The prestigious public relations firm, “Torranation”, is officed in the newest high-rise in the city.  It commands nearly half of the thirtieth floor.  Of course, Thomas knew of them from his college days.  They occasionally recruited at his school; reportedly taking a very select few, if any, students as unpaid interns.  He assumed his mediocre grades disqualified him, but after graduation and on a whim, he applied.

To his complete surprise, he received a group of various application forms in his email.  They required that he describe, in great detail, his academic and professional experience.  Then there was a section asking many personal characteristics and lifestyle questions, including required photos.  He thought that somewhat intrusive and possibly (probably) illegal.  Nonetheless, Thomas filled out the app; all the while expecting rejection.  He knew he’d done his best when he hit the send button a few days later.

A week passed as he distributed numerous resumes to a number of firms.  He’d almost forgotten about “Torranation” when up popped a reply on his old computer screen.  He crossed his fingers and then opened it.  ‘You have been allowed to proceed.’ it read.  Thomas was ecstatic.  Reading further it gave all the instructions for an even more in-depth and probing submittal.  This one required a certification of non-disclosure.  He paused for a moment to think about that. ‘But, what the hell,’ he told himself and charged ahead.  Days later, sending his return document actually gave him a glimmer of hope.  For an unemployed guy, Thomas had spent a sizeable sum of money on professional photos and a proofreading service.  Maybe, just maybe.

The next reply came in less than twenty-four hours and as a text.  It said, ‘Mr. Anders, you will now be interviewed by the Director of Male Applicants.’  Thomas whooped and danced in a circle.  Reading on, the text gave precise instructions as to location, time, and expected documents to bring and appropriate attire to wear.  Quickly checking the calendar, he realized he had only two days till the interview.  He needed to rush, and rush he did.  Compiling more information, getting a haircut, and putting new clothes on his already stretched credit card.

_________________________________________________________________________

By 1:30 PM  Wednesday, an hour before the scheduled appointment, Thomas was in the lobby of the sleek office tower, pacing the floor.  He had googled his interviewer, finding out about Ms. Stark and seeing several pics of her on the company website.  She is a very lovely redhead.  He isn’t at all comfortable around pretty ladies.  He gets tongue-tied.  His lack of experience (two girlfriends in his life explained in his latest docs) has not prepared him for this afternoon.  Frankly, he’s scared, real scared.

At 2:10 PM he is ushered into Ms. Stark’s office.  She extends a hand, and he shakes it, staring at a beauty in an emerald green business suit, with matching-colored eyes.  She is a bodacious babe, with outrageous curves coated in shiny, form-fitting leather.

For the next hour, Thomas fumbles through a highly exploratory and, at times, quite intimate

Q and A session.  She intently listens, and even more intently, observes his physical uneasiness.  Thomas feels he’s failing terribly, especially due to a boner he’s been sporting the entire time.  Ms. Stark has a most sultry voice and the superbly confident air of a highly successful exec.  He’s smitten.

By the end of sixty minutes, she pleasantly announces that the interview has concluded and stands.  Thomas gulps, seeing her lushness, and panics.  Jamming both hands in his pockets he rises from the chair trying desperately to hide his throbbing member. 

“Goodbye, Thomas,”  the ravishing redhead says softly as her hand elevates.  He knows he must respond but fears the worst.

“Thank you, Ms. Stark, for your time. I’ve enjoyed answering, I mean talking, I, I mean…” he trails off watching her gaze focus directly on his stiffness.  A sly smile crosses her delicate face, and her tongue touches an upper lip.  Thomas is turning beet red.

“You mean…seeing me,” she corrects, releasing her grip and taking a step closer.  Thomas is speechless as a pair of sizeable breasts, covered in glistening patent, project out inches from his chest.  Her sweet perfume invades his nostrils.  Her hand appears in view, bracelets jangling.  The index finger moves to his nose.  The sharp point of a glossy nail slides down his skin and teasingly around his stupidly ajar mouth.

“Go home, dear.  Take care of yourself.”  Her eyes cast downward to hint at her meaning.

Thomas moans uncontrollably, which enhances her smile to a full, knowing grin.  His mind races with desire, screaming inside his head, ‘Touch me more.  Ohh, pleezz, grab my rock-hard, begging penis.’  He’s suddenly racked with guilt at his perverted lust.  She must have boyfriends, lots of them, or a fiancé, or a husband.   

“Think about this interview,” she continues tenderly, leaning dangerously close. 

“About Ms. Stark,” her frosted lips nearly touch his.  He can feel her breath flowing into him.  “About how you want to be at “Torranation” …with me,” she concludes in a seductive purr. Brushing her smooth lipstick-surfaced pillows cross his cheek, she pivots and struts back to her desk.

Thomas is petrified, ogling the sensuous sway of her slim hips and enticingly bulbous ass.

“Go…Now,” Ms. Stark snaps and Thomas slumps down and silently shuffles out.

_________________________________________________________________________

That night he gets only very restless sleep, waking to wild wet dreams nearly hourly.  She was so slick, so sexy and so out of his league, but he would work for her in a second, without knowing the task, just to see her and to be in her presence.

