LoriCorp: Corporate Restructuring free porn video

LoriCorp: Corporate Restructuring By Lori San D'Angelo The restructuring took place shortly after our company was sold. The owners of our mid-sized drug distributing firm were in their 60's and apparently the deal was too good to refuse. Days later so-called "specialists" were called in from the new parent company, known as LoriCorp. No one knew much about this group, other than it apparently had pharmaceutical holdings in Canada, the Caribbean, and South Florida. So I guessed it was seemed normal that it would buy our New York company. No one will ever forget the day Kira and Tonya, executives from LoriCorp, showed up at our office. Dressed in body hugging miniskirts and towering heels, the two women looked barely old enough, or frankly intelligent enough to restructure $40 Million pharmaceutical sales firm. But after speaking to them, even as briefly as I did, it was very apparent that they weren't airheads, as much as their appearance would suggest the contrary. They spent many days speaking with upper managers in closed- door meetings, scoured the books, meeting with clients, and finally they released a memo which announced some of the many changes that would occur. In the sales department, where I worked, the changes were pretty drastic. All of our secretaries, or administrative assistants as they liked to be called, were axed. That left Ron Davis, Mike Peeters, Marc Dumont and me, Len Lawson. We were all sales reps for four different districts before the big change, now the territories were merged, from four, into two. This meant that the four of us would have to work together as a team of two each, to service the new areas. I was grouped with Mike, and Marc with Ron. None of us really had a big problem with it, we were all friends and used to working together, just now we had to do it without the help of our secretaries. The other announcement was that all employees would participate in new product trials, as a way to help the bottom line. There was a little apprehension about us testing new pharmaceuticals, but two things changed our mind. First, we were informed that the products we would be testing were merely vitamin supplements, and second was that product testing was a requirement of employment. It was pretty cut and dry. That following Monday the research team from the Drug Company (which we learned was also owned by LoriCorp) came in to examine us. They took blood, measured our bodies and asked some basic questions on how we were feeling. It was then that many of us noticed how few women were now employed at our firm. "They must have fired almost every secretary in the whole building", Marc mused over coffee, "Oh well at least we still have jobs". I couldn't agree more. We opened the bottles of vitamins that the research team had given us and swallowed our large pink colored pills. The next two weeks seemed to move quicker than normal. Working with Mike was pretty easy. He was two years older than I, and had a lot more experience with the company. At 26, I had been with the firm for four years, but had only been a sales rep for two of them. Mike had bigger accounts, and more of them, and I was happy to let him start calling on some of my former accounts, in hopes that his experience would help us to sell more product to them, and we'd get a big bonus. I also wanted to learn from him, so that I could be a better sales person. With that thought in mind, I figured it was a great opportunity to improve my sales person image, when Kira (I never did learn her last name) appeared in the office handing out gift cards for an expensive clothier downtown. Marc and I visited the shop on our lunch break. The clothes were definitely more stylish than either of us was used to, but the company was buying so we figured, what the hell! We both picked up some new pants, shirts, a jacket, new shoes and even some new underwear (hey, why not?). Content with our purchases, we returned to the office. But content quickly changed to confusion as we walked in. It seems that the company was replacing the furniture in the offices. Mike and I had been sharing his old office since the big change, but his new desk was so huge, with his filing cabinet and credenza, table and chairs that there was barely any room for anything else. I was "temporarily" stationed at the desk outside his office, where his former secretary had been. This pissed me off. I felt degraded. How could I learn from Mike if I was sitting at his secretary's desk? I stormed over to Ron's office to find that Marc had suffered a similar fate. We both complained to Ron and Mike, demanding that we be given our offices back. But it seemed that new people had already been moved into those already. Feeling a little dejected we returned to our new desks. Sometime after 