Monday Morning

The easy bits were done. With my law degree tucked away in my back pocket, I'd breezed through the licensing process and earned my call to the bar. Then came the last and hardest part - finding a job. I had just started networking when my phone rang. 
Hope soared. 'Hello?'

'Is that Desmond Brady?'

'It is.'
 
'It's Michael Gallagher from Gagne Nadeau & Tremblay. We met a few years ago, at the Osgoode job fare.'

'I remember. You're from Montreal as I recall. How are you?' Hope crashed and burned. Why would a Montreal outfit hire a Torontonian  with a piss-poor mastery of French?

'Just fine, thanks. Congratulations on being called to the bar.'

'Thanks.' 

'Has anybody snapped you up yet?'

'I'm talking to a few firms.' Oops! Wrong tense. So sorry.

'I see. Are you still interested in mergers and acquisitions?'

'I am.' 

'Good. Why don't you drop by and see me in the morning?'

'In Montreal?'

'We opened our Toronto office last year. We're in First Canadian Place, 32nd floor. Shall we say nine o'clock?'

'Let me see. Yes, I can manage that.'

Tuesday

The meeting lasted all morning. There was a lengthy interview, an IQ test, and then a detailed personality inventory. Think Myers-Briggs on steroids. It was early afternoon before I left for home.  

My phone rang just as I got in the door. It was Michael inviting me back for an interview with a senior partner the next morning. 'Giselle is very decisive and a bear for punctuality. Do not be late and good luck!' There was a strong hint of "you're going to need it" in his voice. 

Wednesday Morning 

The receptionist was surprised to see me back so soon, but that changed when I mentioned Giselle. Her eyes widened and rolled heavenwards. 'Oh! I see,' She reached for her phone, announced me and hung up. 'Her personal assistant will be right out.' 

We chatted until the woman of my dreams appeared. My jaw dropped. A stunning young Goddess was walking toward us with the confident elegance of a prima ballerina. Her figure was athletic yet curvy and built to send heart rates and blood pressures soaring. Black, curly, shoulder-length hair framed an angelic face, with large soft eyes, a flawless caramel skin, and plush, kissable lips. The receptionist smirked and looked down. 'Watch out for that one!' she whispered. 

'Mr Brady?' The mellow timbre of her voice turned my knees to water. 

'Yes, I'm Desmond.' 

'Hi, I'm Margot Chapelle. Follow me, please.' On the way, I  thanked the gods for perfect derrieres and short, tight skirts. 

She knocked on the door to a corner office and leaned in. 'He's here, Madame.'

'Good. Show him into the conference room. I'll see him in a few minutes.' 

Margot ushered me through an adjoining door. Although there was plenty of room to sidle past her, my upper arm somehow brushed against her breast. I was appalled. 'Sorry!' 

Innocent brown eyes met mine. 'Whatever for?' She cut me off in mid-mumble when I tried to explain. 'Take a seat. Giselle will be with you soon.'

'Thanks, Margot.' 

'You remembered my name! How sweet.' Her smile burned into my libido as she closed the door. 

I leapt to my feet when a woman in her late thirties or early forties came in a few minutes later. Her hair was short and jet-black, her skin pale, and her features sharp. She placed a thick folder on the table and shook my hand with a firm grip. 'Hello, Desmond. I'm Giselle Martineau. Sit.' Her dark navy blazer and skirt was loose enough to mask her figure, but she seemed to be quite slim.

She pushed the folder across the table. 'The first item, Desmond,' she said, 'is our formal offer.'

'I've got the job?' The answer was a short, sharp, soul-freezing stare. 'Sorry. Um, thank you!' My heart was pounding as I reached for my pen to sign on the dotted line. 

'Not yet!' she snapped, then pointed at my folder. 'The next few pages cover our terms and conditions, mission statement, vision and values. Read them, and, if acceptable, initial each page. 

You will then have to pass an oral exam before you may accept our offer. Understood?' I nodded. 'Good. You will need the rest for your orientation. Our compliance policy, code of conduct, full details of your benefits, IT policies, and so forth.'

