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Joseph Ridgely sat behind his desk in the president’s office of Ridgely Pharmaceuticals, Inc. livid with rage, trembling with frustration. It wasn’t often that any of his employees defied his wishes, and when Margaret Fox was the defiant one, it was a sign that he was slipping. He would get even with Margaret. More of her tears and her pleadings and her sexual favors would not deter him from his revenge, but it would come later. Right now he still had the problem to solve, with or without her help, and by God, he meant to solve it.
A sharp little knock came at his door, and he snapped, “Come in!” He expected that it would be his son, come to call on him again with another wheedling plea for the loosening of the company purse strings. The frown between his shaggy gray eyebrows deepened, however, when he saw it was Gloria, the dark-haired and diminutive receptionist who’d been hired the month before.
She was a saucy little bitch, and the way she was impishly smiling at him was anything but businesslike. To Ridgely’s knowledge, she’d never been in his plush office before, but instead of gawking about at it, her whole attention was kept focused on him. He had no time for her at all, but he couldn’t help admiring the view before she stated her business and brusquely ordered her out. She was a little thing, usually smiling in a provocative way, with a cunning miniature figure, always intelligently clad for a girl in her exposed position at the lobby switchboard. Her skirts came right up to her ass and her bodices were either low or tight or both. When she did wear a brassiere, it was the kind that made her tits point sharply out, though her tits did pretty well without any assistance from Maidenform. She wore flat shoes as a rule, taking full advantage of her little-girl height, which in turn perversely accentuated her big-girl figure.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.