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Summary: A job interview leads to sex and swapping for Jennifer

Author’s note: Perhaps a long note for the length of the story, but I’m going to indulge myself! If you’ve read any of my stories, it can’t have escaped your attention that I’m a writer who finds the concept of clothes swapping to be very sexy. I always have, and I don’t know why – something about the idea of wearing somebody else’s clothes is so very hot. You can see it in The New Housemate, High-Class Hooker, The Bitch and the Butch, and more – clothes very much maketh the woman.

I’ve searched for stories to satisfy this particular fetish, and I’ve found some good ones, but not nearly as many as I’d like (isn’t that always the way?). One of the tales I happened upon is called Dress For Less, by sig on the BDSM Library – I greatly enjoyed it (and recommend it if you’ve similar tastes to me), but I thought that more could be done with the general idea (potentially, thinking of a clothes swap scenario that’s not just the lead character assaulting women in toilets!). And so, here’s my spin on a clothes swap tale with more than a little sex thrown in for good measure.

This is less a story – it’s more of a scene, I think – just my attempt to get this idea on paper (as it were), so I don’t know if you’ll find it particularly satisfying. If there’s interest, I’ll probably continue with it at some point – let me know down below if you want me to come up with a few more scenes for Jennifer and Chelsea. Or, if not, hopefully you at least enjoy this one!

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Dress for the Job You Want

Jennifer Nicholson tapped her office desk with a pen as she looked at her watch, ready for her next appointment – the job candidate. Still a few minutes to go, so she leant back in her comfy swivel chair and smiled to herself as she reflected on her own job.

Jennifer was a senior HR manager, but senior in job role only. She was young, barely nearing thirty, and she looked incredible. She was model-esque, with long black hair cascading down her back and an easy smile on a face that barely needed makeup. She was always very careful to apply it, though, and she always boasted some red lipstick that was calculated to sit between professional and open.

She always dressed well – as Jennifer always said, you could tell a lot about a person from their outfit, and she wanted people to know that she was here for business.

Customary, she’d opt for a business suit – blouse, trousers, a blazer, some heels. It was a classic look, and one that she knew she rocked. Today, however, she fancied something different, and so she’d gone with one of her dresses – she didn’t wear them to the office too often, largely because she turned too many heads, but she felt like it this morning.

This dress was a professional one – a pencil dress, dark blue with a faint white stripe pattern, snug on her body and coming down to just below her knees. The neckline was respectable (this was the office, after all), but plunging enough to draw attention to her breasts. The fit emphasised her breasts and her pert behind, but in a way that felt entirely appropriate.

Finding outfits like that was difficult, she’d reflected, but she had a wardrobe full of quality clothing now.

A dress like that didn’t need much else, and Jennifer understood that. She wore a silver necklace and nothing else, save for the matching blue stiletto heels that adorned her perfectly-manicured feet.

She looked at the wall clock again. Hers was a largely empty office – a desk, chair and computer from her, a few chairs and a sofa for her guests, and some plants, artwork and clock for decoration. A large window behind her desk, looking out over the city, illuminated the room. Jennifer generally tried not to be in the office – as she saw it, her job was better served if she was out, dealing with people, so she saw no need to go all out in shaping the room.

But there were some occasions when she had to be here, and job interviews were one of them. It was time, she thought, and she hadn’t yet heard a knock to announce any arrivals – she got to her feet, and went to check outside.

Jennifer opened the door to her office, and looked around. There was only one person there – she presumed that this was the candidate for the job, but she certainly didn’t look like it.

The young woman was now slumped in the chair on her phone, sending a message without a care in the world. And she’d clearly dressed without a care in the world either.

She hadn’t even noticed that Jennifer was standing there as she tapped on her phone, giving the older woman the perfect opportunity to observe her.

She was young (Jennifer knew from the application that she was 22), and she was pretty, Jennifer noticed – nothing special, but certainly pretty. She had blonde hair, pulled back into a casual ponytail, with deep red lipstick. She was dressed casually – on her top, an open plaid shirt covered a black camisole top. On her legs, she wore a pair Taksim travesti of fitting blue jeans, ripped open at the front in multiple places, and a pair of well-worn black vans.

It was a nice outfit, Jennifer admitted that much to herself – perhaps a little scruffy, but nice – but it was hardly an appropriate outfit for a job in a tax office.

