Personal Assistant.4

Living up to the title of this blog, I tell you what. This thing almost has a trajectory.

My boss still touched me too much. We were working a lot—I had notes and files and emails to prove that my presence wasn’t completely unnecessary—but he’d massage my shoulders or the back of my neck while he looked over my notes. Even at dinner, when his wife and two children were there, Mr. Baker would touch my foot with his or rest his hand on my thigh under the table. His hand went to the small of my back whenever he passed behind me in the kitchen.

It wasn't as though we went entirely unnoticed. "Ken just follows you around everywhere," I overheard Regina tell Mr. Baker when they were relaxing in the living room. She sounded amused. "He's like a puppy."

Personal Assistant.3

 Still not exactly sure where this is going, but here's more one it.

"We're heading to the lake next weekend," Stuart told me not long after, "my family and I. I want you to come along."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I replied honestly, giving a quick smile to my coworkers passing the open door.

He clapped me on the shoulder, but as usual let it rest a little too long. “It’ll be a working trip,” he offered. “You’ll get time and a half.”

I marked myself as out of office. After all, what could he do with four children and a wife running amok?

***

Like a family in a black-and-white film, the Baker clan waited for us on the steps of the lake house. Some of the clan, I corrected myself. The children I had met at the chili cookoff weren’t there.

Stuart kissed his wife before turning to me.

"You've met Regina," he said, squeezing her waist, "and this is my oldest boy, Graham. Graham is going to be a junior this year."

Personal Assistant.2

Read part 1 here

From the way he waited for me to make the first real move, I reckoned he’d had affairs with employees in the past. In fact, he stayed mostly still while I unbuckled his trousers and slid the zipper down, and merely held onto the edge of his desk when I fished inside of his tight briefs. His cock was nice, about seven inches and cut with a flared head. I’d never seen a straight man with shaved balls, at least one who wasn’t in sex work, so I wondered how he explained it to Mrs. Baker.

Personal Assistant.1

 This is part of the Commencement collection—the secondary character in the prom story shows up here as well. I'm giving myself a C grade on this one, even if there are huge gaps that need to be filled. (Living up to the blog title, here).

If you’re going to be the side piece, don’t meet the family.

I can’t even claim that it started innocently. When the temp agency sent me to Envision IT I was doing data entry and scanning old records into the system. Mr. Baker was his own division, something with marketing or sales. He was very friendly with me and touched me a lot, though being a fairly touchy-feely person myself I didn’t mind. It was never inappropriate, just pats on the back or shoulder, or grabbing my arm to get my attention, or thumping my chest when I said something funny. However, he also flirted with me to an extent that I found embarrassingly obvious.

So when Mr. Call-Me-Stuart Baker and I were alone in the office that night, a mere one month after I had been hired on, I was prepared for his proposition.