Bianca's Assistant - Part II free porn video

Author's Note: I want to say thanks to everyone who left such great reviews on the first chapter! It's incredible to get that much feedback on a first submission. There's a lot of build-up with this entry, hopefully the payoff is worth it. You should go back and read Part I if you haven't yet. Thanks for reading, comments are always appreciated! Bianca's Assistant by Charlene B. II. Justin and his mother pulled up to the familiar driveway of the Sinclair house. She leaned over and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "Have fun, baby," she said. "Make sure you behave for Anita, okay? Her house, her rules. Don't do anything that will get you into trouble..." "Mom, relax," said Justin with reassurance. "I've been here like a hundred times. Miss Sinclair trusts me." "I know, I know," his mom said, though he could tell from her voice there was still some trepidation. "Its just, you're fourteen now. And I know you and Bianca are like brother and sister, but a boy your age, sleeping over with a girl... people get ideas, that's all I'm saying." Oh I know, Justin thought bitterly. That's all anybody seemed to be saying nowadays. Justin and Bianca sitting in a tree. His father would often jokingly ask what he and his little wife were up to for the day, and Justin had even overheard Miss Sinclair joke with his mother about getting an early start on forming the wedding committee. Nate and Camilla had taken to referring to him as "Mr. Sinclair" as it was all too clear who wore the pants in their relationship. All this annoyed Justin to no end, but Bianca didn't seem to care much. She never let stuff like that bother her. He admired that, and was even a little envious of it. Sure, Bianca could be irritating sometimes. She was pushy and bossy and prone to anger when she couldn't get her way, but she was also smart and self-assured and motivating. She liked to tease and push his buttons, but she would stick up for him in a heartbeat. She was his closest friend...and only that, no matter what anybody said. Of course, there were aspects of their relationship no one else knew about. Such as their little 'arrangement', which she never let him forget... "Maybe I should come hang out with you guys until Anita gets home?" his mother asked, suspicion still laced in her tone. "Mom, don't be embarrassing," Justin responded quickly. "She's not getting back for a few hours. We're just going to watch a movie or something." His mom sighed and reached over, ruffling his long, chin-length locks. "Just be careful, alright Carrot Cake?" Justin left his mother in the car and went to ring the doorbell. A cute young girl in a pink top and ra-ra skirt answered. "Hey Juss," said Bianca with a smile. The two waved Justin's mom off as she pulled out of the driveway. "You called your mom, right?" Justin asked, after they went inside. "Yes, yes, for the millionth time," said Bianca. "She's definitely not coming back until tomorrow night." "You sure?" he asked nervously. "What if she forgot her purse or something..." "I think she would have realized that before she drove two hours downstate," she said with an eye roll. "Don't get your panties in a twist please. Speaking of which..." Bianca approached her friend and casually stuck her fingertips in his waistband before pulling back and taking a peek. Justin blushed furiously. "Awww, you did wear them!" said Bianca with glee. "And you chose the ones with the little hearts too! How adorable! What a precious little assistant I have," she said as she gripped his cheek and pinched roughly. Justin brushed her off. "Whatever! They were the only ones left. I have to wash them overnight so no one notices. And you told me to wear them!" "So? You didn't have to, did you?" She put her hands on her hips and gave him an accusatory stare. "Are you saying you don't like them, Justin? Are they not comfortable enough for you? Would you prefer something with silk and lace maybe?" "What!? N-no!" "Oh good!" she said. "So the cotton ones are fine then?" "Uh, I mean, yeah, they're fine but..." "Then what's the problem? You like them and I like them, so you'll wear them." She gave him a sly grin. "Just take care you wash your undies regularly, okay Jussie? I don't want to have to explain to my mom that the panties she pays for are actually going to my boyfriend." Justin frowned at that. She meant 'boy friend,' didn't she? As in a friend who just happens to be a boy, right? "C'mon, let's get started," said Bianca, heading upstairs. "Already?" he said. "I just got here." "Why wait? We might not get another chance like this for a while, you know," she said. "Let's go get you changed. I swear your boy clothes are getting more and more boring." He followed her up, his heart fluttering in nervous excitement. A whole twenty-four hours as Justine. He could hardly wait. **** Justin arrived outside the restaurant awning at a quarter to seven. His boss had already let him know that she was running behind but had notified the host to expect him. Figures that Miss Punctuality would be late herself. He still couldn't quite believe that this was really happening. Just a few weeks ago he was living on frozen dinners and depressively scanning the job posts on Craigslist. Now he was out dining with the CEO of an up and coming fashion company. He barely knew how to dress himself, yet this woman had hired him. And invited him out for a meal. An attractive and successful woman was treating HIM to dinner! It was surreal, like a dream. Of course, once you consider that this woman was Bianca Sinclair well... then it was less of a dream and more a nightmare. Calm down Justin, he told himself. People take their employees out to eat all the time, right? It's no big deal. Wasn't like he was going on a date or anything. It was definitely NOT a date. Justin stepped inside the restaurant. It was a quaint and intimate looking place, yet still somewhat upscale compared to what he was used to. He noticed several diners decked out in sharp jackets and other fine garments, and immediately felt self-conscious in his generic polo shirt and trousers. He approached the hostess and told her he had a reservation. "Name?" she asked. "Sinclair. Bianca Sinclair," he said. She raised an eyebrow. "I'm meeting her," he clarified. "Oh, yes, she did notify us that she was running late." The host