Ad Men

Joan's large breasts notably jiggled beneath her nightgown, and her nipples were equally evident, poking out like a couple of bullets. Her long straight red hair, rosy cheeks, ripe red lips, and long shapely legs were complimented very well by the flowing white nightgown. It was quite evident that she wasn't wearing a brassiere, and Mr. Swim's cock swelled in appreciation.

Babs was perhaps even more provocative, as one could actually see her breasts through the diaphanous baby doll. He barely noticed how strikingly elegant and attractive she was, as his eyes were initially fixed on her breasts, which were essentially naked. They were not as thrusting or pointy as they normally appeared, sans the Maidenform brassiere. But, she did clearly have very lovely, full white breasts. He briefly tore his eyes away to consider her matching green bikini panties. They were mostly lace, but not at the spot that interested him most. He couldn't actually see her most feminine spot. Nevertheless, you could hardly call these outfits modest. His cock swelled further.

"Hello," Joan greeted him with a big smile. "I'm Joan, fly me!"

"And, I'm Babs, fly me!"

Mr. Swim would be most happy to "fly them," if he correctly understand the double entendre, but he doubted that they seriously could be suggesting that, could they?

They were indeed.

"This would be your new slogan," Mr. Draper boldly exclaimed. "Your ads will present a stewardess who will gaily proclaim, 'Fly me!' So, we are indeed representing the feminine perspective explicitly within the campaign. And, we are doing so in a manner that embraces, values, and promotes the hard-working female employees within your company and, I might add, providing them with additional financial compensation for the effort. In sum, your stewardesses will have a very prominent and forward position within the National Airlines campaign, going well beyond simply being stewardesses."

Joan and Babs thrust out their breasts to emphasize their prominent and forward role.

Mr. Swim, though, was very skeptical. "But, you're not really suggesting that our stewardesses dress like this, are you?" He wasn't entirely sure if he was actually against such a proposal. He wouldn't mind piloting the proposal on a private flight, within the corporate jet. But, he sorely doubted that National Airlines could actually implement such a change in uniform, or that any such apparel could in fact be even seriously considered. "Do you realize that our stewardesses are nurses, not fashion models and certainly not lingerie models."

Mr. Draper smiled patiently. "Mr. Swim. All of the other airlines have long abandoned the hiring of nurses." Much of this shift had occurred during the second world war, due to the need for nurses in the armed forces. "You are rapidly losing ground to Braniff and Southwest, who are indeed emphasizing appearance, as well as skill, for their stewardesses. We suggest you take this one natural step further and get out in front of the game, ahead of the pack."

Mr. Swim did appreciate the point. It was perhaps a natural progression and he was at Sterling Cooper precisely for their unique and innovative perspective. "But, still, stewardesses wearing lingerie?"

Mr. Draper laughed as he put out his cigarette in the astray on the receptionist's desk. "Goodness, gracious, no, Mr. Swim. You misunderstood. We are not crazy nuts here at Sterling Cooper."

The girls giggled as well at the absurdity of dressing this way in coach, their breasts jiggling with their amusement.

Mr. Draper lit up another cigarette. "We suggest that you offer this stewardess service only within the First Class section."

"You're serious?"

"Oh yes, yes. Pan Am now dominates air travel, due in no small part to being the first to offer first class service back in the 1950s. National Airlines can make up considerable ground on Pan Am, and pass Southwest and Braniff, by making this further advance in First Class travel."

"Well, I'm not so sure we want to make such distinctions. Comfort is our concern for all of our passengers. Plenty of leg room, hot meals, and cool drinks throughout the flight for all of our passengers, first class and coach. 'When you ride National Airlines, you ride in comfort.' That's been our slogan."

"Well, consider as well the current slogan of Braniff Airlines: 'When you got it, flaunt it,' and they don't mean the comfortable seating."

Mr. Swim understood. He had ridden Braniff, checking out the competition, and it was very clear what Braniff meant by that slogan.

"These girls are taking the next great step in steward service. But, naturally, Mr. Swim, naturally, I understand. While your First Class passengers are being pampered and coddled by Babs and Joan, we suggest the following uniform for the coach class." He turned back to the cones. "Penny, if you could, let's present to Mr. Swim the future coach stewardess of National Airlines."

Penny stepped out from behind a nose cone. "Hello, I'm Penny, fly me!"

