Temp

Temp work sucks

He said he could get me a temp job at his office as a clerk but forewarned me it was an underpaid secretarial position created just for men willing to apply into a similar job.  He told me it was an incredibly sexist company and that the chances of me getting promotions or raises was limited.  That all such perks went to the women.  He strongly suggested I try for a similar job elsewhere for my own mental health, but as a successful man he just couldn’t realize how difficult it was to get any type of job.  Times were hard and I took it. 

If anything, he undersold just how bad this temp experience was.  The executives I had to work for were constantly teasing me about taking a woman’s job, and they didn’t bother hiding the insults.  Sissy, fag, pansy boy.  I was called all those and more in the first week.  And the ladies in the secretarial pool weren’t any better.  They saw me as weak and out of place and were pissed that I was taking a space that one of their friends could easily occupy. 

After a couple weeks of hell he told me that he had a temporary solution if I insisted staying in this job.  It could get me those raises and promotions and might even make my time with the girls go smoother.  I agreed without even hearing what his idea was.  He took command of the situation like any executive would and started ordering me around.  I scheduled an appointment at the salon for a new style.  I hired a personal shopper with his AmEx Black card to get me proper office attire.  I requested a week off for personal reasons that he immediately approved.  He even had me get appointments for a personal stylist to come help me every night. 

That week off work was… strange.  I balked once I realized what he had in mind, but relented when he told me it was the only way and that it would be temporary and give me the skills to get a better job elsewhere.  After having my ponytail cut off and the remaining hair styled… after shopping for skirts and panties and blouses and bras with fit in falsies… after being taught how to apply makeup and keep my body without hair and comb out my new hairstyle… after learning how to walk in heels and put on stockings and talk in a soft husky voice… after a week off I was surprised and startled to realize that I was completely passable as a woman. 

I was so nervous that first day back, but he had thought of everything.  I immediately heard the gossip of the pansy whose job I was taking over.  I couldn’t even try to defend myself since I was now known by my enfemme name and had no relationship or history of knowing my former masculine self.  The girls took to me quickly, chatting me up about my personal life and how I knew the executive that got me the job.  I blurted out the first thing that came to mind and blushed 17 shades of red when I heard my own sultry whisper say he was my boyfriend.  The executives were far more accommodating, but they also were a lot more willing to enter into my personal space.  Their arms found quick ways to wrap around my corseted waist and guide me to where I needed to be.  Their hands were experts at brushing and caressing and even outright pinching my ass in it’s tight pencil skirt.  And I swear, each time I’d blush and get all out of sorts they’d just grin and get even more touchy. 

He wasn’t happy to hear the rumor that he’d hired his girlfriend but agreed that it would work as an excuse.  I was even less happy when I heard that he’d help me play it up… it seems he has a history of hiring former flings and then being a little more amorous with them at the office.  So to pull this off he would help by kissing and caressing me every chance he got.  When I tried to back out of ‘practicing’ with him he reminded me that this was my doing and that he wasn’t going to get a bad reputation because his ‘girlfriend’ didn’t look pleased at being kissed.  I spent the night in his lap, his strong arms around me as we watched television.  And every commercial break, we’d turn to each other and kiss.  And kiss.  And kiss.  And kiss.  I don’t think I’ve ever kissed the same person that many times as my few girlfriends were always a little shy about showing affection.  I oddly enough wanted to be one of those girls but was encouraged to show my pleasure at his advances and even initiate some of the kissing and necking.

The practicing worked.  No one suspected we were a couple at the office when they saw us kiss in the reception area.  Or at the watercooler.  Or in his office.  I was afraid that my fellow secretaries would notice something amiss, but if anything, they were supportive.  They suggested some exercise programs that would help me get a better body.  They suggested some different makeup and even a different salon to use.  They suggested some skin and facial creams to help my skin glow.  They suggested I go tanning with them.  They even invited me to a girls night out on the weekend.  I accepted the suggestions I could ignore and begged off the ones I couldn’t.  But then he found out. 