The moment she saw the outfit, Jennifer had already mentally decided that she was not going to get the job. But still, she’d come into the office for an interview – the least the HR manager could do was give her a little time.

Who knows, she thought – maybe she’ll surprise me?

Her phone rang, and she took it.

“Hiya… no, I can’t talk at the moment… I told you, there’s this job that I really want, and I’m going for an interview…”

Jennifer didn’t want to eavesdrop – she left her alone, expecting the girl would hang up shortly. She gave it a minute, waiting for the sound of talking to die down, and then exited the office once again.

“Chelsea Stewart?”

She looked up.

“You ready to see me?”

Jennifer was a little taken aback by how forthright the girl was. She was sitting so casually, so relaxed, that Jennifer had just assumed her demeanour would be the same – far from it. She liked confidence in an applicant, even if she’d already decided against her.

“Yes,” she realised she was standing in silence for just a little too long, “yes, that’s right. Will you come into my office, please?”

Chelsea smiled, and got to her feet. She wandered up to Jennifer and stood, just a little too close seemingly without realising it was too close, and looked at her: “Lead the way.”

Jennifer didn’t appreciate how familiar the girl was, but she was a little flustered at her decision to stand so close. There were men in the office that didn’t dare come so close, and she’d know them for ages – Chelsea, it seemed, wasn’t interested in personal space. Another point against her, then.

Time to get this over with, she thought. It wasn’t worth fighting Chelsea over her familiarity, so she accepted the suggestion, and led the way into her office. Jennifer took her seat, and noticed that Chelsea was taking a long time to close the door. She wanted to say something – if the girl was struggling with something as easy as that, this was going to be a long interview.

Chelsea sauntered over to the chair opposite Jennifer and relaxed into it. She was so carefree, Jennifer almost felt a little twinge of jealousy – since she started working here, she hadn’t really had time to feel so blasé.

The girl’s CV was on her desk – she always had them to hand during job interviews – and she had a list of pre-prepared questions in mind. As always, she began with a friendly greeting, thanking the girl for coming in – their response was normally a good indicator of whether they’d be a good fit at the firm.

“Thank you for coming in today, Miss Stewart,” Jennifer said, to which Chelsea simply smirked a little in response. “I’m Jennifer Nicholson, and I’ll be conducting this interview today. It’s nothing to worry about – it’s just a chance to get to know you a little, and see if you can bring anything to the team.”

“Okay, Jennifer,” she smiled back, “let’s get on with it. I’d love to get to know you a little bit too.”

Jennifer didn’t like how familiar the girl was – let’s get this underway, she thought, so I can get it over with.

“Why did you apply for this role?”

She flashed Jennifer a smile before answering – the HR manager wasn’t overly impressed with her dress sense, but she did at least admire the girl’s positivity. Not enough to hire her, of course, but a little bit.

“It’s time for me to start a new phase of my life, Jennifer. I want to work somewhere new, somewhere respectable – I want to be a professional businesswoman. The kind that looks like you.”

Jennifer appreciated the flattery, but it wasn’t going to sway her. The amount of people who thought that a compliment or two would net them a job – it was a novelty for a woman to try it so early, though.

“I’ve been looking over your CV, Miss Stewart, and your skills don’t really line up with this role. I don’t know many of the places you’ve listed for employment, but you mention one instance of client service. Somewhere called Belmondo’s?”

“Oh yes,” Chelsea seemed delighted to be asked about it. “Yeah, I wrote client service, but it’s kind of a codeword, you see. Basically, I was a whore.”

Jennifer’s eyebrows raised, uncertain if she’d heard correctly: “I’m sorry?”

“I was a slut, a hooker – you get it, Jennifer? I’d dance on stage and, if a man wanted to pay for a private dance, he could have one. And if he wanted to pay a lot more for a quick fuck, who am I to argue, right? Client service, you see – give the customer what they want. And I was so good at it – here, have a look.”

The HR manager could only sit, speechless, as Chelsea leapt to her feet and began demonstrating her routine. It was so Taksim travestileri unexpected, her brain couldn’t even object. She was clothed, of course, but she moved her body as if she was wearing nothing at all. Jennifer had never been to a strip club or seen a prostitute – let alone a female one – but she was finding it hard to ignore quite how sexy the movements were, Chelsea raising her arms in the air and gyrating her hips suggestively. Jennifer nearly felt her jaw fall as Chelsea concluded with a slut drop, right here in her office, and then sat back in the chair as if nothing had happened.

