"Boss, can I talk to you?"

I looked up, it was Cameron Nhite. Cameron is a college sophmore who had come to work for me last October, shortly after the current school year had begun. I pushed myself back from my computer desk and swivelled my chair to face her. "Close the door and take a seat Cammy."

She turned back to the door and I let my eyes rove up and down her ripe, petite young body. 'Was it finally time?' I thought to myself, watching her movements. She was wearing a bright yellow tank top like thing today, over her normal lowcut, underwire bra and the two left lots of cleavage for the viewing, leaving hardly anything for people's imaginations. Just below her breasts that top squeezed in tight to her young body, sculpting her form to just above her navel where her own skin pushed out, ever so slightly, below the hem of that top. A short expanse of tanned skin, and her short skirt began low on her hips, a kind of green plaid wrap around number with lines of yellow and white interlaced through the pattern. Barely covering an excellent firm butt, that skirt tipped and wriggled and flounced, jerking and bouncing this way and that with her movements as she walked about in the store. The day she had stood in my office and passed over her application I had decided I was going to have that body.

I own two stores, side by side with one another. The Harley Davidson motorcycle shop next door and this one, selling portable spas, hot tubs and patio furniture. Tables, chairs, umbrellas and the like. This store did a booming business when compared to the other. Two large warehouses I'd put up behind the two shops, insured I could buy in enough valume that my inventory cost me only about a third of what I charged for it. In all honesty, the Harley Davidson shop, most often, barely paid for itself, but it was a labor of love for me. I had opened this store in an effort to support it and keep it open during some of the lean years. Since then, the Patio and Spa Shoppe had become my primary money maker.

I had twelve employees between the two stores. Four in the Harley store, two sales people, a mechanic and Samantha, a woman I'd gone to High School with ten years ago. She managed the place, acted as a sales woman, mechanic, display arranger, just about everything that was needed. Except the books, that was my balliwick.

Here, I had one permanent sales person, Old Tom. At forty-eight, Tom was twenty years my senior and one hell of a salesman. He'd caused me to be caught by the short hairs a couple of times, because he would lie through his teeth to a customer to make a sale. But the sheer volume of his sales - and my profit margin because of it - made him a valued employee. He'd have a job here as long as he wanted to stay. Assisting Tom were six 'temps', as I called them. All females, they came from the universities and colleges in the county. All attractive, all with great bodies, if somewhat more marginal sales skills, their sex appeal and eyelash batting alone helped them in the sales department.

I considered them temporary employees because they were all, intentionally, from out of state and always left after they graduated, if not before. The store attracted them because my starting sales staff wage was three and four dollars more an hour than any other store in the area. Plus I paid them a seven percent commission - starting. Still, in a college area like this one, it was barely enough to make ends meet for them, unless they were phenominal sales people from the get go. Their hours, starting, were always in the part-time range until they 'established themselves' with me. Cammy had yet to do so... she was the only one of the sales girls I had not screwed yet.

Cammy pulled out one of the padded plastic chairs I keep in the office for sales people and employees who wanted to talk. Setting it at an angle to mine, so her legs would not point directly at me, she sat, crossed her nearer leg over the further one, and placed her hands in her lap.

"Now, what can I help you with today?" I asked her.

"I hope I'm not being too blunt about this, but what does a girl have to do to get more hours and a raise around here?"

"Do you think you deserve a raise?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I've been working here for six months now and I've gotten good enough that I'm selling more... I'm always on time... I try to do more around the store than a couple of the other's seem to do, and yet I know Becky, who started the same time I did, has gotten two pay raises since then while I have gotten none. I like it here, but I need more money."

"Rebecca also brings a suit with her and spends a couple of hours daily 'demonstrating' our tubs. You do not. Her sales are mostly made while she is sitting in the spa demonstrating it for her customers. I have yet to see you do more than dip a hand in one. Rebecca also stays late every week or so and helps me with some things, as do all of the other girls, and you have yet to volunteer for extra duties. Rebecca also volunteered to be in my last set of commercials for airing on the local cable network. True, you are always on time, your sales have improved - some, and you are always neat and tidy. But I'm not sure you have the true commitment to your position here that the others have shown."

"What commitment? Pardon me, but Sheila hardly ever lifts a dust rag or a broom. I've never seen her restock a shelf or help with the displays. If there is not a customer in the store, she's in the break area stuffing her face and reading one of her romance novels. She and Taffy have also never been in the spas that I've seen and, though she will help with the display arrangements and set ups, Taffy seems to not be much better than Sheila over-all. Besides, though they have been here longer, I believe I out sell both of them."

