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One Man Office I work for a large privately held business, and until recently was the manager of a one-man department that responded technical questions from our customers. It was neither a popular nor prestigious position, so, as long as I responded to customer's inquiries promptly and keep complaints to a minimum, I was pretty much left alone by the company muckety-mucks. As the chief cook and bottle washer for my own department, small as it was, I got to hire my own secretary. I found a pretty young lady named Linda, to help keep me organized. Initially, it was Linda's job to file, type, and sort the mail. She turned out to be quite competent, and was more of an asset than I had ever imagined she would be. I've never been the kind of guy that chases the women in the office, but even if I had been, Linda had quickly made herself far too valuable to me for me to risk losing her by making unwanted advances. I keep my hands and my comments to myself, despite the fact that I found her very attractive, and thanks in large part to her efforts, things in our office ran smoothly. As she learned the ropes, it took her less and less time to complete her duties. Some afternoons, after she had completed her other duties she would read some of the customer correspondence, and my replies. She would ask questions, usually regarding the technical aspects of what she had read, and I would explain them to her. I knew that she was more than just a pretty face when I hired her, and it was reflected in the insightful questions that she asked. I've always hated bosses that get ahead by keeping someone else down. I believe it is management's responsibility to help their employees reach their maximum potential. For that reason, I did my best to educate her regarding our technology. As she developed a better understanding of our products I began letting her compose answers to our customers questions, which I would then critique. She had a real knack for composition, and usually managed to complete several replies a day. She enjoyed doing them, and was often faster than I. I guess it's the sign of a nerd, but I enjoyed the technical part of my job, and hated the interpersonal parts, like dealing with people I didn't know. When I saw how much Linda enjoyed doing them, I began letting her do more and more of the correspondence. Then I would proof read them for technical accuracy prior to sending them. She'd been working with me for over a year when the Thanksgiving holiday came around. I knew by then I did not have to worry about leaving the office in her hands, so I took the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and the Friday after, to spend the holiday with relatives. I returned home Friday evening to find a message from Linda on my answering machine. I called her back and she informed me that during my absence some work had piled up in the office. She suggested, if I wasn't opposed to going in for a while on Saturday, we might get the bulk of the work done and not have it hanging over our heads we went in on Monday morning. My weekend was open, and she's a fun person, and entertaining to work with, so I agreed. I was pretty sure that the Monday after a long holiday weekend would be crazy enough without the prospect of a huge pile of left over work. I went in and opened up around 10 o'clock, and she showed up shortly thereafter. I had the forethought to bring coffee, and when I saw that she had brought blueberry muffins, I knew things were going to be all right. We ate muffins and drank coffee as we organized our tasks. Everything was fine until she tried to start her computer. It wouldn't even boot up. She was pretty pissed, and told me that the guys in IT had promised her they would fix it Friday night. "You know," she informed me, "most of what you see here is because my computer was out. We wouldn't need to be here if you had trusted me with your password!" She looked at me with the strangest look in her eye. "How about if I do the correspondence on your computer? You don't mind, do you?" She was using the voice she uses when she wants to go home early, or take a day off. She knows I'm a sucker for that sweet little girl thing she does. "And what am I supposed to do while you're in there playing on my computer?" "Well.... Oh God!" She had that voice on again. "We could trade places! While I'm in there doing your job, you could sit at my desk and pretend to be me for the day!! YOU could be MY dogsbody for a change, get MY coffee, do MY filing for ME! You can just do whatever I tell you to while I'm sitting in the nice comfortable chair at the nice big desk in the nice inner office writing letters. Maybe I'll even gab with my friends on the phone, like you usually do all day." "I don't know... It sounds kinda weird?" I replied. "I mean, I don't even know how you take your coffee, and how can you expect me to do the filing when I don't even know the whole alphabet!" "Oh, c'mon! I know! I just thought of a way we can make it more fun!" She stepped over to the filing cabinet, and took down the shoe box on top of it. "I ordered these on the Internet, but they sent the wrong size, so I have to send them back. Since you'll be my secretary for the day, I'll let you wear them! They're just like my sexy black ones you always stare at. If you think they're sexy when I wear then, you really need to feel how sexy it is to wear then yourself!" "I have to admit, I've always wondered how you managed to walk around in those, but I'm not sure I'm curious enough to wear them. Is this a setup?" Leading me by the hand, we proceeded to her chair where she pushed me backwards until I fell into it. "I only brought them in to work so that I could have shipping and receiving send them back on Monday morning! Still, it would be fun to hear you walking around in them while you do the filing." She knelt at my feet and pulled my shoes and socks off. Then she kicked off the sneakers that she wears on her way into the office, and, still in her footies, she stepped into my shoes, literally and figuratively. She pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk and took out a pair of knee high nylons which she handed me. "Go ahead and give them a try," she suggested. "I'll be in my office working on my correspondence. If there's anything else you need, just knock. And Linda? When you are through dealing with your fashion issues, another cup of coffee would really be great." "Yes, Mr. Jenkins," I joked back, calling her by my name, since she called me by hers As I sat there with her nylons in my hands, staring at the heels in the box, she said imperiously "Well? Get going!", stepped into my office, and closed the door! Confused, but recognizing the jocular nature of our interchange, I decided to humor her. I could at least get her some coffee. When it was ready, I knocked before I opened her office door, like she does when it's my office, and took her coffee in to her. "You haven't even tried them on? From the way you stare at mine I figured you'd be wild for them. Go ahead and indulge, it's just us girls here! And roll your pants up to the knee so I see what you think is so sexy!" I sat back down at her desk and tried to put them on as she watched me through the doorway. "You'll never get them on without the nylons," she offered. "They won't bite, really." She sipped her coffee as she watched me. "Good coffee, by the way, Linda." "Thank you Mr. Jenkins," I replied as I put on one of the nylons. Once I had it on, my foot slipped right into the shoe. I put on the others stocking and high heel and tried to stand up, nearly falling on my face. They were probably 4 inches high! "Don't worry, you will catch on in no time. They look very pretty, by the way. Once you are finish the filing you can tell me if the shoe is still as sexy on the other foot, so to