'I see. Thank you.'

The shadow of a smile flitted across her face. 'Let Margot know when you're ready. She'll take you to HR to get your orientation started.' I nodded, and she got up to leave but paused at the door. 'Be back here by noon. You're having lunch with us.' Again, I nodded. 'By the way,' she continued, 'You have big floppy ears. Wear your hair longer so you will look less ridiculous. You are also overdressed. I'd rather see you nude than in that suit. The dress code in my department is business casual. Slacks with a casual shirt and shoes, for example, but I don't like short sleeves. Is that clear?'

I nodded. 'When do I take the test?'  

'That was a joke. There isn't one, so just sign the fucking thing. But I'm still looking forward to the oral.' The smirk was still on her face as she shut the door behind her.

Wednesday Lunch

There was no sign of Margot when I got back from HR, but the door to Giselle's over-sized and disturbingly tidy office was open. She was at her desk, staring intently at her monitor. I tapped gingerly. She looked up, saw me, glanced at her watch, and almost smiled. 'You're early! Excellent! Come here. Have a look at this, and tell me what you think.' She spun her monitor half-way round, but I still had to lean across her oversized desk to have a look. It was a split-screen with Japanese script on one side and an English translation on the other. 'Well?' 

'It's a lousy translation!' 

'Calcutta!' Margot was grinning at us from the doorway. She sashayed across the floor and  gave me a little slap on the ass. It was like a tiny teaspoon of a sweet but bland dessert. It left me wanting more - a prolonged hard spanking on my bare ass while she held me over her knees with my rigid cock clamped firmly between her stockinged thighs. 
I almost begged for more,' but 'I beg your pardon!' came out instead.  

'She likes your butt,' Giselle said. 

'What does Calcutta have to do with my butt?' 

Margot raised an eyebrow. 'Doesn't he speak French?' 

'No,' I said, 'Just Spanish, German, Arabic, Hindi, Japanese, Mandarin, and English.''

'Oh. We'll just have to teach you. Right boss?' 

'It's time for Desmond's official welcome. Let's go to lunch.' Giselle picked up her handbag and led us to the elevator.

'Lesson one,' Margot said as we followed her out. 'Not "Calcutta" but "Quelle cul t'as!". She swatted me again, harder this time. 'It means "what an ass you have!".' 

Without Giselle listening, I dared to flirt. I leaned toward her. 'I could get addicted to that.' She smirked and swatted me again, much harder. 'That was lovely! Thanks.' She put on her hungry Cheshire cat grin. Just for a moment, I felt like a baby bird. 

At first glance, there was nothing special about the restaurant. The French provincial decor was tired and trite. Giselle dictated the seating at our square table, with herself on my right and Margot on my left. It was like parents letting a child sit at the head of the table on his birthday.

The food and wine were superb, but the conversation was mundane; politics, the weather, you know the sort of thing. Giselle's history of the firm and its traditions nearly put me to sleep. 

It didn't get interesting  until we were part way through our second bottle of wine. Margot took over the shop talk with tall tales of office indiscretions and other shenanigans. Giselle stayed quiet, trying to look stern and disapproving but not quite managing to hide her amusement. 

There was a pause as our waiter split the last of the bottle among the three of us. 'Another, please,' Giselle said and then turned to me. 'Have you always lived in Toronto?' 

'No. I was born in Ireland, but I grew up here.' 

'What are your best memories of growing up in Toronto?' 

'The best, I think, was Canada's Wonderland. We always had a season's pass.' 

'Let me guess,' Margot said. 'Your favourite ride was the Tunnel of Love!'

'No way! The roller coaster.' 

Giselle pushed her chair back a bit and swivelled toward me. She leaned forward, and her knees parted. She was showing me a whole lot of thigh. 'I think that's all changed by now.' 

