God of LoveChapter 2 Romance
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Caught In A Good Romance, 4 Of 10 free porn video
© Copyright 2013, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
[email protected]
Caught in A Good Romance, 4 of 10
By Leslie Lowe
Chapter 4
I went into the office only about five minutes late, despite being a
zombie, hung over and sleep deprived. Kim the receptionist looked at me
as I walked by her desk. She tried to give me her friendly smile, but
the expression on her face showed that she was worried about what she
saw.
"Hi, Kim," she said. "You okay?"
"Hi, Kim," I said. "I'm getting there." It was becoming our morning
ritual, this Kim-Kim name-play.
"I love your new hair and nails! Can I get you something?"
"Thank you," I said, continuing toward my desk. "Samantha's doing an
extreme makeover on me, and she kept me out late. But I'll be fine.
All I need is coffee." I reached the turn into the area where Joyce and
I worked.
I walked over to my desk, feeling the throbbing headache, and dropped my
bag in the drawer to which I had assigned it. I checked my watch.
Joyce walked in and stood there for a second, hands on hips, a shocked
look on her face, staring at me.
"What is it?" I said, my head throbbing.
"We need to do something with your hair," she said. "Come here."
I reached her desk and stood there.
Joyce circled me as if I were a life-sized sculpture named Agony instead
of a just a human being in pain. "It's all curly, Kim. Are you trying
a new hairstyle?"
"Samantha is."
"Oh, I got it. Let's see what we can do." She began on one side and
her hands felt good on my head. She had a caring touch. She opened a
drawer and pulled out a brush-like thing that was purple, with a large
head and long prongs with little balls on the ends. "Tangled," she
said, pulling at my curls with her brush.
"Ouch!" I said.
"Oh, stop it," she said, smiling, in a pleasant motherly voice. Holding
onto the back of my hair with one hand, squeezing hard enough to add to
my headache pain, she dropped the brush into the drawer and dug around,
coming out with a pink elastic band.
"Ponytail?" I asked.
"You got it, girlfriend."
"Now you do sound like Samantha."
"Is she converting you?" Joyce asked rhetorically, finishing up. "There
you are."
"Is it too much for this Lance Trotter meeting?"
Joyce looked at me appraisingly. "No," she said finally, "It's okay,
even cute!"
"Just what I need after Elliott told me to be sure and dress masculine."
"Oh, you look fine. Just a bit artistic. Men can do pink. A certain
kind of man. But were you wearing eye makeup last night, by any
chance?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Oh nothing. It hardly shows. Mascara is difficult to remove
completely. You might try a hot, dripping-wet washcloth next time."
"I will. Am I presentable for this meeting?"
"Better than that. You look fabulous! I love the way those diamond
studs look on you. Did you get your ears pierced?"
"They are CZ's Samantha wants me to wear," I said. Then I thought about
it. "Oh good. Just what I need for the meeting, to look fab--"
Joyce's phone rang. She picked it up and listened.
Hanging up, she looked at me. "The boys have arrived. And yes, you do
look fabulous. You'll do fine."
"Oh my God!" I said.
"Relax. They'll do the tour first. You won't be needed until ten, as
planned."
"Thank you, Joyce," I said, stashing my purse and heading for the
kitchen.
By ten, I had set out my coffee service in the kitchen and turned on the
special pot filled with fresh-ground Illy coffee. My notepad was out on
the corner of my desk for easy retrieval. Elliott came in and went into
his office. Pretending to work a couple minutes later, I watched Joyce
usher into Elliott's office a big, strong-looking guy who must have been
Lance Trotter, after he had apparently returned from the men's room.
When Joyce nodded at me, I went in to ask what the men would like to
drink.
Elliott introduced me, taking his time, telling Lance I was a new hire
he had been glad to bring on board as his personal assistant. "Kim will
be taking notes and otherwise assisting with the meeting, Lance. If I
have to step out, feel free to ask Kim for anything you need."
