Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. ï>¿Very Personal Assistant by SpinMeAround The way all job interviews should be. Job interviews were definitely not fun, absolutely none whatsoever. Emma didn't know a single person who enjoyed interviews and if she did then she probably wouldn't trust that person, not entirely anyway. There was definitely something odd about anyone that claimed to enjoy being interviewed. No, interviews were the opposite of fun, they were painful, filled with anxiety and usually ended in failure. Emma, like most people, hated them. They were however, for the most part, a hoop that you were likely to have to jump through at least once in your life. Job interviews were, as far as Emma could see, totally unavoidable. If you wanted a job then there was a good chance that at some point between applying for it and getting it you were going to have to do an interview. Not all interviews were the same, and not all interviewers were the same. Emma's experiences over the last few weeks though had left her feeling that the similarities were far greater than the differences. After a while they all just seemed to merge into one big mess, the who, why where and when of any particular interview lost in an amalgamation of pointless suits and platitudes. Today was feeling no different to all those interviews that had come before. Two black chair, a large, messy wooden desk and an older grey haired man in a nice looking, if not uncreative black suit. Emma wondered if all these guys went to the same tailor, they way that all these guys seemed to dress the same was uncanny. Emma was getting that feeling again. This week had felt as if it was just one long, disappointing interview that was happening to her over and over. Repeated every day and ending in failure, every, single, time. She could surely be forgiven for feeling disheartened. She left these interviews asking herself the same question almost every time, what am I doing wrong? It wasn't just the people and the offices that seemed to remain the same. It was the comments too. The feedback that she got to hear that just seemed to never change either. Lack of experience, not the qualifications we had hoped for, incomplete references. Emma would shake her head in despair, these were surely things that she could have been told over the phone, or not at all. She didn't see why she had to get dressed up for an interview just to be told her CV was lacking. It was probably more disheartening to get the interviews and never get called back than it was to just not get the interviews at all. These people must have seen something in her CV that looked promising, so why did she keep getting shot down in flames like she was? One thing that did change from interview to interview was Emma's clothes. Emma had found that her choice of clothing was becoming a little less conservative as she went along. It wasn't something she had consciously chosen to do, it was definitely something that was happening though. With each rejection Emma seemed to be wearing shorter skirts, tighter blouses and higher heels. She had reached a point where if showing off her curves was going to get her a job then she was absolutely going to do just that. It was uncharacteristic, not so long ago she would have said it was something she would never have done, but what she perceived as her constant failure to get called back after an interview had shaped her approach. Up until now Emma had had the apparent misfortune of being interviewed by men that were entirely professional. She could hardly believe that she had encountered so many people interested in her CV and not interested in what her friends described as her plus sized frame. Over the course of three months and countless rejections Emma had gone from dressing conservatively because she was worried about getting a job for the wrong reasons to dressing as sexually as she could and wondering why it wasn't helping. No one that knew her would have described Emma as naïve. Those same people would have, however, been surprised at the sexually aggressive approach that she was now taking to these interviews. So far it had only served to make her rejections feel more personal, but today she had a feeling that her luck was just beginning to change. The older, grey haired man had introduced himself as Mr Ryan and he had insisted on calling her Miss Forbes. He had stood to greet her, gently Shaking her hand and letting his fingers brush across the skin of the inside of her palm for a few short moments than felt normal. Emma wondered if he could feel the slight wetness on her palms as she perspired more than normal in his presence. Then, calmly and quite deliberately the smartly dressed man let his eyes wander over Emma's body. He surveyed her smooth rolling curves and showed absolutely no shame, or hesitancy in doing so. Most men would look, most women too, it was hard for people not to, Emma understood that, but what they didn't do was just stare. Emma felt almost shameful showing herself off like this. There was something about it that was hugely out of character for her and to he surprised the unusual feeling was getting to her. Could the older man see her confusion? She didn't see how he possibly could, but it just felt as if she was transmitting her feelings somehow. Something about him, this place, this situation brought out the submissive in her that she didn't know was there. Mr Ryan made no