No More the Soccer Mom Pt. 01

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A wife applies for a job at her husband's company.
9k words
4.18
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 09/22/2018
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KingBandor
KingBandor
2,100 Followers

Chapter 1

I was so excited about my new job at my husband's company. He's been working there for the past ten years since we both graduated from college. I had gone straight into being a mom, as I got pregnant a few weeks before graduation. After several years, I was tired of being the stay-at-home mom, so once our second child started elementary school, Dave agreed that I could go to work.

I had a degree in Business Administration, which are a dime a dozen, and no experience. So, it took some help from Dave for me to get an interview for a job as the executive assistant for the VP of Dave's division. His previous assistant had married recently and decided to take on the role which I was wanting to get away from. Dave had to use off of his negotiation skills to get me the interview with Steven Andrews, the VP of Technology. That just opened the door, for me to get the job would be all up to me.

Apparently, as VP, Steven traveled often and was very busy when he was in town. The only time he could meet with me was in the evening, so he set it up for me to meet him for drinks at a hotel bar not too far from their office. This job was not an entry-level position and paid almost as much as Dave made with his engineering job. It was an excellent opportunity for our family and me, as we would nearly double our income.

"Isn't it weird to interview someone at eight in the evening and at a bar?" I asked my husband when I found out about the interview.

"Steven is a very busy man," my husband explained, "and you have to work around his schedule. If you're going to be his assistant, you know that means you'll have to keep a very erratic schedule. You sure you're up for it?"

"I can handle that," I responded, "I just never heard of this kind of casual interview."

"This is the big leagues, Julie," he said, scolding me, "at his level, you do things differently. You know it also means you have to travel with him on business trips. What about the girls?"

"I mean, you don't ever have to work overtime," I said as I thought about it, "it just means that you have to help out with a lot of the things I used to do all the time. But, I wouldn't worry. I doubt he's going to want to hire me."

"Not if you go into it with that kind of defeatist attitude," Dave chided me. "You have to project confidence. Just act like you're a professional and that you can handle anything he throws at you. You're brilliant and talented, honey. I believe in you."

Wow, I felt a surge of pride. Dave had never said anything like that to me before. "Ok, I'll do my best," I said, feeling better.

The day of the interview came. Dave was home early from work to pick the girls up from school. I had fixed dinner and had it all ready for them when they got back. I was too nervous to eat, I just nibbled on a bit of salad, then had to go throw that up. I decided to take a long, hot bath, to try to relax. That helped a lot.

Around six I started getting dressed. I didn't have anything that would be work appropriate. If I got the job, I'd have to invest some money in a new wardrobe. Since we were meeting at a bar, I decided to wear the one nice dress that I had. It was a dark purple and tight-fitting, with a low cut top that showed off my 38C boobs a bit too much. It was also very short on one side and came down to just below my knee on the other.

When I stood in front of the mirror, I was mortified. I yelled for Dave, and he came running.

"What's wrong?" he asked, face showing concern.

"I look like shit!" I shouted, almost crying. "I can't do this. You need to call and cancel for me!"

"What are you talking about? You look great!"

"You're so full of it," I snapped, "look!" I turned back and forth. The dress was made of a stretchy fabric as I rotated my body, it clung tightly to me, but my frumpy, grandma panties were outlined with a little ridge of fat above the waistband and on my ass cheeks.

"What?" he asked. I couldn't believe he couldn't see.

"Look at the panty lines," I shouted pointing at them, "I can't go like this!"

"Oh," Dave responded, "sorry. Do you have another dress you can wear?"

"No!" I shouted.

"Ok," he was trying his best to pretend at least that he understood. "Do you have any other panties, maybe a thong?"

"I don't have any thongs, Dave!" I was getting frantic. "I look like shit. This is a bad idea. I shouldn't even try to do this. I'm not qualified."

"Oh, would you stop it?" Dave said raising his voice. "That's just your insecurity talking. You're nervous; I get it. But, you look great."

"I can't go there with these panty lines, Dave. I can't."

"Ok, then, take them off," he said, "Go commando."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "You see how short this dress is?"

"Yeah," he replied, "but you're just meeting for an interview. You'll be sitting across a table from him. There won't be any chance for a wardrobe malfunction."

