Summary: Brittany has a job interview, and Santana helps her prepare.
Brittany pushes back a few stray wisps of blonde hair carried by the brisk December air. Her bright blue eyes glance down at the paper in her hand for the 20th time to make sure she has the right address. Quickly, she does a mental check in front of the large, double glass doors to the building. She's wearing a simple but elegant black dress which accentuates her long, toned legs. Her blonde hair is pulled back around the crown of her head into a perfect, stylish high bun. Without a doubt, the most striking part of her appearance is her bright blue eyes, popping with help from subtly applied eyeliner and a light shade of shimmering blue eyeshadow.
Her heels make small clicks on the floor as she crosses the lobby. For a busy district in the middle of the city, there seems to be no one present. There should be people walking in and out and waiting for the elevators, but Brittany sees no one. Feeling slightly unnerved, she licks her bottom lip out of nervous habit. The security guard at the main desk glances up at her with apathetic eyes.
This interview should be a snap. The project director all but said they would take her right away, then quickly explained they only needed to go through the formal interview process first. Brittany had agreed right away, thinking the interview would be on site with the director of the clinic, but then he said something about having to interview at corporate. Who does that? It seems unnecessary to send her all the way into the heart of downtown to take an interview with some bigshot in a big office with the perfect view of the city, just to determine if she can work with animals.
Trying to remain confident in her own qualifications and ability to wow anyone, Brittany approaches the security desk. The older man raises a disinterested eyebrow in her direction before tapping on the guest sign-in sheet. She nods with a gracious smile, then takes the pen to quickly scribble Brittany S. Pierce.
The security guard takes the pad back, then takes entirely too long to read her name. Feeling under pressure to provide a reason for her presence, Brittany hands over a card with directions, a time, and a floor number on the back. "I was told to show you this card?"
"Yeah, I see it." He reaches under his desk and pulls out a plastic badge attached to a lanyard. "Here's your guest badge. You'll need it to go up and down the elevators. Take it to floor 71, then go left down the corridor."
"Thanks," Brittany says.
When she reaches the 71st floor, she turns left as instructed, then notes the door number written on the back of the business card. It just says "Last Office on the Left." Once again, the clicking of her heels is the only noise in the office suite, and it seems like every office is abandoned or empty. At the last office, she draws in a deep breath and checks herself over once more. Despite telling herself that she'll do well, Brittany still feels butterflies in her stomach. It has been a long time since she's done an interview, and she's never done one so formal.
No more stalling. Brittany knocks on the door. No one answers. With an exasperated sigh, she considers the notion that she has been punked into coming to this empty building for nothing. To make sure, she turns the knob of the door and pushes it open. Peeking her head in, she calls out, "Hello? Is anyone here? I'm here for an interview."
"Ah, Miss Pierce. Please come in and take a seat," a low and velvety voice rings through the office, power and compulsion underlying the tone.
Gulping, Brittany pushes the door open completely and takes a step in. A lone light sheds the softest of illumination into the room. There are a few chairs set up next to a bookshelf and picture frames leaning against the half-painted walls. In the center of the office is a rather large business desk and a chair facing the window. Due to the lack of light, Brittany can hardly tell who is addressing her.
"Sorry for just letting myself in, but I didn't hear anyone when I knocked, so I just thought I should open the door," Brittany says, taking an uneasy step toward the center of the room.
"Take a seat, Miss Pierce." The figure still hasn't turned around. It is incredibly unnerving.
"Am I…am I in the right place?"
"Oh, yes. You most certainly are in the right place," the voice responds as Brittany finally lowers herself to the seat in front of the desk. Her long legs naturally tuck underneath at the ankle, and she drops her briefcase to the floor.
Finally, the chair spins around slowly to reveal the most beautiful woman Brittany has ever seen. Long, dark tresses hang wavy around her face. She has a perfect complexion, plump lips painted a shocking red, and eyes dark enough to hold all secrets. Never has Brittany seen a woman who can pull off a power suit in the way this woman currently is. She exudes the perfect amount of confidence, while the material flatters all her curves — and Brittany can definitely see that she has curves.
The mystery woman smiles, then asks, "Your name is Brittany Pierce, yes?"
And Brittany completely forgets her name.
The woman winks at her as if that will help jog her memory. It doesn't.