seemed confused about something. "The reservation is only for two, yes?" "Yes," said Justin with a frown. "Is there something wrong?" "No, no, that's fine... just confirming. I believe she said there would be a Justine coming?" Justin felt a burning sensation in his chest as anger and anxiety struggled for dominance. So far, anger was winning out. He corrected the hostess with a gritted teeth smile. She looked flustered. "I am so sorry, I could have sworn she said.... That's my mistake. Right this way sir, we'll have you seated immediately." Justin steamed as he was brought to a dimly lit table for two. So he was right after all. This whole night was just another excuse to embarrass him. How had he even considered for a second that she actually had good intentions with any of this? Bianca was toying with him and he was playing right into her little game. She had tricked him into making a fool of himself yesterday and now she was rubbing it in his face. When he stopped to think about it, it really made no sense that he had this job to begin with. He couldn't have been the only person to apply. How many qualified candidates had she passed on for him? He barely even had to interview. His neurosis was in overdrive now. He mentally berated himself for being such an idiot, for falling for Bianca's elaborate scheme. He'd bet she never even intended to keep him on. What if she had brought him here just so she could fire in the most publically humiliating way possible? Nice try, Justin thought fiercely. We'll see how that goes. The waiter brought him a plate of bread and he ordered a beer. He needed to relax a bit if he was going to do this. He took a rough bite from his roll and chomped angrily as he waited for his boss to show. Bianca arrived with the hostess roughly ten minutes past their meeting time. As pissed off as he was, he still couldn't fail to notice that she looked... well, pretty stunning. She was wearing a sleek black dress with a lace top that showed just the slightest amount of cleavage. Her neck was adorned with fine jewelry and she had her blonde hair up in an elegant bun, a look that Justin vaguely remembered being fond of back when they were kids. So much for casual. "I apologize for my lateness, Justin," said Bianca as she sat down. He made no attempt to stand for her. "Unfortunately, running your own company means you never get to take a day off. It's the nature of the business, but I hate to be an inconvenience to others because of it." She smiled apologetically. "How are you?" "Oh, just fine," said Justin with the phoniest grin he could muster. "No worries." She eyed him curiously. "Are you sure? You seem a bit...perturbed?" "Not in the slightest," he said, before taking a swig of the beer bottle. He noticed her give what looked like an irritated glance at the bottle, but she didn't comment on it. "Well, I'm so happy you could make it tonight," she went on. "I like to invite all the new employees out, just to get them to know them better. But I've been particularly looking forward to having a chat with you, of course. There's so much to catch up on." "Loads," he said before sinking his teeth into a piece of bread. "Maybe we should order an appetizer first?" Bianca suggested as she reached for the menu. "You seem famished. I haven't been working you too hard, have I?" She gave a mock pout. "I imagine running the copier is a lot harder in high heels, huh?" She chuckled and hailed someone over before Justin could come up with a retort. A well-dressed man made his way to their table. "Madame Sinclair! What a pleasure to have you dining with us tonight!" Justin could tell from the way he carried himself that he was someone of importance, probably the owner. "And who's the lucky gentleman that's courting my favorite customer this evening?" "No date tonight I'm afraid, Marcel," said Bianca. "This is my new secretary, Justin." "Ah!" said Marcel. "So this is the 'Justine' I've been hearing so much about, eh?" He chortled as Justin sat pale, struggling to form words. Bianca stifled a laugh as she looked to her employee, seemingly as surprised as he was. "Oh? And from whom did you hear about her?" she asked. Her face was lit with amusement and curiosity. "Well, my lovely hostess Karen apparently made an unfortunate error with your secretary's name," he explained, still chuckling. "One letter can make all the difference it seems. Oh, we had quite the laugh at her expense. And yours," he said motioning to Justin. He gave him a pat on his back. "Forgive me my little joke, but you have to admit it's funny, no?" Justin forced a laugh. "Hilarious." The owner clasped his hands in apology. "I assure you, my host would not made have the error had she known what a masculine assistant Miss Sinclair had in her employment." "Oh, you have no idea," she said, eyeing Justin mischievously. They laughed a bit more, before Marcel offered to take their order. Bianca requested a bottle of some no doubt expensive wine and a small tray of oysters to start. "You do like them raw, don't you?" Bianca asked after Marcel had left. "I find most people do if they're prepared the right way, they have the most incredible sauce here-" "What was that about?" Justin interrupted. He glared at her with furious eyes. "Excuse me?" said Bianca, taken aback. "What was what about, Justin?" "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he hissed. "How did he... why did you...did you just bring me here to embarrass me?" Her expression shifted in understanding. "Oh! Justin, come on now. Isn't it obvious?" He raised his eyebrows as if to say, I'm all ears. Bianca sighed. "I called the restaurant ahead of time and informed them I would be late, but my secretary would be here to take the reservation," she recounted. "I told the hostess your name was Justin. I spoke your name perfectly clearly. But she heard Justine. Do you understand?" Justin listened on, confused. "Justin," she explained slowly. "She thought you were a woman because I told her you were my secretary." Justin's heart sank a bit as the realization washed over him. "It's sad when you think about it," said Bianca, as she spread butter on a roll. "We're so hardwired to associate certain genders with specific roles. People hear nurse and they think woman, they hear doctor and they think a man. You know how many times I've had to deal with sexism from entitled