Penny was much more modestly dressed, at least to the extent that she wasn't wearing a negligee. She was wearing instead a very tight, plunging, white cotton tank top, with each breast capped by a propeller whose blades were like spokes radiating from the peaks of each jutting boob, and, in bold writing across the entire chest was the word, "PROPELLERS," emblazoned in orange capital letters. The letters appeared to cling to her breasts so tightly that they literally curved around them, accentuating the thrusting of the breasts.

The curvature was in fact a bit exaggerated, as the lettering would be curved even if the top was worn by a male. The inherent curvature within the lettering was helpful in conveying the impression that Penny's breasts were strikingly large, straining to burst through the tank top, even if they were not in fact abundantly developed. This was an important and useful innovation of the graphics design department of Sterling Cooper, as one did not want to discriminate against, or embarrass, the stewardesses who were not quite as well endowed.

It also helped that the tank tops were pulled tight across the chest and knotted in the back to maximize the snug capturing of the breasts, as well as to expose her tummy and belly button. And, finally, of course, it also helped that she was wearing one of the new uplift and deep plunging Maidenform brassieres.

The tank top was accompanied by short orange running shorts, panty hose, white scrunch socks, and white shoes.

The outfit was particularly engaging when worn by Penny. Ever since she received the bonus check for her help with the Dupont account, she was more than willing to contribute to future campaigns, and she appeared to be perfect for this particular presentation. Penny conveyed such pure innocence with her short dark hair, curly bangs, large and velvety brown eyes, sweet smile, violet lips, girlish dimples, and an elfin giggle. Yet, here she was, thrusting out her breasts in a manner that could provide only one possible impression. How could a cute girl like this appear, how could she be, so provocative? Mr. Bradley wanted so much to grab hold of his swollen dick.

Mr. Draper explained. "We were not suggesting, of course, that your coach class stewardesses actually wear nightgowns. We doubt that the general public will be ready for that. That would be reserved for the businessmen in first class. We suggest instead a uniform such as the one modeled here by Penny. You could call your stewardesses 'Propeller girls.' We also like, 'Hostesses in hot pants.'"

Mr. Swim was pleased with what he saw, but rather shocked. "You must be kidding! I mean, 'propellers,' across her, her, well, her..."

"My breasts, Mr. Swim?" Penny cheerfully finished his sentence. She clasped her hands behind her bottom and thrust her breasts out further. If that wasn't enough to draw his attention, she flirtatiously swung them back and forth. "Is there something wrong with my breasts?"

She did have the effect of flustering him, but as the CEO he also felt he had a valid concern. "Yes, well, yes, but I mean, isn't the innuendo here a bit too obvious and apparent? I mean, why not just call them 'Juggies,' or 'Headlights Girls,' or 'Hooters Girls.'"

"Well, actually, if you were selling cars, I think 'Headlight Girls,' would be a pretty good idea for the show-women. 'Juggies,' might be good for comedy television. I don't quite know how one could use 'Hooters,' though. It's not like anyone wants to buy an owl or something. I kind of think that would then be a bit too obvious. No, no, 'Propeller Girls,' is really quite fitting. It's kind of cute and playful, don't you think?"

Mr. Swim wasn't thinking too clearly at the moment, as his eyes were wandering to the three pairs of propellers of Joan, Babs, and Penny, imagining what it would be like for them to be stewardesses. "Yes, well." He shifted his briefcase to the front of him, as he realized that he cock was all powered-up. "You really do think the general public is ready for this?"

"Oh yes, yes, certainly. We're speaking to a family restaurant right now about a similar campaign. They're developing a spicy, saucy chicken wing. They apparently got it from this Anchor bar in upstate Buffalo. In any case, they want us to promote it, an they're quit taken with the uniform. I kind of like the brand name of simply "Wings," across the ladies breasts, as you would obviously think of the more popular part of the chicken."

'No way,' thought Mr. Swim. There is simply no way that a family restaurant would be staffed by waitresses dressed like this. Although, the stewardesses on Southwest Airlines were already wearing pretty skimpy outfits.

"Mr. Swim, if you implement our proposal, I guarantee that businessmen, which constitute 87% of current first class travelers, will flock to National Airlines. You might lose a few prudish female travelers, but you will more than gain from the additional men who will switch to your airline. You may even need to expand the first class cabin. Imagine this, if you would." He turned to the girls. "Joan, Babs, if you please."