"Well, Miss Pierce…since I can only assume that's your name for now." She slaps a folder down onto her desk and begins to leaf through the pages. Apparently, whatever she's reading is very interesting. Brittany watches as she pauses at certain pages longer than others. Finally, she looks back up to Brittany and runs her tongue across her luscious bottom lip. "You come highly recommended as the type of worker who never gives up, likes a challenge, and will do anything to please her superiors. Is that accurate? Would you say that you, Miss Pierce, would do anything to please your boss?"
Brittany almost physically gulps as the woman raises an eyebrow at her. Perhaps it's the way she arches her brow or the not-so-subtle lick of her lips, but Brittany feels a shudder violently rip through her body. She tries to diminish the sensation by squeezing her legs together, but only succeeds in rubbing her inner thighs closer together. "Y-yes, I think that's all true."
"Good." The woman stands up from her chair, and Brittany watches the way her fingers linger on the wood surface. They dance and move along the grain of the wood.
Why is she being so strange about this interview? She needs to pull herself together so she can nail it.
Suddenly, Brittany realizes that she's lost sight of the woman. A second later, short manicured nails drag along her shoulder blades from behind, and Brittany almost jumps out of her skin at the contact. She shuts her eyes tight, trying to concentrate. She wants this job so bad. "What's…what can I call you?"
"Ma'am. Boss. Whatever you think is appropriate." She leans in close, and Brittany feels her hot breath on the nape of her neck. All her hair stands up, and Brittany tries once again to subtly rub out the feeling growing between her legs.
"So…does that mean I got the job, ma'am?" Brittany asks.
Soft, dark laughter caresses the topmost part of Brittany's ear as the woman leans in further. Her red lips are barely a fraction away from touching her. "We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"
Swallowing hard, Brittany bites her top lip as she nods enthusiastically. "I have my resume and my references." The blonde holds up a stack of paperwork for the other woman to take.
She does so, but only gives them a single cursory glance before tossing them to the desk. The brunette then spins Brittany's chair so they are face-to-face. "We'll get to those eventually. First, I want to see how you look with your hair down." The woman half sits on the edge of the large desk with her arms crossed, waiting for Brittany to take down her hair.
Feeling pressured, Brittany slowly begins to unwind the tight bun she wore to appear more professional for the interview. Maybe the woman wants to see what she looks like in order to ascertain if the animals will be okay with her? Somehow, Brittany doubts that is the reason.
The shorter woman gives her a smirk as long, blonde hair falls down from the top of her head. "Good. Now, I want you to lean back on that chair."
Brittany's breath hitches again at the command, but she obeys, slowly lowering her body backwards in the seat. This is definitely the strangest interview she has ever experienced. "Like this?"
"Good. You do listen incredibly well." The brunette lifts her body off the desk ledge and moves forward into the space between them. "Now, you're going to spread your legs, lift your hands above your head, and keep them there."
"What?" Stunned, Brittany almost jumps from the chair. But the woman throws her heel up, and it lands on the tiny lip of the chair between Brittany's legs. The pressure of her foot between her thighs and the way this woman is already dominating makes Brittany all but come. The blonde squeezes her legs together around the point of the designer shoe.
The boss-lady smirks as she realizes her interviewee is now attempting to rub herself off with her shoe. Her eyes glint as she digs the tip of her shoe even further up the chair so that Brittany is forced to spread her legs even further. "That's a good girl, Miss Pierce. Now, lift those beautiful arms above your head, and I'll give you the most thorough interview you've ever had in your life."
"Fuck." Her breath rattles at the come-on, and her hips lift from the leather seat as a short wave of pleasure pulses from her core. Their eyes lock. Unable to resist anything this woman is telling her to do, Brittany raises her arms over her head slowly. Hypersensitive to all touch from being so turned on, Brittany relishes the way the material of her sleeves drags, clumps, and folds at new angles as it readjusts to her fingers interlocking above her disheveled hair. Charged and feeling bolder as this woman continues to verbally dominate her, Brittany brazenly asks, "Good?"
"Hmm…poor language and communication skills. We may have a problem already, Miss Pierce." Despite her scolding, the woman winks at her as if Brittany's choice of words is completely appropriate. "We may have to see how good your problem-solving and hands-on skills are."
Brittany opens her mouth to ask what exactly that means, but her question is swiftly answered before she can vocalize it. The heel that was grinding so deliciously between her thighs suddenly kicks the chair. The sudden forceful motion rolls her chair backwards over the uncarpeted floor, until the back of the chair hits the wall with a thunk. Somehow, she manages to keep her arms above her head the entire time. Her bright blue eyes whip upwards to see the brunette strut confidently in her direction. Brittany feels a sense of accomplishment that she's been able to remain in relatively the same position this whole time, but the feeling swiftly turns into a twisting anxiety knotting deep in her core as she realizes how both incredibly sexy and predatory this woman looks.