businessmen who figured I didn't know anything about running a company because I'm female? I mean, even in the world of fashion, chauvinism is rampant." She shrugged and took a bite of bread. "It's frustrating. But you fight it the best you can." Justin nodded, sitting quietly. He couldn't help feeling ashamed. He wanted to believe she was lying, trying to manipulate him further... but deep down he knew what she was saying was true. Honestly, he himself was a little embarrassed to tell anyone about his new job. He could barely stand to see the judgmental little smirk on his father's face when Justin told him he had been hired as Bianca's "executive assistant." "Was that what was bothering you?" Bianca chuckled with a shake of her head. "Justin, I know I teased you a bit but give me some credit. We're both adults. How unprofessional would that be?" Now he just felt foolish. A waiter arrived with the wine and Justin was glad for an excuse to break the awkwardness. After filling their glasses, he asked if they were ready to order. Justin reached for the menu in a hurry, realizing he had spent so much time fuming he hadn't even considered what to get. Bianca ordered the veal and to Justin's surprise, requested seared scallops for him. "Sorry," she said, although she seemed perfectly assured in her actions. "There's this amazing dish I had in mind when I chose to come here, and I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if you tried anything else. Have some of the wine," she urged. He took a sip from the freshly poured glass. He couldn't deny, it was damn good. "Yes, it is good," she said, reading his face with a smile. "Better than a bottle of Blue Moon, I'm sure." He pushed the half finished beer off to the side sheepishly. "You look very nice," he told her, trying to change the subject. "Why, thank you," she said, flattered. "A little overdressed, I suppose. But I do come here often enough and, well, I have a reputation to uphold." They shared a laugh. "Better than being underdressed," Justin admitted. He looked down at his own outfit. "I'll admit that's not exactly what I meant by 'casual.' " She smirked. "Don't worry, you can't work for a company like mine and not pick up some sort of fashion sense. We'll have you dressing pretty before long." "Hope you can work miracles then," he chuckled. "Oh, I think you're better off than you think..." They continued to chitchat happily as Justin helped himself to more wine. He felt so at ease now. Bianca was so much less intimidating, so much more amiable outside the office. He felt silly for ever having worried at all. "So," Bianca said, as they started on the oysters. "Tell me what you've been up to all these years?" **** Justin rolled the stocking slowly up his leg, watching the sheer material cover his pale skin. It felt wonderful. The sensation of the stockings pressing down on his body hair gave him that tingly feeling down his spine. The good kind. His fingers slowly slid over his thigh, giving him goosebumps. He stuck one foot out and playfully wiggled his toes around in their nylon encasing. He giggled and then thought it best to quit messing around before he ripped something. Last time he got a run in one of Bianca's stockings, she forced him to do her homework assignments for two weeks as payback. He slid up the panties next, then grabbed the last item she had provided for him. He let it dangle from his hand, staring at it in bewilderment. He had tried on one of Bianca's training bras before, but this one was different. How in the world was he was supposed to get it on? A knock on the bathroom door startled him. "Everything alright in there?" "Uhhh, yeah, I'm good." "What's taking so long? You didn't ruin my stockings again did you!?" "No!" he said quickly. "I just need to work something out." There was a pause, then a giggle. "You don't how to put on a bra do you?" He shot her a dirty look through the door. What was she laughing about? It's not like had any idea herself just a year ago. "Let me help," she said. "I got it." "Open the door, Miss Modesty." "I said I got it." "Do we need to discuss a certain collection of pictures that a particular friend of yours might share with other people if she feels so inclined?" Justin groaned and went to unlock the door. "That threat is getting kinda old, you know?" he said. "But it always works," she said with a smug smile. Her eyes scanned his form as he blushed. "Great...everything still fits. I worried you were beginning to outgrow me. We might have had to go shopping." Justin cringed at the thought. That was one thing she'd never get him to do. "Arms up," Bianca commanded. She put his arms through the straps and positioned it over his chest before fastening the clasps. "It's pretty easy actually. You just need to train your fingers to do it without looking." "Something tells me this isn't a skill I'll need to get through life," he said dryly. "Never say never," she said, pinching his nipple through the fabric. He jumped and knocked her hand away. She giggled and told him to hold on as she ripped off a large handful of toilet paper. Justin watched as Bianca packed the paper into one cup until it was sizably stuffed. She did the same with the other after. She took the results of her handiwork in each hand and gave them a little bounce. "Look, they're bigger than mine now," she said, pleased with herself. Bianca led Justin into her bedroom and sat him in front of the vanity. He waited as she gathered assortment of materials - lipstick, mascara, eye shadow, foundation, face powder. Her fingers were precise and meticulous as she went to task, coloring his lips, coating his cheeks, brushing his lashes. "You really should be doing this yourself by now, you know." "I like when you do it." "I know." She smiled softly. "Lazy." She finished her work and gave him a moment to take in his new look. It never ceased to amaze him how skilled she was at taking his image and sculpting into something else entirely. Someone else entirely. She had been particularly generous with her application this time. Justin was nowhere to be found in the mirror, replaced with someone who was a medium between a CoverGirl model and a drag performer. Bianca's face appeared next to his. "How's that, Justine?" "It's a lot," he said simply. She gave a satisfied smirk. He sat patiently waiting for her to gather her hair tools. A