I thought about his suggestion. I pulled my dress up over my hips then slipped my panties down and off. Dave was watching my ass as I lowered the dress and smoothe it over my round, mother-of-two, butt cheeks.

"Oh, wow," I said calming significantly. "That looks pretty good."

"Looks really fucking hot!" Dave said. I blushed but smiled at him. Ok, I could do this.

"You know you can see your bra," he said from behind me. I turned my body and looked over my shoulder into the mirror. He was right. It seemed like I had a concealed handgun slung across my back.

"Ugh!" I shouted. "I need better clothes."

"You get this job, and you can have all the clothes you want," he said smiling at me.

"I look like someone's mom," I said, staring at my reflection.

"Lose the bra," he said, "then you won't have any lines."

"I lose the bra, and these are gonna hit the floor," I said lifting my boobs and letting them drop.

"I doubt it. Your boobs don't droop all that much, for someone who nursed two kids. Try it and see," Dave suggested.

I unhooked the bra and slipped it off and looked. "Oh, wow, ok," I said, "I can do this. This is not going to be too bad."

"Yeah, honey," he said kissing me on my cheek so not to mess up my makeup. "You look great. You're going to do fine."

I slipped on a pair of purple heels and sprayed on some Chanel that my mother-in-law had picked up in Korea. I had assumed it was fake. I put it into the fake Louis Vuitton clutch she'd bought me there too.

Dave had offered to drive, but since I didn't know how long it would take, I didn't want to take a chance on the girls being out late on a school night. So, I decided to take an Uber. I ordered it up and waited on the front porch with Dave. When it arrived, he kissed me and wished me luck. I got in and spoke to the Uber driver. He turned around in his seat, and his eyes went straight to my tits.

I looked down.

Oh shit! My nipples were hard and poked out through the stretchy purple cloth. The areolas and tips were distinctly visible. It was like my boobs had been painted purple.

Well, it was too late to do anything. I confirmed the destination and off we went.

Chapter 2

I arrived at the Hotel Excelsior and found my way to the bar. It was a dark room, filled with manly furniture in dark wood stain and leather. It seemed like the kind of place that Earnest Hemmingway or Frank Sinatra would have hung out it sipping cocktails and smoking cigars. Not that I had a clue with either of those men were into, but it had that kind of old-school male vibe.

I had a few minutes to kill, so I found the ladies room and checked my makeup. I looked pretty good, all things considered. My nipples still stood out like beacons, but there was nothing I could do about it. My big-chested mother cursed me with her thick, pointy nipples, large areolas, and big boobs. Thinking about it only made them harder and stuck out more, so I tried to put them out of my mind altogether.

I was more nervous than I'd been on my wedding day. I took a long slow breath and let it out, then told myself to be confident, repeating Dave's advice. I walked out of the restroom and headed straight into the bar. A hostess met me, and I told her that I was there to meet a gentleman named Steven Andrews for cocktails. She nodded.

"Yes, right this way," she said gesturing for me to follow her. She led me to a corner booth and the back of the bar. It was the darkest place in the bar. An attractive middle-aged man, with short, neatly trimmed hair and dark eyes was seated there. He wore a business suit and stood when I arrived. "Ah, you must be Mrs. Phillips?" He extended his hand.

I shook it professionally, "Julie, please. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Andrews."

"Well, if I'm going to call you Julie, then the least you can do is call me Steven."

"Thank you, Steven," I replied. He had a definite charm to him and a reassuring confidence. I was feeling comfortable already.

"Please, have a seat," he said, indicating that I should sit across from him. Thank goodness I wouldn't have to sit with my legs showing. The length of my dress was dangerous enough. I smiled and sat down, sliding into the center of the booth's bench seat. Steven sat back down and asked me what I wanted to drink.

"Oh, since this is an interview, I should stick to water, I suppose," I said, looking up at the server who had materialized to take our drink order.

"Nonsense," Steven said in a friendly manner, "I'm having a bourbon on the rocks."

"Oh, well, that sounds perfect," I said. I didn't know what to drink, and I was not a bourbon drinker, usually. I didn't want to seem ignorant, so I had whatever Steven was having.

"Excellent," he said turning to the server, "Make that two Blanton's on the rocks."

"Yes, sir," the pretty server said as she turned crisply to fetch our drinks.

