In the arena of business the position of PA to a senior executive is an important and influential one and a person requires a number of attributes in order to do it well. He or she must be bright. They must be tech savvy. Be cool and competent under pressure. Be comfortable dealing with different types of people. And of course they must be smart and well presented. Richard Drake, the CFO of GT Insurance, was fortunate in having as his PA a young woman named Marcia Lopez who was all of this and more - with a definite emphasis in her case on the ‘more’.

She had not been hired for her appearance, not at all, but such things do matter and it could hardly damage a woman’s cause to look like Marcia Lopez. To say that she was easy on the eye would be an understatement. She was a ravishing brunette of Spanish descent, exceedingly pretty, with lustrous hair and a flawless sultry complexion. Her face was further elevated by a pair of dark flashing eyes and a generous mouth with the sort of plump, naturally pouting lips which cannot help but seem insinuating.

It was a lovely face, all told, a thrilling face, and it came with a figure to match. Marcia was of average height and this was the only aspect of her body that could be so described. She was sculpted to perfection. Her breasts were magnificent, her belly flat and toned, her shapely ass was a thing of beauty, and her legs, well they were a sight to behold, Marcia’s legs were sufficient in themselves to not so much stop the traffic as cause a multi-vehicle pile up.

Marcia’s location at work was adjacent to the CFO’s large office. She had a tranquil and spacious area there, suitably removed from the routine hurly burly. Apart from the CFO, who tended to keep to his room, the only people in her vicinity were the policy admin group, a unit of half a dozen staff who were rather squashed into the compact space immediately next to Marcia. Somewhat unusually they were all men.

The output of these particular employees had, unsurprisingly, suffered somewhat since the delectable Marcia Lopez had arrived in their world - so much so that it showed up on the company’s performance monitoring system and was raised by HR in one of their regular meetings with Richard Drake.

The CFO said that he had an idea of what the problem might be, therefore to leave it with him.

He subsequently had a word with Marcia in his office, telling her what HR had told him, that productivity in the claims unit seemed to have taken a tumble since she had arrived.

“I think the guys out there are getting a little distracted,” he said.

“Oh really?”

Marcia kept a straight face. She guessed what was coming but decided to play the innocent.

“By you.”

Richard Drake’s tone and expression bespoke affection and amusement. The dynamic between the two was one of indulgent father and beautiful, spoiled daughter. Marcia was not in trouble, she knew that.

“Distracted by me?” she enquired archly. “I see.”

“The problem is more about what THEY are seeing,” said Richard.

He was grinning now and Marcia reciprocated, enjoying the turn of conversation.

Needless to say she realized perfectly well the affect she had on the male employees who worked close to her. Their constant furtive peeping in her direction, the blatant ogling when they thought her attention was elsewhere, the intense focus on her whenever she stretched or shifted around in her seat, the narrowed eyes and slack mouths each time she crossed her legs, how their eyes followed her every move as she sashayed around the place, hips swinging, it was painfully obvious how besotted they all were by the boss’s gorgeous PA and it was absolutely fine by the woman herself. It amused her greatly and of course it provided a satisfying boost to the ego. Not that Marcia needed it. She was smugly aware of her appeal to men.

As regards these particular men, the admin team, Marcia knew she was out of their league and treated them accordingly, she was aloof and superior, would never get involved with any of them, not in a million years, but it was fun to get them hot and bothered, knowing that her exalted status as PA to the CFO meant they could not be impertinent with her, could not take liberties. It was a most acceptable situation as far as Marcia was concerned and she rather exploited it for her own entertainment, dressing for the office in a way that was designed to inflame. Her heels were high. Her tights were sheer. Her skirts were snug and above the knee. Her tops were a little more revealing than is customary. Sometimes more than a little. She drove the guys nuts, basically, and it pleased her knowing that she did.

“So my skirts are too short or something? Is that it?” she said.

Marcia uncrossed her legs and then slowly re-crossed them, hemline sliding further up her silky thighs as she performed the manoeuvre. She was rewarded with an appreciative gaze from the boss.

She giggled at his reaction. Marcia loved having men checking out her legs. It was something she never got tired of, no matter that it happened with such predictable regularity.

Richard was chuckling at the brazen display.

“Not as far as I’m concerned,” he said.

