Chapter 2: Escalation

Saturday morning, Mai opened her wardrobe, and six years of shapeless blazers and pleated skirts looked back at her. She began throwing them into garbage bags, then went shopping, and the weekend dissolved into a whirlwind of credit card swipes. She didn’t go to the department stores where she had bought last week’s ‘professional’ updates. This time, she went to the boutiques she had always ignored, because why bother as they were not for her?

A saleswoman approached. “Can I help you find something?”

“I need,” Mai hesitated, then forced herself to continue. “I need to look sexy. Professional but sexy. Like I’m trying without trying too hard.”

The saleswoman’s expression changed from impersonal boredom to predator sensing a buyer not a window shopper. “A makeover. What’s the occasion?”

“Revenge,” Mai replied, and the saleswoman’s smile broadened as she mentally upped the price range that she would show her.”

Five hours, 7 boutiques and over $7000 later, Mai left the city carrying, hopefully, her new life, in her hands. They gripped labelled bags of skirts that hugged her body and went well above mid-thigh instead of mid-calf or lower, and blouses with necklines that showed cleavage even with her small tits. Larger boutique bags contained tailored, fitted blazers that followed her body’s lines and heels that made her unsteady when she first tried walking on them in the shop. It goes without saying that she also had a large supply of lingerie as well, in what she needed to create the new Mai.

Sunday was outfit testing time. Mai walked around her apartment in her new high heels until her calves arched as she learnt to move without stumbling. She mixed and matched garments, looking in the mirror to gauge the effect of different combinations. Finally, she again shaved her pussy and applied the new makeup she had also purchased, watching tutorial videos to learn how to apply eyeliner until she was happy with the transformation. The final touch was her new glasses. They were still practical and professional, but in sleek modern black frames and although the lenses were the same prescription, the look changed her entire face. And of course, she had modelled her new underwear of bras that did not cover her nipples and pushed her small tits into something noticeable, and thongs that made her feel naked yet alive. She was ready.

Monday morning came, and Mai spent ninety minutes getting ready. The matching black lingerie went on first, making her feel like she was in the pornos that she had been studying. Her fitted, dove-grey silk blouse material was thin enough to reveal the quarter cup bra underneath in bright light and tight enough to show the size of her nipples. Her skirt was business charcoal grey and ended several inches above her knee. It was professional enough not to be outrageous, but short enough that it required thought about how she sat and bent. Her blazer was tailored, nipped at the waist, showing she had a figure even if she was slim, while the black, high-heeled shoes made her legs look longer and more defined. She let her hair down for the first time in six years of attending my office, letting it fall straight to well past her shoulders. With the new glasses and subtle makeup, she looked like a different person, which she was.

She arrived at the office at seven-fifteen, not her usual 10 and turned on her computer. Then she positioned herself at the filing cabinet with her back to the door, pretending to search for documents and waited for her new life to begin. At 8.10, she heard my approaching footsteps, the jingle of my keys and then the sound of the door unlocking. The curtain was up, and the show was beginning. Mai took a deep breath before bending at the waist to pull open the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and search for a document.

I was mentally reviewing the Leung account strategy when I pushed open the office door and froze. Mai was already at work, bent over at the filing cabinet. She was in the office early for the second time in a row. My half-awake glance as I entered quickly zoomed in on Mai, bent at the waist with her arse pushed out, her legs straight, reaching into the bottom drawer. Her skirt had ridden up so that the hem barely covered the curve of her arse. For the first time, I saw the full length of her legs, and they were actually shapely, lean and defined. Her position had pulled the fabric tight across her arse, and I could see the clear outline of a thong with its thin line bisecting her cheeks.

