Eve’s aura was her most attractive attribute. Horny, sensual energy radiated from her like morning sunbeams over a stunning landscape. To say that that was pretty was to state the obvious; she was. Perhaps she was also beautiful, and she was definitely sexy. Her personality, graceful movements, and naughty visage made one instantly intuit that she was feverishly horny and that she was just one lusty touch or innuendo-laden word away from needing to fuck you with all the passionate fury that only a sex fiend could muster.

Doubly blessed, her physical charms were also lust-inducing. Like her professional resume, however, the mere description of bodily traits seemed lackluster. The laundry list of dark brown hair, blue eyes, a smooth complexion, and a feminine, nubile, and curvy body put her in the common and mundane category. But the sight of her was something altogether different.

Born Evelyn Smith, in college, she’d shed a few dozen pounds of body weight and most of the syllables in her name. She adored her new, sexy, toned body and all the attention that came with it. Her hair, long and naturally wavy, was a more silky sable color. Eve’s eyes veritably glowed, the true hue being that of the Summer sky at twilight, at that magical moment when the first stars peek out. With flawless, alabaster skin and crimson, pouting lips, she was sometimes mistaken for being Asian, until one saw her facial features.

That smooth, creamy skin covered a body built to entice, perfect for savagely fucking, and she drew lusty stares wherever she went. Round, pert breasts, the size of grapefruits, looked plump and swollen with desire. Her lithe thighs showed an alluring gap between them, framing her swollen, gaze-drawing mound. A coveted, hourglass figure gave way to rounded hips and a heart-shaped behind. All of this made her the target of desire; ass-men, leg-men, and boob lovers all flocked to her. 

Even the man sitting behind the desk, frowning at her resume with negative-looking judgment, wasn’t immune to her physical attractiveness. Of course, Eve had dressed to accentuate her horny, lust-inducing features, and her overpowering aura of sexuality permeated all impressions one might have of her. Unlike the reality of appearance, her resume remained regrettably mediocre. Used to her occupational accolades failing to impress, Eve had a plan for interviewing.

It wasn’t her fault that her voice dripped with husky, sexual honey. Her lithe, toned body, the stuff of wet dreams, was just her natural figure and the result of dieting and hard work. Was she to blame that countless ineffable abstracts made her seem like a horny sex-kitten mewling in heat? Everyone had to play the hand they were dealt; she just happened to have the royal flush of sexually arousing beauty and that mystical force with which only the truly sensual are endowed. If all were fair in love and war, then a simple job interview most definitely fell between those two extremes. Her strategy was to use her appearance and force of horny personality to woo interviewers. She’d been quite successful with both men and women during interviews.

She’d mastered the art of strategically dressing to accentuate her lust-inspiring physicality, all while making it seem unintentional. A mid-thigh pencil skirt, which would have been appropriate office attire had it not been designed to enhance the plump, round curves of her ass, looked stylish over her sheer, dark thigh-high stockings. A white, silky blouse, crisp, clean, and thin enough that hints of her lacy red bra could be seen, was tailored to show off her body’s supple curves and to make her slightly large tits seem prominent. Red pumps, solely chosen for their wanton, sexual advertisement, matched her red, lace thong.

Eve didn’t wear regular underwear. She wanted to feel confident and sexy, so lingerie pressed against her erection-causing flesh instead of businesslike, comfortable, white cotton. The barely-there thong pressed between her firm, round ass cheeks, and the lacy crotch snuggled against her molten sex like a second skin, adding revealing mystery to her honeypot. With just a few simple gestures of disrobing, she’d look like a femme fatale pinup girl.

Eve sat in a comfy, padded chair, all hardwood and dark leather, and squeezed her thighs together as she sat quietly. The man conducting the interview was handsome, confident, and self-assured. Carnal thoughts and lusty images filled the young woman’s mind, making her pussy flow. She wondered if he could smell her volcanic sex; she certainly could. The man’s thumb idly toyed with the golden band around his left ring finger, and Eve judged him to be in his mid-thirties, just shy of a decade her senior.

“Evelyn Smith, is it?” he inquired in a confident, smooth, sexy voice that made her already hard nipples tingle.