Joan and Babs stepped up to Mr. Swim, one on each side, and wrapped their arms around his. "Hello, Mr. Swim," they said in unison. "Here, let us take you to your seat." Mr. Draper opened the large walnut doors into the offices of Sterling Cooper, and Joan and Babs led Mr. Swim inside.

He certainly did enjoy that, as their soft breasts were pressed against his arm, the engaging scent of their perfume wafted across his nose, their breasts jiggling and bouncing so sweetly. Yes, he really would have to give serious consideration to this proposal. Minimally, it needed at least a trial.

And, once he entered the office of Sterling Cooper, he was greeted by the sight of the secretaries all dressed in various nighties and undergarments.

It was like "PJ Friday," when everyone dressed up in their best pajamas. Management typically wore silk pajamas, mimicking the preferred garb of their masculine ideal, Hugh Hefner.

Many of the girls also wore pajamas on PJ Friday, although a few would use the opportunity as an excuse to be a bit, if not a lot, more flirtatious, wearing nightgowns, perhaps even a baby doll negligee. Management did not object. It was important to allow the secretaries to freely express themselves on PJ Friday. That was the whole purpose, to allow everyone to dress in a more comfortable, informal manner.

Well, today, the girls were all wearing negligees and undergarments, even many of the more modest and shy ones. Management had in fact been quite gracious in approving a request from the secretarial pool to cover the costs. So, the men went through a Frederick's of Hollywood catalogue and selected potential uniforms for each secretary. It turned out to be quite a bit of work, as they wanted to get just the right outfit for each girl.

And, they didn't just order an outfit and demand that she wear it. No, they let her try it on for them a number of different options to determine which suited each girl best. Some of the girls were a little apprehensive about trying on undies, panties, and baby dolls for the men at work. But, Mr. Slattery made it clear that no inappropriate lines would be crossed. None of the men would be allowed to touch the girls, at least when they were dressed in their undies. Some of the ladies then embraced the modeling, enjoying the fun of wiggling their titties at the ogling eyes, thrusting out their pink, rose, or green pantied bottoms. Of course, the gals were allowed to keep whatever garments were ordered, even the ones that management rejected. Mr. Slattery was very considerate and generous in that regard.

A few of the girls, however, remained concerned. Mr. Slattery indicated that Sterling Cooper would be seeking accounts that would require a comparable investment on the part of male employees, but that still didn't mollify some of the ladies. Somehow it didn't quite seem an equal exchange. In the end, the girls who remained reluctant were allowed to stay home the day Mr. Swim arrived. Mr. Slattery did not want to coerce secretaries into doing something they found uncomfortable or untoward. They did, of course, miss out on the generous bonuses for those who participated.

Even without all of the girls participating, the room was still awash in colorful garters, nylons (Dupont, of course), babydolls, chemises, brassieres, boy shorts, bloomers, knickers, camiknickers, peignoirs, petticoats, panties, pettipants, teddies, camisoles, corsets, and drawers. It was a veritable garden of colorful lingerie, and pretty, sexy bodies.

As he passed each desk, the secretary would stand up, her breasts bouncing and wiggling, sometimes very clearly evident through a lacy, sheer, or diaphanous top, "Hello, I'm Melody, fly me!" "Hello, Mr. Swim, I'm Pamela, fly me." "Mr. Swim, hello, I'm Tracie, fly me." Yes, Mr. Swim felt that there were a number of good ideas in this proposal.

One "stewardess" attracted his particular attention. Her back was turned as they approached and when she noticed them arrive she leaned over the desk, flipped her camisole off her bottom and over her back, thrust her violet pantied bottom out and up, and turned her face back to him. "Oh! Mr. Swim, won't you fly me?"

Mr. Swim was rock hard by the time they reached the boardroom. Babs and Joan walked Mr. Swim inside. Mr. Draper stayed behind, for the moment.

The conference table and leather swivel chairs were gone. They were greeted instead by a few rows of airline seats. It was a facsimile of a National Airlines first class cabin.

"Here we are," Joan and Babs said in unison, "First class seating." There were only two seats together, and each was extremely roomy, with substantial leg room and spacious arm rests. They led him to one of the aisle seats, and he took his place.