speak." She laughed and resumed her work. There was a large pile of documents to be filed, so I started the filing. Things went pretty rapidly, and we worked away, joking, kidding, using each other's names, and doing all the things the other usually did. At one point she called me into 'her' office and asked me to stand by her chair. Reaching down, she grabbed my pants cuffs, already rolled up to my knees, and clipped them together with a large bindery clip. "Okay. Walk out the door and back and let me see if that helps." As I started to step away from her desk I realized that my stride was severely limited, as if I were wearing one of those tight skirts she sometimes wears. I ended up with an entirely different motion as I swiveled my hips in an attempt to get some of my stride back. She clapped her hands in glee telling me that was more like it, and to get back to work. It was actually sort of fun doing her job. I hammed it up, acting like a ditz and making her tell me every detail of every little thing that she wanted me to do. It was fun not having to make any decisions. Not that I had to make so many important decisions on a normal day, but it was nice to while away the day without having to worry about anything. She, on the other hand, only got up from her desk to recycle her coffee, and must have answered 20 pieces of correspondence by the time we left at 2:00. "We'll have to do this again," she stated as we headed out to our cars. "I really enjoyed having you at my beck and call, Linda." We both laughed. "Well, you were right about the shoes being fun, and sexy, but they're not the most comfortable thing in the world," I conceded. "I'm sorry," she said. "If I had known who was going to end up wearing them, I'd have ordered them with a lower heel! What do you say we do it again next Saturday? We could take advantage of that flex time the company brags about and just be decadent Friday. If we leave early we can enjoy our Friday night, and when we come in Saturday we can do the correspondence and filing that piled up. What do you say?" "When I get in Monday I'll have my secretary check my schedule," I teased. It seemed like a harmless fun, and I did enjoy working with her. "But let's not order a new nameplate for the office door just yet." It was nice arriving to cleared off desktops Monday morning, and things went pretty much as usual, at least until Friday. True to her word, all Linda did on Friday, all day long, was horse around. She took the shoe box out of the filing cabinet and place it on her desk in plain sight. "Just getting ready," she advised me with a grin, "if anyone asks I'll just tell them I'm sending them back." She offered to pay if I would go pick up lunch for us. "What? Do I already look like a secretary to you?" I asked, feigning shock. "No, right now you look like the boss," she teased, "but if you wait until tomorrow when I'm the boss, I'm going to send you out for sandwiches in your patent leather high heels." "Come on," I replied, "did I ever make you go pick up lunch when you didn't want to?" "No,..." she replied with a grin, "but you're a big softy. Things are going to be different around here when I'm the boss!" "Well..., Mr. Jenkins..., I suppose you're going to make me place the order, too?" "You never had a problem placing it before, Linda! Or picking it up, either! I saw the menu on your desk with the phone number on it. I'll take my usual, and get whatever you want for yourself." For some reason, every time she addressed me as 'Linda,' a little tremor of excitement went through my body. I had never entertained a desire to be her, or any other woman for that matter, but for some reason, the thought of trading places was somehow exciting me. I thought about it some more on the walk over to the deli, and realized that her being in control also gave me a shiver of erotic excitement. As the afternoon wore on the thought of me working for her tomorrow was growing more and more attractive... Lunch was uneventful, and we decided to leave the office around two o'clock. As we headed out to our cars she said to me, "Boss brings the coffee, secretary brings the donuts! Oh, and if I am going to be the boss tomorrow, I'll need your door key." "Deal!" I said, taking the key from my ring and passing it to her. Giving her my key reminded me of the transfer of command ceremonies when I was in the military. "And wear your blue pinstriped suit tomorrow! I have something fun planned." My car chirped back at me when I pressed the remote entry button, and we got into our cars, hers a cute little yellow Volkswagen beetle, mine a BMW. When I arrived at the office Saturday morning, there was already a steaming cup of coffee waiting on my desk. I guess you could call it my desk, since I had pretty much agreed to be her secretary again. Like the last time, we sipped our coffee and ate our treats before we started. "Okay," she said, as I finished my second chocolate covered donut, "That's enough of that! One of the secretaries most important assets is her girlish figure. It's time for you to get to work, anyway!" We were both wearing our blue pinstriped suits, mine with pants, and hers with a skirt. As we hung our coats up on the rack by the door, I was surprised to see that her demure loking blouse with long sleeves and ruffled lace cuffs, and a long collar tied in a bow was nearly transparent. The very lacy white bra clearly visible through the sheer blouse supported what could only be described as a fine rack. It was not her usual style, and, all in all, it was a very sexy look. "You like?" she asked when she saw me ogling her. "You've got to be kidding, Mr. Jenkins!" I teased, "you are the sexiest man I have ever worked for!" "Have a seat," she said, leading me to her office chair. "Let's see if we can't make your appearance a little more appropriate for your new position." I was calm and relaxed, and was almost feeling indifferent. As she reached up and began to remove my red tie, I just sat there watching her beautifully manicured hands work. Next she began unbuttoning my baby blue dress shirt. "This does not look secretarial in the least," she commented, pulling out my shirttails and then removing my shirt completely. "Right back!" She said, scurrying into my former office. It seemed like it was only seconds before she returned wearing my shirt and tie, and carrying that virtually transparent blouse. Her fine bust in that her beautiful bra was no longer visible, and I thought, in my befuddled bemusement, that I really wished I had worn a see through shirt too! Stepping behind me she said, "Arms up!" as if she were dressing a child. She started my hands into the sleeves and slid the blouse down my raised arms. "Very good!" she said, as she stepped around in front of me and gently pulled my arms back down. It was only when she pulled the straps of her bra around behind me and fastened the clasps that I realized while she had put the shoulder straps of the bra over my arms at the same time she slid them into the sleeves of her blouse. "You look nice in white," she told me, as she buttoned the blouse up the back. I must have been too interested in the scenery to notice there weren't any visible buttons. "I don't know about this..." I said, looking down at her bra, now clearly visivle through MY sheer blouse. The rapid rate at which things were happening was overwhelming my somewhat befuddled mind. "What's the problem? You are obviously enjoying this..." She was looking down at the bulge in my trousers. "Do you feel guilty, enjoying something so naughty? We can pretend I'm forcing you if it will help you deal with your guilt?" Admittedly, I was enjoying it. There was no denying my throbbing trouser snake. But, for the life of me I couldn't understand the way I was feeling. Despite the erotic feelings, I felt relaxed and unconcerned. More relaxed and unconcerned