Work Text:
Fiona Shaw leaned back in her chair, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she stifled a yawn. It’d been a long day, but when was the last time she had a short one? Almost 6 full hours of interviewing candidates for the position of her secretary, almost 6 full hours of listening to a steady stream of vapid sycophants with resumes the length of a Tinder bio.
Why did people think this would be an easy job? Fiona shook her head in annoyance. She expected excellence from all her employees and especially from herself. Why was that so hard for these people to understand?
She groaned in annoyance, pressing the heel of her palm against her eyelids, desperately fighting the urge to cut this short, go home, open a bottle of Pinot and let her worries melt away.
God, she needed a vacation.
The stern CEO shook the thoughts free, settling back into ‘workmode’ as she rolled back up to her fine Cherry desk.
Only one applicant left, and then she could finally go home. Fiona doubted this would be the one, but she wasn’t going to dismiss her out of hand. Everyone deserved a fair shake. That’s what business is all about.
She checked herself for any sign of the tiredness filling her, closely studying her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city was dark, little windows lighting up the night sky, and floating above them, half transparent… her. A severe expression, perfectly tailored pantsuit, and close-cropped hair.
Her image had to command power, respect, and authority.
No matter how tired she felt on the inside.
Fiona stifled her heavy sigh and pressed the buzzer on her desk, rifling random papers to look busy as she did her best to seem annoyed. That part was easy; she really was annoyed.
The door to her office opened slowly and a timid woman poked her head inside, blonde hair and crisp green eyes. “Um… you called for me?” she said, sounding so much like a mouse.
Fiona made a show of rolling her eyes. “You’re the last applicant, aren’t you? There’s no one else out there?”
The woman poked her head back out to take a look around, then said “Uh, no.”
Fiona scowled. “Then yes, I called for you.” The stern woman set her papers down and folded her hands together, gesturing for the plush chair in front of her desk. “Sit down please.”
“Ah, alright.” the woman said, scampering in and smoothing out her deep blue dress as she eased into the chair. Fiona paused to examine her. A nice dress, nicer body, and not a hair out of place.
At least she looked the part. Mostly.
“That dress seems a bit small on you,” Fiona said, leaning back in her office chair. Honestly, it was more than a bit small. Parts of it were straining at the seams. Particularly around the chest, she noted with no small amount of envy. The CEO picked up a pen and tapped it against her index finger as she awaited a response.
The woman gave a sheepish smile. “I—yes, sorry. It shrunk in the wash,” she babbled, then held out her hand. “Amanda Marr.”
“I know who you are,” Fiona lied.
Amanda’s smile dropped, and her hand wasn’t far behind. “Ah.”
The businesswoman sighed and shook her head, readying herself for yet another interview where the pretty face with no experience tried to cozy up to her, tried to flatter her. “Look, I’ve had a long day, so I’ll cut to the chase,” she said. “This is a high stress, high intensity position. I won’t have any slackers.” Fiona pursed her lips to stifle a yawn, hoping the prospective employee didn’t see the straining in her neck.
“Oh, yes,” Amanda said. “I’m sure you’ve already seen, but I graduated top of my class at Wharton. I’m no stranger to hard work.”
Miss Shaw blinked. Then she blinked again. She actually hadn’t seen that already. What the hell was a woman with those qualifications doing applying for a job as a secretary? The businesswoman shook the thoughts away. No use looking a gift horse in the mouth.
“Yes,” she said, sitting up straighter, ruffling through the papers on her desk to find the right resume. Marr… Marr… where is it? The letters swam together, and the dense haze of sleep left her mind spinning. “Yes,” she said again. “We are… very impressed, but—”
“I’m sure you’re wondering why someone with my qualifications is applying here in the first place,” Amanda cut her off.
Fiona blinked, sagging in her chair as she tried to formulate a response. God, how late was it? She glanced at the clock sitting on the wall, just over the door, but found she couldn’t actually read it.
The woman startled once she realized Amanda was waiting for a response.
