Company Mandated Stress Relief

"My office, NOW!" growled my boss from the hall outside my door.

I'd fucked up royally this time.

"Close the door, Jenkins," he demanded as I slunk into the room behind him. My tie suddenly felt very tight around my neck. "And sit down for God's sake."

I gulped and complied with the order. The old hard ass sat across the heavy desk and stared at me.

"Well?" he said, holding his hands out like he was ready to receive my excuse physically. "What the fuck's going on with you, huh? What's this I hear about another Intern taking a half day? Eh? Or poor Melissa? Huh? Why am I signing expense forms to have flowers sent to her house? Start fuckin' talking, kid, and make it *real* good now, because I'm not in any mood for some bullshit excuses here!"

"I just, uh, I...I just..."

"Jesus H. Christ kid, you're a mess! And I can't afford for you to be messy! Not now!" The old blowhard's craggy face softened somewhat as he huffed through his nose. "Look, I know you're not a bad guy, but we really, really can't be having you losing your cool around here, you know?"

"I know. I do - I...I know it."

"Yeah? Then what the fuck, huh? Half the staff think you're a loose cannon, and I won't always be around here to cover for you, will I?"

"No," I replied miserably.

"Will I?" he insisted.

"No, sir."

"No, I won't." He smeared a handkerchief across his sweaty brow. "So what are we gonna do about this, eh?"

I inspected my shoes.

"Work with me here, kid, come on!" He pleaded. He wasn't such a bad guy, really.

"I've just been, I don't know...a little on edge."

"On edge? You made a co-op student throw up because he was crying so hard! His mom had to come get him, Jenkins! His mom!"

"Yeah..."

Cooper took a sip of his coffee to steady his rising ire again, not looking at me for a long minute.

"Anything you need to tell me? Anything at all, no shame. If you got things at home that you're bringing to work with you, we can figure that out, okay? You're my best guy, and I'd hate to let HR at ya, but I can't help you if you don't let me. So, come on; what is it, eh? A girl? You got a girl giving you grief?"

"No sir, there's no girl. I...I live alone."

"No girl! Oh Christ kid, that's worse! That's way worse! No wonder you're wound up tighter than a honey badger's asshole!"

"Is that a saying, sir?"

"It is now!" he said, reaching across his desk to paw at the antique call button. "Margaret? Maggie, are you there?"

"Yes Mr. Cooper, what can I do for you?" came her tinny reply.

"Maggy, yeah, get RightLife on the phone; have them send one of their people over right away."

"Sure thing Mr. Cooper! Is this for you?"

"Hell no, Maggie, come on now; it's for Jenkins!"

"I don't think Mr. Jenkins' plan will cover that..."

"Then get him a better plan!"

"Right away, sir!"

Cooper leaned his bulk back into his chair heavily, crossing fat fingers across his gut with a look of deep satisfaction, like he'd just solved a problem that nobody else could have. "Why don't you go take a long lunch, eh? I'm sure they'll have someone here by the time you get back?"

I nodded and mumbled my thanks before rising to leave.

*******

Returning from a half hour of scarfing a burrito alone in my car, I forced myself to make an effort to smile at the few people I passed through the office; I needed to do some damage control, if only so Cooper wouldn't throw me to the wolves in HR.

"Happy Friday, Janet!" I said in what I hoped would pass for genuine cheer as I walked through the lobby.

"Are you sick or something?" the front desk girl asked in disgust before returning to an inspection of her manicured nails.

"Haha, good one!" I said with barely restrained contempt, "Sick of this work week, am I right?"

"Eat a dick, asshole," she mumbled when I was almost out of earshot. It was a good try.

"Darrin, my man; big plans this weekend?" I tried with my rotund colleague at the watercooler closest to my office.

"What?" he asked, spilling the small paper cone on his pants nervously, "no, I mean, uh..."

"Nice, nice man, sounds awesome," I replied indifferently, not having listened for his answer. I pushed through to my little office, closing the door behind me.

"Hello!" said a sprightly redheaded woman from the corner of the room.

"Jesus fuck!" I replied with a start, "Sorry! You scared me. Uhh...did someone let you in here?"

"Oh heavens!" she giggled animatedly, "I'm sorry! I'm Alex! From RightLife?"