than I thought I should be. I felt totally passive, and couldn't seem to get very worked up about the things she was doing. "Okay," I agreed, "you're the boss." She went to the cabinet with the shipping supplies, returning with a roll of clear 2 inch packing tape. She slid the sleeves of the blouse up a little, and used several wraps of tape to secure each of my wrists to the armrests of her chair. I pretended to struggle and said, "No..., Mr. Bill!" "Is that better?" she asked when she stopped laughing. "Now that I have you at my mercy and there's nothing you can do about it, I'll just go ahead and do something about your totally unprofessional looking nails." She was reaching into her desk drawer, and her hand came out with a small bottle of bright red fingernail polish. I felt another inexplicable little sexual zing. I sat there watching her paint my nails. I was totally aroused by the way she was acting, and although I can't say I was completely comfortable with how things were developing, I didn't fight it. She apparently tuned in to my discomfort. "It's okay, sweetie," she reassured me, patting me on the back of my hand. "Having pretty nails is one of the fun parts of being a secretary. Besides, there's no use getting upset about things you have no control over, so just relax and enjoy your first manicure. Is your first, isn't it, Linda?" "Uh... Yes it is! Oh, why are you doing this to me, Mr. Jenkins?" I said, ad libbing the heroine being tied to the railroad tracks. "Well, Linda, I insist that all the girls in my office have as feminine a presentation as possible," she explained, "not just polished fingernails, but lipstick and proper eye makeup, too!" "Oh, Mr. Jenkins! That sounds like sexual harassment to me! How could you?" "It's not sexual harassment. As the boss, it's my responsibility to make sure that my secretary complies with the employee dress code," she assured me. "Nothing reflects on the boss more than the appearance of her support staff." Once she finished painting, she reached up and tied the floppy bow at my neck. "Now that's more like it!" she said as she perused her work. "Whoops," she said as she reached down and removed my shoes and socks, "I almost forgot your toenails! Let's get those awful man pants out of the way." She had already unbuckled my belt to pull out my shirttails, now she undid the catch at my waist, and lowered my zipper. "Lift your butt a little, Linda," she said, pulling my pants and boxers off in one swift motion when I did. She pushed my rolling chair back a little, lifted my feet up onto the blotter on top of her desk, sat in my lap straddling my legs, and proceeded to polish my toenails too. When they were done to her satisfaction, she took my shoes, socks, and pants, and headed into my former office again. "Just cool your heels for a while, while your polish dries," she directed, "I have work to do, but I'll be back." "Yes, Mr. Jenkins," I replied submissively. Taped half naked, to my secretary's chair, I felt totally helpless. At the same time I had to admit that my helplessness was very erotic. The weekend before I had just schlepped around the office following instructions, without a care. Now my secretary was definitely adding to the erotic tension, dressing me in her things. Was I really some sort of submissive? I couldn't understand my feelings of complacency as I sat there strapped me to her chair, looking at my newly painted nails. Despite the decidedly unmanly things she was doing to me, I had allowed her to continue. It just seemed easier to go along with her. I wondered if this was how a secretary normally felt? I had never really thought about what it felt like to be a secretary before. Of course, I'd never had any reason to. I mean, the previous Saturday I worked around the office following someone else's instructions, but it was just a fun opportunity to work in a carefree environment. Somehow, this seemed totally different. Somewhere in the back of my mind the thought began to form that maybe I wasn't fighting it because I really wanted to be, or maybe I was supposed be a secretary. I just sat there like a blob until she returned 20 minutes later. "Are we all ready to finish getting dressed?" she asked. "Is that a rhetorical question?" I replied, once again pretending to struggle with my taped wrists. "That depends. Aren't your nails beautiful?" "Yes," I admitted. "I was hoping that while you were sitting here admiring your manicure and pedicure, you might admit to yourself how much you really want to be my secretary. Is your inner sissy ready to come out and play, or do you need to keep pretending you are being forced?" "I don't know," I admitted. She sighed and picked up the roll of tape. My eyes were drawn once again to my brightly painted toes as I watched her bind my ankles together tightly with several wraps of tape. She pulled my legs off the desk and down under my chair, and taped my ankles to the center post, as easily as if she had done it 100 times before. "I can't keep interrupting my work for this kind of silliness. I'll give you half an hour to think about it." "Wait, wait!" I pleaded. "No more pretending! The only thing I want in life is to be your Sissy secretary! Please!" It may not have been the only thing I wanted, but there was no question in my mind that I wanted it more than I wanted to spend another half an hour taped to my chair! "Really? What a good girl! I'll go get your skirt." She stepped back in my office for a moment, returning with her skirt, panties, garter belt, and seamed stockings in her hands. I realized how focused I must have been on my nail polish when it finally dawned on me that she was wearing my shoes, socks, and pants. What was happenning to me? I felt like a zombie! She removed the tape from my wrists and ankles and handed me the garter belt, which I put on without hesitation. When she gave me the stockings, one at a time, I put them on with equal alacrity. My bobbing penis was embarrassing me and when she handed me the panties it was a relief to put then on. Finally, she handed me her skirt. As I was putting put it on she got me her jacket from the coat rack, and in seconds I was in a pinstriped suit again, albeit one somewhat different in design and cut. I was surprised at how well the jacket fit, although I was unable to button it. "Very professional!" She said as she looked me over. "I think you'll do just fine. Get your heels on and get to work." "Certainly, Mr. Jenkins! Right away!" I agreed. "You know, Linda, that seems somewhat sexist. I mean, it's obvious that I don't need to be a man to be the boss, do I?" "No ma'am." "I think you should call me Ms. Welch." "Yes, Ms. Welch," I agreed, as I once again slipped my feet into those delicious heels. "And, we can't have two Linda's here in the office either," she suggested, "what do you think we should call you? Sherman is way too macho. How about Nancy? That's a pretty good secretary name, don't you think?" "That's fine, Ms. Welch." "Now, there's one more thing, Nancy. Go take a look in my executive washroom. I brought you a little something." She suggested. There was a Styrofoam head with a curly blonde wig on it. Someone had taken various colored felt pens and drawn beautiful eyes on it, and laying on the counter in front of it was a large assortment of makeup. As I stood staring at it she came up behind me and pinched my nipples through the sheer blouse and the empty cups of my bra. "Do you like my Dolly Parton wig?" Ms. Welch asked me. "It's not very good quality, I just bought it for Halloween, but I thought you might enjoy it." Deep inside I knew that I was getting in way over my head, but for some reason I lacked the gumption resist her. I looked down at my stockinged legs below the hem of my skirt. I was unable to deny how beautiful those black patent leather heels looked on my feet. I felt