3 o'clock, Mike informed me that he was leaving the office early, and asked if I would mind taking calls for him while he was out. Eager to make the best out of a bad day, I agreed. Little did I know that I would be taking his calls from that point on. For the rest of the day I seemed to spend more time answering the phone than just about anything else. The strange thing was, almost a third of the calls were my former accounts that were now asking for Mike. I was a little upset at first, but realized that we were all on the same team. It really didn't matter if Mike helped them, or I did, as long as they bought from our company, I was happy. I left that Friday in such a good mood that the weekend seemed to fly by. I went through my closet and threw out some old clothes that I hadn't worn for sometime, replacing them with the new outfits that Marc and I picked out earlier. I also finally got my hair cut. Well maybe styled is the better word. I always kept my hair short in the past, but the stylist convinced me to let it grow a bit longer, just long enough for her to add frosted blonde highlights and style it into a new funky spiky do. That Monday, I wore one of my new outfits. With my new hair; I looked pretty good, very cutting edge. Marc it seemed was on the same wavelength. His hair was similar, but a tad longer, with auburn highlights instead of blonde. Our outfits were nearly identical, both having opted for our new black pants and white shirts. The pants were a lot snugger than anything I'd ever worn, and necessitated a major change in the type of underwear that was worn. Boxers and briefs were out of the question. The sales girl at the store we visited convinced us that a skimpy thong was the only appropriate foundation to wear, as it would not show through the tight fabric. And indeed, the fabric was tight. Tight but not uncomfortable, it was some kind of spandex stretch material that hugged our hips and asses like second skin, and remained so down to the knees where they flared out over the calve. The crisp white shirts had extra wide collars and cuffs and were worn un-tucked, letting the shirttails hang over the pant waists, barely. If either of us were to stretch, our stomachs would surely be exposed. That wasn't a bad thing, since the Vitamin supplements seemed to have helped to reduce the extra fat that had accumulated during my beer drinking college days. I now had a very flat firm stomach that looked even better since I started shaving my chest, not that it had been very hairy before, in fact the hairs were much finer and lighter than I had expected. Over the shirt I wore a black tailored jacket that tapered in at my ribs before flaring out slightly over my hips. It created a very clean, slimming look that the girl at the store assured me was the cutting edge in fashion. Marc chose a tight fitting black V-neck sweater over his shirt. On both of us, the collars were spread wide, exposing our smooth necklines and cuff protruded beyond the jacket and sweater, making our arms look longer. The longer pant leg meant that we needed shoes with thicker soles (about an inch) and slightly higher block heels (almost three inches). Marc opted for loafers, while I preferred oxfords, both in black leather. We both wore thin black nylon ankle socks, since bulky cotton socks just wouldn't work. And the extra thickness of the sole, took some getting used to, but after practicing most of the weekend, I had it down pat. Take smaller steps, move your hips just a little bit more, and you'll be fine. The morning was spent, as it would be from now on, taking messages and typing up letters for Mike. I wouldn't dawn on me until sometime later that we really weren't working together as a sales team anymore, but instead I was assisting him as the sole sales rep for our region. But in my mind, I was convinced that I was helping Mike get adjusted to serving the new territory, and since I was temporarily without an office, I was more than willing to do so. But as each progressive day passed, little changed and new habits began to form, like answering the phone with a chipper "Mike Peeters' office". I picked up that one after hearing Marc answering his phone "Ron Davis' Office", weeks later he would add, "Marc speaking" at the end. Marc and I were spending a lot more time together, especially at lunch. We often ate with some of the other "restructured" employees, former managers, sales reps and others who seemed to have been slightly demoted, or otherwise reassigned to work for the people that we used to work with. Not that we were complaining. Being in a temporary supportive role, while the company was being "transformed" as Kira had once called it, was still better than being laid off. Some of us, like Tim, a former accounting manager who was now working at the company's