How to Get a Job at Fucking

Knowing I had a few minutes before the interview was set to begin, I pulled my phone from the pocket of my suit jacket and pulled up some pictures of me and Andrea. I know it sounds dorky and cheesy, but I couldn't get enough of just looking at her. Seeing someone so pretty, with such an infectious smile, and such an effervescent personality, and knowing she had chosen me to marry, it filled my heart with love. I don't know what I did to be so lucky.

I was looking at a picture of us standing together outside of a nice older movie theatre downtown, my arm around her. Her brilliant smile let me know that she was as happy with me as I was with her. I admired her again, her silky blonde hair, her slim, taut runner's body. It reminded me of how proud I was that she had run multiple marathons, not just for personal accomplishment, but to raise awareness for various children's charities. She was such an amazing, impressive woman, and I couldn't imagine loving anyone as much as I loved her.

For a moment, I was overtaken with an almost overwhelming obsession for the woman I married. I was again reminded of my current predicament and the plans we had for this weekend, and as much as I loved interviewing and this whole process, at this moment, it was the last place I wanted to be. I couldn't wait to leave, to just be around Andrea again.

A knock at the door caused me to jump. I pocketed my phone and stood up as one of the women from HR poked her head in my office.

"Hey Paul," Shanice said, "Miss, um... Miss Krez..." she began, glancing down at her file, struggling with the name.

"Miss Tori Kryselneski," I finished for her, stepping around my desk, straightening my suit-coat.

"Yes, Miss Kryselneski is here for her interview," Shanice said, thankful for my help.

"Send her in," I replied with a smile. "And you can head out, Shanice. I'll finish up here." Shanice smiled and thanked me, before stepping aside. From behind her entered Tori, stepping past the HR woman to enter the office.

"You might be the first person to pronounce my last name correctly," Tori began with a smile. "I'm impressed."

"Hey, I do my research too," I said with a smile, moving towards her.

She certainly looked the part of an executive assistant. Despite the fact that she had to know she wasn't nearly as qualified as some of the other candidates, it was clear she was taking this interview seriously, which I was impressed with. She was dressed to the nines and made-up and styled, without overdoing it. I had to admit, despite everything that was said about her, I couldn't help but be struck by how stunning she truly was.

As I shook her hand, she smiled at me, showcasing her full, glossy lips. Her eyes met mine, and her striking eyes and dark eyeliner held my gaze for a moment too long. I pulled my hand from hers and guided her towards the chair across from me. Her outfit seemed perfectly fitted too her, a nice looking business suit. The slim jacket was fitted well to her upper half, and her knee-length black skirt clung to her legs and rear. She had on black stockings and high-heels, all in black, professional, but attractive. She slid her leather portfolio down onto the heavy wood table, and as she did, I noticed the silky, white blouse under her jacket, a few buttons near the top undone, not to an indecent level, mind you, but enough to show off the glowing, smooth skin of her upper chest. And, she wore a small, dangling necklace, the bauble on the front nestled in the hint of smooth cleavage left exposed by the slightly unbuttoned blouse. And although the blouse looked expensive and professional, it was clear from the color contrast that she was wearing a red, lace bra beneath the silky white top.

I didn't leer at her or anything like that, I just noted it, as I would with any other applicant. Because one of the big things about an interview is how the applicant presents themselves. It tells you a lot. And her look was telling me that while she was trying to come across as professional, she wasn't afraid to use her obvious appeal to her advantage.

As she moved to her chair, I watched her eyes scan the room, gaining a sense of where everything was. Her eyes hung on the couch along the far wall for a few moments before she took her seat, sitting down in one of the office chairs across from me, her perfectly styled brown hair shimmering on her shoulders as she did so. She unbuttoned her suit-jacket as she sat, sitting up straight, pushing out her chest ever so slightly.