WTF. Mai was wearing a thong. Mai, who had spent six years looking like she bought her underwear at a convent supply store, was wearing a thong. It was like I was eating a frozen icy pole. My brain froze, but it was overloaded from processing the image, not from the cold searing through my brain. This couldn’t be my employee, Mai. She straightened up and turned to face me, and the front view was almost more of a shock than the rear. Her hair was let free, hanging long, straight and black, framing a face that looked completely different. New glasses, sleek and complemented by makeup that made her eyes stand out. The blouse was fitted and slightly sheer, and I could see the shadow outline of a black bra underneath and that her nipples were poking against the fabric.

“Mr Sullivan,” she said, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Mai,” I mumbled. “You’re, um, early.”

“I wanted to get a head start on filing.” She held up a folder as evidence and continued. “Do you like the new glasses? I thought it was time for an update.”

The glasses. Sure. That’s what I was noticing. Also, I have the Sydney Harbour Bridge to sell you if you believe that. “They’re, umm, different,” I said at my eloquent, suave best. She took a step closer, and I caught the scent of perfume. I am no expert, but I knew it was subtle and expensive. When had Mai started wearing perfume, especially high-priced brands?

“Is different bad?”

I am human and couldn’t stop my eyes from dropping from her face to take in the fitted blouse, the hint of black bra and exposed nipple visible through the material and the way the skirt hugged narrow hips that I didn’t know she had. Then back up to her face, taking in her lips that were glossed and slightly parted.

“No,” I heard myself say. “Not bad. Just unexpected.”

“I thought it was time to make some changes.” She gestured at herself with a small, self-conscious movement. “Mrs Sullivan was right. I needed to update my appearance. Look more with it.”

Nguyet’s name immediately poured a bucket of cold water over my thoughts. Right. My wife. The woman who had given Mai a head-to-toe criticism and who had sucked my cock in this office just days ago, while Mai watched it unfold through the open venetian blinds. I forced myself to step back and end this. “Well, you look very professional. I’m sure clients will appreciate your updated appearance.”

“Thank you, Mr Sullivan.” She turned back to the filing cabinet, and I caught another glimpse of her legs and watched the high heels making her calves flex as she walked to her desk. “I’ll have the Lee materials ready in fifteen minutes.”

I retreated to my office, closing the door, leaning against it with my heart rate still high. What was happening? Mai had transformed in less than a week from plain to this. Changed from being part of the office furniture to someone who bent over in a way that made my cock twitch. Through the venetian blinds covering the glass partition, I could see her at her desk. She had crossed her legs, and the skirt had ridden up even higher, exposing an expanse of bared thigh. She was typing, apparently oblivious to how much flesh was visible. I watched the way she shifted, causing her skirt to ride up another half inch. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Nguyet, ‘Missing you already, darling. Last night was so good. Can’t wait for round two, tonight’.

It brought me back to reality. I was married to Nguyet, my insatiable, exhibitionist wife who had fucked me senseless the night before and would do it again tonight and reminded me that I shouldn’t be noticing my secretary’s arse in a thong or the change in her clothing. I most certainly shouldn’t be wondering if her pussy was as smooth and bare as Nguyet’s, but I was. And from the calculating expression on Mai’s face as she ‘worked’ at her desk with legs barely covered by her skirt, nipples pressing against her blouse material, and hair let free and falling over one shoulder, I suspected she knew what I had been thinking.

I was still staring at Nguyet’s text, my cock unfortunately responding to either the memory of last night or the image of Mai bent over in that thong, and I genuinely didn’t know which when my office door opened. “Mr Sullivan, I have the Lee files.” Mai approached my desk with a stack of folders, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, which was a new sound compared to the senior specials she had worn for six years.

I quickly adjusted myself under the desk, trying to will away the hard-on pressing against my trousers. “Just set them down, thanks.” She leant across the desk to place the files in front of me, and I caught a glimpse down her blouse. The quarter cup bra was clearly visible with the small swells of her breasts and exposed nipples pushed up by it. But before I really could look, she reached across, and her hand caught the edge of a stack of papers at the corner of my desk. They scattered, and several sheets slid directly onto my lap, landing right on my crotch. “Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Her voice was genuinely distressed, and before I could react, she was coming around the desk. “Let me get those.”