"That is a decent start for direction-following. Now, let's see those problem-solving skills." The brunette once again closes the distance between them. She grasps tightly onto Brittany's wrists, effectively pinning them against the wall above her head. Startled, Brittany struggles for a moment, but stops at the dark look in those chocolate eyes. "I'm going to see if you're physically healthy enough for the demanding tasks our employees sometimes have to perform. However, I need to perform this test without any interference. I'll start by helping you out. I'll keep hold of your wrists for the first few tests, but then I will need both of my hands. And that's when you'll have to keep them above your head. I've found it sometimes helps to clasp them tightly or use the wall as leverage, but you'll just have to figure out an intuitive way to complete the task. Do we understand each other?"
The inside of Brittany's mouth is incredibly dry, and she can literally feel every word the woman speaks rippling through her body. Unable to completely form words, she settles for nodding her head.
Keeping a steady grip on her wrists, the woman leans even further over Brittany's body and slides seamlessly between her spread legs. For a split second, Brittany's chest hitches as she thinks her interviewer is about to kiss her, but the woman's lips graze right over her cheeks. "Uhf—" she moans as the brunette beauty bites down on her earlobe.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Pierce." Every single word the woman speaks rattles Brittany's body in new and exciting ways. All the hair on her neck is standing up, while her skin feels like it's on fire. Again, Brittany nods weakly, as if she has any choice in her cooperation. This time, the brunette kisses the corner of her lips. Her eyes remain locked to Brittany's as her free left hand wanders up Brittany's dress and plays with the shoulder strap. The thin black material inches down her toned shoulders and rolls until it catches on her bicep. Brittany feels incredibly vulnerable as this woman exposes her bare shoulder.
"You look like you work out, but I have a feeling you don't go to the gym," the woman whispers against the newly exposed and goosebumped flesh.
"No, I like to dance and run and—" Brittany's answer is abruptly cut off as the woman presses the softest of kisses to the top of her shoulder before playfully nipping her. Gasping, Brittany tries to squeeze her legs together, to no avail. The sharp and unexpected bite increases the growing pleasure building inside her, and while she loves the woman literally inserting her body between her legs, it also prevents Brittany from rubbing her thighs together. As if her potential boss senses the cause of Brittany's frustration, she flashes the blonde a devious smirk.
Another bite, this time lower and closer to her collarbone, sends Brittany moaning. Her head rolls back in the chair to hit the wall behind her. Instinctively, her arms jerk forward, hoping to catch the back of the woman's head. However, the strong grip around her wrists reminds her that she has to remain in this compromising position until she is released. Her desperation to move her arms catches her captor's attention. Once she's sure Brittany has stopped struggling, her boss cautiously releases her wrists. Confused, Brittany almost jumps for the other woman to pull her into a closer embrace.
Again, it seems she reads Brittany's mind as she pulls back and wags a scolding finger at her. "Tsk tsk, Miss Pierce. Remember, I need you to stay perfectly still for this portion of the test. It requires—" Her right hand drops to the back of Brittany's dress and deftly pulls the zipper down, while her other hand pulls down the straps on either side of the dress "—both hands."
The blonde squirms as her entire back arches from the chair. She just wants to press herself up against the other woman and encourage her to ravish her. Instead, she has to focus on trying to keep her blasted hands above her head. It is absolutely maddening. Sensing her dilemma, the Latina's fingers unhook Brittany's bra and push it above the rise of her perky tits. The brunette lowers her head to plant soft kisses along Brittany's defined collarbone and the valley between her breasts. Each kiss becomes bolder than the last. Finally, with a smirk, the woman licks Brittany's areola before sucking her already hard nipple.
Shocked and incredibly horny, Brittany gasps and lunges her hips forward in the chair so her groin rocks hard against the other woman. Her back arches at an angle only a dancer can achieve, and her hands scrape at the wall, trying to find purchase so her boss won't think she can't follow directions.
The woman's tongue circles and circles around the hard nub, sucking at different intervals to increase Brittany's stimulation and frustration. The blonde's hips are gyrating into the other woman's body, and the Latina responds by rocking with her. "Oh…oh!" Brittany moans every time the belt buckle on her pants rubs against her hypersensitive clit. "Please…please. I don't know how much longer I can do this," she confesses between pants.