She was offering me an eyeful, so how could I be rude about it? Could I afford to piss off my new boss on my first day? I stared long and hard at her slender and shapely legs. She spread them wider to give me an even better look. 'The Tunnel of Love it is,' I said. 

'I've already introduced myself to his tunnel of love,' said Margot. 'The next step is a good wash.' 

'Sorry?' That's Canadian English for "what the fuck!?" 

'She means, darling, that men are like laundry. The washing comes before the pegging.' I very nearly choked on my wine. 

The waiter arrived with our third bottle. With our glasses fully refreshed, Giselle asked me about my vacation plans. 'I don't have any yet.'

'Wyoming is nice,' said Margot. Her right hand slid sensually up and across her breasts to scratch an itch on her left shoulder. 'The Grand Tetons are magnificent.'

'Don't listen to her.' Giselle took hold of my forearm. 'You don't have to go that far to see beautiful tits.'

'The Grand Tetons? That's a mountain range, isn't it?' I asked. 
Margot cupped and plumped her breasts. 'Big time!' 

'I do like large and firm, but mountains are over the top.' I glanced sideways at Giselle. 'Where do you go, Giselle?' 

'Niagara Falls, of course. The spray from the falls! I love getting wet down there!'

'Me too!' said Margot. 

'You two are birds of a feather!' 

'I love birds!' said Giselle. Her hungry eyes pinned me as a cat would a pigeon. 'It feels so good to have a bird in the hand.' She reached for her wine glass, stroked the stem up and down with slim, graceful fingertips. 

Margot's fingers delicately traced the cleavage lurking under her blouse. 'I love giving a pretty bird a place to nest.' 

'Do they thank you with a gift?' I asked. 'A necklace perhaps?' 

She shrugged 'Sometimes, but a facial is so good for my complexion.'

'She has wonderful skin and a large collection of pearls,' said Giselle, 'I think there's much to be said for a bird in the bush.' Her hand left my arm and squeezed my thigh. 

'Some handsome young birds,' Margot added, 'are invited to nest and nestle with two loving bushes.'

Giselle's fingers slid higher up my thigh, found what they were looking for and stroked, slowly and gently. 'It doesn't take much to turn a bird in the hand into a rooster in bed,' she said. 

'That's a thought I grapple with every day,'  I said. 

Margot's eyes widened. 'Grapple? Are we going to wrestle? Which of us first, Desmond?' My face caught fire. Wrestling with a skilful girl, and losing, was even hotter than an over the knee spanking 'Either of us can beat you, so two against one would be better. You'll still lose, but it'll be better for your fragile male ego.' The sexy little witch could see right through me.

'That's a most interesting idea,' Margot said. 'But I don't think it's what Desmond had in mind. Is it?' 

'I was just wondering if reality ever meets fantasy's expectations.' 

'Ah! The fragile male ego and performance anxiety, I presume?' I nodded. 'Never fear. Under the tender care of a woman of experience and the firm hand of her young protege, expectations are routinely exceeded.' She was still dry stroking my cock, and my briefs were already sopping wet. 'Oh my! Margot, darling, his plug is most impressive! My socket is ready. How about yours?' 

Suddenly, a younger, firmer, rougher hand claimed her share of me. 'You are so right madame. Let's plug him in and light him up.'

Giselle released me. 'Excuse me for a few minutes. Margot, my dear, be sure to bring him to a finish before I get back.' She left my rooster in Margot's hand and got up. Before heading off to the ladies room, she stood behind my chair for a few moments with her hands on my shoulders. 'Never fear. By the time we get to my boudoir, you will have recharged your battery.' Then she leant down to whisper in my ear. 'Welcome to the firm, Desmond.' She kissed my jaw, just below the earlobe. Her scent, subtly floral, made my head spin. 'Remember, mon cher, today is a special privilege. But, and this is just for you, whatever you want and whenever you want it, my door and I myself, are always open to you.' She kissed me once more, with just the lightest touch of tongue and left me alone with Margot and her firm, young hand. She made short work of me and sent me off to the men's room to clean myself up before the boss came back. 

To be continued.