by Anne Connor
Not exactly what I was expecting, though. She doesn’t look like a stuck-up lab rat at all. Her little skirt pulls across her lap, and sitting down, it might be just a bit too short. Even though this is a podcast about sex, it’s still a professional office. Most of the time.
With her hair up in a bun, I imagine what she would look like bent over my desk as I unravel her hair and let it cascade down her back, how it would look wrapped around my fist as I tug and make her moan with my cock between her thighs.
I’m used to people asking me questions. It’s how I made my first million, and how I’ll make my next billion. But now, I get to do the asking.
“Boyfriend?” I ask.
“Excuse me?” Her lips turn down at the corners, but her eyes glimmer in the light streaming in through the windows behind me. The cadence in her voice is inviting, warm, asking me to go further. I can see the gears inside her mind turning as she searches my face for my intentions, but her body tenses up around the edges, just a bit. Just a tiny bit.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I press forward. It looks like I’ve got her riled up as she shifts her legs, crossing one over the other and then back again, smoothing her skirt down. It doesn’t come all the way down to her knees, and I’ll have to tell her it’s okay because we don’t have an official dress code policy.
“No, no boyfriend,” she says. Her chin tips down and she looks up at me with her big brown doe-eyes, bristling with life, her voice smooth. Her cheeks are a light shade of pink, and maybe I’ve embarassed her a little bit, or maybe I've turned her on. It wasn't my intention to embarrass her - my aim was merely to find out if I have a chance of ending the night with her ass in my bed. “But are you really allowed to ask about my personal life?”
“I’m allowed to ask it if you answer,” I say. “You did answer, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she affirms with confidence. Her pretty pink lips, parted slightly, show clearly that she doesn't know what to say. She doesn't even know what to think. And the fact that she's perfect for the show and playing with me instead of telling me she wants to come to my house for some private off-the-job training is making my cock stir with the kind of desire that only comes from a girl like her.
Hard to get. But harder not to. Because now that I've met her, if I can't have her I'll never be able to get my mind off of her. She's that kind of girl.
“What unique trait or characteristic will you bring to the show?” I say, changing gears back to the topic at hand. I want to know how she'll answer these mundane questions.
“Let’s see.” She shifts with me back into professional mode. Maybe my charm and good looks made her forget she was interviewing for an internship. That’s okay, because by the time I’m done with her, she’ll be trained to be my perfect dirty girl and loving every minute of it. “I have a very good eye for detail. There’s no job too big or too small. I was once an unpaid assistant for the dean of the biology department at my college. Actually, I was the assistant’s assistant. Anyway, I was out on a coffee run, and I knew how particular this dean was about his coffee. I watched the barista like a hawk, because I wanted to make sure the coffee was made correctly. He liked half regular coffee and half decaf.”
She’s thorough and focused, but at this point I couldn’t care less about her keen eye for detail. I decided the moment I saw her that she had the internship. I know I said no more beautiful women, but I can’t help myself for her. There’s too much life and light behind her eyes to let her just walk out the door.
“Anyway, I saw that the barista started making his coffee with just decaf, and I knew how much of a disaster that would have been.” Sara sits up straight in her chair, her eyes flashing. I can see she takes pride in her work.
“Did the dean have a device in his office that would measure the exact proportion of caffeine in his drink?”
Her smile lights up her whole face and she looks down like she’s embarrassed to be laughing at my joke. “I don’t know how he did it, but if the coffee wasn’t half regular and half decaf, he somehow knew.”
Sara’s perfect. She’s beautiful, with porcelain skin and big brown eyes and dark chestnut hair, and small tits that are begging to be let out under her creamy white shirt. It has a tie at the neck, a floppy bow resting against her chest.
“You know that’s called a pussy bow, right?” I get up and start over to the door of my office. I wait there, expecting her to follow me.
“I’m sorry?” She turns around in her chair and her big doe eyes grow wide. “What?”
“The bow on your shirt. It’s called a pussy bow. I swear I’m not making that up.”
“Oh...right. I knew that. Sorry.”
“I have to tell you that these internships don’t always lead to an offer of full-time employment. In fact, I’ve never offered a job to an intern after the internship was over. I want to let you know that upfront. But you’ve got a fresh voice, Sara. We could use you around here.” I open the door to my office and she smiles brightly, bouncing out of her chair.
“Does that mean I got the internship?” She gets up and walks over to me, and with each step dividing the space between us, I grow more sure that she’s what I need. Her eyes flicker from my lips to my eyes as she studies me carefully, sizing me up.
She keeps moving toward me until she’s standing just in front of me, her sweetness enveloping me and making my cock hard.
“Welcome to Dirty After Dark.”
4
Sara
“You did this, right?”
I bound through the door where my friend works at the alumni affairs office at our college. The semester’s already started, which means the office is nearly empty - everyone who wanted one already has their internship lined up.
“Did what?” Jess gives me a sly smile and averts her eyes from mine, throwing her hands into the air. “Okay, you busted me.”
