Chapter 1: The Interview

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Blackmail, Heterosexual, Wimp Husband, Cuckold, Wife Watching, MaleDom, Humiliation, Group Sex, Black Male, White Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Size, Public Sex, Prostitution, Nudism, Porn Theatre, .

Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1: The Interview - Jenny is forced into humiliation and dispair to protect her family.

Jenny Marie Jenkins was rushing around the house, desperate to get everything into some order before she left. She needed to ace this interview for both her and her husband. Joe was recovering from an auto accident two years ago. His health insurance had run out, their Cobra insurance had expired, and the unemployment payments were barely covering the food and gas.

Joe watched from his wheelchair and wished her good luck as she walked out the door. She threw out the garbage on her way to the car, and then turned the ignition switch of the old 1955 Chevrolet Hardtop. The different colored fenders and trunk made it hard to tell what the original color was, but the two four-barrel carburetors and three-quarter race cam ran it effortlessly down the freeway. Her husband had been restoring it but hadn't finished the bodywork before the accident. His new truck and her four year old SUV had been repossessed, and this was all they had now. It was one of his hobby projects that were an afterthought that he had been able to get running with a few used parts.

She reached up to the visor and put on her mirrored wrap-around sunglasses. She looked up at herself in the mirror and adjusted it as she drove out the driveway. Although her hair was long, the tight spiral perm took quite a bit of the length out of it so that her hair didn't actually go all the way down her back. This hairdo actually looked like what was seen on many black girls about half her age. The pearl necklaces her first husband had bought on their first anniversary helped to accentuate her face and gave her a very sophisticated appeal.

She had married her first husband soon after she had gotten pregnant in her last year of high school. He had planned to enroll at the local college as a vet student and her unplanned pregnancy had given them a rough start. The fact that she had twins made it even worse. He had been killed in an auto accident driving back from his second job. The stress of working 80 hours got to be too much, and he dozed off on the way home.

Jenny's second husband, Joe was an older man who she had married more out of convenience. He had a good business inherited from his family and she felt this was her way to get two young girls through school. His accident left her with the same problems of supporting the two girls, a house and car payments, and a husband who was unemployed.

Jenny had only a high-school education, and had spent most of those years taking singing, ballet and interpretive dance, and had not worked while the children were in school. Joe's job was more than enough for all the bills until the car accident. With the savings gone, the kids took part time work during school to help make ends meet. Jenn needed this job.

She parked her car at the far end of the parking lot and walked across it rather than risk anyone seeing the odd-colored car. If you are what you drive, you would not have expected this woman to come out of that car. She was a spectacular 32-year old woman with long reddish-brown hair flowing down her back to her waist. Although most people think that 32-year old women are past their prime, she was several years younger than Demi Moore, or Nicole Kidman. She was more than ten years younger than one of the women who had qualified for the Olympics in the 25-yard freestyle and just as spectacular looking as any of them.

Any of the older people who knew her would say she got her looks from her mother, who at 48, looked good enough for them to pass as sisters. Her mother had never made it out of high-school. Growing up in the top-soil poor farms of central Kansas, she had started having children early. In those days it was common for young girls to drop out of school early and start a family.

Her mother, Ginny had her first child with a tall, rugged farm hand who lived about a section away. He had died early from a tractor accident and Ginny worked as a secretary at the elevator in the unincorporated city of Tecumseh. Ginny was a self-taught singer, piano player, and seamstress, who spent each Thursday with the other farm wives quilting. Jenny visited her as much as she could, but with no income, she could not afford the two-hour drive, and was also not able to supplement her mother's income.

Jenny's grey silk dress fit like a glove. The hem stopped just high enough to keep from tripping, but with the buttons undone to the next button above her knees, one could see most of her legs above her knee-high grey Prada boots that were exposed by her brisk stride. Her legs tapered back in just above her knees, which made it obvious to anyone with an athletic background that this had been a very athletic woman in her younger years. The top part of her grey dress changed color to an off-white just below her breasts, and the loose top two buttons accented her five-five frame, hardened by a sun-tanned body that could still run three miles in nineteen minutes.

