Chapter 3

Thursday morning Jennie must have changed her mind about clothes at least a dozen times. Mr. Sanders had told her to wear 'something that won't hurt from physical labour' so sneakers and a pair of stretch jeans seemed like a good idea for the lower half of her body. But what to wear on the top? The most practical choice would be a sports bra and a tee-shirt. Boring! In the end frivolity won out and she encased her boobs in a gorgeous lacy bra and put on a shirt that would allow plenty of visual access to her cleavage if she unbuttoned the top buttons.

'I wonder what Mr. Savile Row Suit will make of this, ' she thought with a chuckle.

The shirt was buttoned up for breakfast though, and she looked demure enough. "I thought you said you need to dress up for this job," her stepfather sneered.

"Yes I do," Jennie replied, "but today there are no customers on the premises. Everyone is moving furniture and equipment around and I was urged to wear something practical."

That 'everyone' was Mr. Sanders and herself was none of her parent's business; she had told the exact truth.

Mr. Sanders had asked her to come at 9. Presumably that was the ordinary start of business and presumably she would have to be there earlier in the future to open up and get things ready, but since she didn't have any keys or access cards yet she had an easy start. She wanted to get there in good time though and went to her local train station early. She caught a fast connection and ended up having time to spare. 'Never mind, ' she thought, 'I should get to know the area anyway.'

While walking up the stairs from the tube station, she noticed a delicious firm male bottom clad in a pair of designer jeans a couple of steps up from her. The shapely legs ended in what looked like a pair of hand-made Italian shoes. The man wore a genuine bomber jacket of well-worn leather and when she looked up she noticed he had nicely cut short hair that was silver-grey. 'Yummy', Jennie thought. Just then the man reached the top of the stairs and turned so Jennie got to see his profile. To her shock, it was Mr. Sanders! 'That's it!' Jennie decided as she felt herself flooding her panty liner. 'I want this man. And I'm going to make damn sure he wants me too!'

She criss-crossed the area and found out where restaurants, pubs and cafes were located and bought milk and biscuits for coffee before returning to the office block to press the button at 9 AM sharp. She was buzzed in and on the way up the lift she undid the top two buttons of her shirt. As an afterthought, she undid the third as well, put on her brightest smile and walked over to the heavy glass door.

George Sanders was busy opening the door and only looked up when Jennie was half way inside. He meant to smile and welcome her, but his gaze never got further than her cleavage and his intended friendly smile ended up looking more like a demented drool. In record time he felt his jeans getting very constricted and his words of welcome sounded like a croak.

'Bulls-eye!' Jennie thought, noticing the bulge - gratifyingly big too; 'The man must be well equipped, ' she thought. "Good morning Mr. Sanders", she chirped. "It's a fine day for a bit of heavy work-out, don't you think?"

That set off an image in George's mind that in turn made his straining dick try to rip open his jeans. "Indeed, Ms. Banks," he managed. "Indeed."

Jennie walked by so closely that her breast touched George's arm. She toyed with the idea of letting her hand run over his crotch but decided that was possibly a wee bit too forward - for now anyway, but the quiet groan from the contact with her barely covered boob was not lost on her. 'Come on, Big Boy!' she thought. 'You can have me now if you want to, or you can wait - but get me you will!'

George - starved of sex for several years, first due to his wife's infidelities and next due to her illness - very nearly lost it completely. While Jennie put the milk away in the fridge in the small kitchen and worked out how to run the coffee brewer, he excused himself and for the first time in his professional life went to masturbate in the bathroom. For the second time in less than twelve hours, Jennie was the indirect cause of a massive ejaculation. There were many differences, though. Not only - although perhaps most immediately noticeable - several inches in length and girth. But first and last there would have been a huge difference in Jennie's attitude to the two events, had she known.

She didn't. Not quite. But she got a hunch. Despite taking time to recover and splashing cold water on his face, there was something about George that made Jennie suspect what he'd been up to. 'Up to!' she thought with a naughty chuckle. 'I'll get you up again, don't you worry.'

And she did. During the morning they were unpacking box after box of servers and other IT-equipment. Jennie made sure to lean over the boxes every time there was a chance George would be looking. And George looked. Did he ever! He was in a constant state of arousal all morning. When they were positioning equipment in the racks, she made sure to rub her breasts or her bum against him when at all possible without being too obvious. In the end he had to invent some task he needed to attend to in his office before going out to lunch in order for his straining dick to go down again.

It worked, and to his relief - mixed with some regret, Jennie demurely did up her shirt buttons before they went out to have a sandwich at one of the local eateries. But she bought a banana 'for dessert' and as soon as they were back at the premises, not only was her shirt mysteriously open at the top again, she devoured the banana in a way that made George's dick actually leak so much his jeans darkened slightly.

Mid-afternoon the buzzer sounded and Jennie for the first time fulfilled her role as receptionist. It was a delivery man with yet more equipment. A distracted but relieved George saw Jennie button up her shirt. "Don't worry Mr. Sanders," she said with a seductive smile. "They are for your eyes only!"

Before George could make a suitable, or indeed any, reply to that, Jennie went to brew more coffee and presently the delivery man was there. It was a young cockney called Jeff who worked for the firm of brokers that had managed to find most of the equipment George needed. "'Ello again and good afternoon Mr. Sanders," Jeff said politely. "'Ere's another pile of boxes for you - network stuff, mainly. The boss 'ad all kinds of trouble with this lot. Wanted to send you some newer versions of the daughter boards 'e did, but I told 'im you were ever so partic'lar about exact models."

George smiled. He had in fact had to return some stuff for the servers yesterday because they were what the broker called 'modern equivalents'. "That's right Jeff," George said. "It has to be exactly the same models. We're talking disaster recovery here - I must have everything identical to make sure it works."

"That's what I told 'im, but he wouldn't see it!" Jeff replied. "So I took the liberty of checking with one of our competitors and 'e 'ad the older model RAID controller we talked about yesterday. Wouldn't give no warranty, but 'e sold me 3 for the price of 2 so you 'ave a spare. Apologized 'e 'adn't 'ad time to upgrade the firmware, 'e did, but I told 'im not to sweat. They are devilishly difficult to downgrade. The batteries are dead of course, but they are ordinary NiCads so I got some from Radio Shack and soldered them on to the battery pack."