"Come on, B. I know you've got more stamina than that, babe," Santana breaks character for the briefest of seconds to stare intensely into her lover's eyes. Those blue eyes she fell in love with back in high school connect with hers, and Santana feels a shudder of pleasure run the length of her body. Her hips rock back into Britt's with greater force. To really press the point home, she lightly bites and drags Britt's nipple out. The blonde moans again and nods vigorously, still keeping her hands above her head. San smirks and whispers between her tits, "Because I'm going to eat you out until you put marks in my newly painted walls."
At her lover's words, Brittany cries out and shuts her eyes as she unexpectedly comes at just the promise of further sexual excitement. As if on command, her nails dig into the wall behind her head. Despite the release, she can already feel her body tightening in anticipation of another wave of unrestrained pleasure.
Pleased to see that her interviewee is following her instructions, the woman eases off Brittany's lap and quickly pulls off her jacket, discarding it on the floor. She drops to her knees between Brittany's thighs, then glances up to see that the blonde is still panting from her orgasm, her eyes sealed shut.
Perfect.
The brunette's fingers toy with the hem of Brittany's dress for a few seconds. Then, not wanting to give the blonde any time to recover, she pulls the dress up to Brittany's hips, exposing her center.
"Oh fuck, you're soaking, Miss Pierce." Glistening wet spots have already formed on Brittany's black panties. The woman's nails scrape along the insides of Brittany's thighs. "Strong legs and healthy libido. I think you really are in quite excellent health." Her fingers run back up between Brittany's inner thighs, pushing them further apart. "And you're so flexible." Her pointer fingers hook around Brittany's panties, then quickly yank them down and fling them behind her head somewhere in the office.
"Fuck, B, you're so wet," Santana whispers, making sure every hot word brushes against her lover's pussy. She lowers her head to take a long lick between Brittany's pussy lips.
The blonde cries out and shakes in the chair. "San!" She no longer cares about calling her boss the correct name. Abandoning their game completely, she releases the wall and brings her hands down to the back of Santana's head. Her fingers thread through dark hair as she works her lover's face deeper and deeper into her dripping pussy. Unable to contain the noises coming from her mouth, Brittany wantonly moans every time Santana's tongue rubs her clit and dips into her soaking entrance. "Please! Please! I need you. Now!"
Santana's head emerges from her lover's thighs, a sheen of liquid covering her mouth and chin. A smirk plays on her lips at Brittany's pleas. She hikes a leg over Brittany and maneuvers her left hand into the space between them. The tip of her finger runs up and down Brittany's pussy before finally sliding inside.
Brittany's grip in her hair tightens as her head rolled back. "Fuck, more."
Eager to please, Santana quickly shoves another finger into her lover, rocking her fingers in and out with every gyration of Brittany's insatiable hips.
"S-San. San!"
The blonde comes again with a loud scream. Her body throbs to the point where she is unable to think, speak, or communicate anything except her lover's name. Over and over again, waves of ecstasy pass through her body. She comes for what feels like minutes, and vaguely, she registers that Santana's lips are over hers, because she is suddenly sharing every inhale with her wife's every exhale. The back of the chair continues to thump into the wall with every thrust.
After what seems like an eternity, Santana's body slumps onto hers, and the brunette rests her head right under Brittany's chin. Keeping her eyes closed, the blonde presses the softest of kisses to San's forehead. After a deep, fully satisfied breath, she asks, "Do you think I got the job?"
Santana snorts into the blonde's neck with a smile. "Yeah, I think you got it after your second orgasm and my first."
"Good, because I did put a lot of effort into it."
"Oh, I know you did, baby." Santana presses a soft kiss to her wife's neck. "I think this was great practice for your real interview tomorrow."
"I hope I nail it."
"I know you will, B. Just promise me you definitely won't do anything we practiced today. And…" Santana smirks. "I wouldn't wear the same outfit. I think this needs to go to the cleaner's first."
Brittany giggles and nods, then sighs contentedly, holding Santana close to her chest. Her bright blue eyes scan the interior of Santana's new office in the building her company had just bought out. It is the first office to be renovated, and she knows Kurt has been doing the interior design. "I love what Kurt's doing here."
"Ugh, the leather is going to look terrible."
"Yeah, but it definitely has some kinky possibilities."
Santana rolls her eyes, but can't deny that Brittany does have a point.