I was standing between the two men, with my best customer service smile
in place. "Would either of you like something to drink? We also have
some very nice French pastries."
Lance gave me a thorough look before saying, "Just black coffee, Kim."
Despite his terseness, I felt accepted when he visited me with a
charming smile.
As I heard Elliott's order for black coffee as well, I wondered what
Lance was thinking. I felt decidedly vulnerable under his gaze, only
too aware of the secret but still shameful feminine touches Samantha had
forced upon me, such as shaved legs, pretty red toenails, and the hidden
apricot camisole softly caressing my nipples. I tried to keep my
perfectly manicured nails, shining with clear polish, curled under and
out of sight.
As I hustled over to the kitchen and gathered our drinks--just three
black coffees, Elliott and I mirroring Lance's choice--I hoped I had not
let Elliott down with my appearance, and was relieved as I considered
how he had been more than pleasant to me this morning, showing no signs
of dissatisfaction with the way I looked or my job performance so far,
and not surprisingly, did not mention my starring role in the drunken
drag show produced by Samantha the night before.
I brought the coffee and served the men. Elliott sat me down on the
couch next to Lance to take notes, as I did the whole meeting, during
which both of them worked through many questions and problems with the
campaign as several people from the creative, art and media sales
departments came in to report and give their presentations and answer
questions.
This was my favorite day at work so far by a wide margin, because I felt
I was in the middle of the action, making a real contribution. I was
introduced to many new co-workers, and by the CEO yet! Nothing got
decided without someone saying, "Did you get that down, Kim?" I would
read back the commitment so everyone agreed.
And all the time, I seemed to be very much the favorite person in the
room to the one we had all come to the dance for, Lance. Far from
ignoring me as the coffee girl, he looked at me a lot, asked questions
about my notes for clarification, and laughed at my few little
witticisms and apologies when corrections were needed.
Just when I thought the meeting might draw to a close, Joyce called
Elliott outside for an emergency.
Lance looked at me. "Good job with the minutes today, Kim."
"Thank you, Lance." I smiled at him, my waiter training overcoming my
natural shyness.
"How long have you been living here?" he asked.
"Just under a year," I said. "Do you come to town a lot?" I was trying
to avoid an awkward silence.
"Whenever I can," Lance said, "which is pretty often. I'm thinking
about building a house here. And I spend a ton of time on my yacht,
which I keep out at the marina."
"Really?" I said. "That must be fun!"
"Yeah, and it's damned hard work. We race."
"Wow!" I said. "Like the America's Cup?"
Lance chuckled modestly. "Yeah, right," he said. "No, fucking way!"
He searched my face for a reaction, then said, "Sorry about my language,
Kim."
"No problem," I said.
Lance nodded and continued, "We aren't even close to America's Cup
level. But it's fun, and physically challenging. You interested?"
"I'm not much of an athlete," I said, immediately thinking I should have
feigned more of an interest. "But I love to participate in new
challenges, when I can do it without holding others back."
"It's nice to meet someone who's honest about that," Lance said,
laughing in a relaxed way, as if he were enjoying himself.
"Oh, I'm all too honest," I said, again wondering why I presumed to be
so intimate with this important client.
I realized later it was because Lance was directing at me an incredibly
intoxicating beam of his powerful alpha-male energy, and seemed to be
totally fascinated with our otherwise meaningless chit-chat.
I thought, at the time believing I was being wildly imaginative, that
this must be what it's like to be a woman who finds a man attracted to
her. I attributed that rather shaming thought to the earrings, panties,
cami and nail polish I wore. I cursed Samantha in my mind for making me
wear it, even the earrings, "so your holes won't close up, Kimmie."
"You must be one of those metrosexuals," Lance said, as if reading my
mind.
"Maybe," I said, trying to be cooperative. "I'm not sure what that
means. I'm certainly not Mr. Macho. But why do you mention it?"
"Your manicure."