a wave of acceptance, like it was my destiny to be a secretary. "Will you help me Ms. Welch? Please? I don't know anything about being a secretary!" "Of course, Nancy! Part of being a good boss is helping your employees reach their potential." I realized that her statement was something I had said myself, under different circumstances. Have a seat." She indicated the lid of the toilet seat. "Thank you, ma'am," I replied, sitting and folding my hands in my lap. She slipped wig over my head and pulled it down at the nape of my neck until it was tight. "Okay, close your eyes and look up." As I did and I heard her take something from the counter and then felt her brush something on my eyelid just above my eyelash. Eyeliner, I assumed. That was followed by all sorts of things that got sort of confusing, but she was finished in about a minute and a half. "Now that's just a rough job, Nancy, but you look much more attractive. We have work to do, but if there's time later I'll teach you how to do it for yourself." She took my hand and helped me to a standing position, when I saw my face in the mirror I almost fell back on the toilet. With my eyes made up, and my face framed by the curly blonde wig, I looked every bit the secretary. "Okay. Enough narcissism. You can admire yourself all day as you walk back and forth in front of the mirror in the office. Now get to work!" She was trying hard to sound like the boss, and we both laughed at the way it came out. We worked hard until 12, and then, true to her word, she went and picked up lunch. She didn't seem to share my reluctance to go out in public in the other person's clothing, though she did change to a pair of her own flats. After she left, I noticed her purse sitting on the credenza. When I peeked in. I could see her wallet. Upon reflection I realized my wallet was still in my pants pocket, and I knew who was paying for lunch. When she returned, I spread the food out on the visitor's coffee table while she prepared our coffees. The afternoon was just a blur. I remember her telling me to do things, and I remember doing a lot of filing, but everything just seemed to run together without punctuation. I was really being the secretary! I enjoyed knowing that by being efficient I was helping Ms. Welch, my boss. When she called from the office that it was time to go home, I wondered where the afternoon had gone. I had been breezing along without a care in the world, and when I looked at the clock, it was after 5:30! She came out from her office carrying her purse, led me out by the hand, had locked the office doors. I had become so comfortable with my attire that I only realized the enormity of my situation when I felt the cold wind whipping between my nylon covered legs. "You may return my things Monday, Nancy. Enjoy the rest of your weekend." I just stood there dumbly as she handed me the purse she had been carrying. She reached into the pocket of my pants and I heard the chirp as the doors to my BMW unlocked. "See you Monday!" She said as she got in and drove away. I was still standing there motionless as my car turned right on Broadway and disappeared from view. Another gust of cold wind between my legs snapped me from my reverie. Confused, I dug in her purse until I found the keys to her car and used them to unlock the door. I found I was unable to relax until I was in the car with the doors locked. I was learning how vulnerable wearing a skirt can make you feel. As I drove home I felt myself coming out of my fugue, and hoped that my neighbors either wouldn't see, or wouldn't recognize me. I was hungry and exhausted, and I was still enjoying the feel of Ms. Welch's clothes so I just opened a can of chicken noodle soup and ate dinner before I undressed and removed the wig. I was in bed before eight, and never felt my head hit the pillow. I awoke about nine on Sunday, bright eyed and bushy tailed, only to be confronted by my bright red nails. I tried alcohol, peroxide, dish detergent, and just about everything else I could find, before I resorted to the Internet. Polish remover, it seems, is actually acetone. I got some from the garage and my nails were their normal color in no time at all. I went about my usual weekend chores, until I was cleaning the bathroom mirror. It was a good thing shopping wasn't on my 'to do list,"because I had a world class case of raccoon eyes. I washed my face, but most of it did not come off, and it was back to the Internet. One of the suggestions there was baby oil, so I tried it. Almost everything came off. There was still a slight residue from the eyeliner, so I left the baby oil out on the bathroom counter as a reminder to use it again in the morning, before work. I hung up Ms. Welch's skirt suit, and washed the rest of her things with mine. My day was pretty full, with all the usual weekend cleaning and washing, and once again I went to bed exhausted. In the morning I took Ms. Welch's things out and put them in the trunk of her car. As I closed the rear lid I realized that in my mind I have been referring to Linda as Ms. Welch since before lunch on Saturday! I admonished myself for letting a day of play change the way I thought. When I got back to the office I would demote her right back to Linda. It felt strange seeing my BMW in my assigned parking space as I made a circuit of the parking lot in her little yellow beetle, hunting for a parking space. I wasn't about to walk in carrying a purse, so I left it locked in her trunk with the rest of her things. I stuck her keys in my pocket and headed into the office. I was relieved that she had arrived first, as I wouldn't have wanted to explain having to wait for my secretary to let me in. She was already sitting behind the desk in my office, working on my computer. "Good morning, Linda," I said. "Good morning, Nancy!" she replied, "how was your weekend?" "Don't you think Mr. Jenkins would be more appropriate?" I asked. "Oh, don't worry, Nancy! It's only us girls here! If you are afraid someone else will discover you're my sissy secretary, I can call you Mr. Jenkins whenever there's someone around? Is that what you're worried about? Someone finding out about... you?" "Get out of my chair, Linda," I said in my best office manager voice. "Welcome back to the real world. Do you suppose getting me a cup of coffee would be too much of an imposition?" "Right away, Mr. Jenkins," she said, almost jumping from my chair. "Welcome back!" She returned a short time later and placed a cup of coffee on my desk, closing my office door on her way out. I worked undisturbed for an hour or so before I ran out of coffee. "Linda, could you get me some more of your excellent coffee?" I called out. There was a soft knock on my door, and Linda came in to get my coffee cup, leaving without speaking a word. As I waited for my coffee, I allowed my mind to wander, musing about how much I enjoyed last Saturday, and hoping I hadn't upset her. I knew I needed her here in the office, and that I had better do my best to get along with her. As I reflected, I realized that it was more than that! For some reason I found that I really wanted her to be happy with me. I was afraid I had been too harsh, and resolved to apologize when she returned. The longer she was gone the more concerned I was that I had upset her. My work was completely forgotten as I sat there trying to formulate an apology. I decided that while I was apologizing, I should also let her know what a great boss she had been on Saturday. "Sorry I took so long!" she apologized. "I had to send a customer referral over to engineering, and it got sort of involved." I looked at the clock and realized that I had been sitting there with my mind wandering for over 45 minutes. "That's okay, I had some things to think about." "Like what?" she asked. "Like apologizing if I was a little too harsh this morning," I offered. "Apology