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Servicing Foxx Inc: Part 1

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Servicing Foxx Inc: Part 1
The Interview - A young man leaves the Navy and finds a new job.

By PtmcPilot listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.



Thomas Edison reportedly said that the harder he worked the

luckier he was. In my case I had worked pretty stinking hard as an enlisted
member of the nuclear submarine Navy for the previous six years, so if you side
with Edison I must have accumulated a decent amount of luck in my karma
account. No matter how events came together, I was very lucky to be in just the
right place at the right time. You probably won't believe it, and truth be
told, on some days I don't believe it either. But let's not get ahead of
ourselves. Let me start at the beginning.

Or maybe not quite the beginning. As I mentioned, I'd been

in the Navy for six years starting right after high school. After graduation a
lot of my friends had gone off to college, but I wasn't interested in joining
them. I wanted to do something at once, not four years or so later. I joined
the Navy, was picked up for nuclear power and asked for submarines (long story
for another time). Working on subs was tough, yet rewarding at the same time.
And it paid fairly nicely for a 19 to 24 year old. Many of the younger
enlisted, read that as non-lifers, were interested in using their G I bill
benefits to go to college when their enlistment was complete. And when I left
the Navy a mere six weeks ago, that had been my plan as well. I'd saved a fair
amount of money, and combined with the G I bill I was able to comfortably
attend most any college.

Now, relaxing on a couch in my parent's living room, when I

wasn't surrounded by people looking forward to college, I found the idea was no
longer appealing. It always seemed to me that people felt college was a natural
progression, and to do otherwise was somehow not living up to one's potential.
Problem was, after my years in the Navy I knew that wasn't the case. Sure,
college might open some doors, but I had every bit as much, if not more respect
for the senior enlisted in the Navy as I did the officers. Very different jobs
requiring different skill sets. One ingredient of success on the ship was
mutual respect for those different skill sets. Relaxing off duty with Sailors
from other ships told me such mutual respect was not always a given. I'd been
fortunate.

By the time I left the Navy I knew I was capable, well

trained, reliable, and eager to work hard. The Navy had spent a lot of money
training me how to operate and maintain equipment as well to train and lead
people. Not only was I good at all those things, I enjoyed them immensely. It's
a very rewarding feeling when you use your own skills to take something from
not working, to working. A friend of mine, a fairly senior Navy electrician,
enjoyed replacing burnt out light bulbs even though such things were typically
reserved for more junior people. "It's instant job satisfaction,"
he'd said.

I knew my parents were happy to have me around, and at the

same time I knew they didn't want me to become a permanent fixture. It was only
nine in the morning, and I resolved right then that today was the day to seriously
start the job search. After grabbing a shower and a cup of coffee, I sat down
with my laptop and began. There were lots of openings that appealed to me, or
rather a lot of jobs I knew I could do. HVAC technicians and mechanics of all
kinds appeared to be in particular demand, and the pay didn't look too bad.
Besides, I was in a pretty enviable position; I could easily quit after a short
time if it didn't work out.

After a brief moment of reflection I decided my

qualifications meant I should avail myself of a headhunter, or at least some
high end placement site. I did so, and was startled to get a text message two
hours later. It was a link, so I forwarded it to my email and called it up.
Oddly, it wasn't from one of the services I had contacted. "Provider of
Building Services. Responsible for all building systems maintenance and
services for staff on site. Monday through Friday, from 9 to 5, $95,000 per
year. If interested please send your interview availability to
[email protected]" From the tone it seemed they had my resume and
knew who they were talking to. Intrigued, I sent a note to the address stating
I was available for an interview at their convenience.

It was perhaps another hour later when a reply came in from

the same address: "Please confirm your availability for an interview
starting at sixteen hundred, at 8472 Saddlebrook Road." I checked the
address, and although I did not want to appear desperate, I replied at once
that I could make that time. It seemed a bit odd to be having a job interview
that late on a Friday, and it made me wonder what kind of work-life balance
they might have as part of their culture. And then I laughed at myself--as if
work-life balance was something I was acquainted with from subs...

Still, this observation was added to my mental list of

hypothetical questions to be posed to my would-be employer.

The use of 24 hour time got my attention as well, as in my

admittedly limited experience most people in the US did not use it. Checking
the time, I had about two hours before I needed to leave. Plenty of time to
shave, iron a shirt and get my ass across town. Minor preparations complete, I
had a little time to do some research on Foxx Inc., and there wasn't much
there. Nothing on the usual job review sites, and the corporate splash page
simply stated it was a legal firm serving government and private clients, able
to support work at all classification levels. Well, I'd learn more when I got
there.

