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How I ended up naked in a job interview.

She turned looked me right in the eyes and tugged at the legs of her shorts. It was my turn to blush. There was a wry smile on her lips as she led me into the room.

The master suite (too plush to be called anything less) was luxurious. The bathroom had a full size Jacuzzi tub, shower stall, double sinks and plenty of cabinet space. The bedroom proper had a king-size bed, walk-in closet, several dressers and a fully stocked bookshelf.

Monique noticed that my gaze lingered on the books and said, "I love to read in bed. "

"Me too, what kinds of stuff do you like?"

"I like to read all sorts, you can take a look at what I've got after we finish the tour if you'd like."

"Would you like to go down now?" she asked.

"By all means" I replied.

As we retraced our path to the stairs, I was starting to get a little nervous, my shorts were already bulging to the point were it was getting embarrassing, not to mention uncomfortable, but then again if her nipples got any harder the fabric of her bra was sure to fail, the thought of which didn't do my problem any good. Besides, from the looks I'd noticed she seemed to enjoy the state she had put me in.

We went down the stairs and resumed our tour in the kitchen. It was arranged in a utilitarian fashion, everything seemed to have its place. While we were in there, we decided to refill our glasses. She opened the refrigerator, to get the chilled water.

"Not a lot of food in there," I said, looking over her shoulder "but you seem to have a corner on the canned whipped cream market."

She said, "Everything is better with whipped cream on it."

"Everything?" I said.

She smiled and said "Well, maybe not everything, but I've been know to make a mean "Banana Split."

We finished our drinks and moved on to the dining room, in which there was a sturdy table, and buffet.

"I rarely use this room, I never have enough people over to warrant it," she said. With that she quickly ushered me into the living room. You could tell this was "her" room when we walked in, there was a comfortable looking couch, coffee table, small entertainment area, and books. At first glance it seemed that there were books everywhere. The room had a well lived-in look.

"Care to guess where I the do bulk of my reading?" she said, as she sat down on the couch motioning me to have a seat as well.

I sat down at the other end of the couch and we both turned to face the other. She had drawn up a knee for a more comfortable position. My eyes seemed to have a will of their own as they slid up her leg, and came to rest at the juncture of her thigh and shorts. When my mind caught up with my eyes I saw that I had a clear view of her panty-encased mound. Her panties had a transparency too them that peaked my desire to examine this vision closer, a few renegade curls peeked around the leg bands, and I could just make out the contours of her sex. I tore my gaze from that tasty view and looked up to her face. She had a somewhat glazed look on her face, but she wasn't looking at my eyes she was looking lower. I looked down; I had assumed the same sitting position.

"Well," I thought, "Do I reach down and cover myself?"

As this thought occurred to me, I saw her hand reach down toward her shorts, "So much for the view," I thought. I followed her hand down; she rested it on her thigh and slowly moved it up until she cupped herself through her underwear. She looked up at me, smiled and very deliberately slid her hand up while her eyes tracked down my hairless chest, crossed the boundary of my shorts and came to rest on my ever-increasing bulge. She then began to move her fingers across her panties, each movement alternately tightened and relaxed the thin cloth, exposing, covering, giving a quick peek and quickly hiding it.

My hand began to move toward my lengthening problem, Monique said, "Don't move, just watch."

I returned my gaze to her hand movements; she stopped, and moved to a more comfortable position, when her hand returned she

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