attempt to even pretend that he was doing anything other than looking at her body. There were no sideways glances, no instances of him quickly averting his eyes from her sexual form, and there were no awkward smiles that suggested that he was at all nervous in his blatant objectification of the woman stood in front of him. He was looking over Emma's body like he might do a painting on public display in a gallery somewhere. He seemed to be a man without any thought that he should be doing anything else and when finished he even nodded in approval of what he had seen. She waited for his instruction to sit and his approval. Emma was hesitant do do, or say anything, really not knowing what to think of his behaviour. Part of her actually liked his unshakeable confidence, and in a way the way that he looked at her felt almost honest, if he had thought he was doing something wrong then surely he wouldn't have been so blatant about it. It was the natural, open way that he looked her over that had oddly put Emma at ease with the situation. This was the point of those high, high heels after all. This was why she had worn the short pleated shirt that showed off more of her rotund white thighs than it hid. This was why she had gone and bought the tailored white blouse that wore, because it hugged her beasts and looked like it might burst at any given moment. What Emma wanted and dressed for was to catch the masculine eye and that was what she had done. There was a huge gap between the theory and practice and there was a vast difference between the confidence she had hoped to feel and the anxiety that she did feel. However, complaining that the older man was looking at her with those inquisitional eyes would have seemed hypocritical. For a brief moment Emma actually thought that Mr Ryan was going to ask her to do a spin for him. Perhaps he considered it and changed his mind, in the end he offered her a seat and Emma took it. Sitting down she could feel the cold leather of the office chair against the back of her smooth pale thighs and she was reminded how little this skirt actually left to the imagination. The barrier between her and this chair was her underwear and not her skirt which had slid up behind her. She was sat a little way back from his desk and realised that her legs were on full display, with her skirt providing her only the slightest amount of modesty. She had misjudged how little the skirt covered and she squeezed her thighs together wondering what must the older man think of her. "Well Miss Forbes," He spoke with smile, his tone was smooth and his words measured. "Welcome to Capital Investment Services. I'm glad you could get here on time, I can assure you that it isn't something that happens as frequently as you might think. Being late for interviews isn't a good look." Emma could see that Mr Ryan was man that had simply had enough of doing interviews. She smiled nervously and nodded in agreement, she had never been a perfect employee in any of the jobs she had previously worked, but even she knew that turning up late for an interview was pretty much the same as not turning up at all. "Talking of good looks it is also excellent to see someone walking into this office dressed in a way that suggests that they actually want a job. I might be a little old fashioned but turning up for an interview wearing jeans is just not something I can abide by." Once more Emma nodded, blushed and then smiled. She was definitely dressed like a woman that wanted the job, she was pretty certain that she understood exactly what he was saying. It was true, it just felt so strange hearing it said out loud. "Tell me, is this how you usually dress for work? If I was to give you the job as my Personal Assistant would you start wearing trainers after a week?" This conversation was definitely not about trainers. It was was pretty clear to Emma that Mr Ryan was asking her that if she got a job at CIS would she usually be dressed like a slut. Her first instinct was to say that she would naturally never wear trainers to work, but Emma stopped herself, instead dialling the rhetoric back a little. She did actually want a job as a PA and not a prostitute. Already it felt as if her clothing gamble had backfired. "Oh I very rarely wear trainers to work," She explained with a suggestive smile. Emma actually found that she was enjoying the repartee of subtle innuendo, it felt like a game of wits between two chess players. It was however pretty clear to Emma who was winning this particular game and it wasn't her. That was hardly surprising, the good looking man opposite her had all the best pieces. "I prefer heels, Sir." Mr Ryan nodded. Apparently approving of her tone and choice of words. "That's good to hear, Miss Forbes," With a quick swish of an old fashioned black fountain pen he made some sort of a note on the paperwork in front of him, Emma imagined this to be her file. She strained to try and see what the word was, but it disappeared too quickly from view for Emma to be able to make out what it was he had written. "And what if on any given day, I decided that a certain pair of shoes would be appropriate? Maybe something special for a special meeting? The company would be willing to cover the cost of your shoes for those occasions." The metaphor continued and Emma continued to play along. Clearly he meant clothes and by special she imagined he meant revealing. Presumably very revealing if what she was