accepted. I'll try not to call you Nancy unless you are being my secretary. Did you have fun on Saturday? I know I did!" Apparently she was a mind reader too. "Yes," I admitted, "there was something intriguing about letting you be the boss, although I don't exactly understand why I felt so complacent about it." "Does that mean we might do it again sometime?" she wanted to know. "I suppose we might, I don't know," I allowed, "it was kind of exciting, in a relaxing way, if that makes any sense." "You brought back my things, didn't you?" "Yes, everything is in the trunk of your car. I hope that's okay?" I felt myself turning into the same conciliatory wimp I had been Saturday afternoon. "Why don't you bring them in and we'll keep them in your closet for next time. You still have my keys, don't you?" "Right away, Ms. Welch!" I said with a hearty laugh, rising from my desk and heading for the parking lot. Ms. Welch sure is a good planner, I thought as I retrieved her things. I caught myself wishing I was as good planner as she is. I returned to the office with her clothes, and was hanging them in my closet when she asked, "You can put the heels back in the box so I can send them back, unless you'd rather keep them too?" Apparently, she was going to call me on it. "Well, Ms. Welch," I capitulated. "Shouldn't we keep them in here too, just in case?" "In case what, Nancy?" "In case you want me to be your secretary again, Ms. Welch?" I suggested. "You're not being entirely honest with yourself, are you, Nancy? I mean, who's the closet secretary here? Me? Or you? Who just put a woman's blue pinstriped skirt suit, a sheer blouse with ruffles and lace, and a matching bra, panty, and garter belt set with nylons in her closet, huh?" She never took her eyes off me as she indulged in a hearty laugh. Damn! This woman was one tough boss! She wasn't going to let me get away with anything. "I guess you are right, Ms. Welch. I'd like to keep the heels, if I can. I never really thought about having my own pair of high heels, but I had fun being your secretary." "Sissy secretary?" she asked. "Are you are trying to say 'It's me Ms. Welch, I am the one who wants to be your Sissy secretary'?" Wow! There wasn't an inch of slack in this woman! "Yes, Ms. Welch," I admitted, "I am the one who wants to be your Sissy secretary, Ms. Welch." "Good! Are your toenails properly polished? Or have you been a naughty secretary?" "I'm afraid I've been a naughty secretary, Ms. Welch. Please don't be angry with me," I heard myself whining like a school girl. I told myself I was joking with her as I was doing it, but somewhere deep inside I also knew it was very important to me to please her. "Shame on you, Nancy. You head right out there to your desk and do something about it, this instant. No excuses. You know the dress code. I'll go ahead and finish up this correspondence that you've been sitting here at my desk making a mess of." She waited expectantly until I exited my chair, then sat down in front of my computer. "Thank you, Ms. Welch." I scooted out of her office, unable to understand why she affected me like that. I felt like a child being punished. I sat down at her desk and took off my shoes and socks. Putting my feet up on the edge of the desk one at a time, I applied toenail polish for the first time in my life. It wasn't a particularly good job, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that I would get better in time. I found myself wondering for a second, 'what the hell am I thinking?' but I knew she would do a good job on the correspondence, so I decided to get on with my secretarial chores and worry about it later. I looked in the drawer for the knee-high nylons but they weren't there, so I tapped on Ms. Welch's door. "Enter." I stepped timidly through the door. "What is it, Nancy?" "My knee highs are not in the drawer, Ms. Welch. I'm not sure what to do." "Just put on your garter belt and nylons in the closet, and get back to work. Your toes look much better, by the way." "Thank you, Ms. Welch." I put the garter belt and stockings on under my pants and returned to my desk, where I slipped my feet into the heels waiting for me beneath it. At 1230 Ms. Welch called me into her office. "Bring in a glass of water." When I entered with the water she pointed to a visitor chair and told me to take a seat. She strode over and placed three pills of my hand. "What are these?" I asked. "Take them right now, Nancy." She instructed. She was sure getting better at the 'boss voice,' the way she said it left no room for argument. I tossed down a little round pill and the two tiny football shaped ones, with a sip of water. In a softer voice she informed me they were 'secretary pills.' "The round one is Valium, to help you relax, and the two little pointy ones are Xanax, which will help reduce your anxiety while you are adjusting to your new position." A thought crept into my little secretarial brain. "Did you put some of these in my coffee this morning?" I wanted to know. "Of course," she acknowledged, "when you came in this morning and started spouting that stuff about 'Mr. Jenkins,' I knew I had to do something for my new secretary. You were so tense! A cup of my special blend of coffee had you feeling better in no time, didn't it?" I wanted to get angry with her, but when it began to seem less and less important by the second, I realized I was headed back to la la land. As I sat there with what I'm sure was a stupid look on my face, she said "It's after 1230, so your secretary pills should last you the rest of the day. I would like my usual from the deli. Now get going." "Yes, Ms. Welch." I placed our lunch orders, then arranged things on my desk for 10 minutes, until it was time to leave. I had the office door open on my way out when she called me back to her office. "Nancy, don't you think those shoes are more appropriate for here in the office?" She was looking down at my patent leather heels. Why don't you slip into your flats for the trip to the deli?" "Thank you, Ms. Welch! I've gotten so used to them!" I changed my shoes, but figured my pants were long enough to conceal my nylons, so I didn't wear my socks. In some strange way that I couldn't define, the feel of my nylons pulling on my garters made me feel like I was putting one over on everybody else in the office. I had never enjoyed going to the deli more. When I returned with our lunches I slipped back into my heels before I even opened the bag. Ms. Welch called out, instructing me to set hers out on her desk for her, as she was going to have a working lunch. As she typed away on her correspondence, I set out her lunch for her on her desk, got her another cup of coffee, and then went and ate my lunch at my secretary desk. About the time I finished my lunch, she called me into her office to clean up the residue of hers. I guess the Xanax was working because I wasn't worried in the least that she wouldn't do a good job on my correspondence. Knowing I had nothing to be concerned about, I was perfectly content to be her submissive little secretary and do her bidding. Everything went swimmingly, and we were both getting a lot of things done when, at around three o'clock, the owner of the company, Mrs. Steinman, came into the office. It wouldn't have been so bad, were I sitting at my desk, but I was standing at the filing cabinet in my four-inch heels, blissfully unaware of her arrival. I pranced around in my heels filing things for God knows how long before she cleared her throat to get my attention. I knew I was in deep Doo Doo, but the Xanax came to my rescue! "Hello, Mrs. Steinman," I greeted her with a smile. "How are you today? What brings you to my office on this fine day?" "Oh, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Jane, in security, told me that the motion sensing cameras in your office indicated activity on Saturday. I