She took off her sunglasses and replaced them with her wire rimmed glasses; held her leather purse in her right hand while pushing open the door of the small marketing firm with the other.

Sam Cromwell greeted her at the door, as he had no secretary, which was the position for which she was interviewing.

As she walked in, the reception desk faced the main visitors seating area. Directly behind the desk, was a large glass enclosed meeting room with a small passage way around each to get to Sam's elegant private office in back. They introduced each other and sat down in Sam's office. Sam hair tingled as he looked at her. She seemed to be a dead ringer for Danica Patrick, except she was a little taller and thinner. Her shy forced smile was enchanting. Jenn had little experience, but knew Excel, Microsoft Word, and Dream Weaver and was good with people.

Sam looked at her, sitting there on the rather low Mies Van Der Rohe chair, which was backed up with several others against one of the clear glass meeting room walls. Her legs crossed and her lower dress parted, exposing about half of her upper thighs. She angled the lower half of her crossed legs to the right keeping her hand with the small purse on the dress to keep it together where it was unbuttoned. She tried to keep this position and use her other hand to gesture when she spoke. She could see that her open dress caught Sam's attention, but was not sure what to do about it. Should she try to get this job on the merits of her office skills, or take advantage of his interest in her? She needed the job desperately.

When he gave her a clipboard with some forms to fill out, she put down her purse and stood to pick up the clipboard and pen. When she sat back down, she made no effort to hold the dress together with her hands or clipboard when she sat back down. In fact she used the clip board to help shift the dress up a little more when she sat down. She hadn't played these coy games with men since she had gotten married, but she needed this job.

Sam shivered a little as he looked across the room at this beautiful sophisticated woman with the enchanting crossed legs. Was she toying with him, or so deeply engrossed with the forms she didn't realize she was exposing herself almost to the tops of her hose? In reality, it was a little of both.

Despite all this, Sam pretty much knew she was hired when she sat down.

Her wire rim spectacles somewhat hid her concern and desperation for this job. Sam had checked her and her husband out on face book and went over their credit report before she had arrived. He knew her situation, and although she appeared elegant and sophisticated, he knew she was desperate.

After the customary interview questions, he said;"Jenn, I like your looks, your manners, sophistication and dress. Your job is to answer the phone, handle correspondence, bookwork and scheduling my appointments. Anybody can do that. The real key to success of this office is our Marketing. We need more clients and you could be critical to our success."

"I'd like to be a part of that, and feel I'm a quick learner." she said.

"That may be, but you haven't proven it yet by your track record. I need somebody I can count on."

"What will it take to prove it?" she asked.

"If you can do the job, I will match your husband's salary and benefits: This means vacation, holidays, health insurance and a matching 401-K plan."

"Please, give me the chance, and you'll see that I can do the job." She said, leaning forward to emphasis her eagerness.

Sam continued, "You need to talk this through with your husband. He may not approve of what you have to do with strange men. You are going to have to escort and entertain our clients and host some parties," he said, all the time watching her closely.

Jenny leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and pulled the sides of her dress back up over her. "I'm skeptical of what you are getting at, and I'm not too sure I care for the tone of some of these implications," she said as her cheeks reddened. She wondered if she had somehow inadvertently given off the wrong signals to him with her dress or manners.

"You'll do whatever I ask, whenever I ask, and you know exactly what I'm talking about because you're not a naïve school girl anymore! Have you ever had sex with anybody else besides your husband while you've been married?"

She looked down at her feet and silently shook her head in a negative response.

"Are you good at giving blowjobs?" he asked.

His abruptness broke her reserve. "I don't know. I don't think so," she whispered faintly as she wiped away some tears. She had been so close to getting this job. She had fooled herself, wanting to believe the incredible salary came without strings. There was no way she could go through with such an unthinkable proposition.

"Are you willing to try? If not, I can get somebody else," he asked. Her head was down; her hands cradled her face and covered her eyes. With her head down, her long permed hair also helped to cover her anguish. "Well, thanks for coming in Jenny. You are a beautiful woman, and I would have liked to give you a try at this job," he said, as he got up to end the interview.

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