What Now, Sir? Ch. 02

"Ms. Buxom, that all sounds quite impressive, but let me give you a situation. I want you to tell me how you would handle it."

"Buxton, sir, my last name is Buxton. I'm ready."

"Ms. Buxom, suppose I come into the office one day and you notice I am not my usual cheerful, agreeable self. Do you take offense? Do you avoid me? Do you confront me?"

"Well, sir, this happens to be one of my specialties. Putting a smile on the chief executive."

"Pray tell. And how do you go about that?"

"Well, sir, sometimes a funny little joke will do the trick."

"As a rule, corny jokes don't do it for me. What is your next strategy?"

"Sometimes, just gentle questioning and active listening will improve the mood of my boss."

"Probably not going to help. What then, Ms. Buxom?"

"Sir, sometimes my bosses enjoy a little eye candy, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what you mean, Ms. Buxom."

"Buxton, remember, Buxton..." replied the slutty pretend secretary in a singsong voice. "Well sir, often I've found I improve my bosses' moods by showing a little extra. That might involve bending over to retrieve a folder that I might have "accidentally" dropped. The sight of my huge round buttocks stretching my skirts to the limit puts a bounce into anyone's step. Maybe straightening the seams of those pesky stockings. Methodically detaching and reattaching the garters on a ten-strap suspender belt can be time consuming, but often attracts a rapt audience. Suppose I forget to wear a brassiere one day, the sight of these big sweater meats bouncing around all day lightens the atmosphere on the dreariest of days. I think you get my drift here, sir."

"So, Ms. Buxom. Let me understand what you're saying. Your plan to lighten my mood would be to tease and tittilate my libido with your overripe overweight body. That sounds like fun for you, but from where I'm sitting, it frankly sounds a bit sadistic. Giving me a good case of blue balls in the cause of reaffirming your sexual desirability. Doesn't sound very helpful to me."

"Sir, I often encounter bosses who are so down in the dumps that I have to take a more shall we say "hands on" approach. I've found this to be my most effective approach."

"You said 'hands on,' what does that entail?"

"Sir, 'hands on' would actually be a misnomer, because you will see, if you allow me to demonstrate, that it involves much more than my hands. May I?"

"By all means, Ms. Buxom. Demonstrate away."

"First off, sir, I've repeatedly corrected your usage of my name, but to no avail. Your repeated substitution of Buxom for Buxton indicates to me one of two things. One, you are using a play on words to make fun of my abnormally large chest. It was quite funny the first five times you did it. Another possibility is that you are so totally fixated on my big tits, that you can't help yourself. And considering the bevy of busty beauties that have preceded me in my job, that may be most logical explanation. You might as well just call me Ms. Bigtits."

"Fine. Ms. Bigtits it is. I like the sound of that."

"Sir! I wasn't serious. I was just trying to make my point."

"Now, Ms. Bigtits. You were about to demonstrate your so-called hands on approach to improving the workplace morale."

Barbara let out a sigh. "Now sir. Here's the scenario. I walk into your office to take some dictation at your request. Wait. In the spirit of authenticity, may I get dressed before we do this? I might freshen my makeup a bit."

"As you wish, Ms. Bigtits."

"Sir, you are too cute."

Twenty minutes later...

"Sir, you needed some dictation?"

"Yes, Ms. Bigtits. Come in."

Doing her very best slutwalk, the overweight busty secretary entered the room among the sharp sounds of stiletto heels hitting the hardwood.

"How are you today, Sir?"

"OK, I guess."

"But sir, you don't look OK. Are you not feeling well?"

"Oh, just a little blue. A little argument with the missus."

"May I ask what it was about? I can't imagine arguing with you. You are always so agreeable, generous, handsome, and a wonderful provider. Any woman would be extremely fortunate to have a husband like you."

"It's really quite personal. Not important."

"If it's making you sad, it's very important. Please tell me. I just know I can make it all better."

"Actually, Ms. Bigtits, it's sexual in nature, and I just don't think it would be proper, you know, in this venue..."

"Sir, I hope you know I can maintain a confidence, and would be willing to do anything to help or assist you in anyway."

"Well, that is very comforting to know, Ms. Bigtits. Thanks."

"Sir, I want to give the best boss in the whole world a big hug, then we can get on with our work."

"OK, after you find him and give him that hug, I'll be here waiting."

"Oh, you silly. See, your humor is already returning. Come here."

Approaching her boss, the stacked secretary gave him a long hug. Neither seemed in a rush to break the embrace.

Rick could feel the hardening nipples of his top-heavy assistant. They were poking through the short knit dress. "Do those things never go soft?" he wondered.

Proud of her performance as the understanding and admiring secretary, Barbara felt the sizable lump in her date's groin region, which she knew was his rapidly inflating penis. "Ok," she thought "this is when the sympathetic secretary becomes the sex-hungary cougar."