gasp escaped him when he witnessed his hair suddenly vanish beneath a mass of platinum blonde ringlets. "What are you doing!?" "Shhhh, I'm trying something new, Jussie," said Bianca, tossing and tussling the wig. "Don't worry, you'll see your pretty red hair again soon." "Could have asked," he grumbled. Bianca dove into her closet for the next piece, shuffling through an impressive array of dresses and garments that her mother had bought for her. Bianca had convinced Anita that she wanted to eventually make a run at Miss Teen America. In actuality, she had zero interest in such a competition and was starkly opposed to the idea of women and girls being judged and ranked against one another like show horses. Nonetheless, Bianca quickly learned that her moneyed mother, already loose with her credit card, was even more willing to invest in her daughter's nonexistent aspirations to be a pageant queen. Bianca's wardrobe would have been the envy of any teenage girl - and yet the majority of items she had acquired were so that she could study, examine, and retailor them for her personal use. Justin knew all this as Bianca's "assistant" and primary supporter in her eventual goal of taking on the fashion industry. A decent artist, he had helped her draft some designs she had conceived. He had also worn a good number of her repurposed projects, serving as her personal mannequin. Bianca settled on a sparkly pink dress with a flared skirt. She slipped it over Justin's head and helped guide his arms through the openings. After giving him a look over, she burst out laughing. "Sorry," she tittered. "You look like a real bimbo." "A bimbo!?" he said, insulted. She was the one that picked this outfit out! "In a good way," Bianca reassured, giving him a thumbs up, although Justin couldn't see how he was supposed to take that as a compliment. Suddenly she looked inspired. She ran out the room and came back a few minutes later with a pair of pink stilettos that looked too high to be functional. "My mom has small feet," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Might be a little tight." "Bianca, there is NO way I'm going to be able to walk in those," he pleaded. "Don't be a wimp," she said. "Women do it all the time. I'll teach you." For the next half hour, Justin was in agony, his toes feeling crushed in the tip of the tight shoes. He tottered back and forth the length of the hallway, his attempts to balance providing his only distraction from the discomfort in his feet. Bianca directed him, giving him sharp critiques on his walking style and giggling heavily at his efforts all the while. "Work it, Barbie doll," She snapped her fingers. "Rock those hips more! Put some more sass into that strut. You gotta own it girl!" When she tired of that, she brought him down to the living room and made him strike elaborate and humiliating girly poses all while snapping photos with that dreaded camera. "Kick your heel out," she commanded and gave him a short demonstration. "C'mon Bianca, can't we stop now?" he whined. "Get to it, dollie. And smile! Blondes like to have fun, right? Think happy and bubbly thoughts." He sighed. This day was not turning out to be as enjoyable as he hoped. He kicked his foot out like he was told, stretching out his arms to keep from toppling over and trying as best he could to keep a perky smile on his face. "I like that, hold it." The camera flashed again and again. "I'm getting good at this," Bianca complimented herself. "Maybe I can ask your dad to teach me photography and my mom can show you how to model! Won't that be fun?" She giggled. "If daddy could see his son now..." Later that night, they lounged together on the coach watching movies and munching on popcorn. Justin was glad for an opportunity to rest his aching feet. He sat there rubbing his soles and ankles, when to his surprise, Bianca casually reached over and took a foot in hand, massaging it delicately. It felt awesome, and he laid back with a content smile, his eyelids slowly drooping closed. The doorbell rang. "That's the pizza," said Bianca. "Hm? Mmkay," he mumbled half asleep and missing her touch on his sore feet. "Well? Go get it," she ordered. His eyes fluttered open. "Why can't you get it?" "Because I told you to do it." He sat up, annoyed, and then remembered what he was wearing. "Bianca, I'm not answering the door dressed like this." "Sure you will," she said, picking up her camera and lazily waving it about in one hand. He glared at her, thinking to himself that he could go and quickly snatch it from her right then if he wanted. But instead he grumpily made his way to the front door. "Don't forget your shoes, Jussie!" UGH. Justin mentally prepared himself and tried to achieve a posture that made him look most unlike a nervous boy dressed in girl's clothes. He settled on placing his feet together and standing straight and stiff as a board. After taking a breath, he opened the door. His heart stopped. In that one moment, time slowed to a snail's crawl and his brain temporarily stopped working. He couldn't move, he couldn't think. He wasn't even sure he could truly comprehend what was happening. After an eternity, Anita Sinclair spoke. "...well well, Justin. Pleasure seeing you here, as always. I'm guessing this delivery is for you and my daughter?" Next to her stood a perplexed looking man clutching a box of pizza. He looked from Miss Sinclair to Justin and back again. "Um...is someone going to pay for this?" Anita ignored him as she took in the sight of the paralyzed boy in her doorway. Her eyes dropped to his feet. "...are those my heels?" **** Justin chewed on a piece of scallop, taking the time to savor the flavor. It was too good and he had to actively force his attention back to what his boss was saying. Bianca was animated, talking at length about a trying experience she had when she first founded the company. She had dominated the night's conversation and he was happy to let her. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about discussing the exciting details (or lack thereof) of his life post-high school. "...it's ridiculous really, but hey, sometimes you have to just say 'fuck it,' right?" Bianca laughed and took another sip from her glass. They were already on their second bottle and the mood was as relaxed as ever. Justin should have known it was too good to last. "That's part of what I'm trying to get away from," she was saying. "That tired, narrow-minded approach of doing things the way they've always been done. I want to represent more than just those basic, skinny, pale-skinned wasps and teeny-boppers you see all the time, you know? When I started S+M..." Justin snickered and Bianca stopped mid-sentence. "Something funny?" "Oh no, sorry," he said. Then, the wine no doubt spurring him on, he said, "It's just...that name, you know..." "I'm not sure I do," she said, with a tone of annoyance. "Care to fill me in?" He hesitated. "S+M... I mean...before I worked here, I thought...you don't think it's somewhat suggestive?" Bianca sat back in her seat. "Justin, you do know what the company's initials stand for, don't you?" Her expression was deadly serious. "As an employee of this company, I would expect you would have at the very least taken the time to find that out. Please don't tell me I'm wrong about that." Justin stammered, thrown off guard by her suddenly stern demeanor. "W- well, I really haven't gotten the chance to do much research..." "I suggest you get the chance very soon then," she said. "As in, before Monday please." He nodded. "Sure. Will do." He focused his attention back to his plate, taking a mouthful and thinking of some way to redirect the convo back to a good place. He heard a chuckle. Justin looked up to see his boss peering at him, amused. Now it was his turn to ask what was funny. She shook her head. "You just reminded me," she said. "When we were kids...whenever I got mad at you or scolded you for something, you would get this endearing little bashful look on your face." She smiled fondly. "Very cute." Justin grinned softly. "Guess I haven't changed all that much, huh?" "That makes two of us." She sighed, her smile fading a bit. "Those were fun times. Whatever happened there, Justin?" He didn't respond. Did she really not remember or was she playing coy? "You know," she went on, and Justin could tell that the wine had strengthened her daring as well. "I couldn't help but think yesterday that you had a little more experience than you let on. Be honest... have you still been playing dress-up, Justin?" Justin's face turned redder than the wine they were drinking. He glanced about nervously to see if he anyone was listening in. "You don't have to be embarrassed," she spoke quietly, leaning in closer. "We're friends, aren't we? You can tell me." He laughed awkwardly. "There's nothing to tell, unfortunately. I haven't done anything like that in a while. Kind of outgrew it, I think." "So you haven't experimented at all?" She leaned in even closer and he could smell the perfume on her neck. "No fun Friday nights home alone when no one's watching?" Her fingers grazed his and Justin pulled his hand back. "Nope." He focused on his food again. "Is that surprising to you?" "More so disappointing I'd say." Disappointing? "You know, I wasn't lying when I said you did a great job yesterday. It's such a shame to have someone with your talent go to waste." Talent? In what exactly? "Well, I had help with that." Justin was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. "If it wasn't for Natasha, I'd probably have looked like a mess." Bianca blinked. "Natasha? And who is that?" "Just a friend," he said. "Ah." Bianca peered down at her plate, seemingly contemplating something. "And this Natasha, she helps you in that department often?" "No!" Justin snapped, no longer able to contain his irritability. "I said I don't do that anymore, okay? That's in the past." Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit, he laughed. "I'm starting to feel like I'm being interviewed or something." Bianca raised her eyebrows. "Perhaps you are, in a way." Oh no. "I have to be honest, Justin, when I put out a listing for a new assistant I was looking to find someone who could do more than just type emails and sort through files," said Bianca, her lips curling into a slight smile. "I needed someone with other qualifications." "...what type of qualifications?" asked Justin, dreading the answer. "As I said before, S+M caters to a diverse clientele. We try to reflect that not only in our brand, but in the people we employ. I look to hire women of varying color, size, body type, sexual preference..." She paused. "Biology." Justin swallowed. "I don't think I'm as qualified as you believe then." "Oh, I think you are." Her smile widened. "I think you're very much qualified. I think you're being shy, which is adorable, but I think you'll come around with some incentive. There's a little project I'm working on that I think you'd be just perfect for, and once we--" "Bianca. Enough! " Justin voice rang out louder than intended and a number of people at nearby tables turned their attentions their direction. Bianca's smile disappeared and she pursed her lips. "I don't know what you think you know about me but whatever it is you're wrong," he said. "Now, I'm perfectly fine with typing and filing, but I didn't sign up for anything other than that. I know you're my boss but that doesn't mean you can just spring whatever you want on me and I'll just go along with it." Bianca narrowed her eyes, gazing at him intently like a cat watching a bird. The look unnerved him but he remained resolute. "First of all," Bianca spoke evenly. "You need to calm down." "I am calm," he stated. "No, you are not calm. You're agitated and you're raising your voice and you're embarrassing me and yourself and the people around us. So you need to relax and speak at a proper and respectful volume. Understand?" "I'm not trying to be disrespectful. It's just--" "Second," she interrupted. "You need to better understand our relationship. Yes, I am your boss, and no, that does not necessarily mean you must do everything I tell you to. But you will acknowledge that I am your superior and despite what history we may share you will not talk to me in any way you please. I don't tolerate anyone speaking to me that way, especially not an employee of mine, and most especially not you. Trust me when I say, I can do a lot worse than fire you if you give me the motivation." "Maybe I should just quit then," Justin threatened quietly. "Save you the trouble?" Bianca's grin returned, but there was no warmth or friendliness to be found there this time. "You're not quitting." "You can't stop me," he said. "We're not kids anymore, Bianca." "Then why