My first internship was arranged by a grandpa who had no idea what he was doing, why else would I, a nursing major, be stuck at a software company? I spent my hours collating, photocopying and stapling. It was pretty boring up until the day they reassigned me.
I came in that morning wearing what I usually did. Basically, I wore the same ill-fitting "formal clothes" I wore to church, each garment carefully chosen by my mother to hide every curve that the god of puberty had graciously bestowed upon me. I was a frump master to put it mildly.
It was really no surprise to me at all that I was mostly ignored, people handed me things, mispronounced my name and never took much notice of me. I was a bit relieved when I was told that I was going to be assigned to Mr. Chien as his new personal assistant. Even if I didn't give a shit about the job, it made me feel pretty good that I was doing well enough to be promoted.
I had noticed him since the first day I arrived. He was tall with beautiful, calm, sun-kissed Chinese skin. He had a cocky air to him that one had to respect because as soon as he opened his mouth you knew he deserved it. He was always the first in the office and the last to leave it. There's something admirable, at least to me, about rich people that have good work ethics.
I tried not to keep my eyes on his sly seductive smile. It was a daily treat to knock on his door and hand him his morning latté. I paid close attention to him on my first day and saw that he put two sugars and one sweet and low in his coffee cup, then half and half before pouring his coffee. The guy that was hired before me never was much for details and kept bringing him his coffee black. Big mistake.
Even though I was his assistant I didn't actually get to have a conversation with him. I was pretty much just his coffee and Danish bitch. Most days he didn't even look up from whatever file he was working on to talk to me. He would just bark for his beverage. I would always make his coffee compliantly until one Friday when he decided to extend our usually four or five word conversations.
"Coffee girl, my office," Mr. Chien demanded.
I hurriedly finished stirring his coffee, grabbing napkins before meekly making my way into his office. I set his napkin down on his NJ Giants coaster and placed his coffee on it. Then I tried to make a quick exit.
" Didn't tell you to leave yet Coffee girl."
I froze in my tracks and turned around, looking at his Kenneth Cole shoes
"Sorry, sir, would you like a Danish?"
"Maybe later, but we need to talk "
I nervously wrung my hands and managed to smile, "What about, sir?"
"Don't wear that outfit again," he said.
"Excuse me?" I said looking him in the eye for the first time that semester. He walked closer to me and closed the door, resting his arm on the doorframe. He seemed to tower above me.
"Why would a girl your age even own a dress like that? And the sweater over it? Christ"
I found myself glaring at him, I suddenly remembered that his recommendation meant my grade and I tried to soften my features.
"Well sir, what would you like me to wear?"
He chuckled as he walked to his desk and sipped his coffee.
"Something a little more appropriate, something that is actually your size."
"Can I leave now?" I said trying to hide my anger.
"Oh yeah, sure."
I turned around and tried to calmly open the door, but before I could even get my foot out, he called me back.
"Oh, do something with your hair too and a little make up wouldn't kill you."
I stormed back to my cramped work area to sulk. I had never had a man tear into my looks. It was unfair of him to berate me when I was obviously trying hard to be professional. I never wore high heels that would have called attention to my long legs and wide round hips. Nothing tight ever covered my perky tits and firm ass. I was being a good employee.
Fuck this job, I thought as I made Mr. Chien his 1:15 coffee. I made sure to dump eight packets of salt in it and put in a generous helping of skin milk. I took my cell phone out of my purse and txt'd my best friend.
U ME - Mall NOW
I walked into his office and set the coffee down, he was on the phone talking to someone that was most likely just as big an asshole as he was. He didn't acknowledge me at all. Just as well, I thought.
My best friend Mejin was waiting by the time I got off the elevator. The office complex we were both working at, was only two blocks away from school and almost all the seniors got stuck here. She was at an accounting firm even though she was a biology major. She was pretty and Asian in a sea of white nerds so she came and went as she pleased and no one ever really questioned it.
"Work that shitty?"
"I need a new outfit, my boss finds this offensive."
She looked me up and down and gave me a quizzical look.
"Whatever, dude," she said with a shrug we walked to her jalopy and headed for the shopping center.
My mother always gave me a credit card of hers for emergencies and I couldn't imagine a more appropriate use for it. We burned through the mall, building a more appropriate ensemble for myself, getting our nails, feet and hair done as well. I headed to the Mac counter.
"Make me look like a porn star?" I asked the girl at the counter. Thinking of the commission, she complied.
750 dollars and 4 hours later, I emerged looking more like a video vixen than frumpy member of my high school's Christian Club. I had found a pair of five-inch black heels that accompanied the black lace top thigh highs I bought. They were attached carefully to the lacy red and black corset I bought from Fredrick's of Hollywood. I knew that the slit in the smart black pencil skirt was long enough to show the seams of the thigh-highs running dangerously up my long dancer's legs. My breasts sat piled into the cups of the corset and tested the strength of newly acquired crisp white dress shirts buttons.
"I don't know about appropriate, but you definitely look hot," Mejin said with a giggle.
"Are my nylons straight?" I asked
"Yep, we should be getting back, I need to punch out."
I walked through the mall, loving ever second of male attention I was getting. This was the N'jaila I was used to being. Not the church marm that everyone at Maxios Software thought I was.
Getting back to the building I said my good-byes to Mejin and made my way to the office. The office manager almost broke his neck to get a second look at me as he was leaving. I held my head up and walked confidently, enjoying the music my heels made on the tiled floor.
By this time Mr. Chien was the only one still in the office and certainly, the only person in our department still working. He must have heard my heels clicking toward him because he was at his office door seemingly waiting for me.
"Coffee girl?" he looked quizzically.
"People have names you know."
I walked past him into the office. I noticed that in my heels I was practically the same height as him. I walked up to his precious desk and plopped my rear on it, no need for a coaster or a napkin. I made sure that when I crossed my legs he would get a little peak at my thigh and the lace of my nylons.
"Is there something you want?" He asked walking slowly to me.
I smiled at him, ready to tell him just how much of an ass he was, and how much he could lick the whole of my booty, when he did something unexpected. Mr. Chien knelt before me and began to kiss and fondle the top of my shoe.
"Umm, what are you doing?"
"You were about to tell me off weren't you?"
"Well, - yes, I was", he was running his fingers up the long seam of my black stockings, it was distracting, but I still corrected myself.
He stood and leaned into me almost whispering in my ear, "What were you going to tell me?"
"I was going to tell you you're an asshole."
"Oh, really?" He said as he started lifting my skirt, he bent down again and kissed and licked my garter and the flesh of my thigh. "Tell me what you think of me," he groaned between lingering kisses.
"I think you're the biggest asshole I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. You're rude, belligerent and everyone can tell you're a miserable human being, and I hope you choked on that salty coffee."
"Hmm, that it?" he said in his usual condescending tone. For some reason, it was exceptionally offensive and before I could stop myself my palm was connecting with his face.
My hand immediately recoiled to cover my own shocked face; he was either going to retaliate or have security escort me to ass pounding prison. He looked up at me his hand on his red cheek, looking as shocked as I was. Before I could begin sputtering insincere apologies, a slow and determined smile crept onto his full lips. When it was fully realized, he sprang from his feet, grasping my thighs and lifting my body, I landed on my back on his desk sending knick –knacks and sports memorabilia onto the floor.
His mouth found mine hungrily, desperately, my lipstick smearing on both our faces. My breast won the battle with my blouse and I could feel at least two buttons liberate themselves. My hands found his shoulders and I was torn between holding him closer or pushing him away.