“Jess! What the hell?”
I realized when Ryan told me I got the internship that I’d been in the wrong place the whole time. Everything clicked together. Dirty After Dark. Not the podcast I thought I was interviewing for. And then everything came together. The fake dick in his office, the crude posters. The Howard Stern poster, for goodness’ sake! That wasn’t an office they run a science and nature podcast out of. It was where they run a sex advice podcast.
I didn’t know what to do, so I stuck to my favorite motto - when in doubt, do nothing. I shook his hand and left his office, unsure of what my next step would be. I certainly didn’t want to look unprofessional, so I said nothing.
“I’m sorry!” Jess slides out of her chair and comes over to me. “Maybe it was bad, but at least I got your blood pumping.”
“This is your idea of a funny joke, isn’t it?” I reply, sinking down into one of the chairs in the reception area and throwing my bag down on the floor.
“Well,” Jess says, taking a seat next to me, “yes. This is my idea of a funny joke.”
“What the hell am I going to do? Did you think of that?”
“Relax,” she says. “I scheduled an interview at the science podcast, too. Sorry for sending you all over LA.”
“For no good reason!” I shout.
“It was not for no good reason,” she protests. “You got to meet Ryan, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did get to meet Ryan. And now he’s going to think I’m a total flake.”
That familiarity I had with him wasn’t because I’d met him before; it was because I’d seen his face plastered on the side of busses all over LA.
Ryan Hart, founder and host of sex advice podcast Dirty After Dark. No wonder he’d looked familiar.
“It’s not a big deal. Just tell him you got another offer. This kind of thing happens all the time.”
But I have a bigger problem than that.
I want to see him again.
The idea of working for him seemed like such a bad idea at first, with his devilish smile and sardonic comments, but I was starting to consider it abou
t half-way through the interview.
What better to get me out of my funk than an internship with a sexy boss?
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Look, if you want, I’ll even call his office personally to deliver the bad news. I’ll tell them I’m from the college and we found you another gig. Seriously, this is a normal thing.”
“Wait. What if I actually took the internship?”
“Well,” Jess says, smiling, “you did get it fair and square. You earned it.”
“Maybe I’ll do it. I’m up for a new challenge. Right?”
“Challenge? You mean Ryan isn’t exceptionally easy on the eyes?”
He is, of course. Ryan Hart is exceptionally easy on the eyes, and easy elsewhere, too. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever been instantly attracted to someone like that in, well...ever, actually.
It’s not just his looks, of course, which are smoldering and hot. His confidence is the sexiest thing about him. He’s exacting and decisive. He knows what he wants. I could see it in his eyes. That man doesn’t want anything for long, because once he sees something he wants, he gets it.
“You’re right. It would not be a challenge to work with him in that regard. But it would be a challenge to work with him in other ways, wouldn’t it?” I get up and start pacing back and forth in front of my friend’s desk. “Imagine working with him. No really, close your eyes and think about it. You’re in a recording studio, in a tight space, and he’s dishing out relationship and sex advice live over the air.”
“I thought the show was pre-recorded.”
“Right,” I say, flopping down again. “You’re right. Pre-recorded. At any rate, think about him saying all those dirty things.”
“Like what?” my girlfriend asks. “I thought you’ve never heard the show before.”
“I haven’t! But during the interview he told me all about the sorts of questions he gets.”
“Such as?”
“Such as...how to go about losing your virginity, whether you should actually go through with being in a three-way, girls experimenting with girls. Frankly, the whole thing got a little bit offensive.”
“To be fair, he thought you were on board with all of it.”
“That’s fair,” I say, flopping down next to her.
“So when did you tell him to stop?” she asks.
“Stop?”
“Yeah. When did you tell him you were super uncomfortable and didn’t want to answer any more questions? Was that before or after your panties got wet?”
“Jess!”
“I’m just putting it out there. You didn’t tell him to stop, did you?”
“Okay, no. But I did ask him if he was allowed to ask me personal questions,” I say. “He came right out and asked if I have a boyfriend.”
“And you got the internship anyway? After you challenged his authority?”
“He thinks I’ll be a good addition to the show. He said I looked good on paper but wasn’t sure why I was there interviewing. And that’s what he liked about me.”
I get up and swing my bag over my shoulder. I should have Jess make the call and tell Ryan I can’t accept his offer.
But I felt sexy and wanted like I haven’t in a long time when I was with him. It felt good. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Ryan’s dirty words since I sat down across from him. His words, his lips, his eyes.
This internship could be just the challenge I need.
5
Sara
I pass through the cool marble lobby and take stock of my surroundings once again, now more aware that I’m in a place I’m not prepared for.
After clearing everything up with Jess, I realized, yes - just like I’d assumed, the nature podcast did, indeed, record out of a small community college downtown, where LA Public Radio had a satellite office for some of the smaller podcasts they were associated with. LAPR did not have offices in a high-rise in one of downtown’s trendiest neighborhoods, and the host and executive producer was not a sexy, slightly older man with eight-pack abs rippling through the t-shirt he wore to the office.