He insisted that I fit in.  That some of the girls in the secretarial pool were his old flames and that they’d quickly suspect a girl that wasn’t trying to be her best for him, even if I was just a temp.  So after our evening make out session he had me call them up and take all the offers.  The yoga class at first was surprisingly relaxing and took my attention away from what it took to be in disguise.  Pulling my cock back wasn’t enough so I had to wear an extra tight pair of panties to hold it back up, and the tight shape enhancing yoga pants made it so that I could barely feel anything ‘down there’.  At some point, however, I started to notice I was surrounded by beautiful sexy women all dressed in clothes that showed off their beautiful curves.  It didn’t matter that I could see myself in the mirror and only saw another woman… it aroused me.  I couldn’t help it and the panties were no match for my cock so I had to quickly and quite embarrassingly excuse myself before they all found my secret tenting out my lycra and nylon outfit. 

Living it was bad, but somehow it was worse when I had to explain it to him during out kissing night.  He just laughed at the predicament and told me to figure out a way to explain it to the girls or it would look strange.  Fate took care of that for me though as the girls all explained that they’d had trouble at ‘that time of the month’ before.  The relief at not having to think up an excuse was short lived though as one girl told me to see her ob-gyn to get on the pill she used… that it would help make those times a little smoother.  I took the prescription and thanked her but later cursed her when my boyfriend, as he insists I call him at the office, decided that I should not only get the prescription filled but start taking them.  He supposed that taking the pills would help remind me when ‘my time of the month’ was so that I could fake it better.  I tried to argue that taking real hormones would have a real affect on me, but he just swatted my ass and told me to do it or they’d all find out. 

I think it was the spank that took me over the edge.  I’d seen girls treated like that at the office and had even had a playful spank myself a few times.  But there was absolutely no reason to take that at home.  I reasoned that this was a good job and later when I could put a years’ worth of experience on my resume… he’d told me he’d fake the HR records… that it would all be worth it.  But if that was going to happen, I’d need to set up some boundaries at home.  No spanking.  No dressing up or kissing for him anymore.  And absolutely no birth control pills.  When I went into his home office and started talking, he tried to dismiss me like he would at the office.  He grew a little angry when I reminded him that he wasn’t talking to some ditzy blonde at the office and was instead talking to his friend who just needed a temp job.  His male friend who needed a temp job.  It probably didn’t help that I was wearing my thick comfortable pink bathrobe with my hair up in a towel, but damn it he knew what I was talking about. 

At first, I thought we were going to have a normal, if somewhat heated, discussion.  But he just kept getting angrier and angrier.  He insisted that for this to work I not only had to play the role he’d made for me at the office, but I’d have to play it here at home.  Full Time.  Morning, Noon, and Night.  I insisted that I was getting good enough to fool both the girls and the executives at the office and that I should be able to relax.  And more than that, that I shouldn’t do anything that would permanently change me like birth control pills would do.  We went back and forth, getting ruder and ruder with our commentary until we were finally throwing outright insults at each other.  He reminded me of the first week I was there by calling me a sissy and pansy, and that’s when I reminded him that he was the one enjoying kissing a man every night. 

That was the wrong thing to say. 

His brow clouded over like a storm front and I knew that I’d crossed a line.  I knew his masculinity was very important to him and that any hint of an insult toward it would enrage him.  I started to stammer out an apology but quicker than I thought it possible for him to move he was up and around his desk.  I think I got a fairly feminine ‘eep’ out as he took my wrist and dragged me over his lap as he sat down.  When his hand came down on my upturned ass I was shocked at just how much it hurt.  He wasn’t holding back anything and my fluffy robe felt like it wasn’t even there.  I tried to escape but in this position I didn’t stand a chance.  He quickly had my wrists held up together at my shoulder blades with one of his meaty hands while his other ham hock continued my spanking.  I tried to at least hold back the tears as my humiliation grew and engulfed my entire being, but evidently he wanted more evidence of me learning my lesson.  When he flipped up my robe, pulled down my panties, and continued the sounds of flesh on flesh spanking filled the room.  Until they were joined by my sobs.  Then my begging.  Then my cries.  Then my wails. 

When he figured I’d had enough he picked me up as though I weighed only a couple pounds and carried me into his bedroom.  Even with the pain from my reddened ass and the abject embarrassment running through me I was reminded of the way a new husband would carry his bride over the threshold.  He laid me on the bed face down and told me not to move.    I’m not sure I could have moved all that much even if I’d wanted to, but I certainly wasn’t going to try after the example he’d just given me. When he returned, he pulled my robe up again and applied a cooling balm to my ass.