are you acting like a scared little boy?" Suddenly, Marcel was at his shoulder, asking if everything was all right. The tension between them was so obvious, steam could have been rising from the table. Bianca summoned light back to her smile and assured the owner that all was well. They sat in silence for the next few minutes, their forks scratching their plates as they finished their meals. Despite the words they just exchanged, Justin found that his anger had dissipated and was now being replaced by a sort of dull melancholy. The night had been going so great... he had began to have hope that this new job was moving in a positive direction after all. Now he was close to certain that he would not be returning on Monday. He knew that as long as he stayed on Bianca would not let up on trying to bend him to her will. He had to go for his own sake. And for some reason the necessity of that decision made him sad. "Well," said Bianca, breaking his train of thought. "That was delicious, wasn't it?" She tossed her napkin onto an empty dish. "I'm actually feeling in the mood for dessert, believe or not. How about you?" "I think it's best for me get home," he said. "I'm feeling tired." "Oh, but it's so early still!" she said, a disappointed look on her face. You would have thought the previous conversation had never happened. "Let me give you a ride back," she offered. "I know where we can get some amazing gelato, not too far from here." A ride? He was really not in the mood to take the bus. "I have a lot to do tomorrow, sorry." Like put in job applications... Bianca took a heavy breath. "Justin, I really don't want to end the night like this. I realize I've been a bit pushy... and you were right to react the way you did. Please, give me a chance to leave things on a good note before Monday." Her face looked genuinely sorry. Don't do it Justin don't do it do not... "Sure," he said. "We can grab some dessert." Bianca smiled. **** Justin wanted to run. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. The second option was the only one that was truly feasible at the moment, embarrassing as it was, but even that seemed beyond reach. All he could do was sit like a statue staring at the carpet. "I am very disappointed in you two," Miss Sinclair said. The word 'disappointed' with adults was even more alarming than 'mad.' Everyone gets mad. They get over it. But disappointment... that lingers. "You have anything to say for yourself, young lady?" Justin allowed his eyes to rise and glance at Bianca. She was sitting on the coach, absently toying with her fingernails, a dull and distant expression on her face. Gone was her usual charming and clever way of dealing with her mother. She had barely uttered a word since she saw her mom walk through the door. "I'm waiting," said Miss Sinclair. Bianca shrugged. "We were just having some fun." "You lied," her mother asserted. "You went behind my back and invited someone over without my permission. Had you just asked..." She stopped. "But you didn't because she had something to hide, didn't you?" Miss Sinclair looked back over to Justin, his eyes glued to the floor once again. "Do your parents know you're here?" He nodded. "But they did not know that I didn't know?" He hesitated and shook his head. "Well I suppose I should call them then." Call them!? She wasn't going to tell them about... she couldn't! He looked over frantically at Bianca, still sitting sullenly. Why was she letting this happen? Any other day she'd be jumping to his defense. Say something! "You can't tell my parents," he pled desperately. Anita gave him an exasperated look. "Justin, I... I don't know how to handle... whatever this is." "It was just a stupid game we were playing," he said, an idea coming to him. "A Truth or Dare thing. We'll never do it again." He looked to Bianca for support and she remained silent. "Justin, I know how you feel right now and I'm not angry with you about this, honestly, " said Miss Sinclair. "But I can't have my daughter inviting young men to stay the night when I'm not home, messing around with expensive clothing that's not to be played with--" "They're my clothes," Bianca muttered. "--and digging through MY personal items without asking. I expect honesty, and neither of you showed me that." "Why'd you come home early?" asked Bianca suddenly. "You said you had a shoot tomorrow. Was it cancelled?" Justin stared at Bianca in disbelief. Had she gone crazy? Miss Sinclair narrowed her eyes at her daughter. "That's none of your business. And watch the way you speak to me." She turned to Justin. "I'm calling your parents. I will give you a ride home after." Bianca glanced over at Justin, his eyes starting to water. "Please don't tell them," he begged softly, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Mom," Bianca said, injecting a tap of sweetness in her voice. "May we talk in private? Please?" Her mother regarded her for a moment, a stern look on her face, and nodded. Justin sat wringing his hands as the two left into another room. He could hear yelling through the wall but it soon subsided. As he waited anxiously, he found himself wishing Bianca hadn't used so much make-up. As if that would have made a difference... After some time, Miss Sinclair reentered. "I called your family." Justin's heart dropped. "I told them the truth - that I came home early and was surprised to see you here. I said you could stay the night but I'd send you back in the morning. That's all I told them." He breathed a sigh of relief. Then to his surprise, Miss Sinclair came over, brought him to his feet (heels now discarded) and gave him a deep embrace. "Listen, I apologize if I seemed upset," she said sincerely, her arms wrapped around him. "I want you to know you're always welcome here. And if you ever want to share anything with me, I'm ready to listen." Share? Share what? He looked over to Bianca, her expression unreadable. "...thanks, Miss Sinclair." An hour later, Justin emerged from the bathroom and into Bianca's room, his face cleaned off. He discarded the dress, wig, and stockings and fumbled for a minute with the bra. "Can you help me with this?" he asked Bianca, who was lying back on her canopy bed with a pensive look on her face. "She's got some nerve," she grumbled. "Goes off to spend the night with some guy and then gets mad at us just because it went badly. And I'm the