reception area answering phones and welcoming people as they entered the building, were much happier than before, and were actually hoping to remain in their new positions. Brett agreed. He used to be an advertising executive, but now was helping to assist Dominic, the junior exec that used to work for him. He was perturbed at first, but now realized it was so much less stressful in his new position, "and besides" he mused, "I don't see Dominic getting gift cards for new outfits. Do you?" He was right. All of the "restructured" employees were getting the added benefit of free clothing, probably as a way to make up for losing our seniority. Neither Mike nor Ron were dressing as sharp as Marc and I. The gift cards became a regular occurrence, almost weekly, sometimes alternated with one for a local salon and spa where we could get or hair done, or a relaxing massage or facial. I know, it sounds a little weird, but after finally giving in to the constant pleading of our hairdressers, Tim, Marc and I agreed to it. It was wonderful. As the group of us sat around the cafeteria, I couldn't help but notice the lack of any management in the room. We were all "restructured", temporarily lower tier workers, but all dressed extremely fashionably. Tim and Brett looked at their watches, "we'd better get going Britt if we don't want to be late" Brett nodded, pulling a tube of lip balm from a little handbag he had started to carry with him (his new pants were so ultra tight and had no pockets). After carefully applying it, he puckered and checked his hair in a compact mirror he also carried in his bag. He and Tim had just had their hair done. Tim's light brown hair had been colored a dark mahogany, and permed with a wavy twist. Brett had opted for more blonde highlights. It really changed their appearances, and with the glossy puckered lips they both looked really I stopped and shook my head. "What am I doing?" I thought to myself. "Did Tim call Brett Britt? Did I shave my legs this morning?" I felt down my pant leg, I had but why, why were we all acting so strange? A perfectly logical answer popped into my head. I had to shave my legs because I was wearing my new knee high nylon socks, which I needed to wear with my new pants that had slits up the sides of the pant legs. Ankle high socks would have looked plain silly, and I didn't want itchy hair under my knee-highs. Although that didn't explain why I had shaved up to my crotch, including trimming my pubic hair down to a neat triangle shaped patch. It also didn't explain why I felt the compulsion to tuck my penis under my groin. Although I knew somehow that my new pants looked best with a smooth flat front, free of any unsightly bulges. "Lin?" Tim's voice broke my train of thought. I looked up at him wondering if he had said Len or Lynn. "Um sorry I was day dreaming" I stammered. Tim smiled, "Anyone we know?" I laughed, clapping my hand over my mouth in surprise at the high-pitched giggle that left my lips. Brett shook his head as he and Tim waved bye and headed back to their desks. We watched them leave. Britt, I mean Brett was wearing black Capri pants with pale-peach colored knee-highs and blouse in a matching shade. It was a pretty daring color for him, but since he colored his hair blonde, he could get away with it. Tim wore brown leather pants in style similar to what most of us were wearing. A silver chain linked belt, more for decoration than function, hung to one side of his hips. We all marveled at how good their asses looked, and wondered what their secret was. Truth was, our own asses weren't that far off. One Friday, later that month, I was sitting at my desk, typing a memo for Mike when the phone rang. Without thinking I picked it up, "Mr. Peeters' office, Lin speaking". The caller began to speak right away, but I didn't hear a word, I was still reeling from what I had just said. After asking them to repeat themselves, I politely took the message. I put the phone in its cradle, staring at it like it had bitten me. What just happened? Why had I said, Mr. Peeters? Why did I stress the "e" in Len into a soft "i" sound? It was true that many people had started saying Len with a soft "i", making it more of Lin, than anything, but this was the first time that I had actually done it. I was stunned. Things had changed so drastically in such a short time, first all the support staff were laid off, then all the remaining staff reorganized, then the gift cards started, then we started giving each other bizarre nicknames like Lin, Britt, and Markie (most recently for Marc). It was a totally new corporate culture, one that I would have despised months ago, yet it seemed strangely palatable, even enjoyable now. I dug into my handbag to retrieve by lip balm, something that most of us were suddenly wearing. You have to avoid dry