He left my ass bare as he climbed under the covers with me and told me to try and lie still and get some sleep.  I desperately wanted to be anywhere else other than lying in a bed, half naked, next to a man who was insisting I look and act like a woman all the time.  Next to a man who had just given me a spanking for wanting to argue about my desire to not be a woman all the time.  But there was no doubt in my mind about where I was going to sleep.  The spanking might have been painful, emasculating, and humiliating… but it was also effective.  Don’t.  Question.  Him. 

When my eyes slowly opened, I was surprisingly warm.  I thought I’d be cold sleeping with a bare ass all night, but it almost felt as though the mattress was warmed.  My eyes slowly focused and even though I knew what I was seeing, I couldn’t quite figure out why I was seeing it.  Many times, in my life, I’ve looked down my body at my morning hardon staring back up at me.  Of course my morning wood wasn’t ever that big, and my belly was never that firm and fit and when I looked down like that I was on my back, not on my side with someone’s arm around me…..  the realization of my position was terrifying.  I was lying on my side, my head resting on his chest with his arm holding me close.  I wasn’t’ looking down at my body, I was looking at his.  I was looking right at his hard cock. 

Lesson learned or not my whole body stiffened as I tried to shrug off his heavy arm, but instead of getting away I felt him flex and pull me closer.  His sleep slurred mumble came down from above and I couldn’t quite tell if he was asleep or awake. His hand lazily caressed up my smooth hairless belly until it found my hand.  As he took it and gave it a squeeze my still stinging ass reminded me to do as he wants.  I let him guide my hand down, giving out only a shuddered breath as he wrapped my seemingly dainty fingers around his cock. 

I imagine it was my shaking hand, full of his manhood, that brought him fully out of his slumber.  As he slid out of my grasp and from under my head, leaving me to lie close to tears surrounded by his scent, he chuckled and told me to get up and get him some coffee.  My heart sped up even more when he walked into the bathroom and told me that if I really wanted to feel his cock more intimately, I could join him in the shower instead.  Not wanting to give him any ideas of my desire to continue his sleep muddled activities I jumped out of bed and got the coffee going.

Compared to how the morning started, the day was normal.  But that’s saying a lot as he called up about the prescription for birth control pills and explained what he wanted.  My heart must have dropped into my stomach as I sat nearby and listened to him order me up both female hormones and male hormone blockers.   I was told that I would take the pills and shots as ordered and if he suspected anything different, he’d give them to me himself.  Later that day, after I called into the office and told the giggling secretary that neither I nor my boyfriend would be into work today, he talked to me and told me how things would progress.  Blaming me fully for putting us both in this situation he made it clear that I was to become as feminine as possible.  That he wouldn’t risk his job nor his reputation on me slipping up in my temp position.  He had some new clothing equipment coming in that I would wear any time that I had any clothing on and that it would help keep my ‘unsightly bulge’ hidden away.  He told me that he expected me to get to know the secretaries better and accept them as friends, and that if I couldn’t gain their confidence that I was to share intimate details of us having sex. 

That week, when I hesitated to long, he picked out my new friend.  She was a ditzy blonde in every way, but somehow found it endearing that my boyfriend made sure to tell her that I was shy but wanted to be better friends.  She took me under her wing and started telling me everything.  And I mean everything…. She told me how she was dating another executive.  She told me how to better style my hair.  She told me her ticks to losing weight.  She told me how her boyfriend liked it when she gave him a blowjob in the office.  She told me her morning routine of clearing and applying 5 different hard to get lotions.  She told me how to slim down my waist so that I’d fit into better looking skirts.  She told me about her plastic surgeon and how good he was at breast enhancement.  She told me that she was so excited to know me because she’d never had a little sister. 

Each night I had to share with my boyfriend what me and my best friend had talked about.  When I told him about the hair styling he had a whole vanity put into my bedroom specifically so that I could practice my hair styling.  When I told him about her tricks to losing weight my diet changed to only salads and 2 pieces of chicken a week.  When I told him about her boyfriend’s sexual likes, he had me share that he liked the same thing… and that I really liked doing that for him.  When I told him about the lotions I found the same lotions on the doorstep the next day, overnighted from Paris.  When I told him about the waist slimming he ordered the corsets and had me in them every day.  When I told him about the plastic surgeon he took down the information and said he’d take care of that later.  And when I told him about her excitement at me being her little sister, he chuckled and said he was happy that he’d given me a BFF. 