It was out of nowhere, and it was so unprofessional, but a little tingle between Jennifer’s legs told her she wouldn’t have minded seeing a little more.

Jennifer was flustered, imagining Chelsea at her old job, doing the dance onstage: “I see. But, if that’s not an actual service job, what specific experience do you bring to the receptionist position?”

Chelsea smirked, and leant back in the chair. She crossed her arms, and opened her legs, as she spoke. Jennifer tried not to look at the girl’s body as she drew attention to it, but after that display, she couldn’t help herself.

“In a role like this, there’s two things you need, Jennifer – organisation and people skills. You’ve got my CV – you can see how organised I am, and how I can plan three steps ahead to get what I want. I’m proactive, Jennifer – I know what I need to do, and I plan to do it.

“As for people skills, you’ve got to be able to read people, and know what they want. People will come at you with requests, and you need to point them in the right direction. And, if they’ve got desires they don’t even know about, you can help deal with those too.”

“Sorry, what exactly do you mean by that?” Jennifer was caught a little off guard by the unusual answer.

“Well, it’s probably best if I explain with an example.” She thought for a moment, and then appeared to be struck by the woman opposite her. “Let’s think about you, Jennifer.”

Jennifer wasn’t particularly keen on the idea, but she leant back a little in her chair, intrigued.

“If I worked here, and I was your receptionist, I’d get to know you, and I’d learn what you liked. And, of course, I’d start to figure out what you needed even before you knew, so I could be the perfect receptionist. I’ve only known you a few minutes, but I’ll do my best.

“You’re young, and already a manager – you dress beautifully, so you care about your job and making a good impression. You’re in HR, but there’s nothing in your office, so you like being with people, but people at your job. This is your life, right? Yeah, I thought it was – so I’m guessing there’s no-one at home.” Chelsea saw it in Jennifer’s face.

“I thought so – so that means you’re probably not getting any action, right? Unless you’ve got a few toys at home, maybe?”

Again, she saw the answer in Jennifer’s face – the HR manager was stunned by what Chelsea was saying, but intrigued enough not to stop the wholly inappropriate line of conversation.

“Well, it’s easy, then – you’d want me to help you deal with everything at the office, and I’d make sure you were getting fucked good and hard at home. Yes, I could definitely help you with that…”

Jennifer went to ask another question, but she was suddenly hit by what was going on here. And the realisation sunk in her stomach like a stone.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

She was employed to read a room and understand people, and yet she’d taken a long time to get it. A painfully long time. She couldn’t believe she’d taken so long to figure it out, but it was clear as anything now. Chelsea was flirting with her. Was this her strategy to get the job, Jennifer wondered? If so, she wasn’t going to have much success – Jennifer wasn’t interested in women, not one bit. No, she had her eye on James from accounts – he was hot, and she thought that he was interested in her. No, not interested in girls, not at all.

And yet, she couldn’t deny that Chelsea’s attention was flustering her just a little bit.

But why was it?

As she thought and struggled to form any words, Chelsea continued.

“Yes, I can see the way your eyes flickered there, Jennifer. You’re confused, right – you’ve never thought about it before, right, but now you can’t help it. You’re thinking about what it would be like to kiss a woman, or to fuck a woman, or – well, let’s not fuck about, right. You’re thinking about what it would be like to fuck me, aren’t you?”

Jennifer wasn’t, but the moment Chelsea said that, how could the thought not be in her mind? She’d never thought about that, honestly never, but Chelsea had succeeded in planting the seed. Now, sitting there, leaning back with her legs open, Jennifer couldn’t help but see it almost as an invitation – did Chelsea know what her pose was implying, as her blue jean-covered legs seemed to scream out for something between them?

Jennifer had never thought in that way, but she was a woman, Travesti taksim and she knew what women liked. She’d had guys eat her out before – she loved the feeling of a lover licking her pussy, and her holding their head as she came all over their face.

But now, as she found herself looking at Chelsea’s crotch without even meaning to, she was imagining what it may be like to be on the other end…

“Did you just lick your lips, Jennifer?” Chelsea smirked.