"So," he said turning back to face me. His eyes met mine, and I felt a tingle inside that I hadn't felt before with anyone other than my husband. I felt my face flush and knew that my nipples must be nearly bursting through the fabric. He was definitely good looking, and I could look at him all day without complaining.

"Dave tells me you're tired of being a stay-at-home mom and are looking to do something rewarding form a professional point of view."

"Yes, that's right," I said trying to ignore my boobs. "I love my children and being a mother, but I want to do so much more than staying home, doing laundry and driving my kids to dance recitals and soccer practice. I went to school to study business, and I want to work in the industry. I've got a good head on my shoulders, and I learn very quickly."

"That's very interesting," Steven said, his eyes making it hard for me to concentrate, "You understand that my last assistant left to get married and be a mom? It is kind of ironic that you two have such opposing viewpoints."

"Well," I said, "I did it for almost ten years. It is not what I need to define me as a person. I'm a mom. But, I can be so much more than just a mom."

"Just so you know, this job will require you to work odd hours," he explained, "I work very late most days and travel often. You would be expected to accompany on some, but not all of my trips. Is that a problem for you, with your children?"

"Not at all," I stated directly, with confidence, "Dave is going to take on more of the household chores and responsibilities. He's had it pretty easy for ten years, and now it's time he chipped in and let me pursue my dreams."

"You don't have any experience," he replied. "What makes you think you have what it takes to do this job, Julie?"

"I'm a hard worker. I'm ambitious and driven. If you hire me, you will be my top priority. I will work when you need me to work. I'll go where you need me to go. I'll do anything you need me to do."

He smiled. "That's a perfect answer. Have you been rehearsing it?"

I blushed. "Maybe, a little," I admitted, "But, it is the truth. I want this job, Steven. I need this job, not for the money, but for how it will make me feel. I know this is what I need to be a complete...," I paused, blushing harder, not finishing the sentence.

"A complete what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A complete woman," I answered him.

The drinks arrived, and we stopped talking until the server left. Steven raised his glass, "Here's to honesty."

I raised mine, and we clinked the glasses together. "To honesty," I said. We both sipped the bourbon. Steven smiled, and I nearly choked. When he saw my reaction, he chuckled.

"You don't drink bourbon, do you?"

"Not really," I confessed.

"Would you like something a little easier to drink, Julie?" he asked.

"No," I answered, sipping the bourbon again. "If I wanted easy, I would have stayed home tonight.

"Another good answer," he said smiling. "You understand of course, that I have a lot of people applying for this position. A lot of them are younger than you or have better degrees or more experience."

"Yes, I'm sure you do," I said. "it is a dream position. Anybody would be lucky to get this job. But, I have something that those other applicants don't have."

"And what is that, Julie?" he asked softly.

"I raised two kids for ten years," I said smiling, "I can handle anything."

We finished our drinks. I was hoping we would have another round. I was enjoying the conversation. It was the most exciting thing I'd done in, well, forever. It beat the hell out of going home and helping my kids with their homework.

"Julie," Steven began, "I'm very impressed with you. So, you know with this job, you have to manage a lot of my personal affairs, not only my normal nine-to-five day job. In fact, it comes with a stout bonus for the time you spend above and beyond the normal work day."

I hadn't known that. Dave didn't mention it, but it sounded fantastic. "That sounds wonderful," I said. I was feeling warm. The whiskey was making me quite relaxed.

"I would like to have you move to the second round of interviews," Steven said as his piercing gaze looked into my soul. It took a second for his words to sink in.

"Wow!" I nearly shouted. "You do? That's fantastic! When? Should I call HR tomorrow to set it up?

He grinned. "I'm glad the idea excites you, Julie. But, no, the second round of interviews will take place now, if you have the time."

"Yes," I blurted out, "I'm available."

"Good," he said as he opened his briefcase and pulled out a document. "You understand that when you for me, you will be dealing with a great deal of my personal matters as well as sensitive company information."

"Of course, Steven."

"So, you won't mind signing an NDA before we move to the next round of interviews?" he asked as she slid the papers to me along with a pen.

"An NDA?" I asked.

"Yes, a non-disclosure agreement," he explained, "It is standard of all new employees. Dave had to sign something similar when he was hired. It just states that you will not discuss anything that happens, you see or hear or are exposed to while in my employ to anyone."