As the weeks rolled into months my body became more and more feminine.  The hormones were certainly doing their job as we both noticed it in my emotional instability and my very own small pair of breasts.  I could tell that he was appreciative of the body shaping corsets, my widening hips, my curvier and plumper ass, and my plumper lips during our kissing sessions.  I could tell because I felt him getting hard underneath me.  My new shape made it difficult to find a stable sitting position, especially in his lap, so I found myself wiggling about which of course only seemed to encourage his hardness.  When he finally broke down and asked why I was teasing him so much I tried to explain what was going on, but his glare at my answer only made me break down in tears.  He tried to make it better by setting me beside him where we could still kiss, but as he pulled out his cock and tried to wrap my hand around it, my tears became more intense and I pulled away.

Another spanking followed.   Another application of the cooling balm.  Another night in his bed.  Another morning wrapped up with my head on his chest and a new reminder to not take my hand away from his manhood.  This time there was no doubt of his wakefulness as he kissed the top of my head and verbally encouraged me to please him.  I was strong enough this time to not cry, at least not until he came and shot his hot sticky cum all over his belly, his chest…. and my face. My tears didn’t stop him from rubbing his cum into my skin and guiding it to my quivering lips saying that he’d read somewhere that girls love this and that it helps their skin.  The lessons learned that morning were tested that very night as I sat next to him, his cock in my hand, my lips pressed against his.  At least this time it didn’t hit my face, but I was still to pick it up and rub it into my skin.  I was still bade to lick all of it from my fingers and swallow it down.  That’s how my kissing nights turned into my hand job nights. 

It’s funny how soon things can become normal.  At the office I doubt that anybody would guess what was going on behind my eyes.  All they could see was a nail polishing, bubble gum popping, sexy, happy to serve temporary secretary.  I’d of course been assigned to my boyfriend by this time so whenever there was any doubt from within me it was easily quashed by seeing my strong executive boyfriend come striding out of his office in all his masculine glory. 

There actually turned out to be no fight over the breasts.  I think he expected me to have another one of my ‘girly fits’ as he called my arguments, but I immediately agreed to meet the plastic surgeon.  I never told him that it was because my new sensitive nipples were hurting every day with the breast forms over them and that while the thought of having breasts was bad, the thought of having the breasts I already possessed made bigger wasn’t’ nearly the same issue.  The only problem was when I woke up and was informed that my new D cup breasts had to stay under wraps for a few weeks.  The tears weren’t from having to wait to see my new body, they were from expecting to see the B cups we’d agreed to before the surgery. 

Once my breasts were healed, he started to take me out.  If I had to guess, it’s because he now thought of me as completely feminine.  And of course, he would.  With my clothes and makeup on, with my hair styled and a wide toothy smile on my face I was the picture of femininity.  The hormones and lotions had made my skin touchably smooth everywhere.  Every night for almost a year we’d been making out and for the past three months I’d been giving him a hand job and licking up his cum like a well trained whore.  It was only my nude form that had needed changing.  Those tiny gaffs he’d given me had kept my penis hidden away… there was really no reason to ever call it a cock again, not when I’d had my hand on a real cock so often.  They were tiny enough to hide under almost all of my panties, and I knew not to wear the skimpier ones around him as it would just remind him why the gaff was there.  Under clothes my breast forms had looked fine, but naked they were small and less than pleasing to him.  But now?  Now his fantasy woman was complete.  At least complete enough to go out and be on his arm. 

As he took me out to romantic dinners, to the theater, to the newest clubs, out with other powerful executives, and even once to a strip club with some clients, I’m not sure if he knew I was still under this arousingly feminine visage.  Since that last spanking he never talked about it.  And while we continued to neck every night followed by a hand job, he stopped trying to ‘improve’ my role.  I was afraid to bring it up to him as the spankings were beyond terrible, but I had to talk about it with someone.  So I took what was my only option and talked to my BFF.  I took her out to drinks one day after work and started to bite around the edges.  I tried to talk about how my boyfriend was always so interested in helping me be as feminine as I wanted to… I was laying it on really thick… but that he’d seemingly lost interest.  She kept going into the wrong kinds of advice and as the drinks kept coming, I kept trying to get her to the point I wanted without spelling it out.  Finally, on the seventh Moscow mule I slipped and started telling her everything.  I even vaguely remember telling her how I was ‘that guy’ that tried to get a job as a clerk. 