Arriving at the designated place at fifteen fortyfive, the

parking lot in front of the building was empty. The visitor parking spots were
very close to the door, which was nice given how hot it was that afternoon. The
building itself was an attractive, if plain, multi-story building made of the
typical glass, steel and concrete. It was also unmarked aside from the large
stylistic numbers identifying the building as '8472'. Grabbing my jacket I got
out of the car and went to the large glass doors.

The lobby was large, with comfortable looking chairs of

white leather arranged around small metal and glass tables. A long reception
desk opposite the entry doors appeared to be of solid wood and was decorated
with a number of glass sculptures. Glancing around I noted the presence of
several CCTV cameras, their red status lights blinking every few seconds to let
you know they were awake, or at least powered. Aside from the front doors there
were no other obvious exits from the room. Taking a seat I looked over the
walls a bit more closely and noticed there were a couple of places that might
be seams that could hide hinges on the reverse.

It wasn't more than two or three minutes when I heard a

distinct 'click' from the direction of the front doors. Curious, I checked them
and found they were now locked. It was then I heard another click behind me,
and turning I watched as one of the well-hidden doors opened and a woman strode
through. Black haired, tall and quite attractive, she was wearing a black
skirt, black heels, a white blouse and a dark blue jacket. She smiled as she
closed the distance to me, extending a hand. "Mr. Jeffries, I
presume?"

Returning the smile and the handshake, I said, "Thomas,

please."

She let go of my hand and regarded me with a puzzled look,

"Mr. Jeffries, we've only just been introduced."

"Not exactly," I said, "I still don't know

your name."

The look she gave me was somewhere between confusion and

irritation. But in an instant her face snapped right back to pleasant as if
she'd rolled back time. She extended her hand again, "Mr. Jeffries, I
presume?"

Again returning the handshake I replied, "Yes, and you

are?"

She let go of my hand, "Ms. Olson. I'm pleased you

could come in on such short notice. If you would follow me?"

With this she turned and strode toward the door I now knew

to be there. A sign next to the door, which appeared to be nothing more than a
label plate, turned out to be a card reader, which she used to open the door.
On the other side of the door a small well lit room had a standard set of boxes
used to hold mobile phones. I was already taking my phone and keys out of my
pocket when she gestured toward the boxes and asked me to secure any
electronics. Completing this task she led me to something that looked like an
airport TSA portal. She indicated I should walk through it, and she watched as
I did. It didn't beep or anything and she led me to another door, which she
again opened with a key card, though this time she added a PIN, her finger
movements concealed by a cover plate.

Through this second door we entered a large open area. Two

elevators were visible to the right, again with things I now knew to be card
readers. To the left was a featureless wall with one door. She led me to this
door and entered with her card. This room was a rather large office, tastefully
decorated with wooden furniture, some IT equipment, plants, a few leather
chairs and a small refrigerator. There was also another door on a wall adjacent
to the one we had entered through. She indicated a chair in front of the large
desk. "Would you like a bottle of water Mr. Jeffries?" Her continued
formality was curious, and I simply said yes. She withdrew two bottles of water
from the fridge and handed me one before sitting down herself.

"Mr. Jeffries, again, thank you for coming in this

afternoon," she said as she unscrewed the lid on her bottle.

"I was available, so there wasn't much of a reason to

wait," I said before taking a pull on my own bottle.

"Well, shall we get down to business then?" she

said. I nodded and she pulled a folder from inside the desk. "Six years in
the Navy, straight out of high school. Trained mechanic, standard awards for
good conduct, but also three Navy Achievement Medals. Current security
clearance, and living with your parents having just been discharged several
weeks ago." The whole time she had been talking she had been looking
directly at me. Which was good in a way because it kept me from trying to ogle
her, and I figured that was not a great way to start with an H R rep, if that's
who she was. The funny thing about her little speech was that the medals were not
listed in anything I thought she might have been able to access while
researching me. Wait, they researched me?

I realized she had asked me a question. "I'm sorry Ms.

Olson, could you repeat that?"

Her face was impassive. "Did you enjoy your time in the

Navy?"

"I'm not sure I'd say enjoy. It was often hard work,

but also rewarding. I got to see some of the world and learn some useful
things. Or at least, I hope you will find my skills useful."

She nodded, "Your professional certifications are quite

in line with what we need in terms of taking care of the property, yes. Tell
me, did you enjoy Singapore or Thailand more?"

At this point it was clear she was trying to keep me off

balance by showing what she knew about me. "Um, Ms. Olson, what kind of work
does Foxx Inc do?"