“Eve,” she corrected, using her husky voice that made men’s knees weak. 

”As in Ad…”

She was used to that correlation. “As in ‘of destruction,’” she countered with a horny, impish smile that held portents of carnal zeal.

“I’m Victor, the man said, his voice wavering and his eyes riveted to her protruding nipples. “Victor Moore, general manager of our little branch.”

He stood and leaned over the desk, extending his hand in greeting. Eve’s blood boiled at the sight of him. Victor had sandy-blond hair, exquisitely coiffed, broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist, and his muscles bristled beneath his tailored shirt. The sleeves were rolled up past the forearms. His denim pants fit him well, revealing an impressive bulge with a slightly worn patch where his cock jutted out from the rest of his toned body.

Eve smiled, rocking her body from side to side almost imperceptibly. This accented the curvature of her hips, evoking visions of grabbing them and pulling her writhing, screaming body into one’s hardness as they ravaged her from behind. The movements, exaggerated by her forward-reaching hand, also caused her ample breasts to shimmy along with her torso. His clasp of greeting was both firm and gentle. Victor’s handshake held masculine strength, but the grip was soft enough to not crush her hand, almost protective. Furthermore, the touch of his warm flesh against her palm sent cold shivers through the woman’s body. Pinpricks of horny ice traveled from her fingers to her spine, detouring to circle her taut, puckered nipples, then heading straight down her clit.

Mr. Moore, the general manager of the small but booming dispensary, Happy Trees, frowned at her employment history, turning the top page over to view the rest of her storied career in such lofty vocations as cleaning services, fast food cashiers, and retail.

“I see that you graduated from college a few years ago and have been working a lot of various jobs. Why is that?”

“My degree is in tourism and travel, and that occupation isn’t exactly booming at present. I’ve been searching for a place where I fit well with the work culture, and that will challenge me, letting me grow and enhance my skills.” She sat straight in the cozy chair, her back not even touching the padded leather. Eve felt that it made her seem more poised, confident, and professional.

Victor smiled at her, then began a flurry of questions with, “As you know, we’re a dispensary, now that it’s legal for recreational consumption, but the position is for an office and personal assistant. Can you type?”

“I have no formal training as a typist, but I’ve used computers and cellphones my entire life, so I can type at a conversational speed, fairly accurately, as well.”

“Can you annotate reports? Do you know how to file paperwork? Do you have any experience with accounting software? Any experience scheduling meetings or talking to other business owners for supply and logistics needs?”

The speed of his rapid-fire questions didn’t allow her to respond. Eve could only shake her head in the negative.

“So, although you meet the base criteria for this sort of work, you aren’t truly qualified. Convince me.” His tone was friendly, and his voice confident, a little deep, and sensually hypnotic. This put Eve at ease. She unleashed her potent aura of sexual passion, her weapon of mass-interview destruction.

“Well,” she cooed, relaxing back into the chair. The sable-haired woman paused once she had his enraptured attention. Eve outwardly ignored his roving eyes, but, inwardly, she felt her body’s temperature rise to dangerous, impassioned levels. 

Eve slumped back into the chair, tossing her head to make her long, silky tresses cascade around and over her features. The provocative-looking woman also spread her legs slightly, thinking that from where he sat, he’d have a glimpse up her sexy pencil skirt and see her red lace panties. His eyes were immediately drawn to her legs, and they widened when they spied her stocking tops. His expression turned dreamy and lusty when, like an enraged bull, the seductive red of her frilly panties caught his attention. He just stared, unaware of the obviousness.

“The advertisement stated that it was entry level.” Eve’s tone changed slightly as she emphasized the word “entry.” She let the huskiness of her voice demonstrate the horny bonfires that burnt within her. A little spreading of her thighs, her juicy, wet cunt thrusting forward, added visual innuendo to the word.

She continued, wondering if she were going to make him hyperventilate. “I pick things up very quickly. I’m a fast woman. And, I’ve been told that working with me is an absolute pleasure.” Those last, few words were accompanied by Eve jutting her swollen tits out. In a calculated tactic, she let her hand drop to her thigh, idly fingering the elastic tops of her stocking through the slit in her skirt.