"Of course, Steven," I assured him, "I would never tell anyone anything."

"That includes Dave," he said waiting to gauge my reaction.

"Of course, not even Dave," I said.

"Excellent, sign on the last page, and then we can go to the next round," he said.

I picked up the pen, turned to the fifth and final page and signed the document. I handed it back to him with the pen.

"Thank you, Steven," I said, "I won't disappoint you."

"Of that," he said grinning, "I have no doubt."

Chapter 3

Steven stood and waited for me, holding out his hand. I wasn't sure what was expected of me. I climbed out of the booth, a little wobbly from the bourbon. He gently placed his hand on my back, and he gestured to the exit with his free hand.

"Where are we going?" I asked, feeling very nervous.

"I have a room for the second interview," Steven explained. "We'll head up there, now."

I had initially thought that meeting Steven in a hotel bar at eight at night was unusual enough. Now, however, my knees were shaking. This was highly unorthodox. I'd never heard of anything like it. I was going to a hotel room, alone, with a man who was not my husband, to interview for a job.

I didn't want to disappoint Steven, and I wanted the job. I thought about it as we walked through the lobby, toward a bank of elevators. Dave had said that Steven was an extremely busy man, so I guess this was normal in his line of work. I have to admit; it was titillating to think about what I was doing. I'd never been alone in a hotel room with anyone other than Dave.

"You look amazing in this dress, Julie," Steven said as his hand moved down my back, stopping at the top of my hip.

"Thank you," I said. I felt pleased that he liked what I wore. It was nice to be complemented by such a handsome, sophisticated man.

"You have an exceptional body," he added, leaning close not to be overheard. "I cannot believe that you've given birth to two children. Did you nurse them both?"

I couldn't believe what I had just heard him ask. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest. I felt myself blushing. He complimented my figure, and that made me proud, but his question was inappropriate and made me feel uncomfortable.

"Uh, thank you," I said, trying to think of how to answer him. I didn't want to offend him. Maybe he didn't mean to sound that provocative. Perhaps that kind of topic was not so embarrassing to people in Steven's walk of life. I tried to pretend like I was fine with his question. I smiled and said, "Yes, I breastfed both of my daughters."

Oh my god, I had said breastfed instead of a nurse. That made me think about having my titties sucked. I looked down nervously and saw both of my nipples were protruding at least an inch or more.

"That's amazing," he continued, "I would have thought your breasts would sag much more, but they seem very firm and barely seem to have dropped much. I don't mean to presume, but it would appear you are not wearing a bra tonight."

I was feeling hot and incredibly uncomfortable discussing my breasts like this with him. Again, I decided to play it cool, like it was a regular topic of conversation. To be honest, I was increasingly growing stimulated by his attention, his looks, and his interest. He was a powerful, rich, handsome man with a commanding personality. I felt myself wanting to be attractive to him. "Thank you. I was afraid you might not like them."

Oh shit! I can't believe I said that. He must think I am crazy.

"On the contrary," Steven countered, as he pressed the call button for the elevator. "I find them to be exceptional. I would love to see them uncovered."

I felt very flush. My face was hot. I didn't know what to say, so I just remained silent. I felt a sense of pride that Steven wanted to see my breasts, yet I also felt ashamed that I wanted to show him. The doors opened, and we stepped inside. We were alone in the elevator. Steven inserted his room key and pressed the button for the twenty-third floor. The doors closed and I could see us reflected in the polished steel. We looked good next to each other. Steven was standing very close to me, his hand still resting at the top of my hip.

I saw him leaning closer in the reflection. I felt his breath on my neck as his lips brushed my ear. "Your nipples are screaming to be touched," he whispered. "Did Dave tell you to go without a bra to impress me with how delicious your breasts are?"

I found it hard to breathe. I was so turned on by this man. It was dangerous. Everything about him struck a nerve with me: his looks, his demeanor, his power, his sexiness, and his confidence. Suddenly, his question made its way through my mental fog.

Come to think of it, Dave had told me to lose the bra, but only after I was complaining about how I looked. I thought about it, trying to remember. I realized that I had just commented on the way my panties looked. It was Dave's idea to take off the bra. I don't think he did it on purpose, though. He certainly had not done it to impress Steven, or had he?

KingBandor
KingBandor
2,100 Followers