chapped lips when you're answering phones all day, I thought as I smoothed it onto my puckered mouth. I checked the quality of my application in the little mirror of a powder compact the beautician at the salon had convinced me I needed. Occasionally I would dust a few oily patches of my face, just to keep an even complexion. I reapplied some of the powder (for the third time that morning), checked my lips again, marveling at how much fuller and colorful they appeared with a glossy coating of balm. A voice rang out from behind me. "Miz-ter Lawson, can I see you for a moment?" Mike beckoned me. I stood up from desk and walked to his office, my new sandals made clunky sounds as I stepped on the hard tile floor. It was casual day, and I had paired my new cork soled sandals with my super sexy hip hugger jeans. The dense sole of the sandal began at 1" at the toes but expanded into a wedge heel of nearly 4" at the rear. Pretty daring, I thought, and something that Tim and Britt had yet to wear. Not that we were competing or anything. "Yes Mr. Peeters?" I smiled sarcastically. "Miz-ter Lawson," he spoke to me, but his eyes were wandering up and down, taking in my outfit, he stopped momentarily at my new shirt. It was a white button down like any other day, the difference being it was transparent, showing the spaghetti strap white tank top underneath, which I needed to wear to hide the swelling that had been occurring there. The doctors that were conducting the vitamin trials assured me that it was a temporary side effect and that it posed no threat to my health. They told me to continue taking the pink pills each day. "Miz Lawson? I asked you if those sales figures were ready yet?" I stammered for a moment, realizing that he was no longer pleased, "Um...ah...the sales figures from last year they're almost ready Sir, is after lunch okay?" Mike frowned. "Or I might be able to get them done earlier, if the phone doesn't ring too much," I tried to recover, "I'll get them done right away Sir." With that I turned around and went back to my desk, giving my bum an extra wiggle as I walked. I knew that Mike, Mr. Peeters was watching, he always did, and anything I could do to keep him from being mad at me would help. The sandals of course, made it nearly impossible not to wiggle. Lunchtime came a little later for me that day, but I managed to get all of the figures done that Mr. Peeters needed. It seemed a little strange that so many of the numbers were from my old accounts. So much time had passed since we reorganized, I wondered if I would ever be a sales rep again. Not that being a sales assistant was all that bad. The usual gang had already finished their lunch by the time I arrived. I ate my salad and yogurt as quickly as I could, without looking like a pig. I thought back to the days when the cafeteria served burgers and fries. Did we all used to eat that crap? It was so unhealthy. Marc pulled a pay stub out of his handbag, "Hey Lin, did you see this?" he unfolded it and handed it to me, pointing to the name. I nearly spit out my water as I tried to contain my laughter. The name said "Marcie" instead of Marc. "Apparently someone in payroll overheard one of you guys calling my Markie and thought their files were wrong. So it was changed " Tim burst out in a giggle; "To Mar-seeee!" Marc shot him an angry glance. "Be careful, or maybe we'll end up calling you Kimmie instead of Timmy". Tim's smile dissolved as we broke into a fit of laughter. "Fine then Mar-seee" he recoiled. "Well fine then Kim-meee" Marc shot back. Britt looked to me, anxious to switch the subject. "I love your hair Lin," he said in a desperate attempt to cool things off. "Thank you" I smiled. It had just been lightened to a dusty blonde and styled in a hip new retro- mullet type do. It was shorter at the front and sides (still longer than I used to wear it), with long bangs swept to one side and longer at the back. My ears were still exposed, as I wanted to show off my new set of gold studs, two in each ear. I was the last in our group to get them, so it was important for everyone to see. "Well I have to get back," Tim or Kimmie rather, said" Rob, I mean Mr. Kelson needs some special help with something" He had just been transferred from reception to be the executive assistant of Rob Kelson, the new director of Operations. His eyes seemed to open wider when he said "special help", although it could just be the brown eyeliner her had started using, a trend I was sure would never catch on with the rest of us. With that, he got up and left. I noticed he was wearing jeans and sandals similar to mine, only the jeans were darker, tighter and hung lower on his hips. The sandals had thicker soles and higher heels. I looked around the cafeteria, observing how everyone was wearing similar outfits. It was remarkable