Eve instinctively knew how to enthrall most men and a large percentage of women who were attracted to females. After using the two strangers in the hotel for her sexual pleasure, she retired to her apartment and went over all the business documents. She also planned her wardrobe for her day in the field. Her chosen outfit was professionally devastating.
A body-molding, hounds tooth “overall” skirt was the centerpiece of her wardrobe. Extending just past the middle of her thighs, it hugged her body like a second skin, showing off her plump, perfect ass and lithe, sensual legs. The waist of the skirt was cut high and broad, cinching around her abdomen, and two thin, stretchy straps rose from the waistband, running over her torso and her shoulders.
A white, long-sleeved top, also skintight, not only set off the darkness of her flowing, long hair, but it adhered to the swells and contours of her large, high breasts. The scoop neck was cut low and wide, making most bras impossible to wear with the garment. The stretchy fabric clung to her taut stomach and highlighted the lithe, sexy muscles of her back when she moved.
As the straps of any standard brassiere would show with the neck cut so wide, Eve opted for a bandeau bralette, just a wispy, white hint of stretch lace over her boobs. This offered nothing in the way of support or lessening the jiggle when she moved, and that was exactly what she had in mind. Her first choice was nude-colored pantyhose, but she peeled them off and opted for similarly-hued thigh-highs instead.
Though Eve toyed with the idea of not wearing panties, she eventually donned a white thong, also in stretchy lace. The lace pattern was so diaphanous and revealing that the pink of her swollen pussy lips and wet slit could easily be seen through the filmy fabric. The overall effect was more nude than naked, and she smiled at the sexy reflection of her lace-covered cunt in the mirror.
Tuesday morning, when she arrived at work, Victor was stunned, his jaw dropping as he stared in a very unprofessional manner. Glen, looking sexy with his youthful vitality and male stripper physique, leered at her openly. She smiled at Victor and pointedly ignored the young clerk’s lecherous leers. She did, however, jut her ass out in front of the Glen, smiling at his blushing face and swelling bulge.
“Like the sexy black widow, dude,” Hank quipped. “Like, man, she mates, and she kills. Killer!”
“Why are you carrying tennis shoes?” Mr. Moore finally managed to ask.
“You said that we’ll be inspecting the satellite businesses, which include grow farms. There’s no way I’m traipsing around in the mud wearing stiletto heels.” To pontificate her words, Eve extended one leg, her tight, stretchy skirt adding sensual allure to her rising and pivoting leg, and she raised her foot, twirling her foot about to show off her devilishly sexy pumps.
“Well, let’s go,” he said. Victor’s eyes were riveted to her crotch, enticingly covered by the abstract black and white houndstooth-patterned skirt.
Making small talk, they left the store, and Mr. Moore, in a chivalric gesture, opened the passenger-side door for Eve. She pivoted, facing him while smiling, and sat in the seat, only swinging her legs inside the car, one at a time, after she was seated. The pale-skinned woman tried to suppress her predatory smile when she noted that his eyes were glued to her shapely, silk-clad legs.
When she swung her left leg into the passenger compartment, Eve thought that she’d given her boss whiplash. The brazen seductress snickered when she saw a litany of emotions cross his face. Lust and horny adoration washed over Mr. Moore’s face, followed by disappointment when he erroneously assumed she was wearing pantyhose. That crestfallen expression turned to elation when she swung her other leg up and over, dramatically flashing him a peek of stocking top as her skirt rode up. Her white, lace panties gleamed into view between her legs, causing her coworker’s cock to stiffen.
“It’s so cozy and hot in here,” Eve exclaimed, her voice a sensual purr. She slowly wiped some imaginary sweat off her exposed cleavage with one hand, the other emulating her actions on her inner thigh. “I love it hot.”
“I can turn on the air conditioning if you’d like.”
“No. Please keep it hot; I like it when it’s hot.”
More conversation, laden with Eve’s innuendo and sexual undertones, followed. By the time they were halfway to their first destination, a smaller cultivator, the newly-hired personal assistant had swiveled in her seat, her back to the door so that she could face Victor. The fact that her bent knee was idly swinging back and forth was not lost on the sexy man. Every time he’d glance at her, the car would swerve to the right, the vehicle’s trajectory following the movements of his eyes. He tried to keep his eyes on the road and failed.