The little woman held out a hand, which I shook skeptically. She was dressed suitably enough for the setting; an expensive looking white button-up blouse with long sleeves and a black pencil skirt that left her calves on glorious display. Nothing seemed amiss, even if the skirt was a *shade* shorter and the heels a *touch* higher than other women might have gone for at work. I wasn't complaining; she had a tremendous body, with squishy bits that were very nearly disproportional for her otherwise slender frame. None of that even stacked up to her cherubic face, with ripe little cheeks that I wanted to take a freckled bite out of, and a wide, warm smile to match.

"Okay, okay cool; I'm Andy." She pinned me in place with an tourmaline stare that made me forget all about letting go of her hand until she glanced away; her eyes were so very green. "Sorry," I muttered again, "Do you want to take a seat and we can, uh, get started...or whatever? Can I get you anything? Tea? A coffee?"

"Oh no," she said cheerfully, "I'm okay, thank you! Where should I be?"

I squinted at her incomprehensively; aside from my chair, the only other one in the room was on the other side of the desk. "Yeah, just...in the chair? There?"

"Great!" she said, brushing past me to take the seat. I did likewise across from her.

"So, how does this work then? Do you start, or do I need to? What's the, uh, the deal?"

"Well," she began with a patient smile, "what do you prefer, Andy?" I struggled to fathom how someone could sound so bubbly and calm at the same time. It was like having a busty kindergarten teacher explain to me that I couldn't eat crayons while handing me cotton candy instead.

"Whatever is best? I guess? I'm not sure. Why don't you start?"

"Sure, that sounds perfect!" That smile was killing me. "Without you then?" She fingered at the top button of her blouse, popping it open and moving to the next.

"Wait, hang on!" I stammered as she began work on her third button. The first two alone had already revealed a shocking amount of her pale cleavage. "What are you doing?"

She paused, confused, delicate fingers frozen in place. "I'm sorry Mr. Jenkins; what do you mean?"

"I thought this was, I don't know, anger management or something? You're taking your top off!"

With obvious relief, Alex laughed musically, slapping her hands to her lap but doing nothing to hide the deep valley between her freckled tits. "Oh gosh! Okay, alright; that one is on me! My mistake! I assumed you were familiar with what we do here."

I had never been more confused in all my life. "Is this...is this not anger management?"

"Well first of all," she explained with the patient grace of a maternal caretaker, "we don't like to use the word 'anger' in our line of work. We take a more holistic approach to behavioral adjustment that frames things like frustration and anxiety as being tied to the stresses that are common to many modern corporate employees." She finished her recitation by fixing me with a look as though she'd explained everything in perfect detail. I returned her gentle smile with slack-jawed ignorance.

Seconds stretched on as I struggle to comprehend.

"What?"

"Why, Mr. Jenkins," she continued, "I'm here to get you off, of course!" She sounded, for all the world, like she'd just said the most perfectly logical thing on earth.

"Get..me off?" I asked.

"Mhm!" she nodded, setting her high ponytail of ginger hair bobbing excitedly.

"Like...like you're here to fuck me?"

"If that's what you like!" She finished with a giggle. "Though it doesn't need to be intercourse if you'd prefer something different!"

I blinked at her slowly. There was no way. This had to be a joke. A prank. A ruse.

"You're fucking with me," I accused simply.

"Well," she chuckled sweetly, "not yet! But we can get there when we get there if you need some time!"

I held up a finger to imply that I was putting her on real-life hold and turned to my computer.

"Where did you say you were from?"

"RightLife Services!" she reported happily.

I googled the name while she sat there, pretty as a picture and entirely unbothered by my skepticism, or the fact that my eyes continued to seek out her plunging neckline. I clicked the first link in the queue and read aloud from the landing page.

"RightLife Services provides modern, engaging solutions for corporate or industrial workplaces in need of behavioral or cultural attunement and alignment. Our providers are industry leaders in stress relief techniques that blend traditional therapeutic approaches with discrete physical occupational therapy. Whether you require one on one interventions or team building excursions that the whole office can enjoy, we proudly accommodate parties of any size! Ask your customer service representative about our group rates today!"

I looked back at Alex, who had been vacantly peering around the room as I spoke, only to have her turn back and give a smiling nod of confirmation that everything was as advertised.

"You can find my profile there, on the left...yeah, click there. No, down. Yeah," she said, directing my cursor on the screen with an outstretched finger.

I navigated down a list of frustratingly unalphabetized names to find an incredibly LinkedIn-appropriate headshot of the buxom ginger woman seated across from me, and clicked the profile.