She unbuttoned the front of her jacket and sat back in the

chair, taking another drink of water. As her jacket parted I could not help but
notice her top was almost shear, and she was not wearing a bra. She caught my
glimpse, but smiled as she answered, "We are primarily a legal firm. We
consult on a variety of subjects to varied clientele. Our work regularly
connects to the government, to include the DoD and several other agencies with
whom you might not be as familiar."

"And so it would be normal to run a background check on

any applicants."

She smiled and looked down at the desk, selecting a piece of

paper from the file. "Yes, but I must tell you it is less mysterious than
you might think. To begin with your electronic fingerprints are everywhere, and
the only thing that provides privacy is people with access not taking an
interest. In applying, we became interested." I nodded, only sort of
following her. She gave me a soft look, then said, "Tell me, before you
decided to end your time with the Navy, you applied for a special projects
position, did you not?"

I nodded, though once again how she knew this was beyond me.

"That application triggered a number of automatic events that were
completed even before they would have started an SSBI." Seeing my
confusion she added, "A background investigation."

"I see."

"You have applied for a job at a firm that does highly

sensitive work for the government, amongst others. Further, I am meeting you
alone in this building in the late afternoon. The least you should expect is
that we have done our homework."

Sure, it all made sense. And nonetheless, I was taken aback

by the results of said homework, especially in such a short time frame.

She continued, "That homework indicates you have all

the mechanical and supervisory skills necessary to keep our facility humming
along, and your clearance is certainly a plus in that you will likely be able
to access most parts of the building unescorted," she said.
"And," she added with a smirk, "there was time to acquire some
more, shall we say, personal information."

I swallowed, not really knowing what she meant by that last

bit. Trying to regain my composure, I nodded and tried to move closer to show
my interest. "Is this the only building I'll be maintaining?"

She nodded in reply, "Yes, that is correct. Electrical,

mechanical, structural, all your responsibility. As you saw, the position
involves a typical work schedule, though a number of the employees keep less
standard hours, especially the partners."

"Could I ask a question?" She nodded, and I

continued, "Why did the previous person leave the job?"

"Hum," she murmured, then grinned, "Let's say

he grew tired."

"Of the job?"

"I thought you were nuclear trained Mr. Jeffries? That

is an assumption, not an observation or conclusion based on indications."
That caused me to sit back. If they had only been aware of me for a few hours,
that was pretty specific criticism for someone of my particular background. And
a damned insightful criticism at that. But if she was bothered, it didn't show.
Instead, she grinned as she held my gaze. "I believe my statement to be
accurate regarding the previous PBS." She continued, "I assume the
proposed compensation is adequate?" I nodded again. "Very well. In
addition you will earn twenty-eight days off per year, usable at your leisure
from day one. We have a full gym on-site as well as a reasonably good
cafeteria. I expect you will find the severance package quite generous as
well."

"So, are you offering me the job?" I asked, an

edge of excitement probably pretty evident.

Her grin changed to a smile, though this time her look was

almost predatory. "Well, there are other things to be discussed and
evaluated before I can do that." Opening another drawer she withdrew a
single piece of paper and handed it to me. "This is a standard
non-disclosure agreement. In quite too many words, because lawyers, it
effectively says that with the exception of any illegality you observe you may
not discuss anything that happens in this firm with anyone not a member of the
firm. As was your security agreement with the Navy, this is binding until death
or until the Firm informs you otherwise."

It was not a long document, and it seemed to say just what

she said. I picked up a pen from the desk and signed it straightaway. Taking
the page back from me she examined my signature, nodded, then added her own
under mine. "Although I believe Foxx Inc is an upstanding firm, you would
be wise to carefully analyze any small print." Standing up, she said, "I'll
go make a copy of this for your records." She picked up another small
packet of papers and handed it to me as she walked past me to the other door.
"I'll be back in a little while to answer any questions."

The cover page was labeled "Foxx Inc Sensitive:

Disclosure, Authorized Only under NDA". Typical enough, or so I thought.
Turning the page I found myself faced with a rather extensive questionnaire. As
I started to work on it, I soon realized it was also anything but typical.
Relationship status, exercise habits, pieces of medical history, diet, alcohol
consumption, sexual orientation, sexual experience to include number of
partners, and then very specific questions about what sexual acts I enjoyed,
would do, and absolutely would not do. I answered a few and then stopped;
finding I was not comfortable providing this level of detail about private
aspects of my life.

