Brooke sat in the unemployment office as she had once a week for the past ten months. She had to show up weekly to report whether she had found work or not. She'd been working for a very nice accounting firm as their receptionist/secretary, but the owner decided to retire and the business closed its doors.

And now with the job market so tight, finding another job was proving quite challenging. Especially at her age. Had she been fifteen years younger–or even ten years younger–she wouldn't have had nearly as much difficulty. But at thirty-five years old, Brooke knew that her prospects for getting a good job were dwindling rapidly. 

Brooke's husband, Ken, was a hard worker and he did his best to support them, but the economy was taking its toll on his building contracting company too; folks just didn't have the money for remodeling or new construction these days. He was competing for the few commercial jobs available with a lot of other companies, some of which were a lot bigger and could, therefore, afford to bid very low on their work.

In order to make the monthly bills, Brooke had taken a few temp jobs here and there, nothing that paid very well, but at least it kept her in the job market and kept showing the unemployment agency that she was at least trying to work. Which kept her unemployment checks coming in. But that spotty work wasn't going to hold off the State for long... she had already been told that her unemployment would run out in another two months

When times were better and both of them were working steady, they had been able to put a little bit in a savings account in case of an emergency like if he would get hurt at work, if one of them got sick, or something else would happen. But since she lost her job, they'd had to nibble away at that savings until it was getting close to being used up. Something had better happen for them soon or they would start falling behind in their bills and have no way to catch up!

One day when Ken was at work and Brooke was home, she was perusing the Help Wanted ads as she usually did when a new ad caught her eye: Barstow Associates, a financial consulting firm was looking for a girl to handle the front desk and phones as well as do the typical typing and filing duties of a secretary. The ad said, "experience preferred, but will train the right applicant." Well, Brooke had all kinds of experience and would need only the briefest of training to get used to how they did things! 

Excitedly she called the number and a young woman answered the phone, "Barstow Associates, how can I direct your call?"

"Hello, I am calling about the help wanted ad for the receptionist/secretary position?" Brooke said.

"Oh yes. Please hold and I will transfer you to someone who can talk to you about it," she said. The phone went dead for a moment and then a male voice came on the line.

"This is Roger Barstow, can I help you?" he said. The man's voice was deep and powerful and Brooke felt a strange authority to it. 

"Y-yes, I'm calling about the job? The secretary/receptionist position?" she said, surprisingly meekly.

"Oh, yes. Well, do you have any experience?" he said. 

"I worked for Thompson-Kincaid, PCA here in Salem for almost ten years as their secretary and receptionist. I can type around sixty-five words per minute if I really concentrate, with around fifty-five to fifty-eight on average. I can use a computer well in word-processing, spreadsheet, slide presentation, and other programs," she said.

"I see. Well, you certainly sound like you have all the qualifications we need here. Do you have a current resume?" he asked.

"Yes Sir, I do," Brooke said.

"Tell you what then... come by our office tomorrow at say, 2:00 pm and we will talk more about this. Bring your resume and any other documentation you wish to show me–awards, letters of recommendation, and anything else you think would help you, and I will talk with you then," he said.

"Yes, Sir. I look forward to our meeting," she said.

"As do I," he said, and hung up. It wasn't until she hung up the phone that she realized she hadn't even given him her name! "Oh, you dumb blonde!" she said, smacking herself in the forehead.

After she hung up the phone, Brooke looked up the address for the company and then went to look over her resume. This job sounded like it would be a good one if she could land it, and she wanted to make sure her resume listed every possible advantage and positive point she could think of.

She made sure she had copies of all of her certificates, awards, letters of recommendation, and other training and work she had done. The more she could pad her resume, and still be truthful and legitimate, the better she would feel going into the interview!

That night at dinner, Brooke told her husband about the upcoming interview. "Honey, tomorrow I have an interview for a potential job. Now, I don't want to tell you much about it–I don't want to jinx myself. But it has to do with being a secretary and receptionist like I used to be with T-K," she said.

"That's great, sweetheart. I hope you get it, I know you have wanted to go back to work. I won't say any more about it, but good luck!" he said.

The next morning after Ken went off to work, Brooke got her housework done as quickly as possible. She wasn't sure how long the interview would last, but she hoped to come home with good news. She felt sorry for her husband, he'd had to scramble for every bit of work he could find and he'd had more than one sleepless night worrying over the bills.

On top of that, he'd had to work late into the nights on some jobs and on weekends on others. Ken really did work too hard and Brooke hoped that this interview would lead to a job that would take some of the pressure off him finally.

With her housework done, she laid out the clothes she wanted to wear to the interview. Something appropriate for business, but also one that showed Mr. Barstow that she was easy on the eyes as well! After all, she wanted the customers to want to come in and if she looked good, then maybe that would attract more business to the firm.

She went in to take a shower, and she made sure she shaved her legs as well. She planned on wearing stockings to the interview, but she still wanted nice smooth legs nonetheless. Then she got dressed and lastly, she did her makeup... something attractive, yet not whorish. This was a job interview, not a porn shoot!

She looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She eyed herself critically, making sure everything was absolutely spot on. Once satisfied she'd done all she could to prepare for this interview, she picked up her resume packet and drove to the address she had written down last night.

She pulled up in front of a very tall, mirror-faced office building. Finding a lucky parking spot close to the entrance, she locked her car and went inside. She walked through the lobby to the elevators; an information board by the elevators told her that Barstow Associates was on the twelfth floor of a fifteen-floor building. She pushed the button to call the elevator and when the door opened, she stepped inside.

The door opened on the twelfth floor to a spacious lobby and directly across was a huge granite looking reception desk with Barstow Associates in gold-colored metal on the front of the dark granite desk. On the wall behind the desk was a series of black and white clocks with every time zone represented. 

Brooke walked up to the desk where a cute blonde receptionist asked her how she could be of assistance. Brooke saw by the nameplate on her desk the receptionist's name was Becky. "Hi, Becky, I'm here to talk with Mr. Barstow about the secretary/receptionist job he advertised in the paper," Brooke said.

She smiled a smile that matched her bubbly personality and said "Just a minute." She pushed her intercom and said, "Mr. Barstow, Sir, there's a woman here to interview for the secretary job."

"Show her in won't you, Becky," the voice came back over the intercom. Becky led her back through the double glass doors and down the hall to Mr. Barstow's office. Knocking softly on the big wooden door, they heard a man's deep voice from the other side.

"Come in."

"Mr. Barstow, this woman is here about the job opening," Becky said softly.

"Yes, thank you, Becky. That will be all, please close the door behind you," he said.

Once Becky had left Mr. Barstow turned his attention to Brooke. "Now Miss... I'm sorry I didn't get your name?" he said.

"It's Brooke. Brooke Robbins. And it's Mrs.," she said.

"I see. Well, Mrs. Robbins, the job here lists as a secretary-receptionist position but in reality, there is a little more to it than that. Of course, there is all the ordinary typing, filing, shorthand, handling the phones, etc., that you would expect from a job like this. That is the easy part–I can get any college girl to do most of it. However, there is another side to this position and should you accept it, you will be required to perform those services as well," he said.

"Services?" Brooke asked not sure where this was going but getting a little uneasy with the scenery.

"Mrs. Robbins–may I call you Brooke?" he asked. Brooke nodded in the affirmative and he continued, "Brooke, the ad for this position has been running in the paper for nearly a year now and I have interviewed literally hundreds of applicants. Many of them were highly qualified as secretaries or receptionists. But when they learned about the other part of their job they decided it wasn't for them," he said.

"Mr. Barstow, I'm not sure I understand," Brooke said. 

"Brooke, this is a very high-stress work environment: the men and women here are real go-getters and high strung types. It's hard for them to find anyone who will put up with them for very long–one of the hazards of the trade, I'm afraid. But because they have no one, they need a diversion once in a while: this is where you come in.

One of the most important parts of the job is to sexually please the men and women any time and anyway they require: whether that means letting them grope you, giving them hand or blowjobs, for the women fingering them or eating them out, letting them fuck your mouth, pussy, or ass, or simply letting them jerk off on you.

"That's the basics of the job, Mrs. Robbins. You would not only be the secretary and receptionist for the office but you'd be the slut and cum-receptacle for the employees. I hate being so frank, but you should know what comes with the job–no pun intended.

"Now I will give you a chance to think it over and you can call me tomorrow if you decide to take it. If I don't hear from you, I will just assume you have declined. But before you go, you should know what you will receive for your 'services'. This is what the job pays a month," he said, and he wrote a number down on a piece of scratch paper and laid it face down sliding it to her. 

Brooke picked up the piece of paper and read the figure that he had written down. She couldn't believe her eyes: it was more than she'd ever made at T-K and a lot more than any of her temp jobs had paid her. This would take all the money worries away and give them money to put back their savings as well! 

"This is very generous, Mr. Barstow," Brooke said.

"Trust me, you will earn it, my dear, should you accept the job," he said with a smile. Brooke left the interview after that and headed home. She had a lot to think about.

Brooke loved her husband, but work and the strain of financial uncertainty had caused both of them to seek solace in places they shouldn't have. Brooke knew that Ken had cheated on her at least once that he had admitted to. And for all she knew, he still could be. She had been unfaithful herself more often than she cared to admit.

You see, Brooke had always been a wild and wanton girl, and her sexual appetite had only gotten more demanding. While Ken came home most nights too tired to even think about sex, Brooke had plenty of time on her hands. And Brooke thought about sex... a lot! With Brooke's on again-off again work history, she had a lot of time on her hands. And a bored, lonely, and horny housewife is a dangerous thing!

Yes, Brooke loved sex and there wasn't much left that she hadn't done at least once or wasn't will to try. So as far as she was concerned, the job offer, with it's unusual additional job requirements, wasn't a real problem. Of course, doing it on demand and getting paid for it would make her a whore; let's not sugar coat it any–no matter what you called it, getting paid for sex makes one a whore–but even that didn't scare her off. If anything, being called a whore made her all the more horny!