I looked at my beautifully done nails, the clear nail polish glistening
in the light, shaped to graceful ovals, and showed no cuticles, but
otherwise not particularly feminine. I realized that was a silly
contradiction. I giggled despite myself. Then I thought my toes in OPI
Pompeii Purple are even worse! "Samantha likes me to look well-
groomed," I said. I looked at Lance. "Do you know Samantha?"
"Elliott's wife?"
"Yes."
"Oh yeah," he said. "She's hot."
"That she is," I said, "and very particular, like everyone here at AMI."
I was trying lamely to get the conversation off myself and back to
business, praying that Elliott would return before I said something even
more stupid in my hangover-disabled and coffee-overdosed state.
Which my boss did, with perfect timing.
"Yeah," Lance said, as Elliott walked back in, "it's a great company!"
"It is!" I said, relieved to see Elliott. "I love it, even though I've
only been here a few days."
Elliott sat back down, saying, "I accept the compliment, Lance. And I
apologize for the interruption."
"No problem," Lance said. "I enjoyed getting to know Kim. He's going
to join me on my boat tomorrow, aren't you, Kim?"
"Uh--" I said, looking with alarm at Elliott for a sign of what to say.
"I have to work, and I'm so new I don't even know if I have any vacation
days yet."
"Hey!" Elliott said, "you can go, Kim, and put it on the clock. It
will be your hardest day of work all year getting the shit scared out of
you on his fucking boat."
"You're such an asshole, Elliott!" Lance said, grinning. "You had the
time of your life on that race when you amazed us all, and now you're
bitching about how hard you had to work? You're going to make Kim not
want to come."
"No, Lance!" I said. "You already warned me. I'm not afraid of hard
work."
"You can always serve coffee to the crew," Elliott said, and we all
laughed at that, while I felt mortified, even knowing that Elliott liked
me, feminine aspects and all. But what was I going to do tomorrow?
"It's settled then," Lance said. "Elliott can tell you how to find us.
We're at the usual place. Wear something casual and your tennis shoes."
"Okay," I said, looking from Lance to Elliott, with the latter nodding
at me in a very encouraging way. "Thank you so much for the
invitation!"
With that, Elliott took control of the meeting again and summarized the
issues they had discussed, and I went back to my notetaking. After the
closing pleasantries, Lance stood up and offered his hand to Elliott,
saying, "I'm not surprised you guys are doing so well, if you're smart
enough to hire people like Kim here."
"Thank you!" I said, perhaps a little too loudly.
"Only the best!" Elliott said, in the same upbeat tone. He took Lance's
hand and walked him toward the door, leaving me standing at the couch.
Lance called to me as he left, "Seven A.M. sharp, Kim!"
"I got it, Lance!" I called back.
Elliott caught me in his office as I was gathering my things to move out
to my desk and type my notes up. I looked up at him as he shut the
door.
Elliott sat down, smiling at me warmly. "Sit down and relax, Kim. Tell
me everything he said and everything you said."
I did.
Elliott's comment was simply, "Nice."
"It was okay?" I asked redundantly, begging for reassurance and then
mortified that I sounded so needy.
"It was perfect!" Elliott said. "I can't tell you how picky Lance is
about his friends. He likes all kinds of people, the adventurers like
himself and the flaming gay decorators as well. But he can smell an
actor a mile off, and he will not suffer a fool."
"Excuse me?" I said, smiling, hoping he would get the joke.
"You know what I mean," he said. "An actor who's acting. You are a
genuine person, Kim, and it comes through. So don't be afraid to be
yourself."
"Okay," I said, a bit self-conscious.
"That comment about the nail polish is what I'm talking about," Elliott
said. "That was Lance's way of giving you permission to be who you are.
Just keep it up tomorrow. Have fun. If it doesn't work out, the
company won't be blamed for it. But let me ask you something, Kim."
"Sure!"
"Were you acting? Or do you actually like Lance?"
"I do!" I said, almost gushing. "He's not at all what I expected. He
was very nice to me, almost sweet. He was earthy with you. You were
totally right about that, but with me, I think he sensed that I'm--you
know--not a competitor?"