liar?" "Bianca..." "I'm not some stupid little girl, you know? I'm starting high school in the fall. I can make my own decisions and I can do what I want with my own things!" Justin gave up, frustrated, and dropped onto the bed next to her. He continued to let her vent for a while and then he spoke. "I've never been so embarrassed in my life," he said. Bianca waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that. I talked to her. She won't tell anybody." "That's not the point," he said, annoyed. "She's never going to look at me the same now." "You're overreacting," she said. Then after a beat, "And so what? Is that such a big deal?" He stared at her, baffled. "Can you help me take this thing off?" "Why?" "Because I'm about to go to bed," he said irritably. "I'm tired." "Can't you just sleep like that?" "What's your problem!?" he snapped. "Can't you see how humiliating this was for me!" "Shhhh," she said, quelling him. "There's no reason to be ashamed. I told you I handled it. You don't have to worry anymore." She urged him to get up and he thought she had relented. But then he saw her dig into her drawer and pull something out. "Here," she said holding a pink pajama top similar to the one she was wearing, except this had lacy trim and a logo that said "princess." "Bianca, I'm not in the mood for this..." "Mood for what? They're just pajamas." "We shouldn't be doing this," he said, even as he allowed her to slip the top over his head. "It's not normal. I'm a boy." "Well, Justin's a boy. But Justine is a girl, and that's who I invited over tonight. Girls have sleepovers all the time right?" "I'm not a..." She placed a finger to his lips. "Shhhh. You think too much. Don't think, just go with it. We're just two girls having fun, okay? My mom knows that now, so we can do whatever we want." "...what did you tell her?" "Nothing to worry over. You don't need to worry about anything, okay Justine? Just listen to what I say. I'm the boss and you're my assistant and what I say goes. Now be quiet for a minute." She regarded him, her eyes sliding over the makeshift mounds protruding under the pajama top. "You look really pretty, Justine," she whispered. "Do you think I'm pretty too?" "Um..." "I think you do." She stepped closer and curled one of his orange strands of hair around her finger. "Have you ever kissed a girl before, Justine?" Before he could even react, Bianca leaned forward and planted her lips on his. She let it linger for a brief, meaningful second, and then they separated. Justin stood there stunned. Bianca blushed and bit her lip. She let out an abashed giggle and Justin couldn't help but smile. "Woah," he said after an awkward silence. "W-was that your first time..." "Kissing a girl?" she said slyly. "Yep." She declared it was bedtime and went to shut off the light. Hours later, Justin lay awake listening to Bianca's snores and gazing at the ceiling. He felt incredibly confused and conflicted about what had just happened. About everything that had happened. All he knew was that last little moment had made it all seem not so bad now. **** Justin looked confused as Bianca pulled her Porsche sedan into what appeared to be the garage of a high-rise apartment complex. Was the ice cream shop in the building? He wondered until he saw Bianca scan a keycard at the gate. "Bianca, where are we going?" "To get gelato, Justin." "...and where do they serve this gelato?" "My apartment." She winked at him. "My freezer has the best ice cream in the city, hands down." Justin groaned inwardly as she parked the car. Why did he do it to himself? "Well, you're here now," she said stepping out. "Might as well come on up. I have some work-related stuff I need to show you anyway. Unless you want to sit alone in the garage." He was trapped and she knew it. He reluctantly got out and followed her, cursing under his breath. Bianca greeted the doorman and Justin begrudgingly followed her through the lobby and to the elevator where they shot several flights up to one of the upper floors. She led him down a hallway to her home. "Ta da," said Bianca as she opened the door. Bianca's apartment was definitely 'her' - snazzy and posh and immaculately clean and organized. He wondered if she always kept it that way, or if she had prepared it in anticipation of bringing him here all along. Neither would have surprised him. "It's not much," she said and Justin rolled his eyes at her terrible attempt at modesty. He walked over to the wall-length windows showing off a breathtaking view of the cityscape and pondered on all the places he would prefer to be right now. Bianca put on some coffee and reached into her freezer for the promised dessert. "Strawberry is still your favorite right?" she asked as she dropped a couple of scoops into a bowl. "Me? I'm definitely more of a chocolate girl." She placed the bowl in front of the leather loveseat where Justin now sat and brought him a coffee mug. He sipped it as she left the room, saying she needed to grab something. A small part of him wondered if the drink was drugged and if he would wake up hours later chained to her bedpost. He chuckled at the grim thought. Bianca returned with a manila folder in hand. She dropped it on the coffee table in front of him. Justin picked it up curiously. The word "Reminders" was written on it in black sharpie marker. "What's this?" he asked. "It's what I wanted to show you," she said, sitting in the chair across from him, legs folded beneath her. "Open it." Justin took a look at the folder's contents. His heart leapt into his throat. On top was a large printed photograph. It showed a cute little redheaded girl with pigtails and a white party dress. Except, Justin knew the girl in the picture wasn't a girl at all. Justin gaped at Bianca, sitting there amused as she ate her gelato. "You kept this? All these years?" he asked incredulously. "Surprised? It's a cute photo." She urged him on. "Keep going." As he now expected, beneath was another picture of the same "girl" dressed in a Hello Kitty t-shirt and a pleated skirt. He flipped through the stack, watching as the subject grew taller, her hair longer. There were dozens of photographs here--all of the same person, with her striking some effeminate pose and wearing frills and lace and lipstick and berets and bracelets and mary jane sandals... He reached a photo of the girl in a sparkly pink