The Jones Account - Sex Stories

The Jones Account

... an old world European feel. A grand bookcase was in the corner, covered in books and various objects d’art. Besides the chairs in front of the desk, there was a black leather couch on the opposite wall from the private washroom designed to look like a hidden panel. “Sorry about that.” Kristina practically snapped to attention, her eyes staring wildly at the sound of Mr. Blackwell’s voice. “A former colleague of mine. I can’t ever seem to have a short conversation with him.” “Quite alright sir,” she managed to eke out. Her throat felt dry all of a sudden. Mr. Blackwell stood up from his chair, picked up a folder and put on his reading glasses. Oddly, she noticed that he kept them perched on the end of his nose to read. He started to walk around the desk, all the while intent on whatever he was reading. “I’ve been reviewing your file. Interesting... Your supervisors have been very complimentary of your work.” Kristina began to beam with pride, her confidence building at the compliment. “They have noted… however… that you aren’t as aggressive as your colleagues in pursuing new accounts,” he continued. Kristina’s felt like she’d be socked in the stomach, her self-assurance fleeting. It was one of her weaknesses, not being aggressive enough, and she knew it. It was something she had to work on constantly, struggle with, but there it was in black and white for her boss to read. “But…” his voice trailed off, leaving her a bit of hope in his coming statement. “I have noticed that ...

... your clients are more satisfied. It seems that you do everything in your power to make them happy. Retention is just as important as new business.” She exhaled in relief, physically relaxing for a moment and praying he didn’t notice. All at once, she began to feel a heavy presence behind her. He’d moved directly behind her chair without her noticing. He reached over her shoulder to put the file and his glasses on the desk. His arm came so close it caused her hair to brush against her face and make her nerve endings tingle. He then brought his hand back and placed both firmly on her shoulders. Her heart quickened at his touch, and suddenly the room became uncomfortably warm. He bent down and whispered in her ear, “You like to please people, don’t you Kristina?” The heat from his breath made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She clenched her hands together, unable to form a coherent thought in her head. “I want you to do something for me, something that will make me very happy.” He paused again, leaving her to wonder what it is he could possibly want. “Stand up.” His monotone voice was disturbingly flat and even. It took a moment to register what he’d said. Her thoughts seemed scattered. Mindlessly she stood up like a robot and turned to face him. “Good. Now take your clothes off,” he said matter-of-factly as if commenting on the weather. There was no hint of a joke nor was it harsh. Kristina just stood there seemingly powerless as she stared doe-eyed at Mr. Blackwell. ...