Elliott smiled. "Dammit, you're smart!" he said. "I could not have put
it better. So, go and have fun tomorrow. Joyce will help you with the
location and all that."
"Thank you for trusting me with this important client, Elliott." I
stood up.
"You're welcome, Kim." He offered his hand. "Thank you for being a
team player."
On the way out to my planned lunch with Samantha, I stopped to thank Kim
the receptionist for washing the dishes the day before. She answered,
"No problem, honey. We girls have to look out for each other."
"Is it that obvious what Samantha is doing to me?" I asked her, peer-to-
peer.
She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I can see your lace cami,
sweetie."
"Oh my God!" I said, and we both laughed. "Samantha made me wear it."
"She's hard to say no to," Kim agreed.
As I went down in the elevator, I began to wonder if my cami had slipped
up so much that Lance could see it during the meeting.
# # #
After we had lunch, I was following Samantha around Saks when she
stopped at a Lancome makeup counter. She looked at various shades of
lipstick and finally selected two. I just watched, assuming it was part
of my training.
After she paid, and in front of the salesgirl, Samantha handed me one of
the lipsticks and said, "Here, Kim. This lipstick is for you."
"Oh, okay," I said.
Samantha winked at me, thanked the girl for her help, and took off for
the car, with me on her heels. I held the lipstick in my hand. When we
reached the car, I put it in my purse. By then, I knew Samantha well
enough to anticipate she had a plan. I would be a part of it. I was
one of her toys, I supposed.
I had driven us to lunch and I now did the honors to take us back to her
place, where she had me start coffee while she began work on the
invitation list.
I came back into the sitting room that Samantha used for our office and
opened my laptop to continue the job she had given me earlier,
organizing a large file of digital photos.
"I want you to wear your new lipstick now, Kim."
"Why would you want me to do that, Samantha?"
"I like the way you look with a bit of color on your lips."
"You're up to something," I said, smiling in what I hoped was a friendly
way, as I took my compact and the lipstick out of my purse and began to
do my lips. "You're going to embarrass me again, aren't you?"
"No, I just like it when you're pretty. It helps me forget you're a
boy, dear."
"Okay," I said, putting my things back in my purse. I returned to the
photos, and continued to discard the ones that were hopeless.
After about five minutes peace, the door buzzer went off. I said, "I
knew it," and reached for my purse. I pulled a tissue out of the pretty
golden holder Samantha had given me, which I actually found very useful
for giving her a tissue when she needed one.
Before I could get the tissue to my rosy lips, Samantha touched my hand
and said, "No, sweetie. It's only the girls. Leave it on. I think you
look cute, and they will love you with pretty lips too. It's a signal
that you're one of us, don't you see? And put your hoops on."
"Okay," I said, now realizing what her game was. I fished in my purse
for the one-inch silver hoops she had given me and exchanged them with
the CZ studs I was wearing. We would see how her girlfriends liked me
in makeup. "I'd better apply another coat if I'm going to be your
makeup model," I said, trying to be brave and laugh about it, since
there was nothing else I could do. I knew already that Samantha always
got her way.
"I totally agree," Samantha said. "Nothing makes a woman feel more
confident than knowing her lips are just perfect." She proceeded to do
her own.
"Maybe a little mascara?" I asked, primping in my mirror.
"Good idea!"
I applied the black mascara to my lashes without a mishap. I had
presumed she'd left the doorman instructions to buzz the apartment and
let the ladies in, and just after I had returned my things to my purse
and closed the photo file, a polite knock sounded on the door.
"Why don't you get it, honey?"
No surprise there. "Sure!" I said brightly and walked toward the door,
prepared for embarrassment.
Samantha caught up with me and put her hands on my shoulder and turned
us toward the nearby wall mirror. "Aren't we a couple of cute chicks?"
she asked.
"Thank you, but I think it's more like one cute chick and her ugly
duckling friend."