I don’t remember how the night ended specifically.  But I woke up in bed with a hell of a hangover, my head on my boyfriend’s chest, his arm holding me close, and his hand guiding mine to his thick throbbing cock.  I could feel that his cock was slick under my hand, as if he’d already cum, but when his hand touched the back of my head and started pushing me closer, I completely forgot about that little detail.  I stiffened my neck just a bit before his growling whispered voice telling me that it was time to learn to use my lips for something else made me accept the inevitable.  Relaxed, the journey wasn’t far and soon my lips were pressed up in an intimate kiss with his intimate staff.  A small part of me had hoped that maybe he would take this slow, but my lips were barely in contact with the head of his cock long enough to warrant being called a kiss before they separated and took him inside my mouth.  More and more of him kept sliding through, my jaw opening wider and wider.  Just as I thought I couldn’t take any more and shed a tear, it all came together.  My BFF walking naked out of the bathroom with a big smile on her face. 

While my boyfriend gripped my hair and started guiding me up and down in my first blowjob, he started talking with my BFF.  He said cockily how this should more than prove how she was wrong about what I said the night before, that obviously I loved him, and he loved me and that we were as close as any couple possibly could be.  She seemed relieved as she lied down next to him, her hand casually caressing my cock filled cheek, and stated giggling and saying how she must have just had too much to drink, that obviously I never could have been a man.  I felt her move on the bed as they began to kiss and make out.  Through my swallowing and sucking and sobbing I heard her thank me for letting my boyfriend fuck her.  And while my eyes followed her covering her glowing nakedness with her sexy lacy panties and bra and the work clothes she was wearing last night I realized that my firsts weren’t even over in the realm of giving my boyfriend a blow job.  That cloying taste that was a bit of wonderful overlaying the far more musky masculine flavor must be her. 

Next time my lips parted for his cock, I’d surely only be tasting only him.  As much as I’d love to dream that this would be my only act of fellatio, I knew that was just a fantasy and it would go away as fast as my own masculinity did. 

Kissing and Hand job nights quickly became kissing and blow job nights.  Each time I went down on him, he’d remind me that he had tried to go easy on me.  That while he knew he’d love my oral attentions, he had internally vowed to go easy on me.  If I hadn’t opened my mouth up to my BFF, he’d have kept the pace of things as they were.  But now that I’d voice my concerns, he was going to resolve is own concerns.  It seems that deep down he was worried about his reputation because he’d never been with a girl as long as he was with me without someone either sharing in her sexual gifts or at least catching him experiencing those same gifts.  Now he was going to make sure I was ready for either of those situations, and since he couldn’t share what was under my panties, he wanted me to be very VERY good at giving head. 

Tip by tip, he helped me learn.  As soon as I showed a knack for any particular technique, he’d move on and teach me another.  He taught me to wrap my lips tightly around his shaft.  He taught me to open my teeth up and just barely scrape his flesh with them.  He taught me how to take him into my throat, and even hold him there until I was afraid I’d pass out.  He taught me to use my hands on his shaft and on his balls.  He taught me how to suck his balls into my mouth while I jacked his shaft with one hand.  He taught me between his knees.  He taught me laying down while he pile-drived into me.  He taught me to lie on my back while he fed me all eight inches of himself.  He taught me how to moan and groan and hum.  In short, he made me a cock sucking pro. 

Once I was ready, he moved these lessons into his office, the door always unlocked.  It surprisingly took four days before one of his junior executives came in to find me kneeling under my boyfriend’s glass desk.  I swear, even though I know it wasn’t there, I could still feel my boyfriend’s hand on the back of my head, guiding me up and down in as sexy a way as possible while he talked cockily to his subordinate.  After that example the gossip spread quickly.  The guys all looked a little more directly at me.  The girls all shook their head at me, whispering ‘slut’ behind my back where they’d know I’d hear it. 

Once again, life fell into a lull.  A lull filled with me sucking my boyfriend off twice daily, but a lull none the less.  Summer turned into autumn and my boyfriend was starting let his eyes wander more and more, and on more than one occasion I tasted another woman on his cock as I sucked him.  My hopes started to slowly rise.  Maybe my life would change around the holidays.  Maybe my boyfriend would dump me and let me go.  Maybe… just maybe… I could finally get away and get my life back together.  But at the firm’s thanksgiving party the managing partner talked quite a bit with my boyfriend privately.  Both of them looked over at me several times and I knew I was somehow involved in their discussion.  Later that night my boyfriend seemed particularly attentive.  He pulled out my chair for me, he poured me my wine, he took me out to dance and made sure the DJ played my favorite song.  By the time we got home I was approaching happiness.  Or at least as close to true happiness as I could be.  I was even ready to show my appreciation with my oral talents before he stopped me and told me we’d have to talk. 