A little while later the door opened and I saw Ms. Olson

re-enter the room. Seeing I was not writing, she said "That was fast, are
you all done?" Standing in front of me she leaned over to look at the
papers in my lap. Still looking forward I was treated to the most glorious down
blouse view I may have ever been given. Her white top hung away from her chest,
now fully revealed as a pair of large, tanned breasts unconstrained by a bra. I
gulped and when I looked up she was smiling at me, apparently not put off at
all by my observation of her chest. However, in my defense she had all but
deliberately dangled them in my face. Add to that she was now wearing quite
shocking black lipstick. Now I was really off balance. She retook her seat.
"Do you have questions or concerns I can help resolve, Mr. Jeffries?"

"It's just that, well, I don't see why you need to know

some of these things about your building manager," I said.

She leaned back. "Ah, I see. You did note the position

is 'provider of building services', did you not?" I nodded. Her smile
turned into leer. Yep, I'm quite sure of the memory. She leered at me.
"You'll forgive me. I do so enjoy this part of the interview, and I've
only done it a few other times, so humor me."

I took an involuntary look at her chest again. Her

expressions remained the same as she said, "Your job, should you choose to
accept it, includes sexually servicing the women who work here."

I was almost, almost certain I'd used my inside voice when I

shouted, "Holy shit!" But then Ms. Olson almost jumped back at my
outburst. I know she jumped because she bounced really nicely. Taking a deep
breath, I said, "Okay."

Raising an eyebrow, she said, "'Okay', really?"

Then a long pause, and she continued with the smirk back on her face.
"Well then, ask me any questions you have and we'll see if we cannot clear
this up." I was rewarded, I think, as her smirk switched to predatory again.
I had the feeling she was toying with me. Not unlike a cat and a mouse though I
didn't really think she'd literally eat me. At least not in a bad way. I
pinched myself for focus.

"Right, how about this one about exercise habits?"

I asked.

"Physical condition is linked to physical performance,

wouldn't you say?" she said. Looking back I'm not sure there was a reason
for me to continue, but sometimes you haven't quite processed what people have
told you.

I said "Um, why the question about sexual orientation?

And my diet?"

She locked eyes with me and I could not look away. "Mr.

Jeffries, I believe my stating that you are expected to "sexually service
the staff like a stud within a herd of brood mares" more than adequately
provided information sufficient to answer the first." Now, I know I asked
for it, but when she spoke it really rocked me. Her face was all professional,
stern, condescending and superior when she resumed her rebuke of my density.
"It would not do for me to hire someone not hungry enough for it. It is up
to me, and me alone to select the appropriate," she winked again,
"stud for my herd."

I swallowed heavily and nodded. She stood and removed her

jacket, hung it on a coat rack and took her seat again. Her large breasts were now
every bit on display, the sheer fabric of the material all but baring them to
my gaze. I forced myself to look in the eye again, finally realizing what this
interview was leading up to. "Now that you have utilized logic and
available information to answer your first silly question 'about sexual
orientation," she'd kind of spat the words at me, "I will answer your
second plainly." Now the look she gave me was something I couldn't explain
or describe. I don't know how to explain what 'holy fucking hornier than ever'
looks like, but that was her.

Then she made an obvious display of running her tongue along

her lips and said, "You must be aware that your diet directly affects the
taste of your semen. Are you not?"

At this point any thoughts about work life balance were

thrown to the curb like an ex's CD collection. I knew my mouth was hanging
open. Her large breasts swayed and jiggled as she spoke. I now noticed that her
areola were very dark and her nipples quite hard, and easily seen through a
not-quite-there top. Forcing myself to look back up at her face I cleared my
throat and said, "I think I see. Shall I get back to answering these
then?"

She nodded and smiled back at me, "I'm happy to hear

that. And yes, please do. I would like to conclude your interview today."

For a very brief second I considered how I might feel if I

were a woman being asked to, ah, service the male members of the firm as a
prerequisite for employment. Don't be too hard on me for acknowledging that I,
and my hard-on, didn't mind one bit.

It only took me a few minutes to write out short answers to

the questions, after which I passed the questionnaire back to her. She read
over my answers, nodding every now and then. "So, Thomas, you can call me
Ashley, if you like."

I don't know what, but that didn't sound like what I should

call her. "Thank you, Ms. Olson," I let out a long breath and notice
a flare to her nostrils. It felt like I made the right choice, and I said,
"What's next?"

"For one, you should know this aspect of the position

is obviously off the books, except for the salary, which is an additional fifty
percent over your normal pay." I nodded and could not suppress a truly
shit-eating grin. She raised an eyebrow that again indicated mild irritation,
"Is that not acceptable, Mr. Jeffries?" She delivered my name in two
words with a notable pause, more like 'Mister. Jeffries." The tone was all
heat. Clearly the Mr. & Miss Smith was strong with her. I liked it. A lot.