Samantha laughed enthusiastically at my lame joke. She was really
excited! Could it be just the fun of showing me off to her friends?
I unlocked and opened the door. The three women who stood there
rewarded Samantha with open-mouthed, speechless stares, and then giggles
and chatter as they walked in.
"Love that shade of lipstick on you, girly girl!" one of them said.
"Yours isn't too bad either, Samantha."
Laughter all around, with me making sure I tittered along with them, not
wanting to seem a bad sport even at my own expense.
"Where can I find me a girly boy?" another of the well-dressed ladies
said. "She is so cute!"
Samantha introduced us by name in a rather formal way I found
delightful, but also incredibly embarrassing. It was obvious they had
all been talking about me the last couple of days. She began, "Ladies,
this is Kim Spencer, the pretty young man I told you about in the email.
He just loves it when I dress him up as a lady." Then she told all of
them a bit about my history and my job description, and that she was
teaching me as part of my job to relate better to the world of women.
I just stood there with a stupid smile on my pretty painted lips,
blushing like a bride, as they tossed the conversational tidbits back
and forth among themselves, using me as the target for their girlish
games. And I was astounded that I really didn't mind a bit. I loved
the attention!
Each of the bright and upbeat women had an amusing comment for me,
playing along with Samantha without the least hesitation.
"Where's your dress, Kim? I like your boyfriend outfit. Want to
trade?"
"Welcome to the sweet side of life, Kim. She'll have you in a bra
within a week. Or was that last week?" she said, pinching one of my
nipples.
"Ouch!" I said. "That is so mean! What if I did it to you?" I
realized I had said it in a whining voice, very feminine, and I
immediately regretted saying anything, since I was just a servant here,
and these ladies were valued old friends to my boss. But no one gave a
sign of rebuke and all laughed, enjoying my feisty comeback.
"Go ahead, honey," said the woman who had pinched me, thrusting her
chest out toward me. "I'm due a bit of touching from a man. But wait.
You aren't a real man, are you? Men don't wear lipstick, do they? And
wait. Are you wearing mascara too? Are you really a girl?"
"I'm beginning to wonder," I replied, trying to laugh at her teasing,
which did not seem to be delivered with the least bit of spite. These
beautiful, successful woman saw no shame in anyone wanting to emulate
their looks and their ways. "But in my defense, I can say that Samantha
made me wear it. I guess I'm today's entertainment?"
"Oh, who cares?" said the woman who had played with my boobs, still
thrusting hers out at me. "Go ahead and play with them, babydoll,
whether you're fish or foul. I'm so horny!"
I reached out in mock eagerness, but Samantha played her part and
slapped my hands away, taking control of our little giggle-fest. "Will
you girls leave my pretty assistant alone? She needs to get our drinks.
We have work to do. Let's take a seat over here."
After they were seated, I solicited their orders for drinks and took off
for the kitchen to fix the coffee and various teas. They were hot and
heavy into their meeting when I returned to offer cups and pour coffee
and hot water, being sure to ask during a lull in their conversation if
they would like anything else. "I noticed that Samantha has some lovely
pastries on the counter. May I offer you one of those?"
"If you insist," one of the ladies said.
"How thoughtful! Thank you, Kim," said Samantha.
As I left, I heard someone say, "Samantha, your maid is so good!" and
everyone laughed. For what I was getting paid, I couldn't care less.
These women were sweet and fun, and I could take the passive role and
serve them feeling no real shame or criticism. Actually, this was more
like sharing my gifts than playing the role of servant. And I rather
liked the way my lips felt, nurtured as they were by expensive
lipstick. I stopped off at the mirror and freshened my lips, knowing it
would draw a comment from one of them.
The girls rewarded my theatrics with comments like, "Look at her!" and,
"Just like all the other ladies!" and, "She so loves to primp!"
I turned and smiled at them, sticking out my tongue to girlishly
acknowledge their jibes, then headed for the kitchen. I soon returned
with my own cup of black coffee and the pastries on a pretty floral
platter with a stack of small side plates and dessert forks.