Awakening brought an aching morning wood like he’d never had before.  Remembering what she had inferred about ‘Taking care of himself’ Thomas wanked till he hurt.  He now wanted this job position, whatever it was, with a passionate craving.  What more could he do? What more could he write or submit?  He was truly at a loss and felt dejection creeping in.

A chime on his phone announces a text.  He scrambles to open it.  It is from Ms. Stark, The Ms. Stark.  In disbelief he reads, ‘Thomas Anders will attend an interview with Ms. Tanya Torra, CEO at 6:00 PM tonight at Her office.’  He reads the message again and again, fright gripping him tighter and tighter.  Ms. Torra is the epitome of a powerful female executive.  An exquisite beauty with an industry-wide reputation for success at any cost.  “Charming”, “strict”, “demanding” and “unyielding” are just some of the terms used to describe Her in PR publications.  The scant few photos of Her that he’s seen are all posed portraits of an ultra-sexy, supreme knockout, maybe in Her late twenties.  He’s doomed to pathetic failure.

Minutes are hours, hours are eternity as his anxiety builds.  Thomas walks around his tiny apartment trying to calm his nerves.  He agonizes over how to introduce himself to Her.  He has absolutely no idea how he will act, or if he will be able to speak, or even breathe.

Tanya freaking Torra, Chief Executive Officer of “Torranation” will destroy him.  This can’t possibly be real. 

His nap is fitful and the alarm shocks him at 4:30 PM.  In a fog, he wanders out of his building dressed as he was yesterday.  He slides into his old beater of a car.  Somehow, he drives downtown and parks.  An elevator takes him to the thirtieth floor at 5:50 PM.  Thomas is a walking, mindless ghost.

The male exec. assistant greets him with a smile, “You must be Mr. Anders.  I’m Lonnie.  I am Ms. Torra’s, as are all of the employees here.  Won’t you have a seat while you wait?”  Thomas shuffles to one of the elegant white leather sofas and sits down.  He then realizes that his entire body is quivering, his mind unable to process what Lonnie just said.      

The wait is long and excruciating.

2:10, 2:20, 2:30. 

At 2:35 Lonnie jolts him out of his self-imposed trance. 

“She will have you now,” he brightly announces as the ebony wood door to Her office automatically swings open.

Wordlessly, Thomas arises, staggers over, and enters.  The expansive corner office has floor-to-ceiling glass, imposing cream-colored leather walls, and a wide view of the city skyline.  In the middle of the room is a sleek, minimalist glass-top desk where She sits.

Thomas stares in raptured silence at the seated female.  She is stunningly gorgeous, beguiling at first sight.  Jet-black tresses form a luxurious mane that cascades in savage, multi-layered waves.  Without bothering to glance up from Her keyboard, Ms. Torra speaks, “Stop, Remain standing.”

Thomas halts and remains motionless as he ogles a pristinely glamourous face framed in stylishly coiffed hair.  Flawless tanned, pink-toned skin sparkles.  A pair of glistening ruby-red lips sear Thomas’ brain.  Smoky made-up eyes flash as She skims the glowing screen.

As he stays transfixed, Thomas takes in the daring, more fetish than business-like outfit that clings to Her sensuously sculpted figure.  A gleaming, metallic-finished black leather jacket fits taut over a gold silk blouse which in turn covers a black latex bodysuit.  Two gigantic, outthrust tits stretch the silk to its tensile limit.  Through the clear desk surface, a tantalizing micro-mini sheathes Her curvaceous hips and just barely keeps Her heavenly temple from view.  Patterned, diamond-encrusted stockings sheath gloriously long legs flowing into extreme platform pumps.  Never has he dreamed of perfection like She projects.

Eventually, Ms. Torra appears to complete Her work and then, and only then does She look up.  Leaning back, Her breasts soaring upward like massive mountains, She orders, “Take off your jacket.”

Awestruck, Thomas complies, tucking it awkwardly under his arm.

“Toss it aside and turn around…full circle…slowly.”

Rightly confused and instantly aroused, he begins to pivot.  Her hypnotic, blazing blue eyes casually watch Thomas move.   Then they glance at the computer screen.

“Yes,” She states, “Mr. Anders, Thomas J. Anders.”  A slight smile appears on Her dazzling face, and She continues, “Well, Tom…I’m going to call you…Tommy.”  As Ms. Torra reduces his name to a cutesy nickname, She dramatically uncrosses superbly shaped legs and gracefully stands.  In this moment, Thomas surveys a towering Amazon, elevated well above six feet by Her extraordinarily high heels.  She begins striding around the desk and towards him.  The sharp crack of metal-tipped spikes on marble flooring fills the silence.

Thomas feels pitifully inferior to this raven-haired goddess.  He shivers with uncontrollable sexual desire mixed with debilitating fright.  He is nothing but a simple, male applicant seeming to cower more with each of Her sensuous, undulating steps.  Stopping very close to him, Her provocative air of superiority permeates to the core of Thomas’ very being.  Aromatic perfume and hovering tits at his eye level add to Her obvious arrogance.   

