, dressed like this." She motioned at her outfit with evident chagrin.

That sounded pretty bitter, for someone with an actual job. But now that she mentioned it, her dress seemed like a constant embarrassment on a body like hers. It was a cream-colored number of silky fabric that clung tight to all the projections on her hourglass figure. It outlined her nipples way too plainly, and I was pretty sure it should have shown the individual stiches on her underwear. It didn't, which got me thinking. Regardless, it seemed way too revealing for her rather diffident personality.

Anyway, her job was obviously a sore spot. "I'm sure the pandemic will be over soon," I said, just to be comforting. "Maybe the next mutation will be less lethal. Then they'll want to replace the people who didn't make it, and more jobs will open up."

"I guess so," she said glumly.

Since she was, unexpectedly, still hanging around, it occurred to me that despite her outrageously good looks, I might be able to extend my lucky streak. "I think we both deserve a drink. Interested?"

"Well . . . okay. I guess have time. Maybe some of your luck will rub off. I could use a little."

We went to a bar & grill around the corner that looked nice and empty, donned our gloves and drinking masks, and ordered beers. We whipped out our straws.

She asked me about my day, and I told her that I might be having the best one of my life. My hot streak had included that new parking space and getting on a team for my marketing project, and now I was having drinks with a super-pretty co-worker. She blushed and congratulated me, but then quickly said to remember that no streak lasts forever. I assumed she meant my hot streak wasn't going to last all night. I hardly expected that anyway, but it was interesting that she thought to warn me. She must be accustomed to guys trying to stay over.

I asked more about her. It became evident that the bimbo look was just window dressing. Katie was educated and obviously smart. She was well read, had interesting hobbies, and was ambitious. In normal times she would be off to a great start. I asked how she came to be our receptionist.

She looked uncomfortable. "It's kind of embarrassing . . . like the job, actually." She sounded bitter again. "I sent dozens and dozens of applications. I tried all the websites, all my friends, all their friends. I didn't get a nibble. Actually I did get one offer - to be a sugar baby. That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but since it was the only offer I got, I'd say it made me realistically cynical. So when I was desperate enough, I took the hint and put the sexiest picture I dared on the employment sites. That got me an offer from our new HR guy.

"The picture was only meant to separate my résumé from the pack, but instead it got me a job just sitting in public looking as hot as possible all day. I have college debt and no savings, and I was a week away from being bankrupt and homeless, losing my car and everything else. I was desperate. I told them I'd do it. HR was tough, though. I have to dress like this, for instance. Honestly, it's like being naked, I feel so exposed out there! I cringe if I have to get up to serve coffee. You wouldn't believe the ogling! But at least I'm keeping up with my bills. You're lucky, you know, not to have to deal with this stuff?"

I was. I had a decently compensated professional position with no humiliating dress code, and secretly, I thought I was killing it.

We had another beer, discussed families, friends, mutual interests and work issues. We had lots of laughs. Once she got comfortable she was a very entertaining drinking buddy, and after only a couple of beers she got even lovelier. She had striking light blue eyes and almost straight eyebrows, and the top of her cute little freckled nose wrinkled when she laughed. Her nipples made little swinging dents in that clingy dress as her big, heavy breasts shifted under the silky fabric. Keeping my eyes off them was impossible. I could only hope she was forgiving of weak-minded guys.

She never mentioned a boyfriend, so eventually I got up the nerve to ask.

"I'm not attached, if that's what you mean. I really can't be, with this job and everything."

Interesting. She seemed extremely attachable. Maybe she was just gracefully sending me another negative signal, but I thought I'd try to extend our evening anyway, just to be sure. "Do you have time for a burger?" She did. We ordered a third beer, too, and she continued to be shyly charming.

We lingered long after the burgers were gone, talking comfortably and stealing fries from each other. At a pause Katie asked casually whether I had a girlfriend. Since all I had were vague hopes about the tall, pretty girl down the hall from my apartment, it was easy to answer 'no'. Then we were quiet for a while, and I had a moment to think. The girlfriend question was a definite signal, and she seemed in no hurry to leave. It was just barely possible that she was waiting for an invitation for the rest of the evening. But I had hardly known her until tonight and it would be wrong to go too fast. There was my usual 'perfect gentleman' problem -- I never wanted to risk insulting a nice girl, and this one wasn't a bimbo, wasn't a sugar baby. I was pretty sure she would say no anyway. She didn't seem that socially bold, and there were those subtle 'just friends' signs. Realistically, she could pick up a guy whenever she wanted, so not having a boyfriend must be her preference. I decided to wrap things up while we were still on a high note.