thought I'd stop by for one of my occasional visits and see how things are going. What's new?" She asked. As she spoke to me, I couldn't help noticing the way her eyes kept flicking down to my shoes. As amazed as I was that I had forgotten all about the security cameras, my anxiety was still a flat line, thank God for my 'secretary pills.' "Doing a little employee training today," I offered in a voice so calm and relaxed that it amazed even me, "Ms. Welch is in my office honing her skills at customer correspondence. She's been having difficulties with her computer, so I had her use mine. Since we can't bothuse it at the same time, I decided to use the time to get something practical done." She glanced at the computer on the secretary desk, where the Windows desktop was clearly visible. I gulped. "Well? How is she doing so far?" Ms. Steinman wanted to know. "She's showing great potential," I acknowledged, "as you see, she's capable of working virtually unsupervised." "And you, Mr. Jenkins? You are virtually without supervision yourself and you don't seem to be having any trouble performing common secretarial tasks. There's always room at the bottom if you're considering a career change?" "Oh, no thank you, Ms. Steinman." I looked down at my heels and laughed. "This is just a little temporary role reversal in the interest of employee education." It was the first time I had ever seen her laugh. "Well, learning to walk in four-inch heels may be more educational that writing letters. Watch your step!" She was still laughing at her own pun as she stepped into my office and closed the door behind her. "Maybe she's not really the grinch that everyone says she is?" I thought. She'd already seen me in them so there wasn't much point in changing my shoes, and I didn't want her to see me just sitting around, so I resume filing. I worked diligently, expecting her to exit my office any second. It was almost half an hour later, and I was relieved that she finally came out when she did, because I had almost run out of things to do. She walked over to me, approaching so closely that she was in my personal space. Silently, she looked down at my patent leather toes. When I followed her gaze down I could see the outline of a garter on the front of my pants. She reached down and touched it, gently, tracing the outline to assure herself what it was, then pulled it away from my leg and let it snap.. "Hmmm.... I guess I'm going to have to review those security tapes myself, after all," she said. She waved tata over her shoulder as she left the office. Her comment left me with something of a sick feeling, although I knew we really hadn't done anything wrong. There was no sexual harassment, or verbal or physical abuse. I suppose we were guilty of wasting a few feet of company packing tape. Hopefully she would be entertained, rather than angered by our silly antics, and the fact was that we had come in on our own time to do company work. Hopefully that would offset the cost of 3 feet of packing tape. "Oh well." I shrugged. "There's nothing we can do about it now. I wonder what she talked to Ms. Welch for half an hour about?" I wanted to ask Ms. Welch about it, but Ms. Steinman had closed the door when she exited my office, and I didn't want to knock and bother her. I had completed the filing, so I went to my new desk and started responding to customer inquiries myself. When Ms. Welch exited her office I looked up and was surprised to see that it was already after 5:30! "What a dutiful little secretary!" She said. "You know that secretaries get off at 4:30, don't you?" "I didn't want to bother you, coming in to change." "What's to change? Did you want to wear your new pinstriped secretary suit home? Did you want the rest of your matching underwear? You know, they're not really shown off to their best advantage unless you're wearing them under your new sheer blouse. Well, do what you need to do, and I'll see you tomorrow." Her teasing me about the underwear was somehow erotic, but she was out the door and gone before I had the opportunity to respond. I changed back into my own things, rinsed out the nylons and hung them in the closet, and headed out the door, pushing the button to lock it on my way out. When I exited the building there was only one car left in the parking lot, and it wasn't my BMW! I quickly patted my pants leg and was relieved to feel the keys to her Volkswagen beetle. I had planned to trade keys with her, but when I brought her things in from her car my hands were full, and I had put them back in my pocket and forgot them. I sighed as I got in her car, at least I was getting good mileage. For a brief second the thought passed through my mind that I had missed my opportunity to wear something more appropriate for the car I was driving. I chuckled to myself "those secretary pills are really something!" As I drove home, I couldn't help wondering if I was going to hear from Ms. Steinman after she reviewed the videos. I returned to the office the next day relieved to find once again that Linda had arrived before me, although she was seated behind my desk. "Good morning, Linda," I greeted. "How are you this morning?" "Just fine, Nancy. Can I get you some coffee?" she offered. "No thanks, Linda. Caffeine seems to do funny things to me, lately. You don't mind if I sit at my own desk today, do you?" "Not at all, Nancy. If you'd like, you can finish the one I've been working on, and then I'll review it for you." She was such a comedian. "I don't think that will be necessary, thank you. I finished all your filing yesterday while I waited for Ms. Steinman to come out of the office, so you might as well finish it yourself. I will forward it to your computer. How did you get on with Ms. Steinman?" "She's a real kick in the pants! She thought it was great that I put you in a pair of four-inch patent leather heels." "She what! What did you tell her?" I demanded. "Relax, Nancy. I didn't want her thinking I had forced you into anything, so I explained to her that it was just a little role reversal for training purposes." "Oh, thank God. At least we got our stories straight. That's exactly what I told her." "She seemed a little surprised when I told her that you polished your own toenails, and that you asked to borrow a pair of knee highs. I told her that all I had here was a garter belt and stockings, and that you opted to put them on anyway. Thank god she told me about the security videos up front! I knew I had to be totally honest with her." She sounded apologetic, but after the way she had used the opportunity to pound nails in my coffin, I questioned her sincerity. "Thanks a lot for your consideration, Linda," I replied. "Hey, what else could I say, Nancy? Do you have your toes polished today, like a good secretary?" She wanted to know, "now that you have nothing left to hide, we can have all sorts of office fun!" I blanched, realizing I hadn't removed the toenail polish last night, but I wasn't going to tell her that. "You know," I suggested, "a person could wear that blue pinstriped skirt suit and still be the boss! In fact, I thought you looked pretty bossy in it." "I think you're finally getting the picture, Nancy. When I wear it, it's a power suit, and I feel sexy and in control. When you put on the very same women's suit, you feel sexy too, but, with or without your secretary pills, you still become a submissive sissy secretary. You see, it's not the skirt that matters, it's who's wearing it." "Right! That's me! Instant sissy secretary! What a crock!" She was starting to really piss me off! "Well... " She said, "everything you need is in the closet, if you want to put your money where your mouth is. I'll bet you the price of lunch that you can't wear your skirt suit until lunchtime without asking for some of my special coffee, or doing something else totally submissive." "You're on!" I