I continued to watch carefully his eyes, face, and hands for any slight indication of for me to react to. "Yes, Sir, if you wish."

There it was. The first two fingers of his right hand separating into a 'V'. Time for the slouch. I leaned back in the chair and raised my knees over the arms of the chair, fully exposing my smooth, hairless, leaking pússy to his view. He gazed at my pússy for several moments, his eyes moving and holding at my breasts and nipples before finally rising to my face.

"We agreed that you could stop this at any time you wished without hard feelings. I would make sure there was a job inside the company if you desired to stay with us. It would be the same as it was for Trudy a little over a year ago." I smiled.

Yes, Trudy may have stopped being his mistress, but she never REALLY stopped.

I flexed my Kegel muscles to make my pússy wink at him. He caught the movement and smiled. "Sir, I can't imagine why I would desire to leave this position with you. You have provided me with a position that is the fulfillment of who I am. Before I accepted this position and your patient training, I was an empty shell. You have filled me with the understanding of what and who I am." My eyes glanced down for a split second. "Sir ... I hope you are not leading up to indicating your displeasure with me ..."

He laughed. It was not a soft chuckle, but a boisterous laugh. "Silly, slut! Displeased with you? It is a good response, however, a true slut's response wouldn't you say?"

I recited the mantra of my training, "Sir, a true slut never assumes anything, but only seeks to improve her devotion and skills constantly, never expecting to completely attain her master's full pleasure." He smiled.

A full year since that day. I couldn't believe it. It seemed like only moments ago that I was sitting in this same chair about to change my life.

I SAT at my desk on the 2nd floor of the building minding the business someone put in front of me. I was a lowly account specialist handling the mundane accounts that are a dime a dozen to an institution like ours but the livelihood of the people who bring them to us.

I had been with the firm for five years and the only reason I could see why I hadn't risen any further in the organization was that I wasn't cutthroat and scheming like most the other account managers, which appeared to be the way to get noticed. I was invisible in the organization. Necessary. Needed, even. But, invisible.

Imagine my shock, then, when my monitor chimed that I was scheduled for a meeting with Mr. Woodburn, the CEO, in 15 minutes. Imagine the worst-case scenarios that raced through my mind because there couldn't possibly be a good case scenario. I didn't really believe even my manager's manager knew who I was. Why Mr. Woodburn?

"Tina James?" I looked up to the voice standing at the opening to my cubicle. "I'm Trudy Michaels, Mr. Woodburn's Personal Assistant. You are aware of your scheduled meeting with Mr. Woodburn?"

I numbly nodded my head and gazed at her like a deer in the headlight we would see on the quiet country road back home. She was maybe not quite 30 years old, about a year younger than me. She was trim and maybe a couple inches taller making her 5' 7". She wore her brown hair to her shoulders. She had a very pleasant face.

"What ... is there some mistake? There must be some mistake. Why would Mr. Woodburn want to see me?"

She smiled warmly, which was a little reassuring. "There is no mistake, Miss James. I made the schedule myself at his direction." I just looked at her. "Miss James, I need to escort you upstairs. The 11th floor is restricted to limited access."

I shook my head and leaped from my chair. "Of course, sorry."

At the elevator, I noticed she used a different badge to punch the eleven button, then using it again to enter the office area. She indicated a chair by her desk.

"It may or may not be a few minutes. I assure you he is aware of the time and your meeting with him. He will let me know when he is available." She said it in such a way that it didn't allow any room for discussion, but her soft smile was again reassuring.

Her phone buzzed. She listened a moment, set the phone back down, and stood up. "Mr. Woodburn is ready for you now."

She showed me into the office, which was huge, lots of wood, plush carpeting, a small conference table, and sitting area to the side by the windows overlooking the city.

"Miss James." He was already moving from behind his desk to meet me. I heard the door close behind me. He was in his early 40's and maybe an inch over six feet tall. He had a toned, athletic appearance, which was reinforced by the easy way he moved across the office. He was quite attractive, more so in person than the impression I had from his picture on the website. His hair was brown with graying at the temples. It was a little longer than you normally see on executives of his stature.

He directed me to one of the two chairs in front of his desk and he returned behind it.

"I think there might be some mistake. Perhaps there is another James in the company?"

He opened a folder in front of him. I couldn't see what it contained, but there were several pages. He perused the first two pages.

"Well, let's see here ... Tina Marie James, Accounts Specialist on the 2nd floor under Mary Robertson. You are age 30, 5'5" tall, 120 pounds," he looked up with a smile, "sorry my dear for the personal information. I have been told how sensitive women can be about their weight." He chuckled and I laughed with him. He continued, "Long, wavy, blond hair extending down the back." He nodded. "Okay, the oldest child of three to Harold and Agnes James who are farmers near Lamont, Iowa." He looked up, "Lamont, Iowa?"