“Er, yes, I–” Fiona paused to compose herself. “Yes. I was wondering that, actually.”
The woman nodded easily, a thin smile growing on her plush lips. “Yes, well, believe it or not, I was actually an intern under your father back when I was first starting my Bachelor’s,” she said, twirling her hand in front of her. “You know, back when he ran the company?”
Fiona sank further into the chair, swallowing the retort waiting on her lips. She was used to the comparisons to her father, none of them favorable. She’d right the ship before long. You could do anything with a bit of elbow grease.
She blinked again, once she realized the woman was still talking. About… something. It was a little hard to follow, but Fiona wasn’t willing to admit she’d gotten lost. Nothing to do but keep nodding and hope to jump back in.
The businesswoman’s eyelids sagged more and more, weighed down by the dense fog of exhaustion pressing down on her. She fluttered her lashes, trying to clear the haze.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Amanda said. “Are you tired? I’m probably boring you I know, but—”
“No!” Fiona sat up straighter.
“Oh, I’m not boring you? That’s wonderful, so anyway—”
Miss Shaw opened her mouth to ask another one of her questions, but the prospective employee was already talking again. The woman’s jaw clicked shut as she struggled to get annoyed. The anger didn’t come, though.
She was far too tired for it.
“–experience with high-stress positions. You know, I—”
The woman’s voice seemed to fade in and out, like she was fiddling with the controls on a remote. Louder, the softer, then gone all together, then back again the very next moment.
“–tainly look the part. I mean, that fierce suit? You look confident, in control, abso—”
Fiona leaned back in her plush chair, satisfied. At least someone took the time to notice the effort she put into her appearance. She couldn’t afford to be seen slacking, not when the board members were already biased against her. Image was everything in business.
“–this office? Oh, it’s beautiful, just look at that view!” Amanda’s words were soft, but firm. Confident. Fiona turned her head to stare at the skyline. It really was beautiful.
“Do you see those lights in the distance?” Amanda said. “The way they twinkle? It’s like they’re little stars, or embers. Nod if you can see them, Fiona.”
Fiona nodded, head heavy. God, she was tired. She really needed a vacation. But where would she go? And who had the time.
“Maybe Cabo?” she said, before flushing, realizing that she had spoken out loud.
“For your vacation?” Amanda said. “Well that seems like a good idea. What are you looking forward to? The clear waters, the white sandy beaches? Now, me personally? I don’t think I could ever leave this office. That view. I mean, do you even know how many lights there are out there?”
Fiona didn’t know either.
“Do you know?”
But she couldn’t admit that. Her tongue was heavy, and lips were stiff as she mumbled. “A lot,” and got to work correcting that gap in her knowledge. She counted the distant lights, twinkling in the skyline.
One.
Two.
Three.
She yawned, unable to stifle it this time, unable to hide the tiredness seeping into her bones.
“–that you’re such a hard worker. I know, everyone says it, all your employees know it, but—”
Fiona nodded. She was a hard worker. You had to be to make it in this business. Anything else could come after. Education, experience… all that you could get later. But you couldn’t teach good values. You couldn’t fake a good work ethic.
“–ry hard worker. But the truth is, you’re not a very good CEO, are you?”
Fiona tried to rise to that challenge. She glared against the inside of her eyelids, fuming. Mostly fuming. She was angry, wasn’t she? Fiona rubbed her thighs together. There was a strange heat in her center. When had that gotten there?
It was so hard to be angry when you were tired. If you weren’t careful, you ended up flailing like a toddler. You could never command respect that way, you could never—
“–the lights. You’re counting the lights aren’t you? The way they twinkle, the way they shift, even as they stay still? Isn’t it so pretty?”
Fiona blinked, heavy, fumbling. Her lips rolled together. The chair was so comfortable. The clock sitting over Amanda’s head was ticking on and on in a comfortable rhythm.
“Goodness, you really are tired, aren’t you?” Amanda purred. Her voice was low and soothing, washing over Fiona like waves off the ocean.