I was starting to ask about dessert when she suddenly suggested coffee. That sounded like a nice way to extend the evening, so I said "sure" and tried to flag down our server.

She grabbed my forearm and pulled it down. "I mean, at my place."

She looked uncomfortable, but she continued to hold my arm down on the table. "Maybe your hot streak is going to last a little longer." She was still averting her eyes, but she was stroking my forearm with her thumb.

Adrenaline coursed through me. I called for the check. My first try was just a croak. Katie smiled at that. Apparently I was in for the night of my life. She was just so incredibly hot.

****

As we walked the short distance to her apartment I had more time to appreciate how physically spectacular she was, lean and taut almost everywhere but quivering with each step in all the right places. That dress revealed everything.

She unlocked and walked in, snapping on lights, and then turned and just gave me a nice hug, since we still had our masks on. It was only a starter to break the ice, but the extra pressure on my chest made it a thrill. Then she went off to brew coffee.

I made myself sit on the couch and look around. Her place was nice. She had two rooms, both neat and tastefully furnished. It didn't seem very personalized yet, but then, she had only been with us a few weeks.

She brought over two mugs of coffee. Watching that dress cling to her jiggling tits as she crossed the room, I understood her anxiety about serving coffee in the lobby. She'd rivet the attention of every guy in the room. If this was a job requirement, it seemed like a harsh way to treat a nice person. It probably took a lot of courage to go out in public like that.

She plunked down next to me on the couch. She was still not making much eye contact, but she had removed her face mask. That was a tip-off these days, roughly the equivalent of changing into lingerie. I still had mine on because I hadn't wanted to signal any assumptions, but now I took it off too. We each took a mug and settled back against the cushions. We talked for a while just to be civilized, but we both knew what was on the agenda and my pulse was racing.

"This isn't something I usually do," she said. She wasn't referring to coffee.

"Me either."

"I didn't want to break your lucky streak, though."

"Don't worry about that. Just having dinner with you kept it going. You're really pretty, you know. Maybe beautiful is a better word."

"I was kind of hoping sexy was the word. If this dress doesn't do it, I'm not the girl for you!" But she smiled, turned to me, and, still holding her mug in both hands, leaned over and planted a chaste kiss on my lips. Then we went back to coffee and talking, getting comfortable, familiarizing. She really was delightful and I loved just being with her, but the tension was building.

She told me her parents were deceased. Her degree in drama was useless in a world without live audiences, where all the well-known actresses were lining up for jobs at Netflix. It was depressing. She had never planned to be a receptionist. She obviously felt defensive about it.

She leaned lightly against my shoulder as we talked. When she had finished her coffee she purposefully put down her mug, placed one arm behind me on the couch, and gave me a much longer kiss. Her other hand was on my thigh, so I kissed her back pretty hard, for a long time, with tongue. Her hand slid higher on my thigh and over my cock, which was straining to escape, so after a minute I reached over and fondled her outsized breasts. They were amazingly soft and heavy, and she twisted to press one into my hand. The kissing intensified. By the time we surfaced, she was almost on her back on the couch, and I had a hand on part of a big boob, squeezing. I took it off.

"Katie, are you OK with this? It's pretty sudden."

"Sudden is good," she said breathily. So I went back to fondling her while she resumed squeezing my stiff cock and vacuuming my soul out through my throat.

That clingy dress was so lightweight that she was almost naked before we even started. She all-to-obviously wasn't wearing a bra, but her big soft tits still cushioned us and her nipples were making bumps between my fingers. I pulled the dress off her shoulders and she help peel it down below breasts. Then she reached for my belt. I raised my hips a bit for clearance and she unfastened my pants, reached in, and pulled my cock upright and stroked it as we groped and kissed. I pulled up on the hem of her dress. It only needed to rise a few inches, and beneath it was just a tiny white under-thing which was easy to pull aside. She spread her legs wide to give me clearance, placing one foot up on the back of the couch and letting the other wave over empty space.

She was totally slippery. I slid in easily. She pulled me down and kissed me hard, and then we started fucking languorously while I marveled at my luck and enjoyed the view below me. Katie was smiling serenely, eyes closed and breathing little contented sighs, encouraging me. I could hardly believe I was actually fucking a girl this beautiful. It was heaven.