"You're right, about both of them when it comes to store cleanliness, and they are both lousy at maintaining the chemical balances in the spas and I have forbidden both from ever testing a customers water chemistry. But they both have fantastic computer skills. Sheila maintains and updates all of the store's computer inventory and price lists. While Taffy was the designer of and does all of the weekly updates for our web site. All of the other girls take their turns in the tubs during business hours, all wearing their skimpy suits. Rumors around town of their modelling the tubs, and of their skimpy suits, helps draw in some of our customers. So, the skimpier the better I say."

"That's sexist."

"Probably. But it's also a simple fact and it's good for business. Besides, getting back to Sheila and Taffy, Sheila gives a great blow job and Taffy likes it up the ass... what are you doing for me?"

"What?"

"The other girls, 'all' of the other girls, help themselves towards pay raises and full-time status here by helping to take care of my sexual needs. Wednesday, when we were closed, Rebecca and Jennifer came in and put on a kind of lesbian strip and sex show for me, even letting me film it... I didn't know a girl could do that with a beer bottle. I repeat, though, what have you done for me?"

"That's sexual harrasment."

"According to the courts, maybe. But, in point of fact, it is part of my raise policy here and a fact of life you'll have to deal with if you ever want a raise... or, since we are having this converstaion, if you even wish to continue your employment here. I am giving you your two-week notice right now. (If you want to keep your job here, and if you want to receive raises, you will begin granting me sexual favors in the next two weeks or you will be let go and forced to find employment elsewhere. You should go back to work now and think about it."

"But that's not fair."

"Maybe not, but it is the way things stand."

"But, I'm a virgin... I've never..."

"Then you can give me blow jobs - if you are any good at them, or take it up the ass - like Taffy does, or give me a daily strip and a hand job... but you will do something."

"And if I report you?"

"This conversation was done one on one, behind closed doors. There are no witnesses and if you try to press matters, the other girls will not back you up. If a police officer shows up here, I will claim that you came in and offered me sexual favors in return for a raise I felt you did not deserve. I informed you, when you made such and offer, of my intent to terminate your employment and your false charges must be your way of striking back at me. Before you leave today I will be giving you a written declaration of my intent to let you go and a copy will be entered into your employment records. You have two weeks... now get out of my office and back to work... or leave, which I will accept as your desire to quit outright."

She was crying when she left and I used the intercom to call the front sales desk, asking Sheila to prepare an intent to terminate letter for Cammy, to present her with it and place a copy in the girl's employment file.

I was nine days later, a Tuesday night, and the store was already closed. I was finishing up the day's receipts at my computer and looking forward to going out front and joining Linda in the big display tub. She'd said she would stay late for an hour or two tonight. I was taking my time intentionally... Linda always started without me and the longer I gave her the hotter she would be when I arrived to join her. Linda was not my favorite, in fact, she was kind of scrawny, her tits were too small, her face too thin - dominated by a overlarge hooked nose, and her pussy was kind of loose and sloppy when I fucked her... but get her started, or let her get herself started, and she was a very high energy fuck.

I closed the file and sighed. It was looking like Cammy was not going to take me up on my proposition. I'd seen her around the store the days she had worked and, though I had not spoken to her any differently than before our raise meeting, she had always turned away from me. The only time she had spoken to me since was when she was forced to, for special lower pricing on a furniture set she was selling. 'Too bad, ' I thought as I rose from my chair. 'I think she could have been my favorite... she has the potential, whether she knows it or not.'

I walked onto the display floor and received a surprise. Linda was not there waiting for me, but Cammy was, lounging fully clothed in one of the larger 'dry' display tubs.

"Hello, Cammy. You're here a little late aren't you?"

"I asked Linda to let me stay in her place." she said, a somewhat sheepish smile on her face. "What do you want to do to me?"

My suspicions were aroused. Though it was what I wanted, what I had hoped for, there was something about her supposed casualness and her words that put me on my guard. She would not be the first one to try and trap me, if that is what she was trying to do. There was a way to find out though.

I moved behind the sales counter and reached below the cash register without responding. Turning on the store's Public Address systems I flipped on the radio and turned up the volume. The musical selections from one of the area's easy listening stations filled the inside of the store and I turned the dial to a more upbeat rock and roll station I actually prefered. My eyes had never left her's where she lay in the tub's moulded lounger and I held up one hand waggling my fingers at her, calling her over.