“Why thank you kind sir!”

“Don’t mention it. Christ, Marcia, that skirt. No wonder they have trouble concentrating.”

“Poor things. Guess I do like to torment them.”

“You don’t say.”

Marcia shrugged and smiled. “Can’t help myself. You don’t mind, Richard, do you?”

Richard assured her that he did not. He wanted Marcia to enjoy herself at work and if that involved being something of a pricktease around the admin guys it was perfectly OK with him. The only reason he was raising it, he told her, this matter of the negative impact she was apparently having on their productivity, was because he thought that she would find it rather hilarious.

“Oh I do.”

“Good. Because so do I. So, you know, keep up the good work.”

“You sure?” said Marcia. There was an unmistakable glint in her eye now.

“Honey, you have my express permission to carry on distracting the poor bastards as much as you want. Consider it an integral part of your job.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“No doubt. And now we’ve dealt with that, how about I take you to lunch?”

“Ooo, yes please! ... Zefferellis?”

“Sure, honey.”

Thus empowered, free to indulge herself, Marcia Lopez became quite outrageous. Her office attire became ever more titillating. She started wearing things for work that she knew looked wickedly sexy on her, to the point of being unprofessional. The impact on the infatuated male clerks of the admin section bordered on the downright cruel - especially since Marcia began to really act the tease.

It was safe for her to misbehave like this because the area they shared was so secluded. Richard would sometimes pass through in transit, very occasionally someone from another part of the company or from outside would pay a visit, but otherwise and therefore most of the day it was just Marcia and these six guys, and she took full advantage. Marcia was highly efficient in her work and this did not change. The rest of the time she spent positively luxuriating in a sea of unrequited adoration, knowingly tormenting the lusting males around her, not even bothering to pretend that she was not doing it on purpose.

On the warmest days, as the captive clerks toiled and sweltered at their screens in their mandatory shirts and ties, Marcia would be there in a flimsy sundress that was hardly decent. Thus attired, she would loll around provocatively in her large and comfortable work space directly in sight of the poor overheated men at their cramped desks, teasing them mercilessly with acres of exposed flesh. Sometimes she would leave her seat and float around amongst them, doing this simply to taunt them with a closer look at how insanely hot she looked in her teeny little dress.

At other times it was skirts which clung to her like a second skin and revealed oodles of thigh, her legs sometimes bare and beautifully moisturised, sometimes clad in the sheerest of tights, either which way, given the legs Marcia possessed, being enough in itself to almost induce a coronary, let alone when these skirts were teamed with the sort of tops she now favoured, prickteasing little numbers held up with flimsy spaghetti straps which tended to slide down over her shoulders as she shifted around, the whole ensemble thus threatening to fall off entirely at any given time. The tops were sometimes cropped to show off her sexy belly and they were always cut dangerously low, which since Marcia had ceased wearing a bra meant that her tits were forever all but tumbling out, or if not it would be sheer and gossamer thin silk blouses through which their outline could clearly be seen, nipples and all.

Not content with looking like a wet dream Marcia would do things calculated to make it worse for the guys.

Her bag would be on the floor by her desk and Marcia often felt the need to access something or other from it. Rather than pick the bag up she would crane forwards in her chair and reach down to look into it, making sure to be facing towards the admin team as she was doing so, thereby presenting the men with the mouth-watering vista of a scanty top struggling to contain a pair of voluptuous breasts. She would take her sweet time rummaging around in there, delightfully aware that all eyes were locked on this struggle and praying for it to be lost.

She liked to do bits of self-grooming at her desk. She would toss and brush her hair, dab perfume on her neck and behind her ears, carefully refresh her makeup, her lipstick, her eyes, she would paint her fingernails, sometimes hoist her foot onto the table and do her toes too.

When in a particularly mischievous mood she would produce a bottle of body lotion, plop a generous dollop on her hand and set about massaging it into her arms and legs, doing every possible inch, short of disrobing. She would take an absolute age to complete this task, make a slow, sensuous production of it, as the sorely tantalized men looked on, their eyeballs popping and their tongues hanging out.