"Holy SHIT!" I yelped, slamming the laptop shut as a gallery of explicit, if shockingly tasteful, nudes began to fill the screen. Alex laughed melodically, but showed no outward signs of embarrassment.

"I told you, Mr. Jenkins; I wouldn't lie to you! Mr. Cooper's office called over and let us know that you were in need of some relief, so...here I am!"

"To relieve me?"

"Mhm!" Her spirited, perky enthusiasm had really begun to wear me down. "Does that sounds alright?"

"Yeah. I mean...Yeah! Okay. Okay, let's...let's do it!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but nor could I bear the thought of not seeing her naked for another minute.

"Great!" she squeaked, clapping her hands together with glee. "Shall I..." she pointed to her chest.

"Please do!" I replied.

Alex gave me an eager grin and got back to work on her buttons, slowly baring a plain nude-colored bra that had somehow managed to make her heavy tits look much more reasonable before she started stripping down. She pulled the ends of the blouse out of her skirt's waistband and made short work of the last few buttons; the top fell open to reveal the rest of her scrumptious torso, also dotted with adorable constellations of freckles and beauty spots. She pulled her arms out of the sleeves and let the thing drop to the floor before scooching her butt forward in the chair and leaning back, displaying herself beautifully. She trailed her fingertips from her hips up to her shoulders with a proud grin; she definitely knew what she was working with.

"Do you like?" she asked coyly, to which I could only nod in amazement. She treated me to a throaty chuckle, "So I should definitely continue then?" I nodded again, eagerly.

She rose to her feet smoothly, her relative nakedness making her seem taller than she really was; rotating on the spot, she turned her head only once she could no longer maintain eye contact, and ran her hands up her thighs, ass, hips, and back, blooming luxuriously to stretch her arms above her head with a naughty little wiggle of her hips. I gulped hard.

My heart raced while I watched her reach back behind herself, head half turned to show the barest corner of a mischievous smile; she found the tiny black pull of her skirt's zipper and started to tug with a glacial lack of urgency. She was clearly not paid by the hour. The zipper parted, inch by inch, revealing a nearly perfect heart-shaped ass that made my mouth water. The transparent back of her barely-there panties almost offended me just by daring to lay against her flawless skin.

She wiggled her hips with a practiced shimmy and the skirt fell to the ground irrelevantly. I was stunned into further speechlessness when she turned back to face me, which had little to do with my enjoyment of her near-nudity; without a word, she climbed atop the desk and leaned across to plant a flirty kiss on my open mouth.

"Well, sir," she purred in a tone entirely at odds with her usual bubbly notes, "do you like anything you see?" She swung her legs over the desktop and, before I could register what she was doing, planted her feet on either side me where I sat in my chair, spreading her knees wide and continuing to trail her hands over her body. My heart thundered in my chest as I stared between her legs until I was sure I'd combust.

My mouth was far too dry to answer, but the raging lump of restrained erection in my trousers did a fine job of replying for me.

"My, my! Look at you!" A finger placed at the edge of her mouth and a well-rehearsed nibble of her bottom lip tipped me over the edge of desperation. "Come here, handsome!"

I made no effort to resist, obviously, as she reached out with open arms and pulled me into a smothering embrace, cramming my face between her pillowy tits with a riotous laugh that sounded like music in my ears. Her shoulders rocked back and forth as she smeared herself against me, and I begged the good Lord to let me die there, happily.

As abruptly as the smothering clutch had begun, she pushed me backwards into my seat with a hearty laugh, still palming my head in both hands. Professional or not, the look she gave me from up on her perch felt authentically affectionate. She was good.

"And have you decided what you'll be having then, sir? Maybe my hands?" She offered, popping a finger into my mouth, "Or...maybe my mouth?" Her tongue traced a ponderous lap of her full lips before she blew me an exaggerated kiss. "Or maybe you see something else you might care for?" She giggled softly as she shimmied her shoulders, offering her chest to me once again.

I had, by then, a white-knuckle clutch on the arms of my chair; it was all I could do not to burst from the effort of trying to sort out where I wanted my hands on her first. Mistaking the claw-like hold and strained look on my face for the rage that she was apparently there to cure, Alex felt compelled to make up my mind for me and did so decisively.