“‘m not,” Fiona mumbled, still watching the lights, counting the lights, up and up and up. Had she ever stopped? She didn’t think so. Fiona Shaw didn’t ever give up once she set her mind to something.
Forty-one.
Forty-two.
Forty-three.
“What are you at now, Fiona?” Amanda said.
The CEO mumbled out something that might’ve been ‘forty-four’ if you didn’t pay close attention.
“My, you really are such a good worker, even when you’re so tired. How impressive!” The woman’s voice was patronizing, even as she heaped praise onto Fiona. It was hard to muster the energy to be mad, though.
Fiona’s eyelids drooped more and more, sinking like someone had tied tiny weights to each of the individual lashes. She couldn’t fall asleep. She had to finish the—
“But no, dear, you’re not a good CEO,” Amanda chuckled.
Fiona scowled as she slipped into a dense haze, her mind tumbling down and down and down and—
“You just don’t have the right image for it.”
Fiona jerked back to awareness, mind spinning, head spinning, everything spinning. Had she fallen asleep. She glanced at the wall above Amanda, only to find it bare. Fiona whipped her head around, searching. The clock hands were… very different. They were behind her. Which meant…
Amanda was sitting in Fiona’s chair. The CEO stumbled to her feet, ready to lash out at the prospective employee, but her tongue was heavy, her lips wouldn’t obey, and she could barely keep her eyes open.
“–ry impressed with your work ethic,” Amanda said. “You certainly are a hard worker, but—”
“What are—” Fiona blinked, yawning once again. “What are–are you doing!?”
Amanda merely raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair and perching her cheek on her fist. “Interviewing you?” she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Cool, confident, in control, the very picture of—
“No you’re–” Fiona slurred. “No you’re not, I’m–I’m the—”
“Secretary?” Amanda said.
Fiona blinked again, stumbled forward and leaned against the desk. Her desk. “No!” she said, “I’m—”
“Listen here, missy,” Amanda said, rising to her feet and rounding the desk in a single stride. Fiona looked up at her with drooping eyes. Had the woman always been taller than her? Almost a full head. That was—
Amanda was talking again. Fiona’s mouth hung open dumbly. She rubbed her thighs together. The heat was back, growing even.
“–not a CEO dear,” Amanda cooed, ruffling her hair. “Just look at how you’re dressed.”
That managed to jerk Fiona out of her haze enough to look down. She was wearing a blue dress and elegant flats. She slowly brought her gaze up to the woman now sitting on her desk, wearing a sleek pantsuit and a stern expression.
That didn’t make any sense.
Fiona stumbled through the fog in her mind, blinking away the exhaustion. “You—” she slurred. “You stole my clothes? You–you changed me when I—”
“I’m sorry?” Amanda said. “That dress is yours.”
The confused woman rolled her lips together. “You–you were wearing—”
“I most certainly wasn’t, missy,” Amanda said. “That would never fit me.” She gestured back to Fiona. “But look. It fits you perfectly, doesn’t it?”
Fiona looked down at herself, mind spinning. “I—huh…?” she said intelligently. The dress did fit her. Perfectly, in fact, elegantly hugging her meager curves, her meager chest.
“Don’t tell me you think it’d fit me.” Amanda said, voice commanding, powerful.
Fiona looked back up at the woman, drooling slightly. Amanda’s breasts were hanging free. When had she unbuttoned her shirt? They were heavy, desperately heavy. Could those really have fit in the dress?
“I–I don’t—” Fiona mumbled, barely even aware of her own words. Could she even feel her body? Could she feel her legs? Her arms?
“Good,” Amanda said. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
Fiona narrowed her eyes, but it was hard to stand up to the woman. Her voice was powerful. The way she looked down at Fiona made her feel so small. And her body was—
“Eyes up here, Missy,” Amanda said. “I won’t have you ogling your superiors.”