wearing now just fell into the category of normal. Reluctantly Emma nodded, she could do that, it was clear her shoes were going to be thing that was going to get her the job. "I think that would be okay," She was hesitant in her reply and Emma was certain that the older man opposite picked up on that. It may have not seemed to be the case to him but this was actually very unusual for Emma, she hadn't ever considered using her body to get herself a job before and she was feeling anxious about it. Probably more anxious than she looked to the older man, largely because of the amount of time he had spent looking at her body and not her face. "As long as those meetings were not too frequent." Mr Ryan nodded but something about his expression bothered Emma. She could see that her hesitancy around wearing the shoes that he wanted her to wear had hurt her chances. She thought she knew why, he seem like the sort of man that, if he was going to employ someone entirely based on their appearance wanted a great deal of control over that appearance. The conversation then turned to slightly more mundane issues and Emma wondered if she had blown her chances with her uncommitted reply. They went over Emma's CV, line by line, and she was once again reminded of her shortcomings. Mr Ryan asked why she might want to work at CIS and she made up a story about how she wanted to work within a company with such a good reputation and strong ethics. It was a one size fits all reply that she could use in pretty much any interview anywhere and she had done too. It was a blatantly rehearsed and meaningless reply, but something about that seemed to be meet with the older man's approval. It was perhaps that she had gone to the lengths of having a reply ready that had made him smile, it was the sort of thing that seemed important to him. It perhaps showed that she actually wanted the job. Emma wasn't stupid, she could see what was being implied by Mr Ryan's apparent need to focus on the issues with her CV. If it just down to what was on the paper work in front of him then she wasn't getting the job and they both knew it. He was however offering her an opportunity, clearly if she dressed the way that he wanted and more importantly dressed the way that he wanted her too then there was a job for her. It was an almost shocking revaluation to Emma to find that she was actually okay with that, she would have thought she would have been offended by the suggestion, but wasn't. It almost felt honest, clearly he couldn't come out and say it, that would have probably got him sued on a fairly regular basis. She wasn't qualified for the job, but she was qualified in other ways. The pragmatist in her understood that. "Well I think we understand each other well enough," Mr Ryan smiled, his teeth were white and straight, and his lips had an almost enchanting symmetry to them. For a brief moment Emma thought that he was actually a good looking kind of guy. Sure he was probably in his late fifties, but he was smart, perfectly groomed, and just oozed the sort of confident that you would absolutely expect from a man with an office on the top floor of one of the biggest towers in the city. He was intelligent, well spoken and friendly, Emma could absolutely think of worse people to wear a short skirt for than the slim man opposite her. Was it really that simple? Emma asked herself if she could actually live with that sort of arrangement. She glanced around his large modern office, it like the rest of the building had a certain style to it that felt like it would be a good place to work. "I think, that unless you have something that you would like to add to your CV that may have been missed, the we are probably done here Miss Forbes." There was something about his tone that Emma still didn't like, she worried that she was still yet to convince him that she would be a good fit for him. She stalled for time, giving herself a moment to think. This was her opportunity to make sure there were no more interviews. With a well practised, delicate motion Emma brushed a loose strand of hair that wasn't actually there back behind her ear. Then, with as suggestive a smile as she could manage adjusted her black framed glasses. It was flirting at its most basic and Emma felt almost stupid thinking that it might have an effect on a man like Mr Ryan. Emma wondered for a moment if there was anything that she had to add to her CV. She couldn't think of anything obvious and besides, the older man had made it quite clear that what was in her CV was really no interest to him. With that in mind Emma realised that if she was going to do anything to enhance her chances of getting the job she was going to have to do something related to what Mr Ryan had repeatedly called her shoes. She considered that she probably wasn't the first woman to sit in this office today and try to convince Mr Ryan that they were right woman for the job by wearing a short skirt. How far would they have gone? It wasn't hard to imagine that if she was to climb under that desk now, crawl to him on her hands and knees then pull out his cock that it would already have at least two shades of pink lipstick on it. She was tempted to get down on all fours anyway, the idea of going down on him was not a horrible one at all and the whole interview had left her feeling flustered and aroused. Emma wondered if she would do it if he ordered her to. There was something about the man's aura that