how we could all be so fashionable at the same time. So the days continued to pass, and things seemed to get more and more different. Yet no one seemed to care or mind too much. We were all being paid well, and the advent of weekly gift cards had led us all to develop new hobbies outside of work, which consisted of spending the weekend shopping and visiting the salon. On one particular visit, Britt convinced me to go with him to get some kind of special manicure. I had been getting manicures for some time now, but Britt was insistent that we both get new "French manicures", whatever they were. As we lay back letting the salon workers pamper us, one of them suggested that we let them "fix" our so- called unruly eyebrows. It never had occurred to either of us before, but they made a good point. How can we have well groomed fingernails and bushy "mono-brows"? Gross, the word even tasted bad to say. After what seemed an eternity of waiting the girls finished and let us see their work. I heard a little squeak escape from Britt's glossed lips as he saw his reflection in the mirror, then again when he saw his nails. I echoed his sentiments with little squeaks of my own. Our brows had been waxed and shaped into thin gracefully arching lines, that made us look wide eyed and surprised at all times. They had also taken the liberty of adding dark brown eyeliner to the brow and outlined our eyes, Britt with a hint of peach, me with a hint of pink. It was certainly a dramatic change, and I could tell by Britt's smile that he considered it an improvement. My mind was still undecided. And my new acrylic tipped three-quarter inch nails didn't help any. Something was just odd. Britt looked great, I thought, and I looked practically identical. Why did that somehow seem wrong? We met the gang for lunch at the mall. Marc and Tim were eating pizza when we joined them. They could see that I had something on my mind. "What's up girlfriend?" Marc joked, I could see that he and Tim had visited the salon earlier for the treatment that Brett and I had just undergone. "So why the frown? Let me see your nails", he said. I held them out for all to inspect, "they look great, and your brows look amazing, don't you like them?" he turned to Britt, who admitted that Marc had been right. "Its not that" I finally spoke, "Its just that well, I don't know. Don't you guys think we are acting a little strange?" A collective look of confused faces answered that question. "We aren't acting any different from anyone else at LoriCorp," Tim piped up. "Kimmie's right" said Marc, "we're all acting the same so what's wrong with that?" "The problem is, that Kimmie's name isn't Kimmie, it's " I paused for a moment, what the heck was Kimmie's name? I struggled to find my train of thought, but it was lost. "Its Kimberly, but Kimmie is just easier to say. I guess you could call me Kim if you like," Kim said as he reached into his purse and produced a tube of copper/brown colored lipstick and using the mirror in his powder compact, applied a thick coating to his lips. Something inside me wanted to scream, but I wasn't sure why. He powdered his face, reapplied his mascara, checked his hair and turned to the group, "well I'm off to meet Rob". "On a Saturday?" we replied in unison. "We have a special project to finish, I'm meeting him to work on it", there was that devilish grin again, amplified by his puffier, poutier painted lips. He didn't wait for us to respond, but instead blew us a kiss goodbye and headed for the mall exit. "Don't you think he's a little overdressed for working in the office on a Saturday?" Britt piped up. Indeed, Kim was wearing a pair of brown walking shorts, with matching calf high, heeled boots, over beige pantyhose. On top was a beige mock neck sweater that showed a very clear bra line underneath. I supposed the bra wasn't such a huge shock. The swelling in the chest seemed to be a company wide epidemic for the vitamin trial subjects, and the only way to avoid sore pecks was to wear a bra. Some of us, like I, opted for a less distinguishable sports bra, while others like Kim, chose more daring styles. Britt sighed, "Can you blame him?" Marc and I offered confused looks. "I mean Rob Kelson is a good looking guy, I can't blame Kim for wanting to put in time on Saturday with him." Marc and I exchanged glances. Was Britt turning gay on us? That thought seem to stick with me for the duration of the weekend, while I watched sappy movies on TBS, while I shaved my underarms (and congratulated myself on finally getting my legs waxed). While I put away my new thongs and sports bras, and practiced walking in some daring new shoes I had picked up on a quick shopping spree with Britt and Marc after lunch. Even as I sat at my desk Monday morning, taking my pink multivitamin, Britt's statement replayed