“My final question, Mrs. Smith…”

“Miss, but call me Eve. I’m not married—not even a lover.”

“Very well, Eve. My final question is how do you feel about the marijuana industry, and do you have any experience there?”

She giggled, overdoing it to make her boobs bounce. “I’m a single woman on her own who spends all day asking, ‘Do you want fries with that?’ I know my way around a dispensary.”

“Very good. If you were hired, when could you start?”

“I think I’d be ready and willing any time you want me.” Her voice and inflection let her arousal show. Victor Moore was visibly shaken. She pressed that advantage, adding, “I’m more than good in any position you can think of.”

“Well, here’s a box of some of our products.” Mr. Moore stood once more, retrieving a plain cardboard box from some unseen location behind his mahogany desk. “If you’re hired, and we have lots of applicants, we’ll text you.”

The blond man emerged from behind his desk, and Eve was impressed by both his carriage and body. To her, he was masculine, strong, powerful, and incredibly sexy. His body was muscular and athletic, exactly the type she liked. The two shook hands once more, the physical contact lingering longer than necessary. In a gentlemanly gesture, he opened the door for her to exit. That inspired Eve to pull another strategic tactic from her arsenal.

In a fluid, well-practiced feint, she dropped the box she’d given onto the floor. Having practiced this maneuver in front of a mirror myriad times, her countenance showed only embarrassed surprise.

“Forgive me, Mister Moore,” she drawled, bending at the waist, posed perfectly to give him an unobstructed view of her very shapely butt. Her ass had made women beg, and men submit; that time, she used it to increase her chances of gainful employment. The coolness of the office’s air conditioning on her upper thighs alerted her to the fact that her stocking tops were barely exposed.

Eve bounded up and down at the waist, once, then twice, scooping up the box and holding it against her ample chest as if it were a cherished heirloom. “I’m so clumsy. Forgive me.”

With a sultry, calculated glance over her shoulder, as she walked out of the clean but tiny office, she noted that his cheeks were flushed crimson and the bulge in his Levis had swollen. As she walked onto the sales floor, the few patrons eyed her up as if she were a piece of sexual candy. This caused her volcanic arousal to explode. The brazen woman found herself wishing that she’d gone braless to further enjoy the lusty leers and sexual stares. Nonetheless, she strutted out the door, basking in the glow of the horny attention. She even saw Victor Moore standing in his office doorway, watching her walk.

“I might not get the job, but that was fucking hot,” Eve mused to herself as she approached her car.

Her vehicle, a run-down, barely-running Ford coupe, was, at least, utilitarian. It got her from point A to point B, just fine, but it was getting old and rusty, having been her car all the way through college and the following four years since she graduated. Objecting and threatening to die in the parking lot, the engine clanked to life on the fourth turn of the ignition. Eve sat there, wondering if she had a chance at getting the job and hoping that her sex-oozing aura, which she firmly believed was just her winning personality, made up for her lacking resume.

Reliving the interview in her mind, she waited for her car’s engine to warm up a bit before putting it into gear. If she just started it and pulled away, there was a good chance that her jalopy would stall in the middle of traffic. Her azure eyes gleamed when she recalled the way the manager stared at her. As she lost herself in a combination of reverie and fantasy, her hand descended, once more, to her thigh.

“Mmm,” she moaned, turning on the stereo to cover her lusty noise. “So sexy. Too bad, he’s married. I wonder if he cheats.”

Eve’s delicate, pale fingers slid under her sexy skirt and caressed her molten pussy. The feel of the wispy, delicate lace covering her sodden hole felt naughty and divine. With her cunt hot to the touch, her thong panties soaked with the nectar of lust, she rubbed up and down her twat, sighing as her hips hunched forward. The angle wasn’t right, so she propped her right foot on the dashboard to give her flying fingers easier access. Eve knew that any passersby might see her, and the thought excited her even more. The door was locked, and she could just drive away if somebody caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Do you like watching me finger-fuck my cunt, Mr. Moore?” she asked the rearview mirror. “Can you hear how wet I am?”