almost yelled. The girl was really getting to me. "Can I trust you to get me a regular cup of coffee?" I asked sarcastically. "Of course, Nancy." She returned a short time later, placing a cup of coffee and three pills on the desk. "I brought you your secretary pills too, Nancy, just in case." "The next time you call me Nancy, you will find your self drowning in the secretarial pool. Close the door on your way out," I instructed, waiting until I heard the door latch before I got up and went to the closet. Realizing now that almost everything I did was subject to electronic supervision, I changed into the skirt suit in the closet. The Styrofoam dummy was looking at me from the shelf, and figuring what the hell, I grabbed the wig and pulled it on too. She was right, I did feel sexy. I felt even sexier when the ties that I stuffed into the cups of the bra ended up making the lace much more visible through the sheer blouse. I slipped my stocking feet into the four-inch heels and strode back to my desk. Wow! I was ready to kick ass and take names. I knew I was feeling the power she had mentioned. She was wrong about me being a submissive. I was responding to a customer inquiry and sipping my coffee when there was a knock at the door. "Enter!" I commanded, now that I was Ms. Powerful. Linda entered somewhat timidly, and placed her bottle of red nail polish in front of me on the desk. "I thought you might want this, boss," she offered, backing out obsequiously, and closing the door behind her. 'Isn't that a nice change of pace' I thought, as I tried to resumed my work. No matter how I tried to ignore that little bottle of red polish it, my attention was constantly drawn back to it. I began rationalizing. When I was playing at being her secretary and Ms. Welch was the boss, she had been wearing polish. Ms. Steinman had been wearing polish too, and no one would say there was anything submissive about her! Obviously, wearing nail polish was not in and of itself 'submissive.' As I painted my nails, I imagined myself running the whole company. There I was sitting behind Ms. Steinman's desk in my blue pinstriped power suit, casually polishing my nails while I had everyone around me stepping and fetching. I fantasized about the things I would do for a few more minutes as I waited for the polish to dry, then put the bottle in my drawer where it wouldn't keep distracting me, and got back to work. Not long after, there was a knock at my door. "Enter," I said. Linda poked her head around the door, sniffed the air, and said, "Is that nail polish?" "Sure is! Almost the same color as Ms. Steinman's!" "Speak of the devil! Ms. Steinman's on line one, for you." "Thank you, Linda. That will be all." I said dismissively. When she didn't move, I have asked. "Is there something else?" "She told me to wait while you answered the phone." I picked up the phone, pushed the line one button, and said "Bob Jenkins... Yes, she is... On the speaker?... Yes ma'am!" I pushed the speaker button on my phone and her voice filled the room. "Jenkins, I want you to know that I reviewed the videotapes from last Saturday." "Yes ma'am," I replied. "I have also reviewed the files that Ms. Welch completed while you were doing the filing, and I have been monitoring your work this morning. While I insist that my employees maintain a well groomed appearance in the office, I do not pay you, Mr. Jenkins, to sit around polishing your nails! Step over to the video camera in the corner and look up into it." Several seconds passed in silence before her voice came over the speaker again, this time addressing Linda. "Ms. Welch, do you suppose you could do something about... There's no audio from the security cameras, so I'm not sure how you address Mr. Jenkins when she is your assistant?" "On Saturday, she agreed that I could call her Nancy, Ms. Steinman," Linda said, sounding entirely too happy to pass on that information. "Under the circumstances that sounds entirely appropriate. You may stop staring at the camera now, Nancy. Ms. Welch, would you see if you can do something about the deplorable state of Nancy's makeup? I want to see her up here right away, but I don't want her to scare anybody, walking through the office looking like that!" "Right away, Ms. Steinman. Will there be anything else?" Linda asked, gleefully. "No, Ms. Welch. That will be all. You may consider this your office for the time being. Nancy, once Ms. Welch has done what she can to improve your appearance, you will come directly to my office. Do not pass go! Do not collect $200! Do you understand?" "Yes, Ms. Steinman. Right away, Ms. Steinman." There was a click, and the 'line one' light went dark. "Yes, Ms. Steinman. Right away Ms. Steinman. I'll do whatever you tell me to, Ms. Steinman. I am a submissive and I want to be your secretary Ms. Steinman," Linda mimicked. "You know this means you're buying lunch, don't you, Nancy? I should make you replace the makeup I'm using on you, too." She stepped from the room, returning in seconds with her purse. I will skip the details of my makeover. Suffice it to say that there was enough makeup in her purse to make me suspect I had been set up. My only other option was to quit, and I needed my job too much to even consider it, so I sat there quietly while she worked her magic. When she was finished with me, she scooted me from her new throne and sat down like a queen. She picked up the three pills I had completely forgotten about. "Here," she dropped them into my palm, "you might need these!" I thought about taking them just to ease the humiliation of walking through the office, but I decided that they probably wouldn't kick in quickly enough to help. I would be better served to be in full possession of my faculties in dealing with Ms. Steinman, anyway. Only recently, I had felt powerful and in control in what Linda had called her power suit.. Now I felt like a man wearing a wig, with his lacy bra clearly visible through his sheer blouse, wearing his secretary's heels, skirt and jacket. Thank God the skirt wasn't transparent too, or her matching panties and garter belt would be equally available for public perusal and appreciation. I decided that Linda was right. My clothing hadn't changed, but I had gone from a position of power, minimal as it might have been, to submissive underling in the course of a two minute phone call. I began to doubt what sort of boss I was. As I passed through the outer office I slipped the pills into one of the tiny zip lock bags that we use to send cable terminations, and then realizing I have no pockets, tucked the little packet behind the wadded up tie that occupied one of the spacious cups of my bra. The day had already shown me that one never knew what was coming. I held my head up high, looked straight ahead, and strode as confidently as I could in four-inch heels, directly to Ms. Steinman's office. Her secretary, Mary, was wearing her well practiced poker face. "She's expecting you, Ms. Jenkins. Go right in." I strode into her office and stopped in front of her desk. When she looked up from whatever she was reading I said, as calmly as I could, "you wanted to see me, Ms. Steinman?" "Yes, Nancy. Have a seat. I'll be right with you." In a minute or so she turned over the last page of the document she was reading and looked up, scrutinizing my face closely. When she opined that I looked much better now, I thanked her. She suggested that perhaps 'Ms. Welch' might teach me how to do it for myself. When I asked her if she really thought that was necessary, she explained everything to me. "After I spoke with Ms. Welch the other day, I went back and checked the computer signatures on the correspondence from your office. Apparently, while performing all her regular duties, Ms. Welch has also been able to generate more customer correspondence over the last 30 days than you have." I started