in my mind, over and over. What would make a guy say that about another guy? "Good Morning Miz Lawson" Mike spoke as he stopped at his office door, smiling at me, "You look different this morning." I batted my mascara coated eyelashes (hey Kim shouldn't be the only one with sexy eyes), smiling with my pink glossed lips, turning so that Mike could see my new nails, my new beige Capri pants with matching stockings, and olive green strappy sandals with 3" block heel. My sleeveless V-Neck sweater in olive green over a new support bra created the illusion of cleavage, or so I thought. His eyes felt warm as the scanned me up and down. I blushed, good thing I had applied a healthy coating of powder this morning, it would reduce the amount of red that would show. "Is it your hair?" he said finally. I almost frowned, but didn't want to disappoint him. "Yes", I lied, "do you like it?" "Looks great", he chipped, "Hey can you get me a coffee?" I jumped out of my chair, and went to the coffee maker, my new shoes clicking as I walked. I had gotten my hair done last week. It was now blonde the whole way through, and styled in a straight, pageboy do, that ended at chin level. With hair that long, I needed to wear bigger earrings, namely big silver hoops that matched the collection of bracelets that adorned my wrists. I was a little disappointed, but it was typical of Mike not to notice things like that. As I prepared his coffee, cream and sweetener, I thought to myself, I'll just have to get his attention some other way. I walked half way into his office, then turned, pretending to forget something. I made sure that he got a good view of my rear as I left. I returned a few seconds later, "Forgot the sweetener", I said, bending over to offer a good look down my top as I handed him the mug. He couldn't take his eyes off me. For a moment our eyes locked, before the ring of my phone brought us back to reality. This blatant flirtation would only get worse as the days passed. Mike, Mr. Peeters would call me into the office to pick things up off the floor. I would happily oblige, giving him a slow deliberate inspection of my ass, an ass which even by my own harsh standards was nothing short of amazing. I tried to think back to before, when I had been whatever I had done before being Mike's assistant. Did my ass look as good back then? Was it as round and firm? Were my hips as curvy? Did I always crave Mike's attention? Whatever my problem was, I wasn't alone. The lunchtime conversations now revolved, by in large, around how great our bosses were, how handsome they were, and how much we loved having them look at us. Kim often made matters worse, with stories of her escapades with Mr. Kelson. She boasted about how big his dick was and how much of it fit into her mouth, and other holes. I tried to think if she had always been such a slut. As far as I could remember, she had. As we parted company that Friday afternoon, to venture back to work, I noticed that Kim had once again taken things to a new level. While everyone else wore their typical Friday casual jeans, Kim sported an ultra tight denim miniskirt, with black patterned stockings and knee high, stiletto heeled boots. There was no doubt in anyone's minds what her intention was for the afternoon, evening and most of the weekend. Britt shook his head. "She is so lucky. Dominic, I mean Mr. DiAngelo, is nice and everything, but I just don't think he notices me that way. You know, the way that Rob treats Kimberly." He sighed like teenaged schoolgirl with a crush as he touched up his glossy peach colored lips. That odd feeling came over me again. Like I was the only one that could see that something was clearly wrong here. The problem was I wasn't too sure of what exactly it was. Britt obviously had it bad for Dom, and he was wearing peach lipstick. Creamy, glossy, long wearing peach lipstick that made his lips look plump and lush a part of me wanted to lean over and kiss them. I resisted, partially because of the voice inside my head kept screaming, "This isn't right!" But what wasn't right about it? As I had mentioned before, we were all trying to impress our supervisors...nothing odd there, and peach was definitely Britt's color, so why shouldn't she wear it? She wear it? I shook my head. "Later girls" Britt said as he headed for the door. He was wearing a casual top over a pair of jeans, jeans that ended at his calves where his black-heeled boots began, jeans that had had the legs ripped up inside and then sewn together in one solid pant leg. Well, not a pant leg, more like a skirt, a long, calf length, jean skirt. Had he just said, "Later girls?" Marc piped up "Later Brittany". "Brittany?" I questioned aloud, Marc shot me a strange glance as we gathered our cafeteria trays and headed for the exit. All the while I struggled to remember