But it was also arousing and before long, our pace increased. She opened her eyes and stared at our point of connection intensely, humping me back and making little sounds of distress with each breath. Soon my cock had that urgent feeling, and now she was angling her hips up to meet me and I was fucking almost downwards, pounding her whole frame. She reached both arms over her head to grasp a couch arm to brace herself, which made her tits heave up and down her chest with each thrust, knocking and swirling wildly. She moaned louder and louder. She moved one hand to steady a tit and kept her hold on the couch with the other. I just fucked her hard for minutes, the other tit swirling wildly, until she gave a little squeak, trembled, and shuddered, just as I came in her.

She hugged me tight so I couldn't pull out. Cooling in silence, we just lay together on the couch a while, too exhausted to kiss. She reached under my shirt and stroked my sweaty back lightly with her fingernails.

Eventually she extracted herself, took my hand and led me into her bedroom. Her dress was still bunched inelegantly around her narrow waist, and the under-thing turned out to be a tiny thong that held and divided two fabulously round, perky ass cheeks. She undressed me, pushed me down flat on the bed, and finished undressing herself, making an amusing little strip scene out of wiggling out of the dress. She didn't even bother with the thong. Then she sat beside me on the bed, running her fingernails over my front and looking down at me thoughtfully for quite a long time while I marveled at those two big breasts suspended above me.

Eventually she lay down next to me and we just kissed and cuddled and talked into the night. I couldn't get enough of her. She was smart and funny and outrageously beautiful, and I was completely captivated. It was well after midnight before she good naturedly said we had better get some sleep. She drifted off half lying on me. We each left a hand trapped between the other's thighs.

I was thinking, this was the lucky streak of my life, for sure. It probably wouldn't last; she was just too incredibly beautiful. That worried me a lot, but other things, like the big boob on my chest, were more pressing, so after only an hour or so of racing thoughts, I drifted off, too.

****

We awoke late and needed to get to work. I was super-hard, so she gave me a few playful strokes, and I semi-playfully wouldn't let her out of bed, which resulted in a little wrestling and some flying boobs, but in the end we showered together quickly with a just a little extra soaping and went in separately. She asked me whether her dress was sexy enough to keep HR happy and did a little twirl. It was an elastic tube type thing that just barely covered the essentials at the top and bottom. I said I thought it should be acceptable, but it looked thrill-a-minute. I didn't know how she could stand it. She left walking carefully.

We agreed to meet back at her place. She hinted at a need to talk about our relationship, which was unmistakably ominous. I'd suspected something like this was coming.

****

I spent a lot of the day reliving the evening and wondering how things were going to go. Maybe she regretted going so fast with me, but we had seemed so compatible that I couldn't believe she wanted to end it. Maybe it was so easy for her to pick up guys that she just wanted to make sure we were casual and her options were open. Who knew.

By the time I arrived back at her apartment she had beer and chips ready, and we sat on my new favorite couch to talk. She was still wearing that heart-stopping dress, but she wasn't her bubbly self from the morning. I was hoping for the best but cringing inside. She said she had good news and bad news. I wilted even more but asked for both.

"Dave . . . there's no good way to put this. I'm a . . . I'm an employee benefit. I'm the Employee of the Month Award. Don't freak on me. Please."

"You're kidding." Maybe I wasn't understanding her right.

"You get a week of me, automatically. Last night, I had a great time, but I was a sure thing. I didn't tell you right away because, well, at first because I think guys like the thrill of the chase. But then, when I should have told you, I didn't want to screw up a lovely evening with a guy I really liked. So there it is. I hope you're not too pissed at me. I had to do it, but I had a really good time. I'm hoping we can still have a good time. The company will reimburse you for dinner, of course. Anyway, the bottom line is, I'm your fucktoy all week. I'll do whatever you want."

The words were gracious, but now that bitter streak was on full display and things were starting to add up better. I didn't want to believe her, but the pieces were falling in place. Our magical evening was suddenly a lot less preposterously implausible.

I didn't know how to react. She had seemed like such a compatible mind, maybe a real soulmate. I really liked her, I naively thought we were starting a real, promising relationship, and now I felt jilted. Disappointed. Whiplashed. Angry! Betrayed. My instincts had been right. She'd been playing me.

She continued. "I don't blame you if you're mad, but this wasn't my idea. It's meant to be a benefit. I think maybe we're just too compatible for this type of . . . . transaction," she trailed off miserably. "I know someone in my position can't get too close. But this is new for me and I made a mistake."