Fiona tried to make her lips obey, tried to say that Amanda was the one who had whipped her tits out. How was that her fault? But then she was on the ground, staring up at the woman, blinking slowly.
“No, you would make a terrible CEO. You don’t have any experience. No education,” Amanda was petting Fiona’s head, threading her nimble fingers through the woman’s dark hair.
Fiona blinked stupidly, on the verge of tears. “‘m a h’rd worker…” she mumbled, barely audible from between the woman’s legs.
“Oh, yes,” Amanda agreed. “You’re a very hard worker, and I would be happy to hire you on as my secretary, but your skills just aren’t suited to this kind of high-stress job. Late nights, hard decisions. I know that you’d make the company stock crumble, dearie.”
Fiona was well past the verge of tears, nose pressed against the seam at the center of Amanda’s pants. “I don’t–I don’t—” she couldn’t say that Amanda was wrong. Their stock had taken a nosedive in the past year, but that was just because the board didn’t trust her. They called her a—Fiona blinked, struggling to remember. Amanda was still talking.
“You’re so tired, aren’t you?” she purred. “Your head is so fuzzy and muzzy.”
Fiona tried to pull away. “I’m–shhtop… I don’t—” only to get pulled right back. The woman sitting above her gave a long-suffering sigh, and pulled Fiona’s head back so she was staring straight into her eyes.
“Darling,” Amanda purred, lips shining in the fluorescents. “Tell me honestly… which of us looks the part.”
Fiona opened her mouth to give the obvious answer, only to crash directly into a wall. The obvious answer was… Amanda. But, that didn’t—
“You poor thing. You’ve been working very, very hard. Don’t you think you deserve a break?”
The fog wrapped everything in a gentle haze, every thought in a cloud of cotton. The words wouldn’t fit together right. Her body wouldn’t obey.
“Not from working, of course. You’re such a hard worker. But from thinking. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Fiona let her mouth fall open as she turned to stare at her reflection. A tight, blue dress, distorted slightly in the glass, half transparent, floating over the distant lights.
“In this business, image is everything,” Amanda said. “You have to look the part to command any respect. Now tell me, missy…” the woman’s lips curled into a patient smile, eyes flashing with glee. “Which of us looks the part?”
Fiona gave the only answer she could think of. The only words in her brain.
“You… you do,” she said softly, barely even awake.
Amanda smiled and scratched the top of her head. “Good girl…” she said, then let her go to start unbuttoning her pants. “Now… let’s get started on your interview, and then you can sign some documents for me. Nothing important. Nothing a sleepy secretary needs to read.” The pants came down, and Amanda pressed Fiona’s nose to her damp crotch, forcing the secretary to breathe through the soaked fabric of her panties. “Alright, dear,” Amanda hummed with a vulpine grin. “Why don’t you show me just how hard a worker you really are?”
🟂
Fiona climbed out of bed a full thirty minutes before Miss Marr’s alarm went off and hurried toward the kitchen. It was easy to work through the dense haze in her brain, she had gotten used to it.
She fixed Miss Marr’s breakfast, readied her clothes for the day, and organized all the incoming calls she had missed overnight before her employer’s alarm went off.
Miss Marr was up before the second ring. She was just as hard a worker as Fiona, just with a different skill set. Company stock was soaring under her leadership. The board was in total agreement: hers were safe hands.
Miss Marr nodded Fiona’s way as she wandered out their shared bedroom, silk pajamas swishing with every step. “There you are, Fiona,” she said, pulling out a stool as Fiona set a plate down in front of her. “Anything I missed?” she said. “Anything I need to worry about?” She scooped a bit of egg and tomato onto her fork and took a bite, giving a soft moan.
The sight of it made Fiona’s heart soar.
“No, Miss Marr,” Fiona said, bouncing on her heels with a wide smile. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Miss Marr grinned and reached out to hold Fiona’s cheek. “Good girl,” she hummed.
Fiona’s knees wobbled, and her smile only grew. “Thank you, Miss Marr,” she said, beaming with pride. “Thank you very much!”