"May I serve you, ladies?"
"Oh, I shouldn't, but please let me have one of those cheese Danish,
Kim?"
After I had served the two who wanted something, Samantha made her
typing motion in the air and I grabbed my laptop and sat on the edge of
the group with it on my knees, attentive and unobtrusive. I loved my
job!
"Kim will take notes," Samantha said.
And the meeting began in earnest. What a wonderful way to spend an
afternoon, and the price I paid was merely emasculation, ridicule and
humiliation. Would I ever be able to get used to this? Was I enjoying
it too much? My feelings were so confused and conflicted!
An hour later, when the ladies tired of their work, Samantha made me go
into her closet and find a dress and some heels to model for her guests.
I looked at her fearfully, my eyes wide. "You're kidding, right, boss?"
Samantha giggled. "Isn't she cute? It's all part of your training,
Kim. Besides, you offered to be the entertainment, remember?"
"Did not!" I said, but I grabbed my purse and headed off for Samantha's
closet as ordered, feeling eager to please and not the least bit worried
about how I would be received, no matter how I looked when I emerged in
one of her dresses.
I came out a few minutes later sporting a pair of red patent slingbacks
with four-inch heels and open toes to show off my pedicure. I had
freshened my lipstick and done my eyes with the makeup Samantha had told
me to keep in my purse. My dress was a very sexy sleeveless number in
marine blue, with a lacy bodice and a scalloped hem that fell above my
knees. I had played with my longish hair, taking down my pony tail and
trying to approximate a flowing feminine style.
Halfway across the room, one of the ladies said, "Here she is! Oh, how
pretty!"
They all stood up and surrounded me, touching the material and admiring
how cute I looked in the dress. One of the ladies played with my hair
until she finally pronounced it more presentable. "You're ready for
your boyfriend to pick you up for a date, girl!"
I blushed furiously.
Another guest said, "Samantha, you had this all prepared? You picked
out this outfit for her, didn't you?"
"I did not!" Samantha said. "I'm as amazed as you are, girls. Kim,
have you been hiding something from me? Are you a fashion maven? Maybe
a drag queen as a night job?"
"No, ma'am. But I am an actor."
"Look at her skin," another of the women said, touching my cheek with
her fingertips. "She's not wearing any foundation, but her skin is so
smooth, so delicate and translucent! I think I hate you, Kim!"
Laughter all around, and I tried my best to join in and be a good sport.
"Thank you," I said, "I guess? But Samantha has me using all these
moisturizers and serums, so it's probably that?"
"Well, whatever," somebody else said, "you look fabulous. Sam, can she
be a girl in our harem?"
"That's the plan," Samantha said. "That's why she's getting all this
training in how to be a woman. Thank you for helping, ladies!"
With that, the meeting began to break up, and I said good-bye to them
with air-kisses and hugs, everyone treating me for all the world exactly
like any other female. It was sweet of them, because I must have looked
rather strange.
After they left, I was cleaning things up when Samantha came up behind
me and said, "I want you to keep that dress and those shoes. Wear them
to the office one day soon, okay?"
"To the office? Samantha, I don't think that's a very good idea!
Besides, the shiny red heels were a bit of an over-the-top joke, don't
you think?"
"Maybe for daytime, but you're young and pretty enough to pull it off.
And you really need to get a pair of three-inch black heels, something
sexy but sensible for the office." She looked at me and shook her head,
adding, "Definitely pretty enough. I have to be careful not to get
jealous!"
"Really?" I said. "Thank you so much! I thought I rather looked the
freak."
"Not at all. No one would know, really. I love you as a woman. So
would any red-blooded man, honey."
"There's a scary thought!"
"Why?"
"I'm not interested in being a man's love-object."
"Don't knock it until you've tried it, sweetie. It's worked well for
the rest of us!"
© Copyright 2013, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
[email protected]
Uma
- 14.12.2021
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