"Oh gosh!" she exclaimed, "Stand up! Up, up, up! Now, mister!" I did as I was told without a second thought, and was roughly spun away from her, still seated on the edge of my desk. She pulled me backwards until I could feel her pressed against my back, and I had no time to react before I realized she'd reached around and undone my belt, loosed my fly, and was fishing my cock out. "We need to get this out, NOW!"

"What are you...OH!" I stammered, as she began working my engorged cock in soft hands from behind me. Her left arm held me fast to her while her right hand stroked and stroked, and I looked down in renewed disbelief to see her legs wrapped around my knees, crossed at the ankles.

"Pump, pump, pump," she cooed sweetly into my back, "this feels like a beautiful cock Mr. Jenkins; I can hardly close my fingers around the whole thing!"

"Fuck..." I breathed, watching the disembodied hand work me up and down, up and down. She let go for a moment only, snaking the hand backward and spitting into it loudly before resuming her devious work. My legs twitched when she resumed, and I reached down to her thighs to steady myself.

"That's it, Mr. Jenkins," she said reassuringly, "you just hang onto my nice, thick, milky thighs while we work this big sticky load out, okay?"

"Okay..."

"You just let me take care of your big, fat cock and we'll have you feeling better in no time at all!"

"Yep..." I said through clenched teeth, fighting for breath.

"And when you feel like you're ready, just go ahead and shoot your cum all over, okay? Okay, Mr. Jenkins? Mr. Jenkins?"

I was already there.

"Oh my! Mr. Jenkins, yes!" she exclaimed, realizing without seeing that I had begun to unlimber myself violently all over the floor, corner of the chair, my own shoes, and her heavenly digits. "Pump, pump, pump! Just keep cumming, just keep cumming!" she sang, "you're doing so good for me, sir!"

My eyes were screwed shut tightly, and every muscle in my body was busy in making a mess of the room or fighting to keep me upright, but eventually everything came back into focus. Alex's hand slowed to a sticky stop, and I realized that she was rubbing my chest and shushing me softly, cheek pressed between my shoulder blades, as though trying to calm an upset child. Chest heaving, I started to catch my breath, and Alex spoke after a few minutes of the soothing embrace.

"Is that a little better?" she asked gently.

"Much better," I said, meaning it wholeheartedly, and turning to face her. "Can...can I get you something to clean off?"

"Oh I'm alright!" she said, stunning me entirely by popping a gooey finger into her mouth and sucking it clean. "I have some supplies in my bag; I'll take care of the rest!" Her angelic little smile was very nearly proud, as though she took real pride in her work. She hopped down off the desk and bade me to sit while she produced a roll of paper towel and got to work on removing evidence of my genetic material from the room, all without redressing herself.

At length, and after bending over generously for me far more than was remotely necessary, she retrieved her clothes and began pulling them on.

"Is that...it then?" I asked, disappointed to realize that my time in her company might be drawing to a close. "Are you leaving now? How does this part work?"

"Well," she said with a playful grin, like she'd caught me in the cookie jar but couldn't bring herself to be cross with me, "that will be all for today, but the course of sessions will continue for as long as it needs to, so you'll see me back here tomorrow, first thing!"

"Okay! Okay, great!" This was wonderful news.

"We need to start working on your coping skills, and your conflict resolution strategies; Mr. Cooper was quite clear that this is a high-priority matter."

"Do you make house calls?" I asked, only halfway in jest.

"Goodnight, Mr. Jenkins," she said with a chuckle, opening the door to leave, "I'll see you in the morning."

*******

"Good morning, Andy!" Alex exclaimed, bright eyed and bushy tailed at 8:58am the next morning, already waiting for me in the office. She wore much the same thing as the day before, changing only the cut and color of her top.

"You're here early," I remarked sleepily. It had been a long night of self-abuse while browsing the "Ginger" category on SmutHub. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm okay, thank you!" she replied with cheer. "What does your day look like today? We would be smart to align your relief with anything that might be trigger your frustration."

I checked my calendar after sliding into my seat. "Accounts is sending someone down in like two minutes for a meeting, and then some little stuff throughout the day. I'm actually a little light."

"Perfect!" she squeaked, "that will do nicely!"

Knowing better than the get in Alex's way, I could only watch as she came around my side of the large desk, waving her hand to beckon me to wheel myself backward, and crawled under the obscured cavity.

"Now you just..." she gripped at my ankles and pulled, urging me to roll back into place. "Perfect!"