made her think that she might. It was out of character for her, but the whole interview had been, she had never met a man quite like him before. However, Mr Ryan looked like a man that had no shortage of young women lining up to do him favours. In her experience Emma had found that money was a great lubricant for getting women's panties off and this guy had plenty of it. Giving him a blow job wouldn't set her out from anyone else, she could see that. No, he was a smart guy and if she was going to get the job then she would have to do something creative enough to capture his imagination. Emma already knew the answer, she knew what she had to do to catch the man's imagination and to ensure she got the job, she just wasn't sure if she could bring herself to do it. Emma put a fake smile on her face which she hoped would mask her nerves and then she swallowed hard, was that her pride? Possibly. If Emma was going to do this right then she knew she couldn't look anxious or uncertain. She couldn't stop half way through and she couldn't do it with anything other than total commitment. If Emma was going to do it right then she had to do it with a smooth sexuality that caused for her image to be burnt into his brain. When he looked back through those CV's Emma wanted hers to be the only name he saw. When he remembered the faces of the women that had sat in this chair today she wanted it to be her face that he saw, every single time. When he lay in bed tonight and thought about those girls that had gone down on him she wanted him to wish it had been her. She wanted to be able to smile at him as she walked out of his office knowing that she had turned his dick rock hard. Emma stood up from her chair and took several steps away from Mr Ryan's desk, seductively letting her hips sway ever so slightly as she walked. She felt like a lamb pretending to be a lion and doubted her ability to pull it off. Then, with her back towards the grey haired man she parted her feet about a foot and slowly began to bend over. She kept her legs as straight as she possibly could and placing her hands on the back of her legs ran them slowly down her smooth thighs and then her calves. Emma didn't know if it was turning him on, but she was, she could smell her own sexual musk in the air and she knew that he could smell it too. She held that pose for a second, pretending to be wiping a scuff off of her black polished shoes. She doubted it was fooling anyone into thinking she didn't know what she was doing but the more natural it seemed the sexier it would be. Emma knew that with her big high heels on that she would be putting everything on display for her potential employer. She knew that only thing that was keeping her ass and pussy hidden from the man would be her white cotton panties. In that moment Emma wished that she had chosen to wear something a little more sexy, black lace perhaps, a thong would have been nice, or perhaps no underwear at all. It was that thought that pushed her over the edge. Suddenly, Emma was over come by the urge to do something truly drastic. It wasn't even about getting a job any more, that had been the point of flashing him, but this? This was about only one thing, turning him on. Emma wanted for him to feel as aroused by this as she was. Emma closed her eyes, lifted her hands back to her waist, reach under her skirt and then hooked her fingers into the elastic waist of her underwear. Then, questioning her own sanity and wondering why she had apparently lost the ability to think, pulled them down her smooth long legs. Anxiety pushed back but Emma continued to push forwards. She wanted to get it over with but Emma fought the urge to act quickly, instead doing it as slowly, as carefully, and as thoughtfully as she could. She could only hope that in the process she was giving off the kind of sexual, sensual vibe that she was aiming for. The alternative was that she just looked ridiculous, Mr Ryan began to laugh and hopefully the ground opened up to swallow her whole. A cool breeze drifted over to her, touched her wet nakedness and she wondered how she must look to the man behind her. She wondered if he could see the glistening wetness that no doubt clung to her labia, were his eyes fixed only on her most intimate of places or did they drift over her the curve of her calves, did they wander over the roundness of her thighs. Did they venture to the firmness of her ass? She had no way of knowing. Emma managed to step out of her underwear without falling over, and trying to maintain eye contact with Mr Ryan she walked back to his desk. She tried to look cool, calm and collected as she leaned forward, displaying her ample breasts but her heart was pounding to a new, rapid beat. Her hands trembled and she was sure her face must have been red, flustered as she was. In what was her concluding act to her interview Emma used a long painted nail to pry open the green file on the older man's desk. Full of nervous energy, and struggling hard to not shake placed her underwear inside, and then flipped it shut. As Emma opened her mouth to speak she was genuinely relieved to hear actual words leave her pink, glossy lips. "I thought my CV might look better with these in them." She whispered the words suggestively in the man's ear. She was done, it was the last roll of the die and if that didn't get her the job then nothing would. She walked out of his office playfully flashing him her ass one more time.