Light Flirting

Light Flirting

Sommer Marsden

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Pepper needs a job because hers is gone, baby, gone. She's tired of living on toast. During her morning coffee and want ad perusal she is shocked to see an ad that includes 'light flirting'. Only it's a misread on her part. Her possible boss is gorgeous and certainly knows some stimulating interview techniques. Fingers crossed that she gets the job! WARNING: explicit sex & language, incl. bondage

PUBLISHED BY: Sommer Marsden
CATEGORIES: Erotica, BDSM, Contemporary, Free Romance Books, Romantic Comedy
KEYWORDS: bondage, boss, desk, erotica, explicit language, explicit sex, hosiery, interview, new job, oral sex, sex with strangers, stockings, toast, want ads, wrap

EBOOKS BY Sommer Marsden

EBOOKS BY Sommer Marsden

COPYRIGHT Sommer Marsden/2009

I sipped my coffee and nibbled on toast (yes, I was terrified on spending money, so I was eating cheap) and looked over the listings on the job sites. I just wanted to be a secretary. But everyone wanted me to be a secretary and something: secretary and receptionist, secretary and accounts receivable, secretary and space shuttle pilot. You get the picture. I just want to type reports, fetch coffee, work on spreadsheets, and sharpen pencils. Nothing earth-shattering. It was work I could do and work I enjoyed. No harm, no foul.

“Here we go. Scheduling appointments, typing reports, running errands, and light flirting.” I did a double take and then laughed. “Filing, Pepper,” I scolded myself. “Light filing. Not flirting.”

Contact Adam Nelson. Good. I sent my résumé via email and poured more coffee. My cell phone rang twenty minutes later. “Pepper Valentine?”

The voice was warm and deep and sent a little tingle over my back and down my spine. It had been a long time since a voice had provoked any kind of reaction other than fear. My former boss, Mr. Klitzner, had a big booming voice and, often times, a nasty disposition. “Um, yes. This is Pepper.”

“Pepper, Adam Nelson, here. I just read through your résumé. When can we get you in here?”

His voice was like warm chocolate—rich and a bit sweet—and it made me smile. I fucking love warm chocolate. “As soon as you want me.”

I froze, mouth open. Light flirting for sure. What the hell had I just said to my new potential boss? He laughed, though, and I remembered how to breathe.

His voice dropped, but I was surely imagining it. “How about you get in here by noon. We can have lunch and talk about you being my new secretary.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered. It slipped out before I could stop it. And there was a tone in my voice I wasn’t accustomed to—a nervous kind of sultry note. I had never responded to Mr. Klitzner that way. It had always been Yes, Mr. Klitzner or even, Yes, Jerry. Never sir. Ever. A whirl of fear started low in my belly. I was going to miss my chance at this job by acting like a spaz.

He didn’t seem to notice and, for that, I was thankful. “Can you be here for lunch? I’ll order in. We can talk. You seem like the right girl for me.” His voice was like a drug, deadening my nerves and making me feel pleasantly slow and a bit sluggish.

“Sure. I can be there. Just for you.” I bit my lip. There. I had done it again. I had said something wildly inappropriate to a possible employer. God.

He laughed again, and I found myself shifting in my seat. I moved this way and that, hoping to relieve the sudden yearning in my pussy—the pulse that beat between my thighs, only from a voice. How would I be when I met Mr. Nelson? What would I do? How would I act?

I pushed the thought away as he said his goodbyes and hung up. Then I rushed up the steps to find an outfit appropriate for an interview. I had an hour or so to get myself together and stop flinging double-entendres around like a crazy woman. I walked out of the house in a taupe wrap dress, black hose held up by a black garter belt, three inch patent leather heels, and my hair in a loose, almost messy bun. I was sex in stilettos, but I fooled myself into thinking I had simply chosen clothes that said, Hire me. What I had actually chosen were clothes that said, Want me.


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