As he held me close, he explained what he and the managing partner were talking about.  It seems that they’ve been impressed with him. Both his work and the fact that he seemed to be settling down his wilder ways.  They were particularly impressed with me and believed we made a very good couple.  They were impressed enough that they were going to offer my boyfriend a partnership.  His name would go on the letterhead, he’d get a corner office on the top floor and executives like him would be reporting to him.  But that was all contingent on one thing.  Him settling down the rest of the way and getting married. 

It took me several moments to grasp what he was talking about.  They weren’t talking about him getting married to just anybody… they were talking about me becoming his bride.  I sat very still waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Waiting for him to tell me that now that he knew it was possible, he’d let me go and find the woman of his dreams.  Or that he laughed them off and told them that we were breaking up.  Or that he just outright refused because there was no possibility we could be married.  But no shoe dropped.  He just nodded as the realization must have become obvious on my face.  As my head shook ‘no’ he answered ‘yes’. 

This time there was no argument.  There was no fight.  There was no spanking and no balm.  There was no waking up in my boyfriends’ arms.  There was me simply losing focus and falling forward into his lap, seeing the vial of rohypnol on the table. 

When I woke up, it was the breast surgery all over again.  I was in the private hospital bed with the nurses fussing over me.  The bandages this time weren’t around my chest and instead wove between my legs.  They didn’t have to tell me what my fiancé had done as I could feel the first part… the ring on my left ring finger… and I couldn’t feel the other part.   Thankfully they took my tears as joyful ones.  After a few days recovering in the hospital I was moved home with a private nurse.  The nurse was paid double her normal wage to make sure that not only did my healing proceed along on pace, but that I wouldn’t forget any of my lessons.  Even in my weakened state I probably could have put up a fight, but a part of me was gone and I knew that the fight wasn’t worth the reward.  So, each night my nurse would change my bandages, feed me my meal, and then bring in my man for the night.  I never asked her where she found them, but they were all clean, polite, and gentle as I gave them their blow jobs. 

Both my fiancé and me cheated on each other the very day of our wedding, but can it be called cheating if it was planned.  While my husband enjoyed the harem provided by my BFF maid of honor and brides maids, I was kneeling and blowing his best man and all of the groomsmen.  And while all the men got to see me in all my nude glory, none of them got to take my virginity.  They just all could forever vouch for the realism of my pussy. 

Our honeymoon was quick, just a weekend in New York, before we returned to my husband’s new office.  I know he’s fucking his secretary, and she’s gorgeous, but there’s still a temporary show to put on.  It has to be known that I’m okay with my husband’s infidelity, so at least once a month I go into his office and let him take me there.  Sometimes the secretary joins us, sometimes it’s one of the partners.  But with my wide smile and sensual moaning no one doubts that I love my husband and that we have an open marriage.  There is no more looking forward to the temporary position to be over. 

The temporary part, it seems, was my masculinity. 

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source:  Eroticism in B&W


It's odd that this image inspired such a long story.  It's just under 6000 words!  I think some of that may have been the hurky jurky motion this obsucra took.  You see, I started this thanksgiving weekend, but wasn't done with it.  I've worked on it a little bit most days, but I've barely had 20 minutes to scratch together for so long that...well, I couldn't finish it.

The pic should be obvious why it attracted me as you all know I'm all gaga over an office transformation.  But something odd hit in between.  I have a link to the right for Satin Minions.  It's an artist that makes very sexy drawings and even some long form comics.  Well the past few days he's been posting something called entry level positions and it's a comic that has a guy applying for a job get transformed into a sexy secretary looking woman in the elevator and then... well, I'll let you read it.  Right now the comic isn't all published, but it was good enough and so far right up my alley that I became a patron just to read it all in one swipe.  And it's totally worth it!

So, if this story got to you because it involved being a secretary or you share my secretarial desires, just head on over there and read Entry Level Position.  You won't regret it in the least!