to try to explain, but she cut me off. "I know, I know. You are in charge of the department because of your technical knowledge, not your secretarial skills. Nonetheless, you have been generating less work product than your assistant. Not only that, she did it while she also performed all the duties she was actually hired for." "Yes ma'am," I said. There was really nothing else I could say. "Do you thing that's fair? That Ms. Welch should do most of the work, and you should get most of the pay?" I decided to stick my neck out, since things were obviously turning to shit here anyway. "Well, Ms. Steinman, I've been told, and I'm sure you'll agree, that life isn't always fair. As the owner of the company, hopefully you are making more money than anyone else here. That does not necessarily mean that you are doing more work. What it usually means, or at least what is should mean, is that you are being compensated for some superior knowledge, skill, or talent. In the case of myself, and Linda...," She gave me the 'dirty eye' when I said "Linda,' so I corrected myself, "Ms. Welch if you prefer, I don't believe that my department could function at all without the technical knowledge that I bring to the equation." "You know, if you weren't the kind of person who lets your secretary push you around, you might have some real management potential." She informed me with a chuckle. "Thank you, I think? I have always thought that it was the responsibility of management, and in fact, in their's and the company's best interests, to help employees reach their highest potential. Yes, I continued to help Ms. Welch develop her technical skills, even when her letter writing output threatened to exceed my own. Was I being foolish? You're a good enough businesswoman to realize that my doing anything less would have just frustrated her and wasted a valuable company asset." Ms. Steinman gave me a thoughtful look, and taking it for encouragement, I continued, "Only a boss that's insecure in his position, his person, or both, perceives excellent performance as a threat. I'm perfectly willing to admit that when Lin..., when Ms. Welch suggested last Saturday that just for fun I should let her try being the boss, it was quite a challenge to my security. Still, I did what I thought was best for employee development and let her try being in charge. To be honest, this (I indicated my attire) is what happens to an insecure boss." I chuckled. I was doing my best to sound calm and reasonable, despite feeling like I was about to get the sack. "Go on," she encouraged me. "How did your insecurity result in you being the woman you are today?" "You're going to laugh, or at least, I hope you are. I cleaned Ms. Welch's things from Saturday and returned them today. I admitted that playing dress-up on Saturday had been o.k., and she suggested that I keep her "power suit" in my office closet in case I wanted to be her secretary again. I jokingly said that if it was really a power suit, I could be the boss in it just as easily as I could be a secretary. "She insisted that it wasn't the suit that mattered, it was the person in it, and she bet me the price of lunch that I couldn't wear until lunch time without doing something submissive. "Believe it or not, I put on the polish because of you, Ms. Steinman! She brought the bottle in and put it on my desk thinking that if I used it I would be submitting. I remembered how beautiful your nails looked the other day, and I knew that there was no way she would call you a submissive, so I decided to call her on it. And here I am...." "You've made some very interesting observations about bosses and employees." She rose from her chair. "Now it's your turn. You already have your nails manicured. Let's find out if that's really a power suit. Have a seat." When she pointed to her chair, I almost peed my panties! "Come on. Sit. I'm just as good a boss as you are, and I'm going to prove it." After I hesitantly occupied her chair, she took a seat in the visitor chair I had just vacated. "You are now me. You have absolute power over the entire company. You feel comfortable and sexy sitting there in your pretty pin striped skirt suit, knowing that within your realm you are omnipotent. You..." "Wait!" I interrupted her. "Is that really how you feel? Sexy and powerful at the same time?" "Sure," she admitted, "especially when I've just had a manicure! When I see my perfect fingernail on the desktop, I know I'm hot! Now, stop wasting time. You are the boss now, and every second counts. Every decision you make affects dozens and dozens of your employees. Mr. Jenkins is sitting here in front of you (she indicated herself). You know that as a good boss you need to do something about how unfair the situation in his department is to Ms. Welch. It's your move!" She was dropping the whole thing in my lap! "Well, Mr. Jenkins..." I gave her a silly grin, and when I got a small smile back-hoped it meant I was on the right track. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to double your salary." "There's nothing funny about this situation, Ms. Steinman!" she replied. It was deja vu all over again. Different parties, but the same insane name swapping shenanigans. "Very well, Mr. Jenkins. The company is going to get Ms. Welch the technical training that she needs to replace you. It's clear that with the appropriate technical knowledge, her leadership skills, and her success at interacting with our customers, she would be a fantastic company asset. "Now, in order to insure that you are not punished for being a good department manager and recognizing and developing Ms. Welch's skills into a valuable asset for the company, we will have to find you another position in the company that does not result in you taking a pay cut. After all," I added with a big grin, "you are a valuable company asset too!" She laughed so hard I thought she was going to hurt herself. "You can take your crown off now, Nancy!" Pointing my face down, I looked up at her shyly, and assuming my most submissive voice, I said, "Yes, Ms. Steinman." "You little minx!" she said. "Get out of my chair! You have a fascinating sense of humor, and you don't seem to mind telling me how it is, or at least how you think it is. You will return to your office, that is, the outer office in your department, where you will finish the day as Ms. Welch's department secretary, doing exactly what she tells you to do, including buying her lunch. She pushed her intercom button and instructed Mary to inform Ms. Welch that it was her department now, and that Ms. Jenkins would be finishing the day as her secretary. "You will return to this office tomorrow dressed as you are now, with the exception that you will find something more appropriate to fill out your bra. My executive secretary, who is leaving me in one week, will train you to take her place. For a period of three months you will be on probation, and continue to receive your present pay. During that period you will make yourself available to answer any technical questions Ms. Welch may have. At the end of your probation, assuming you have successfully completed it, you will be offered the position with a 15% pay increase. If that is not acceptable to you, please let me know and I will arrange for someone to help you clean out your office. I'll know your decision tomorrow morning when I see how you're dressed. "If you continue to work here you will be known as Nancy Jenkins, and you will follow the appropriate dress code for a female executive secretary. "But, I haven't got a thing to wear, Ms. Steinman. Do executive secretaries get a clothing allowance?" "Spoken like a true woman, Nancy. Perhaps, when you inform Ms. Welch of her impending pay raise, she will feel benevolent enough to let you help her clean out her closet. I'm sure some of her old things would be sufficient to get you started."