Brittany's real name, but all that came to mind was Britt...and Brittany. The dark cloud of confusion hung over my head for most of the weekend. Even a shopping excursion with Marc couldn't snap me out of it. As we perused the aisles, he would point out one thing or another, stuff that I knew other people at work were wearing, like a great looking pair of suede-look navy walking shorts and matching vest that Marc picked and paired some blue suede shoes with. He absolutely had to have the shoes. I couldn't really argue with his fashion acumen, though the open toes, ankle straps, 4" inch heel and 1" platform paired with white stockings were a little showier than was my taste. I couldn't blame him for pushing the envelope on style. I noticed how long Marc had let his auburn colored hair grow. It was straight cut to the shoulders with a subtle bob at the bottom. His bangs were short and teased. He had toned his lips cheeks and eyes to match his fiery hair. When not trying on new outfits, he wore a pair of black leather Capri pants, with an undersized black and silver baby-tee, with the word "Diva" written across the chest in bold silver letters. The letters only helped to draw more attention to the fact that Marc was very well endowed. He had boasted about his new "C" cup bra at lunch, stirring up a debate with Kim and Brittany over breasts implants. Both of them planned to enlarge their bosom as soon as possible, while Marc and I argued that women should be happy with whatever god blessed them with. "That sounds like something that a flat chested person would say," Kim sneered. For some reason the words stung. I remained in a strange "funk" for the remainder of our shopping spree. Buying new clothes usually put me into a very good mood, but today just wasn't happening for me. In fact at the end I was letting Marc choose my clothes for me. I just didn't care. In hindsight maybe I should have. I was beginning to think that I needed to be at work in order to be happy. My position as Mike's assistant seemed to be more and more important to me. It was starting to define who I was. I didn't dream of promotions much anymore, I didn't need my own office. I was happiest when I was sitting at my desk, typing memos, answering the phone, scheduling Mike; I mean Mr. Peeters' appointments, bringing him coffee, and of course flirting. It had become a company obsession. The lunchtime chatter was all about new clothes and flirting with bosses. I arrived late for one particular lunchtime gathering. Kim, Britt and Marc were all seated at our table, finishing off their salad plates. They commented me on the navy walking shorts and vest ensemble that I had borrowed from Marc. I had even warmed up to the blue suede platforms that I had once considered "too showy". It was my great looking outfit that delayed me that day. Mr. Peeters seemed unable to take his eyes off of it, striking up a series of pointless conversations just so he could get a better look at me. Not that I minded, I seemed to be trapped by his presence, unable to get out of the grip of his sparkling eyes. I was thankful for the normality of my friends in the cafeteria, as I was awash with confusing and conflicting feelings. "So," Kim greeted me, "how is Mr. Peeters' peter?" Britt and Marc giggled while I blushed. "Shut up" I retorted. "Not everyone that works here is obsessed with sucking their bosses dick". Kim just stared at me through her dark smoky eyes. "Oh really?" she said finally, "would you like to see a show of hands Ms Goody-two-shoes?" I looked away, chewing on my salad, "what-ev-er", I muttered under my breath. "Fine then," Kim said, pushing herself away from the table, "if you'll excuse me...I'm off to suck my bosses dick!" She stood, turned and left the cafeteria, dressed in a backless halter top, an extra short black leather miniskirt, with black fishnet stockings and dangerously high heels. Britt frowned at me, "I swear Lin, you're such a bitch sometimes," then she turned to Marc, "are you coming Marcie? Or would you rather stay with little Miss Perfect?" He hesitated, then offered me a defeated smile, "Yeah, I shouldn't keep Mr. Davis waiting." Marc reached down and retrieved his purse, and proceeded to empty most of the contents onto the table. Then with lightening fast precision, he applied beige foundation and loose powder, thick black eyeliner and mascara, gray and bright gold eye shadow, and deep red blush, topped off with glossy red lipstick. It was then I noticed that his nearly inch and a half long nails were painted in a matching shade. He undid a clip behind his head, letting his long flowing red hair spill down over his shoulders. "Marc?" I whispered, so quietly only I could hear. He put everything back into his purse and stood up. His conservative shirt and jacket were worn over a