The first destination, HT Farms, incorporated, was a small growing operation on only a few dozen acres. There, Eve not only learned that it was part of the empire her boss oversaw, but she also got an education in the complex field of growing new and potent strains for general consumption. She also unsurprisingly discovered that her professional but deadly-sexy outfit garnished her a lot of attention.
Victor Moore couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, and every time she’d stretch or bend over, he’d be at a loss for words. The farmers, themselves, were thrilled to have her trudging through the dirt with them, and they spent an inordinate amount of time pridefully telling her all about their occupations and the new strains they were developing. The head grower in the lab building even plied her with copious samples while he leered at her curvy hips and plump butt.
When they got back into Mr. Moore’s luxurious sedan, heading to the second destination, Eve removed her mud-stained tennis shoes. Rather than bend forward to remove them, she languidly propped one foot on the dashboard, stretching and flexing her statuesque leg, and then, she teased her boss by taking her sweet time putting on her heels. The tightness of her skirt made the hem creep toward her lace-covered snatch, exposing the tops of her thigh highs. Rather than smooth her skirt back down, she left it like that, much to Victor’s distraction.
Although it was only her second day, their conversation turned casual. Eve took the opportunity to pry into his personal life. As she suspected, Victor Moore had only been married a few years, he took great care of his body, and he had a degree in business management. She also discovered, to her amusement and surprise, that he hardly ever sampled his company’s products. “Only on some, but not all, weekends,” was his response.
The second farm was much larger and comprised solely of environmentally controlled greenhouses. At Good Vibes Farms, every crop was meticulously grown to enhance its potency and to be as pure as possible. The staff and management all wore uniforms, unlike the first cultivators, and instead of causing hard-ons in the guys’ jeans, she spawned erections in their white uniform pants. Otherwise, the procedures and goings-on were mostly the same. The new hybrid they’d almost perfected was named Aphrodite, and it was being engineered to cause extreme arousal.
Eve sat on a table used for sorting and packaging while her boss talked with the manager. She was facing them, but her torso was turned, head over her shoulder, as she spoke with one of the professional harvesters. Seeing Victor’s eyes roaming over her, she spread her legs just enough to give him a clear view up her tight, sexy skirt. He stuttered, mid-sentence, and couldn’t tear his eyes away. His lusty stares made Eve incredibly horny, and her nipples poked out through her top, the flimsy bandeau unable to restrain their tautness.
Their final destination was the distribution center. This huge complex of buildings warehoused the inventory, both for the store and to be wholesaled to other dispensaries, the packaging department, and it also housed what Victor called the “life’s blood” of the business, the various trucks to deliver the finalized products to their respective destinations. The manager of this enormous complex was a woman named Jennifer.
Jennifer was pleasantly plump, with dyed blond hair and a no-nonsense attitude. She was also quite well-versed in all the details of her domain, and she ran a tight ship. Except for the garage, where maintenance on the trucks was done, the entire compound was pristine and sanitary. Even the trucks were detailed twice each week.
With almost a hundred workers milling about, Eve got more than her fair share of attention. Some of the packers wanted pictures with her, which was fine by Eve, especially considering that Mr. Moore ogled her the entire time she was prancing and posing for the photos. Finally, Mr. Moore posed for a picture with his new assistant, and Eve took advantage of the situation by pressing her ample tits against him, her arms around his waist.
Instead of sitting on the plush leather seat and swinging her legs inside, Eve went with her nuclear option. The lithe, sexy woman bent forward into the car’s cabin, bending at the waist while she arched her back and stuck her juicy ass out. Then, she crawled into the vehicle’s interior, intentionally maneuvering her legs to make the back of her tight skirt ride up. Gracefully, she sat and buckled the safety belt, making sure that the broad strap pressed between her boobs, enhancing their fullness and roundness.
“My feet are so sore from these heels,” she lamented, her azure eyes sparkling with naughtiness.
As Victor started his black sedan, Eve removed her shoes, stretching out her legs across the bench seat. Her feet found their way to his lap, and she rested her delicately manicured toes on his crotch, feeling the satisfying response of his large-seeming cock swelling beneath her heels.