Her expression was puzzled, but she moved, standing and exiting the tub, moving to where I stood behind the counter. Her hands moving to the lowest buttons on the rather staid blouse she was wearing that day. I stopped her, both her forward movement and her fingers on the buttons with a hand signal. "Stand there." I moved about the store then, ostensibly turning out lights as I went, but looking around inside for hidden video or other equipment, checking outside, around the store, through the windows as I darkened the interior lighting - looking for possible watchers. I might be about to have a six month old dream finally coming true, but that didn't make me completely stupid.

When I was done, and I was fairly certain that there was nothing and no one set to capture what was about to happen, I returned to Cammy and signalled for her to follow me. She started to speak, licked her lips and opened her mouth to do so and I stopped her, holding a finger to my lips in a sign for silence before leading her into the back room. This was the repair shop and staging area, a room I spent three or four hours in a day, repairing those things that needed it and working with one of the temp girls to prepare new hot tubs for display on the sales floor. There was a new one here today, a line out of Canada that we had not carried before but I was willing to try. The molded fiberglass shell was done in a white marble finish and had only just had the protective plastic shipping wrap removed that afternoon. Since it was the first tub from this company in our store, I planned to spend most of tomorrow going over it in detail. Mostly disassemling to insure it was good enough to be sold here. The music levels were even louder in this room than they had been out front. If she were wired for sound, all that would be coming through was radio noise.

I signalled her to get into the tub and she did so, leaning to lift one leg over the side wall and then resting her butt on it to left the trailing leg inside. That was one of the things I liked about her, one of the things that really turned me on. Her height, or lack of it. It had been her petite size and almost little girl looks that had fascinated me from the start. That and the large grown-woman tits, on her twenty year old body. that wanted to spill out of her clothing the day I hired her. I think she always wore the clothing she did, the tight cleavage-displaying tops, sprayed on jeans and short skirts, as much to announce to the world that she was a woman and not a little girl, as for any other reason. Her little girl looks, atop that mature if tiny body, were part and parcel of what I thought made her successful in the sales game. Male customers would be fascinated by her movements and body as she led them about the store, distracting them a bit from the exact details of her sales pitch at times. Those who thought they could bully this little girl into a lower price usually talked themselves into a higher one, whether they realised it or not. I'd watched her do it. With women, she turned on the little girl charm and moved to de-sentuate her body, regardless of her clothing.

When she was standing in the middle of the tub I leaned forward and placed my hands on it's edge, speaking too softly for her to hear me over the music. She leaned forward, across the lounger and positioned herself to the left of me, hands also on the tub's top edge. I reached across with my right hand and slipped it under her hair, pushing it back from the side of her face, her ear and placing my hand across the back of her neck. She shrank back a bit at my touch, then leaned forward deliberately, closer to my face and into my touch.

It probably seemed to her that I was trying for a better look at her face, or was making some gentle contact in prelude to things starting. What I was actually doing was checking for anything on her ear, her collar, or wires at the back of her neck... sound equipment that cops used - like in the movies. I found none and leaned close to her ear.

Speaking softly, so my voice would not carry over the music, I said, "Before we do one thing more, you need to say yes to something for me. You can speak or nod your head, whatever you wish, but I need a response. Do you understand what I am saying?" It took a moment, but she nodded her head. "I want to know that you are doing this by your own ultimate choice." Again the pause and her head began to move. "Wait, before you answer. Understand, yes... I am pressuring you, have pressured you to where you are now, but the final choice 'is' yours. You can say no and go somewhere else to work. I am not going to rape you or keep you from leaving. I want to know, I want you to know that you are doing this because you want to stay here and that it is your 'choice' to do so. You may answer now."

"I want to stay here, to work for you. It is my choice to do this." If there was a microphone on her, she just said some magic words for me that was probably much better picked up than any words of mine. Any microphone she was wearing was likely taped to her ribs, beneath her clothing and would have picked up her voice, her words directly from her body.

"Okay, you may remove your clothing now, down to your panties. Stand in the center of the tub."

She moved back and very matter of factly removed her blouse, skirt, tennis shoes and white ankle socks. She had not been wearing a bra which had surprised me. She stood for a moment, her breasts seeming to point somewhat away from one another on her narrow chest, there was a single dark mole on the inside curve of her right breast. She brought her hands up, crossing them at the wrists below her breasts, as each reached to the opposite breast and covered it, lifting it slightly as it did so. Glancing down, she was wearing a pair of blue and white checked panties, looking for all the world like the same pattern as an old gingham apron my grandmother used to wear while baking.