micro-short red and black pleated kilt, and seamed black stockings. He bent over make sure his knee high 5" heeled boots were zipped up, exposing his lacey stocking tops and lower part of his ass cheeks, covered only by the thin strap of his black thong. He turned and waved bye, still looking guilty for having betrayed me. Inside my head, I was screaming. This couldn't be happening, it wasn't happening. I looked around the cafeteria, wide eyed with terror. Where months ago the room had been occupied by a group of re-organized young men, now, everywhere I looked were glossy painted lips, smooth nylon encased legs, high heels and tight short skirts. I looked down at myself, seeing my own stocking covered thighs, my platform shoes. Not mine, I told myself, they're Mar Mar Marcie's. My mind was strained. Not Marcie, Marc. His name was Marc, and my name was Len, and there was Brett and Tim too. We were all employees here, but we were being changed. I suddenly realized I had to do something. I grabbed my purse, I mean handbag, and ran, I mean walked briskly, in my heeled shoes back to the office. "Len?" Mike's voice called from his office. I had just walked past his door, so I took a step back and looked in, "Yes Mike?" He was seated at his desk, Ron Davis was seated in a chair against the back wall, smiling at me as I entered Mike's office. "Len, is everything okay?" I looked at him, not noticing that Ron was closing the office door behind me. "You look upset dear", Mike said. I didn't know what to say. His words were strangely soothing, yet I feared that he was part of whatever was going on at our firm. "I I " I stammered. Mike wheeled his chair back from his desk and I gasped aloud. His belt was unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned. His rock hard member pointed up at the ceiling like some kind of surface to air missile. I heard rustling from under his desk. Seconds later, Marc crawled out on all fours, his lipstick slightly smeared, his hair messed up. My eyes remained locked on Mike's cock. It was so big, I thought to myself, I had no idea it was so big. I looked down to see that Marc was unbuttoning my shorts, letting them slide to the floor, followed by my thong panties. My own member began to swell immediately, as Marc stroked it gently with his red-nail tipped fingers. I moaned softly. I heard Ron laugh behind me, "Hey Mikey, I think she likes it!" Mike smiled. My eyes were still on his dick, as Marc slipped my own between his lips. "Ooooh!" I exclaimed in a rather high- pitched voice. Marc increased the suction he was applying to my engorged cock, bobbing his head as he sucked. This continued for a few long minutes until I was about to release my load. At this point, Marc stopped, looked up at me, and then moved aside. Mike was seated directly behind him, his cock pointed right at me. Something inside me snapped. I lunged headfirst into Mike's lap, his penis sliding easily into my mouth and throat. I emulated what I just experience with Marc Marcie, bobbing my head up and down as I sucked hungrily. Mike moaned and grunted, "Oh yes Linda, oh god, good girl Linda." Suddenly a burning sensation erupted in my rear, followed by the overwhelmingly stimulating sensation of Ron Davis pumping my firm asshole. It only made me hunger more for Mike's dick. And so I began to feel myself melt away, Leonard, Len, Mike's former co- worker was disappearing, and Linda, Mr. Peeters' cock sucking secretary, was coming to the surface. Marcie positioned herself under me and again took my aching cock into her mouth. I cried out, moments later Mike, Ron and I released our collective loads, and the corporate restructuring was completed. Days later I would be called into Mr. Peeters' office, for the third time that day, to pick up a stack of papers on the table in the corner of the office. I heard the door lock behind me. I smiled, bending over to grab the papers, but grabbing the table itself instead. Mike ran his hand up my pink nylon covered thighs, under my short pleated pink micro miniskirt, and removed my thong. I stepped out of it, kicking it under the table with my 2" platform soled, 7" heeled sandals, also in pink. Pink was this girl's favorite color. My long nails were pink, my collagen injected lips were pink, as was my blush and eye shadow, my 2" plastic hoop earrings, my tight fitting V neck sweater and my dangling plastic bracelets. He tweaked my gumdrop-sized nipples and massaged my surgically enhanced, D-cup breasts as he slid his cock into my waiting "love hole". I gasped aloud; as much as we did this (at least twice a day, sometimes double that) it was all so erotic and exciting each time. I loved the way he made me feel. So special, so sexy, so perfect, exactly like LoriCorp wanted. ?2004 Lori San D'Angelo Comments always welcome [email protected]