Today when I walk through the lobby, I know where I am and where I’m going. This is a place that boasts wealth, objects and furniture selected by someone who wanted to be surrounded by beautiful things.
Clearly, Ryan is accustomed to being around beautiful things.
The elevator is made of glass and exposed to the outside world, the wall adjacent to it also made of glass and steel. The air smells like money, mint and fresh leather, and my stomach flips, my shoes clicking on the marble floor when I get off at the main Dirty After Dark offices.
I spot a familiar face in Matt, the receptionist, and stride over to him with as much confidence as I can muster - shoulders back, chin up, and my purse swung snugly over my shoulder.
“Hey, I remember you,” Matt says as I approach his desk. The office is as quirky as I remember it, but again, seeing it now is a different experience. The pink sofa suddenly feels a little bit more suggestive. The vintage anatomy posters aren’t there for instruction, or if they are, it isn’t purely theoretical. Anyone utilizing those for instruction could use a laser pointer to give a practical lesson.
“Yes,” I say, “I’m here for my first day.”
“Ryan and Kayla are actually recording now, trying to get some content in before a meeting. Have you met Kay yet?”
Matt comes around to the other side of his desk and starts leading me down to the offices with a wave of his hand.
“No, not yet,” I say, following behind quickly. “So far I’ve just met Ryan and you. But Kay is like his right-hand, right?”
“Exactly,” Matt says. “They’ve been together for a long time. They had the show back in New York, and they came here together. I’m pretty sure they met in college. She’s a sweetheart. You’re going to adore her.” We pass the threshold from the hallway into an open-air space with bright, floor to ceiling windows and about eight or ten low-wall cubicles in the center. On the far right wall of the space is a line of offices where I assume the producers work from, and on the left is a door out to a terrace overlooking the Hollywood Hills. The space is bright and airy, with tall potted plants in every corner; it’s fresh and full of life.
“Well, this is you,” Matt says, bringing me over to a cubicle outside Ryan’s office. “You can make yourself comfy here.” He clasps his hands behind his back as I shift past him, placing my bag down on the desk and slipping off my raincoat.
“This is great. I feel at home here already.” I look around the desk to see all the things I’ll need to be a successful intern: paper, pens, of course a computer, and then, in the corner of the desk, a phone with an earpiece shaped like a banana.
“You don’t want to just sit here waiting for something to do, do you?” Matt asks with a little glimmer in his eye.
“I’ll do whatever’s needed of me. I’m the intern, right? I’m here to do the stuff no one else wants to. Not in a bad way, of course,” I add quickly.
“No, trust me,” he says, “you don’t want to just sit here screwing around on the internet until someone comes up with something better to do. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll be plenty busy, but a lot of the interns here tend to be a little bit...disappointing.”
“Oh?” I say, folding my hands in my lap. “That’s literally the last thing I want for myself.”
“That’s the last thing Ryan wants for you, too. He and Kay have very high hopes for you. Come on. You’re coming with me. Leave your stuff.”
“Where are we going?” We proceed back around the cubicles and through the hallway, to the recording booth where Ryan and Kayla are sitting.
“I thought you might want to sit in on a recording session,” Matt says. “Their recording light is on right now, but they’ll take a coffee break soon. When the light goes off, just go on in. And for the time being,” he adds, “just hang tight. This isn’t a one-sided window with a mirror on the other side. It’s not an interrogati
on room. They can see you just as well as you can see them.”
My stomach flutters when I see Ryan on the other side of the glass, his lips teasing the microphone as he dispenses his wisdom to a needy caller. His eyes flicker over to mine and he pauses, smiling and waving to me through the glass.
He’s wearing a tight pair of dark jeans that I can see through the glass desk he has set up in the studio for his laptop, matched with a simple black t-shirt, stretching across the muscles in his arms and upper chest.
Flipping his recording device off, the red light above the studio dimms and flicks off, and he waves me into the room.
This is where the action happens. I stepped inside the glass box full of technology, Kayla, and the sexist man I’ve ever seen.
“It’s your first day, right?” Ryan pushes the microphone away from his face and leans back in his chair, studying me, on hand on the armrest of his chair, two fingers on the other pinching his bottom lip.
“Yes,” I respond eagerly. “I hope it’s okay that I’m in here. Matt brought me over.”
“Of course,” Kayla says. “And don’t worry about his stupid question. I know it’s your first day. He wasn’t in yesterday. Do you even work here anymore, Ryan?”
“My work is taking me bi-coastal,” Ryan explains. “I had a few meetings in New York over the past few days, so I was over there for a bit.”
“You’re from New York, aren’t you?” I ask, settling down in a chair against the wall.
“That’s right,” he says, nodding. “I see you’ve done your homework.”
My cheeks flush and I shake my head, looking down at my hands.
“I have now,” I reply. “I know everything there is to know about the show. And believe me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I just wasn’t very aware of the show before a few days ago. I mean, after I met you I realized I’d seen your face around town.”