She had large breasts and she knew it. Very, very large breasts, a size you don't often see in an office setting. Among the office's male population, her boobs were a common source of conversation, the uninitiated seeking out those who had seen them in the flesh, seeking out the juicy details. I never participated in that kind of rumor mongering, and people knew that, as that kind of conversation tended to cease whenever I was around. But, I was a man and it wasn't like I hadn't noticed her impressive bust size. And they were great breasts, for sure, but I guess I just wasn't the type of guy to go gaga over a pair of boobs. I could appreciate them, but that wasn't gonna sway my feelings on her either way, no matter how much flesh she showed off. It was a little unprofessional to dress provocatively in the office, as she tended to do, but I wasn't about to tell anyone how they should present themselves. I wasn't gonna tell anyone to cover up or lecture them on how they live their lives. Her showing off a hint of cleavage didn't matter to me. It wasn't gonna help me make up my mind either way. It would take a lot more than a large pair of breasts to make me hire someone.

According to her file, she had been reprimanded about not adhering to the dress code, so it was clear she knew how to use her body's assets to her advantage, and was willing to push the limits whenever she had the opportunity. Her top was by no means indecent, but it hugged her slim frame, and it struggled to contain her excessively large boobs. The top few buttons that she actually had buttoned were being tested by the two large mounds stuffed inside.

As I said before, it was important for me to note how the applicant presented themselves and now that I had given her the once over, I promised not to acknowledge that aspect of this process again. I didn't want to give her the impression I was leering at her, and I didn't want to let myself be unprofessional and let my current predicament get the better of me.

"So, how was Italy?" she asked in a tone more genial than I had ever heard from her before.

"Oh, it was good. I got the account. It was tough, but I finally got them into the fold. But the country itself was incredible. And the architecture there... amazing." I replied, discussing my recent business trip there.

"I think I heard you'll be going to Brazil soon?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, looks like it." I said, not sure how she knew that.

"Well... maybe I'll be with you by the time you go there," she said with a smile, opening up her portfolio and retrieving her professional looking resume and cover letter, sliding it over to me.

"Yeah, maybe." I replied with an even smile, taking the resume and glancing at it, even though she had to know I had looked at it up and down well before the interview. "So... you ready?" I asked with a smile.

"I was born ready." she replied confidently. I could appreciate that confidence.

"I like to keep these interviews pretty conversational, you know, as opposed to me asking you questions and you answering. That kind of boilerplate structure feels too... stuffy... to me, you know what I mean?"

"Right," she replied, "But I'm way ahead of you on this one."

"What do you mean?" I asked, slightly surprised.

"I actually made a little presentation on why you should hire me," she said with a smile, pulling out a USB stick from her portfolio. "Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing at a laptop hooked up to a projector.

"Oh... sure." I said, pleasantly surprised at her going above and beyond like this. She stood up from her seat, running her hands down her hips, smoothing out her tight skirt over her rear.

"Don't seem so surprised Paul," she began with a laugh, stepping towards the projector. "I don't know if you've heard, but I have a bit of reputation." I held my breath, wondering what she was about to say. "I'm a very good interview," she said with a knowing smile, as if in on the joke.

"Right." I said with an even laugh. She tapped away at the laptop for a few moments before the front page of her presentation projected onto the wall.

"There we go..." she said to herself. She slid off her jacket and set it on the back of her chair, exposing her smooth, bare arms, clad only in the short sleeves of her top. With the slight bulkiness of her jacket removed, her large breasts were even more noticeable, standing out proudly from her chest. I quickly looked away, hoping she didn't notice. I dimmed the lights slightly with a remote to make the image on the wall clearer. She took a deep breath, stood next to the projection, and turned to me. "So, before I begin, I want to make a deal with you." she started.

"Sure, what is it?" I asked, curious.

"The case I'm about to make is very... unorthodox," she began. "All I ask is that you agree to hear me through, because I think I can make the case as to why I am the absolute best woman for the job. You might not agree with me at the beginning, but if you hear me out, I think I can change your mind."

"Deal." I replied warmly, willing to give her a chance.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," she said with a slight smile and a pointed look. She tapped a button on the projector remote to begin the presentation. The first page of the presentation was very familiar. They were words I knew well.

How to Get a Job

1)Know Yourself Before I Meet You.

2)Do Your Research!

3)Control Your Image, Change the Conversation to Emphasize Your Strengths

4)Set Yourself Apart.

5)Cliché's Make My Eyes Glaze Over.

6)Don't be Afraid to Blow Me Away.

7)Think Outside the Box.