dress, arms out and leg kicked up girlishly. Her chest was stuffed and her face was coated in an excessive amount of make-up. Justin cringed as the memories of that day came flooding back to him. "That's one my favorites," Bianca gushed, savoring a spoonful of chocolate. "There's more, keep going." A deep sense of foreboding came over Justin. He felt as if in a dream, facing a door and knowing, without a doubt, that something monstrous would be waiting for him on the other side when opened. "Go on, Justin." Her eyes shined with anticipation. Slowly, hesitantly, Justin lifted the picture and glanced at the photo beneath. A feeling of absolute horror consumed him. "That one is good too," said Bianca casually, still enjoying her dessert. "A little risqu? though. Not the type of photo you would expect a decent and proper lady to take, not at all." This was not happening. This could not be happening... "I was quite surprised to come across that online, of all places, where anybody could find it. A picture like that, I'd assume someone would want to keep safe and secret. But then I thought... maybe she wanted someone to find it, you know? Maybe the idea of being caught gave her a thrill?" Oh god...this could not be happening.... "And that's not the only one either. There's loads more, take a look." In a daze, Justin took a quick glimpse at the next few photos. He closed the folder, feeling nauseous, and put his face in his hands. "What was it you told me at dinner?" Bianca asked. "I believe you said, 'I don't do that anymore. That's in the past.' Unless I'm mistaken, and that's not my old friend Justine in those pictures, then you told a lie." She locked eyes with him. "I don't appreciate being lied to, Justin." "Why?" Justin asked, still clutching his face. "Why are you doing this?" Bianca considered the question for a moment, her lips softly sliding over her spoon as she licked it clean. "Because I want to," she replied with a light shrug. "Because I can. Because I feel owed, in a way." Justin gave a dry and humorless laugh. "Owed?" "Yes." She sat up straight and put her bowl aside. "A long time ago, someone promised to help me, to follow me, to assist me in fulfilling my dream. They did not keep that promise." He stared at her in disbelief. Was she really still dwelling on something that happened when they were children? "Did you really think I would forget, Justin?" said Bianca, reading his thoughts. "That I would just let you slip away, just like that? You should know me better than that. I do not let things go that easily. And so I decided to track you down and make things right again. "Truthfully, I'd hoped to keep circumstances pleasant," she went on. "We got off to a good enough start. But you were difficult. And frightened. That was to be expected. So, I decided to take the next step with things." "You planned this," said Justin, the gears beginning to turn in his head. "Before hiring me. You've been planning this for weeks." Bianca chuckled. "Justin, come now. I've been planning this for months, at least. You could even say I've had this on my agenda for years." He glared at her. "You're fucking evil." She gave him a dark smile. "See, that's the type of behavior I was referring to," she said, rising from her chair. "That kind of attitude is very unbecoming, and quite frankly, unacceptable for a secretary of mine. I've let things slide until now, but it needs to be addressed." Justin flinched as Bianca joined him on the loveseat. "And believe me, it will be addressed." "I won't work for you," Justin said, his tone unconvincing. "I won't do it." Bianca tilted her head, a sympathetic look on her face. "Oh Justin, yes you will," she said, her voice saccharine. "I know you. Better than you know yourself, in ways. You will do it, because you know it's what's best for you. And if you don't, you know I'll let those photos loose. I'll send them to everyone you know. I'll share them with your friends and your neighbors and your coworkers. I'll go online and spread them on Twitter and Facebook and YouTube and Instagram. I won't rest until I'm certain the world knows the person in those photos and what a shameless slut she secretly is." She scooted closer to him. "From this day forward, you're going to do anything and everything I tell you to do, understand? You'll dress how I want you to dress and act how I tell you to act. You're going to be the most eager and polite and obedient little assistant you can be. And when you disobey, there will be consequences. Do you understand me, Justine?" You can't let her do this, Justin. You can't. "Justine? I'm waiting on your answer." He found himself nodding slowly. She leaned over and brought her lips inches from his ear. "I want to hear you say it," she whispered. "Say you'll be my obedient little assistant." His throat tightened. "I... I'll be your obedient little assistant," he uttered, mortified. "Oh good," she said brightly. "I'm so happy that's settled." She sat back with her legs crossed and starting helping herself to his untouched bowl of strawberry gelato. "You know, I feel good about this, Justine. It's like we're starting over fresh. You can think of the last couple of weeks as a trial period of sorts. The real work starts now. This is really delicious, by the way." "When can I go home?" Justin asked, his voice dead and dry. "What's the rush? You just got here! We have a lot to discuss before Monday, don't we? And look, your coffee's gone cold and you're letting me eat all your dessert. Here, have some." She scooped a bit of ice cream and brought the spoon to his lips. He turned away, his appetite gone. "Open," she snapped. Reluctantly, he parted his lips and allowed her to feed him. She grinned deviously, her face a portrait of self-satisfaction and triumph. "Good girl." So this was how it was going to be huh? He had lost and she had won. His mind searched for a solution, for some tactic he could use to turn the tables, but it was useless she had trapped him she had him and now she would never let him go... No. He wasn't going to go down that easy. He didn't know how or when, but one day, some way, he would catch her by surprise. He'd find a way to beat her. Until then he'd play her game. Obey her rules, follow her commands, however embarrassing or demeaning they may be. He'd play the role she wanted him to play. Bianca's obedient little assistant.