It was not uncommon, in the immediate aftermath of such displays, for one or more of the overstimulated spectators to require a visit to the toilets, and for it to take rather longer than is usual for these things. Marcia would notice gleefully when this happened and when the ‘culprit’ returned, looking distinctly sheepish, she would make a point of staring across at him, forcing eye contact, smiling at him most prettily but with the hint of a smirk - enough to let him know that SHE knew what this guy had just been doing in some cubicle and exactly why he had been driven to it.

As she played the temptress, dangling her unattainable assets before the salivating males, Marcia experienced a lovely buzz of power and excitement. She would imagine the erections, six horny frustrated men getting hard for her, how their cocks must be squirming and straining inside their pants, maybe in some cases leaking a little bit. She loved to think of how difficult and horribly uncomfortable it must be for these unfortunates, stuck there trying to work in a perpetual state of sexual arousal because of her. Look but can’t touch. Can’t even complain. Can do nothing but suffer. The poor creatures. Such a giggle how she could do this to them!

The team leader, an older mild-mannered type named Graham Tenter, had particular reason to hate Marcia Lopez. With no wife or girlfriend, his sex life was non-existent and thus he was particularly susceptible to Marcia. Just the sight of her swanning around in one of her incendiary outfits was enough to utterly ruin his composure and when she decided to home in on him he found it almost impossible to deal with. Graham dreaded these occasions.

Unfortunately for him, they were not infrequent. Marcia had sussed that Graham Tenter was the sexually deprived type, not exactly difficult, it was pathetically obvious from his reaction to her, therefore she found it especially entertaining to mess with him and she did so remorselessly. Marcia loved tormenting Graham Tenter. She had a ball with him. He was the perfect stooge for her. With the others she tended to keep a distance, content to just allow them to ogle, but with Graham she liked to do rather more than that. He really got the treatment.

At least once a day, sometimes more, in fact pretty much whenever the mood took her, she would go over to his desk, ostensibly for a chat, but in reality so she could savour at leisure the shattering impact her intimate presence always had on him. She loved to observe the hopeless yearning in his eyes, the riot of desire and sexual frustration etched across his perspiring face, as she sauntered up beside him.

“Hi Graham,” she would purr, and she would lean in close, invade his personal space, with her top falling open, or blouse unbuttoned almost to the point of obscenity, torturing the hapless man with her scent and the visual delights thus presented, enjoying his desperate, futile attempts not to look and drool.

Marcia would then push Graham’s keyboard aside so that she could perch herself and her sexy short skirt on the table right in front of him. Once installed she would proceed to lazily cross her legs, a luscious pair of thighs thereby presented directly under the poor man’s nose, and she would shift around and position things for maximum impact, one shoe resting on Graham’s chair, between his legs, whilst the other one dangled hypnotically on the edge of her toes.

As she mesmerized him like this with her feet and her legs Marcia would be staring down at Graham, a sly smile on her face, daring him to meet her gaze, and if he did she would laugh abruptly at him and smirk, stick her tongue out, mocking his predicament, thus intensifying the humiliation that she knew this man must feel at being so openly persecuted in the office by a girl no more than half his age, and who obviously held him in such low regard that she had no qualms about shamelessly cockteasing him like this, in front of everyone, and furthermore was quite clearly enjoying herself thoroughly in the process.

“So how’s tricks?” Marcia would enquire, prolonging the ordeal, forcing the unfortunate Graham to try and act and speak sensibly despite the situation.

As he struggled to do so she would ramp up the tease, idly scratch herself high up on the thigh, finger slipping under the hem of her skirt, maybe toy around with another button on her blouse, the one that if she popped it would reveal everything, and hence which she never quite did, and all the time she would be gazing down at him with cool and amused contempt, the suggestive pout of her lips exaggerated for comic effect, the joke being on Graham, and Graham would go red and he would start to visibly tremble, his head twitching with shame and embarrassment, and he would eventually mumble something banal and stupid in a high, strained squeak which did not much resemble the voice of a man who was meant to be in charge of his section.

Meanwhile the other guys would be looking on and sniggering. It did nothing for Graham’s authority. In truth it rather trashed it. How could the others be expected to take him seriously when he seemed to have become the abject tease toy of the boss’s PA?

The answer is they couldn’t. Graham became a figure of fun at the office. The clerks supposedly working for him would now either ignore him completely or they would be raucously ripping the piss out of him.