She mused about the matter as she got dinner ready. Ken would be home soon and she wanted to have dinner well on its way to being done. She couldn't help but smile as she fixed dinner... she was about to become a whore! And the money she would be making would put their finances back in the black again in short order! 

She knew that if Ken found out about her new "enterprise", he would be furious with her. But she had tried everything she could to get a legitimate job. She had beat on every door she could and interviewed until she was hoarse trying to get someone–anyone–to hire her. But she had been shot down at every turn. Oh, some had given her a callback, but that was about as far as it went. And most just told her no right off. 

But Mr. Barstow had been different. Maybe it was because he himself had such a hard time finding an applicant willing to do what he needed to be done. Brooke certainly wasn't the brainless young hotbody with big tits and a tight ass that most people associate with these types of office escapades. Yet he had offered her the job as secretary slut nonetheless.

Brooke thought about the offer quietly for the rest of the evening. This was something that she alone would have to decide–she couldn't discuss it or ask anyone else's opinion. Not only would it be damaging to her marriage, but it may even be illegal! And it would most certainly be the end of her at Barstow Associates if word got out what she was doing. 

A part of Brooke knew she should be incensed and indignant at the gall this man had. The very nerve–trying to hire her as the company whore! Yet another part of her was excited and even turned on with the idea. She could not ignore the wetness she had between her legs as Mr. Barstow described her special duties. Knowing that she would be responsible for pleasing and pleasuring the men and women working there was not without its attraction. 

After dinner, while her husband fell asleep in his recliner, Brooke quietly crept upstairs and slipped into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Thinking about the job offer and its duties had gotten her more than a little horny and she needed to take care of her need.

Getting her vibrator out of her nightstand drawer she settled back to enjoy a little "me time".  She took some of the dirty clothes out of the hamper and piled them on the hardwood floor. Then she lay down on the floor positioning her hips over the pile of clothes to raise her hips to a suitable angle for fucking herself. Brooke spread her legs wide and turned on her "friend". 

At first, she ran the buzzing tip around her nipples, feeling the electric sparks as her tender sensitive buds came to life and stiffened as if reaching out for more pleasure. She quietly moaned her desire as she teased her nipples and areola with the toy even as her other hand found its way down her body to the dampness between her legs. Brooke gasped as her fingers found her clit - she didn't realize until this moment how much she needed this.

She didn't keep her hungry pussy waiting any longer. With her nipples now achingly hard, she moved the buzzing toy down to where she needed it most. As it touched the inside lips of her pussy she let out a louder moan. She clamped her hand over her mouth as she realized how loud she was–she didn't want to wake Ken up and have her playtime interrupted!

Reaching down to the pile of dirty clothes under her hips she found a pair of Ken's boxers that he had worn just the other day–they still had his scent on them. These would do nicely!

She wadded them up into a tight ball and stuffed them deep into her mouth as a gag to keep her quiet. She could taste his salty sweat on the underwear and his musky, earthy taste was actually quite pleasurable. Now she could make a little more noise although she would still have to be mindful not to get too carried away.

She circled her entrance a couple of times letting the vibrator tip lightly touch her clit each lap. On the second one, she let it linger just under her clit, pressed up against it as she moaned into her gag. By now her pussy was slobbering like a St. Bernard watching a steak cook, and she was plenty lubed up and ready.

Pointing the tip of the plastic toy at her tunnel, she pushed her playmate into her with a thrust somewhere between a slow gradual thrust and an outright stab. It was fast enough and deep enough to cause her to accidentally scream into her gag and she was thankful she'd stuffed her mouth full of his underwear.

As the toy stretched her needy pussy, the vibrations it was making sent pleasure waves rippling up her spine like tiny earthquake tremors, causing similar quaking and trembling in her body. She closed her eyes and involuntarily arched her back as the intensity of her hunger overwhelmed her. She began fucking herself hard and deep with the plastic phallus, just like she liked it and she writhed and twisted in glorious ecstasy at being filled again.

As she pumped the fake cock in and out of her drooling slit, her other hand busied itself by rubbing her clit furiously. The combination she knew would prove lethal–her orgasm was coming on hard and fast. As it built to impossible heights, she waited for the inevitable with eager anticipation.

As she crested the top of Mount Orgasm her mind flashed to the man who could be her new boss, Mr. Barstow. While she hadn't gotten much of a look at him through his three-piece business suit and sitting behind that desk, she imagined him naked hovering over her and pounding what had to be a massive cock into her. 

She imagined him calling her his slut and his whore and making her do all manner of lewd things. She imagined herself on the conference room table being used by one man after another–each one filling a hole and shooting his hot cum into every orifice she possessed.

Her imagination, coupled with the insistent hum of the vibrator, sent her rocketing over the edge and falling into the chasm that was her orgasm. She screamed out into the makeshift gag again as it hit her like a runaway freight train, causing her to pitch, buck, and squirm as the orgasm tied her body into knots.

Finally, the torment was over and she lay limp and panting over the pile of clothes. She pulled the wet boxers from her mouth in order to breath easier and lay there until enough strength returned for her to get up. She took a shower to get cleaned up and while in the shower she decided to call Mr. Barstow in the morning to talk more about the job.