“I have reviewed your file and observed your interview videos with my lovely Ms. Stark,” She says, adding low and sultry, “You may have potential, Tommy.”  Her fingers brazenly glide up and then down his slick tie as Her gaze locks his blurred, lust-crazed vision. 

“Are you fully equipped to serve My needs?” Ms. Torra asks as one of Her gloved hands releases the tie and falls gently onto his belt buckle.

“I, I think so,” Thomas (now Tommy) nervously answers.  Her proximity alone intimidates him to the core.

“Are you capable of obeying My orders?” She inquires.

“I, I’ll try my very best, Ms. Torra,” Thomas Anders pledges solemnly.

“Can you perform at your highest level for Me?” is Her next question.

“Yes, I want to so very, very much,” he gushes, sensing Her finger touching his zipper.  There is no containing his engorging erection.

“Whenever…Wherever…However I desire,” comes as a provocative statement that leaves him breathless.  Her other hand (the one not roaming over his slacks) touches his cheek.  The soft black leather of Her glove is so soothing and so erotic.

“You must know that I only retain elite-caliber males in My service.” 

Tommy swallows hard, unable to answer, under Her mischievous smile.  With precise, measured steps, Ms. Torra begins walking around him.  He realizes She is surveying him up close, probably from top to bottom.  The silence is punctuated only by the sounds of swishing leather.

Her voice comes from behind, in melodic arrogance, “I personally train each and every one of them.  Does that frighten you, Tommy?’

“A, a, little…”

The black-encased beauty now stops by his side and continues, “I am powerfully intimidating to nearly all males, darling. Your response is typical…expected.”  The palm of Her hand trails down the contour of his taut bun.  Tommy jerks at Her touch.

“Displaying adoration for your superiors is a strict requirement of My company.  This trait becomes natural to all male employees through My ongoing training.”  Appearing again in front of Tommy, Ms. Torra adds with a playful chuckle, “I am observing your excitement being here with Me.  It is obvious and quite uncontrolled.  I will immediately correct that impudence if I select you, young man!”

Tommy whimpers, ”Yes, I, I’m, s, sorry.”

Ms. Torra steps close, very close; the lapel of Her gleaming jacket pressing up under his chin.  She stares down into his upturned face intently and speaks softly, “Tommy, you’re a cute boy, and ummm, so well built.  Is there a girl in your life?”

“No,” he manages.

“Excellent,” She drawls, “Then I will expect…demand…your full, focused attention on Me!”

“Of, c, course, Ms. Torra.”

She gives him an accepting smile and takes several steps back.  Instantly Tommy’s eyes take in Her bodacious figure.  “Am I attractive to you?” She asks flirtatiously.

“Yes, oh yes. Very m, much”

“How would you describe Ms. Torra’s appearance?”

“G, gorgeous,” he blurts, “Br, breath, ta, taking.”

She arches Her back and cocks up a hip slightly.  “Why yes, I most certainly am,”  She brazenly replies.  Then one hand comes to rest on that curvaceous hip, while the other arm extends outward.  The tip of an index finger brushes lightly up and then down his jutting stiffness.  “Is this because of Me?” Ms. Torra purrs seductively.

“I, I’m…”

“I find that common, and so predictable of a male in Ms. Torra’s presence.  Are you fully erect or is there more?”

Shocked beyond measure, Tommy mumbles, “I’m s, still, gr, growing.”

“Reeaalee,” the sexy siren coos, seemingly enthused, “How impressive.”  Then Her tone turns harsh, “But, how utterly juvenile.”

“Nev, never…I, I….mean, before…”

“Tommy!” She snaps sternly, “If I select you…IF…then that will be totally curtailed!”

Abruptly, the dark-haired diva pivots, shakes back long, luxurious tresses and suggestively saunters back to Her desk.

Mr. Anders is completely in awe and petrified with apprehension and lust.  ‘I’ve blown it,’ screams in his mind.

“This portion of your interview has ended.  I will continue with the next phase later this evening,”  She orders, “I require you at Ms. Torra’s penthouse at eleven…Sharp.  My receptionist boy will provide you with directions, understood?”

“Yes, yes, thank you, thank you,” Tommy stammers.  

“Don’t be late.  Don’t make Me wait!”

“I wo, won’t.”

Ms. Torra glances up and smiles like a Cheshire cat.  Toying with the pearls surrounding Her neck, She steps around the desk again and approaches with measured, seductive grace.  A finger extends and Tommy feels the tip of a talon-like nail touch the top of his rigid cock through his trousers.

“Deal with this,” The Goddess commands, “But do not, I repeat, Do Not cum.”  She lightly, teasingly glides around on the throbbing head as She listens to him struggle to reply.

“Yes, I pr, promise,” he whines, “Ms. T, Torra.”

“I will raise this issue again tonight,” leaning over She whispers into his ear, “Tommy boy, you’re dismissed.”