I shook my head and tried to refocus, if only for a bit.

"No, it's not that at all. It's just, well, you're telling me I'm likely
to be having sex with any number of women here, and you are going to pay me for
it?"

Maybe she was acting, but her expression was one of sincere

offense. Again with the stutter pronouncement, "I am certain I just
characterized the additional pay as stud fees." As I gaped at her
statement, she unbuttoned the top half of her blouse. Yep, no doubt about the
solid nips, flushed face and suddenly deeper breathing. Actually I can't tell you
how I noticed or remembered that given how aware I was of her body and my
hard-on.

Her restatement of 'stud duty' made me smile. Then I said,

"Again Ms. Olson, you mistake my meaning. My comments were meant as 'I
can't believe you want to pay me more for this.'"

Her face relaxed at once and she stood and walked to stand

between the desk and myself. For the first time I noticed the scent of an
aroused woman. "Mister. Jeffries, contrary to what you may think, finding
someone for this job is not easy. It is simply not possible to advertise for a
proper, well, cocksman."

Well, that did it. There was no unhearing something like

that. Stud was one thing, but 'cocksman?' Somehow it meant nothing to me even
as I could completely understand it. I once more tried shaking my head to clear
my thoughts for a moment. I remembered something she said that seemed suddenly
relevant. I said, "What did you mean by more personal information?"

She finished unbuttoning her blouse, and then shrugged it

off, her body now bare from her waist up. Her breasts were nothing short of
magnificent. I was staring and completely unable to stop myself from reaching
out and taking them in my hands. She purred, then put her hands over mine and
said, "Don't think poorly of me, Mr. Jeffries, but I contacted Tilly."

Yet again, I found myself surprised. I'll tell you the story

later, maybe, but Tilly was another Sailor, my off-the-books roommate and more
girlfriend than fuck buddy for the past two years. We'd parted amicably when I
left the Navy. Probably important to this story, she was my fourth and to date
last sexual partner, and she'd been equal parts ravenous and patient with me.
While I'd always figured I'd done right by her, the look on Ashley's face spoke
volumes to the review I seem to have been given. I hadn't formed any kind of
response and was still kneading her gloriously full tits when she asked in a
low voice, "Thomas, is it safe for me to have unprotected intercourse with
you today?"

"Well, yes and no? If you mean am I disease free, then

yes. If you mean could I get you pregnant, the answer is yes, so then no, it's
not safe. And you're trusting someone you just met?"

"Thomas, I have read a rather thorough synopsis of your

life and the government feels you are trustworthy. Should I not?" I
nodded, and she continued, "And you just gave me a most sincere and
thorough answer to a simple question." Then she leaned down and gave me a
thoroughly debauching kiss on the lips that left us both panting.

She held my face in her hands, "I should mention that

in this arrangement the person in the Firm initiating the encounter is required
to provide protection." Then I watched with continued surprise as she sat
on the desk, put her feet on the arms of my chair and lifted her skirt to show
me a very bald and equally wet cunt. I noted she was an inny, at least right
then. As she relaxed back on her elbows she said, "To continue your
interview;" and her voice cut off. Most likely because by the time she had
those words out of her mouth my lips were locked on hers. Her cunt lips of
course.

"Um," she sighed, "I do love a man who needs

little direction. I was going to say, well, fuck it!" and she she held my
head firmly in place.

She was hot, wet, vocal, and very responsive. Darting my

tongue in and out of her cunt and around her lips, I was as eager to please as
I had ever been. In moments, feeling she was ready for it, I thrust two fingers
into her and pressed at her g-spot. With my free hand I reached up and grasped
one of breasts. "Oh, fuck yes," she moaned, "lick me!" Her
moans and words guided me to the things she liked, nibbles on her lips, sucking
on her clit, all of which I did with abandon. It had been almost three months
since the last time I had sex, and I wasn't about to let this opportunity get
away. I attacked her cunt with passion, hungry for her moans and words.

A long string of "Um, yes, Um, fuck! Um, oh my

god!" poured out of her and I kept up my efforts. Then, within only a
couple of minutes she sat up, grabbed two handfuls of my hair and pressed my
face hard into her cunt. "Fuck! I'm coming!" Hearing that, I tried to
keep my efforts steady with what had got her there, strongly rubbing her g-spot
with her clit firmly between my lips and teeth. Ten, fifteen seconds went by,
and then she let loose of me and sagged back onto the table. "Very, very
nice Mr. Jeffries."

To be continued

By PtmcPilot for Literotica

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