"Oh sir," Babs said, as he continued to hug his briefcase to his lap. "Let me take care of your briefcase. We must stow all carry-on during take-off."

"Yes, well, um." He really didn't want to expose his more visceral reaction to the proposed campaign.

Babs let him keep the briefcase, for the moment, and reached above him, into the mock overhead compartment. She pretended to be having difficulty finding what she was looking for.

He felt she could take as much time as she wanted, as her large, bulbous, essentially naked breasts were jiggling just above his eyes, and standing up rather nicely with her arms raised over her head. As long as she continued to search within the overhead compartment, he could ogle them as much as he wanted. It was so tempting to reach up and poke, bat, bobble, or squeeze one. But, he knew that you really shouldn't fondle the stewardesses, although that could perhaps be another perk of First Class travel. That would certainly put them ahead of Braniff.

Babs paused for a moment to turn her attention back to Mr. Swim. "Do you see the advantage of these new uniforms, Mr. Swim?"

"Excuse me?"

"Haven't you at times imagined what the breasts of a stewardess might look like?"

"Well, no, no, not really."

"Mr. Swim now, be honest. You can always be honest with a stewardess. Her only concern is your safety and your comfort. As we say at National Airlines, 'The better we know you, the more we can serve you.'"

He was impressed. This advertising agency was a wealth of nice slogans. "Well, yes, of course I have wondered, any man does wonder."

"Well, at National Airlines, we have nothing to hide. What you see is what you get."

And, he certainly would like to get it, or more accurately, them.

Babs gently took the briefcase from his hands, and immediately sat down on his embarrassment, or actually his lap, and handed the luggage to Joan. "Here, Joan, stow away Mr. Swim's briefcase. I think he's feeling a little nervous about flying with us today and he may need some extra special first class attention."

"Well, of course, Babs, I would be happy to." Joan reached above Mr. Swim to stow away his case, being sure to let her pendulous breasts swing and sway before him. "Goodness, it seems to be a pretty tight fit here. He's got such a big one, I'm not sure I can get it all the way in."

He wasn't pleased to hear the implication that National Airlines did not have ample storage capacity for their passengers' luggage. He could not imagine an airline not being able to accommodate a passenger's carry-on. He always said, 'If it doesn't fit, it's a free trip.' But, he did appreciate that Joan's remark was more for his pleasure than a suggested slogan, although it was hard to tell when these girls were not proposing slogans. In any case, how could he complain when Joan's pendulous boobs were even bumping into his face. He wondered if it would be improper to grasp one of her nips within his lips.

Babs settled into his lap, although she did have to make some adjustments. "Mr. Swim, now, you know, FAA regulations prohibit passengers carrying on board any weapons. You don't have a gun or anything like that in your pants."

"No, ma'am. I don't."

"Are you sure? I feel something poking my little soft bottom, and it could just well be a gun. You surely don't want that going off during flight."

"I'm just happy to see you."

Babs laughed. "Well, I can't be sure. I think I'll have to search you to be certain."

Mr. Swim smiled. These girls were really stretching their imaginations. The likelihood anything like this ever happening on a flight was really quite low. Imagine the thought of having to search passengers before they got onto a flight! There was really no need to do that. "Well, if you think it will help ensure passenger safety, I certainly wouldn't object."

"Well, aren't you the considerate passenger. You're just the customer we love to serve at National Airlines." Babs slid back on his lap a bit to give herself some room, unzipped his slacks, and with an expert, smooth, quick motion reached in and extracted his stiff cock.

Mr. Swim hardly had a moment to react, let alone object, not that he would have in fact objected. "Whoa! You certainly are proficient at that."

"We are all very well trained at National Airlines."

He asked with some skepticism, "This was part of your training?"

"We are trained to handle all emergencies, sir," she responded, her hand sliding up and down the executive's stiff cock.

He glanced around, feeling a bit uncomfortable about the fact that his cock was being exposed in the boardroom of Sterling Cooper. He was certainly grateful that Mr. Draper had not followed them in. He would find it rather awkward to have a secretary handle his cock in front of her boss.

Babs smiled knowingly, and reassuringly. "Now, Mr. Swim, don't be concerned, as we say at National Airlines, 'Everything that happens in first class, stays in first class.'"