8)Know When to Ignore This List.

"Now, I am sure I'm not the first person to base their interview around your list of tips," she began, gesturing to the list projected on the wall, my list of eight tips to get hired. "And, I have to admit, as badly as the bosses shove these tips down our throats, there are some pretty good ones here. And to prepare for this, I have to confess even I studied them," she said with a laugh, every gesture she made causing her breasts to bounce ever so slightly. 'Stop it, Paul,' I warned myself. "Now, I didn't want to just recite them and answer them one by one. I wanted to put my personal spin on them. It took a while, but I think I figured it out."

"To summarize, I know myself very well. I've done a hell of a lot of research. I know my image and how to use it. I know my strengths and how to set myself apart. I hate clichés, and I am very good at rocking people's words. And trust me, this presentation is gonna be so far outside the box, so far away from what this list was designed for, that you won't know how you didn't see this coming."

"Bring it on." I challenged her, amused and impressed by the effort she was putting in to this. She wasn't exactly known as the hardest of workers, so this was refreshing to see.

"I think the biggest thing here for me is knowing myself and changing the conversation," she resumed. "I've looked at the other candidates and compared them to myself, and quite honestly, in any appreciable way, they've got me beat. They all have the experience, the education, the training, the sparkling reputation... and I don't. I get that. I know my place, my role, and how I got here. So, if you're just going off of a resume, I'll probably lose."

"Okay." I said, curious as to where she was going with this, surprised at her still confident tone while acknowledging her own weaknesses.

"But what I'm going to do here is to convince you to ignore the resume. I'm going to convince you to ignore the degrees and the experience and all of that bullshit, cause none of it really matters anyway." she said, looking right at me with a serious expression. I gave her a quizzical look.

"And how do you intend to do that?" I asked.

"Simple... I change the conversation." she took a deep breath before advancing. "If you want to hire an assistant, the perfect little worker bee, you can choose one of them," she said, pointing out the door. "But you're not gonna be hiring an assistant, Paul," she said, looking at me with a knowing smirk.

"What am I going to be hiring, then?" I asked, interested.

"You're hiring not what you ask for but what you need. What you've always needed, what any man of your stature needs. Like I said, you're not going to hiring an assistant," she paused and stepped closer, leaning over the edge of the desk, looking right at me, before speaking her next words slowly and clearly.

"What you need is a slut."

The room went silent. My throat went dry, and my heartbeat went rapid. I looked at her, not sure if she was serious, but she looked down at me with a twinkle in her eye. She licked her lips, and as her large breasts hung down over the desk, deliberately being showcased, her deep cleavage evident. Was she really doing this? Was she actually, brazenly offering...I think she was! I was shocked and completely taken off-guard. Finally, I found words.

"Is this a joke, Tori?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious," she replied, standing up straight, and walking back towards the projection, shaking her butt at me, each of the round full cheeks jiggling with every step.

"Tori... this is really inappropriate!" I began. "If this is some sort of bad joke, I can understand, but if this is serious... you're not gonna keep your job here." I warned, not wanting her to make a career killing mistake.

"I'm taking your advice. I'm changing the conversation. If you hiring a totally professional, qualified executive assistant doesn't favor me, why not change the conversation?" she said, holding her arms out, shaking her boobs slightly. "Just hear me out, and I will convince you that what you need, more than an assistant, more than a wife, is a dirty fucking whore," she asserted.

"Tori... you can't do this. Do I need to call security?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Paul, you agreed to hear me out, no matter what," she began, her genial attitude gone.

"Well, when we made that deal, I thought you planned to be somewhat reasonable." I replied.

"I'm not gonna force anything on you. I made a presentation! That's it! And all I'm doing is using logic and reason. If, by the end, you still feel this strongly, I will walk away. But I think I can change your mind, and if I do, I will certainly blow your mind. I will make you realize how important it is to have a slut working by your side. Paul, I just want to make it clear, by the end of this, we WILL be having sex. You will have me bent over your big, hard desk and be drilling my hot ass till I fucking scream!"

I was completely dumbstruck. I had been in some of the toughest boardrooms in the world, but... I had never been this caught off guard, ever. I wasn't prepared for this. I didn't know what to do. I put my head in my hands.