She didn’t even realise, but she might have done. She couldn’t deny that there was something building inside her now, a craving that was small but definitely there.

Chelsea smiled at her. She reached across the table, and placed her hand on Jennifer’s. She did it so casually, as if not even thinking about it, but Jennifer noticed and she felt something. It was like a surge of electricity ran through her body. It was silly – she should have withdrawn her hand, or told Chelsea to remove hers, but she just… well, she didn’t.

She didn’t know why, but she didn’t seem to want to.

“You look tense,” Chelsea fluttered her eyelashes at Jennifer, who felt her mouth run dry. “I can help with that, Jennifer.”

Jennifer could barely bring herself to ask: “How?”

“I’ve done some massages in the past – let me get my hands on you, and you’ll feel like a new woman.”

Jennifer could believe that, she really could. But this was so inappropriate, so far beyond the bounds of what should be happening, and she had to stop it. She knew that, she really did – but somehow, she couldn’t find the words in her mind. The beating of her heart as Chelsea smirked at her drowned out any other thoughts.

Chelsea seemed to read her mind, to some extent at least.

“Don’t worry, Jennifer. I’ve locked the door – no-one is going to bother us while we unwind.”

The way she said that, Jennifer almost melted in her seat. Chelsea had taken full charge now – whatever she wanted, it was going to happen, Jennifer knew that.

Chelsea got up from her seat, and wandered around Jennifer’s seat, towards the HR manager. But, as she walked, she kept her hand on top of Jennifer’s, Chelsea’s fingers gently tracing the back of her hand as she moved. There was no pressure whatsoever, but somehow, Jennifer felt pinned to her chair, unable to move as Chelsea came closer.

Maybe because she wanted her too.

And soon, Chelsea was standing behind her. Her hands were on Jennifer’s shoulders, but the businesswoman would have known she was there. She could feel her – she could feel the warmth of her body.

Chelsea started gently massaging Jennifer’s shoulders, and she groaned in pleasure at the younger woman’s delicate touch.

“It takes a woman to know what a woman wants, Jennifer,” Chelsea whispered in her ear. “I know what you want, Jennifer, and I’m going to give it to you.”

Jennifer bit her lip and tried to stifle a little moan of pleasure. She thought she managed – Chelsea thought otherwise, and was pleased to see that she’d made an impression. She continued the massage, but exerted a little pressure to start to swivel the chair around, towards her. Jennifer could feel the movement, and felt her heart rate increase the closer she got to this woman.

Chelsea let go, turning the chair until she was face to face with the HR manager. She leant forward, until their faces were almost touching – Jennifer could feel the heat of the other girl’s body on her reddening cheeks, her every careful breath seeming to strike Jennifer with the force of a gale.

“Are you ready?” Chelsea smirked.

Jennifer didn’t need to answer. Within moments, their lips were touching. More than touching – Jennifer was kissing her, desperately. Now the tension had been broken, she couldn’t get enough – she was loving the taste of Chelsea’s lips on hers, and the feeling of Chelsea’s tongue in her mouth as she completely took charge.

She’d always seen herself as a dominant lover but, in Chelsea’s hands, she was like putty, ready to be played with.

Needing to be played with.

Chelsea seemed to read her mind – as Jennifer melted into the kiss, she felt hands on her breasts, initially massaging them and then getting rougher, teasing her tits and exciting her in the process.

As they kissed, Chelsea brought her hands away and started removing her top. She broke away from Jennifer and flung the plaid shirt to one side.

“Come on,” she said as she started to raise her camisole over her top, “I can’t fuck you fully dressed, can I?”

For a moment, she almost listened to that little voice in her head that might have smacked some sense into her. What’s going on, it screamed. How can you even be thinking of doing this – and at work of all places? She knew that it was a bad idea, of course it was, but she didn’t care at this moment – only one thing counted, and that was what she wanted.

And what she wanted at this moment was Chelsea.

She kicked off her heels, and fiddled with her dress – she needed to get it off, but she wasn’t going to rip clothing of this quality. She lifted it over her head and threw it to one side as she watched Chelsea step out of her shoes and peel her jeans off. She wore plain white underwear, cheap-looking in comparison to Jennifer’s, but Jennifer certainly didn’t care about that.

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