Lost in horny lust, Eve pulled the crotch of her panties to one side and thrust three fingers into her convulsing sex hole as hard as she could. She was so turned on that her liquid heat coated her fingers, making them slick and shiny. Her other hand explored the contours of her svelte leg, marveling at the sensuousness of her sheer stocking. When it reached her other hand, furiously busy between her legs, Eve hooked her thumb over the crotch of her red lace thong and kept it out of her way. Her free fingers flicked her clit, running over and encircling the swollen, sensitive nub.

Her car’s engine groaned in protest, slowly churning and chugging to life, finally idling smoothly. However, she was so consumed by her lust and the naughtiness of masturbating in a public parking lot that she paid her rocking car’s signals no heed.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum so hard. Right now… cumming!”

The sexy woman’s body lurched up and down, back and forth, as she writhed in screaming, agonizing bliss. With shaking legs and a loss of breath, her orgasm began as a fragile, budding flower, quickly growing into a florid bouquet of self-administered pleasure. As the throes of intense pleasure crested, she could only scream guttural moans of pleasure.

When her orgasmic euphoria subsided, Eve glanced around. At first, she thought nobody had seen her. This both relieved and disappointed her. Then, she saw Mr. Moore gazing at her dilapidated car. Their eyes met, but he quickly dropped his head, suddenly engrossed in the pattern on the sales counter. As soon as he lifted his head once more, Eve waved at him and smiled, her cum dripping from her fingers.

Suddenly feeling inhibited, which was rare for her, Eve slammed the car into drive and sped away. Her hand, still slick from fucking her juicy cunt, slipped twice on the wheel. She drove home, feeling relaxed and looking forward to sampling the Happy Trees’ products, but feeling as if she wouldn’t get the job.

Just before she pulled off the road that led to her apartment building, her phone buzzed, the dinging sound telling her that she’d received a new text.

‘Happy Friday,’ it read. ‘If you want the job, we’ll see you Monday morning. Confirm?’

She immediately replied. ‘I’ll see you on Monday morning, bright and early. Thank you.’

Eve grabbed the small, cardboard box, compliments of her new employer, and raced up the external, metal stairs to the third floor of her cookie-cutter apartment complex, her scarlet heels clanging on the treads. As soon as she got through the door, the elated woman tossed the box onto her cluttered coffee table, peeled off her blouse, and stepped out of the sex quasi-business skirt.

In a frenzy, the lingerie-clad woman swept the amassed flotsam from her table, seeking a lighter. It wasn’t there. An inspection of her kitchen netted nothing, but she eventually found the cheap, disposable lighter on the floor, wedged between her living room wall and the television stand. Without ceremony, she ripped the top off the box and examined its contents. She chose a wrapped blunt, stripped away the plastic wrapping, and lit it up, toking deeply.

Eve sat on her threadbare couch, turning on the “idiot box,” as her stepfather had called it. Some sexy vampire movie was playing, and that was good enough for her. Another toke followed another one, and she snuffed out the cigar-like smoke, pleasantly buzzing. The effects on her body were akin to a horny euphoria; she liked that and plunged her hand down her panties, moaning softly as she idly fingered her cunt. Then, an idea hit her—one that brought her a certain sadistic relish.

Picking up her phone, she dialed the number of her current work. 

”Thank you for calling McKing’s. This is Susan; how may I help you?”

“Oh, hi, Sue. This is Eve. Is Jonathon around?”

“Oh, sure. Hang on, okay?” 

Eve waited, hearing her previous coworker shout for Johnathon, the shift manager. She waited, still fingering herself. By the time her supervisor picked up the phone, she was on the verge of cumming.

“This is Jon, Eve. What’s going on?”

“Ooh, ummm, oooh. I fucking quit.” Her fingers were slamming into her hot, wet pleasure center with wild abandon.

“But you can’t quit.”

“Just did. I don’t need your pathetic little job or your even more pathetic, tiny cock.”

“If you quit without notice, we’ll withhold your last paycheck.”

“Oh, fuck,” she sighed. Fingering herself harder and faster, Eve cooed, “If you take my check, I’ll report you to HR for sexual harassment. “

“That was all consensual.” Jonathon’s voice was troubled.

“It doesn’t matter. So, I quit, and you pay me my hours, deal?”

“You’re a man-eating bitch, Eve.”

“Love you too, Jon. Bye.”

To be continued…