"Tori, I stood up for you. I gave you a chance here, and this is what you do?" I asked, pleading for her to reconsider.

"Well, I am a slut." Tori said, shrugging, causing her boobs to bounce. "This is what sluts do. And deep down, I think you wanted this too. Deep down, you knew it would come to this. You've been desperate to find a reason for us to start hooking up, and now you have it."

"No... I..." I began, shaking my head. I began counting off on my fingers. "I'm a boss. I'm married. I'm a professional... need I go on?"

"At least let me finish." Tori pleaded. "What's the worst that can happen? I mean, if you're right, if I don't have a chance, then you just have a story to tell your friends, about how that dirty whore made a move on you. I mean, you're not actually worried that I'm right... right?" she asked with a knowing glance. I sat back and rubbed my chin, not knowing what to do. "I mean, this is certainly outside the box, right?" she asked with a laugh. "Just give me a shot?

This was so wrong and so inappropriate for so many reasons. Like I said, I'm a married man, very happily married. Plus, I was a professional, and I was never the type to do anything like this. She was barking up the wrong tree here, for sure. I don't know why she thought this would actually work. But, part of me was curious of what her plan actually was. What could she say to logically convince me to cheat on my wife? What could she possibly say to change my mind? It was so ridiculous that I was morbidly curious. I know I should just kick her out, but I abhorred conflict, and despite what she was pulling here, I didn't want to be the one to destroy her career. So, despite my better judgment, if she agreed to just walk away when this was all said and done, then just maybe I could just hear out her ridiculous argument and then be done with her.

"And you'll leave when you're done?" I asked.

"Agreed." she said, smiling wickedly, thinking in her mind, that she actually had an opportunity.

"I can't believe I'm doing this... fine. Fine!" I relented. "Give me your worst. I'll hear you out, but when you're done, you're done here. If you walk away now, we can just forget this. But if you go through with this, I have to fire you. You understand?"

"Deal," she agreed, eyes flashing, clearly feeling no fear. She clicked the button to advance the presentation. With a new pep in her step, she sauntered over next to the projection, again shaking her round ass at me. She pointed at the image, which was titled with the first step of my list followed by a blank page, and continued.

"Okay, the first thing you recommend is to 'Know Yourself Before I Meet You,' and the one thing about me is that I know exactly who I am," she began, before hitting the clicker, causing some images to enter the blank page of the presentation. These pictures made my eyes grow wide.

There were four pictures, and they were of Tori. But these were not pictures of her at work. No, they were far from professional. These were pictures of her at play. The top left picture was her at a club, dancing, coated with sweat from the no-doubt heated atmosphere she was dancing in. She was wearing a tight purple top, scooped low so her large boobs were just pouring out from within. She wore a skirt that barely went below her ass, and as she danced, the skirt flared up, millimeters away from showing off what was underneath.

The top right picture was her at some sort of house party, and in it there was a picture of her dancing in front of some guy, her back pressed against his front. His hands were on her breasts, squeezing them firmly, causing them to nearly overflow from beneath her silky red top. And as this invasion of her person took place, she was simply smirking, as if everything was going exactly to plan.

The bottom left picture was her at work, but she wasn't exactly working. It was a picture she clearly quickly snapped of her bent over a desk, a suit-clad man behind her, his face hidden, clearly... obviously having, uh... relations... with her. While she was still clothed, her outfit looked astray, as if what was happening was very aggressive and rough. And on her face, that same satisfied smirk.

The bottom right picture was her in what was probably her apartment, standing in front of a mirror. She looked perfectly coiffed and styled, her face turned into a wicked looking kiss, but her outfit was absolutely filth. A trashy looking tight blue tank top, the spaghetti straps digging into her shoulders due to the stress caused by her mammoth rack. Her top was molded to her large breasts, showing off their perfectly smooth, round shape, and there were clear indents caused by her throbbing nipples. Her midriff was exposed, leaving her fit belly bare. Down lower, she wore a tiny, denim skirt, cut way too short, barely covering her nether-regions. Her long legs were bare, smooth and firm, leading to some trashy high-heels. Her outfit was obscene and looked incredibly skanky, but it was clear that was the look she was going for.