Whiteshadow bestiality stories.
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My eyes widened angrily. "This looks like official business, sir," the secretary said nervously. "Shall I send her in?" "Sure thing, sweet tits," Bootingaily said. "And bring us some coffee if you can. What color is your bra today?"
"No bra at all today, sir." "Just the way I like it!" Bootingaily said, and I was already on my speechless way down the hall. On the way to the office, I witnessed yet another horrendous sight. A man and woman in business attire were standing by a water cooler, chatting amicably about an upcoming conference in Boxmop Junction, while the woman absently stroked his jutting penis through his open fly. I blinked in an effort to make it go away but it was of no use. They smiled at me as I passed, as if nothing was wrong.
A tall man in his late thirties opened the door to a spacious and tastefully decorated interior office. "Hi, I'm Ted Bootingaily. Come in and have a seat. In the chair, on my face, wherever you'd like."
"Mr. Bootingaily!" I said. "I am Donna McTippit, a star reporter for the Tufton Flats Herald-Newsulationist. And I'm also a woman who is about to report you and this entire company to the highest court in the land for gross sexual harassment!"
Bootingaily frowned. "Oops. Forget I said that. Please, take the chair, let's discuss this all before you do something drastic." I sat opposite him and leveled a serious finger at him. "Your company is marketing cereals with pornographic names, and conducting an aggressive office policy of open coital activity between employees. What can you possibly say in your defense?"
"Well, Ms. McTippit, we're a very new company. Sometimes you hit a few stumbling blocks before everything gets straightened out." At that moment, 'Sweet Tits' came in with the coffee. Topless.
"Okay," she said, stopping herself in the middle of rubbing Sweet 'n' Low on her nipples, which was apparently meant for her boss to suck off. "I'll be outside." With that she sashayed out. I felt nauseous.
"Now then, Ms. McTippit," Bootingaily continued, "what is this 'sexual harassment' you speak of?" "You mean you really don't know?" I asked, dumbfounded. "You don't know the definition of that term?"
"Um....sorry," he said, looking not at me but at my chest. "That one's new to me." "For God's sake, do I have to show it to you in your own employee handbook?" I said, sitting straight up in my chair so he couldn't get any more cleavage than he'd already sampled. "Do you even HAVE one?"
"Oh yes," he replied, enthused. "Just had it printed last week. Here." He pulled open his top drawer and shoved a forty-page booklet towards me. "Read my introduction. I have a blonde joke in there that will absolutely slay you!"
I gagged when I saw that the cover of the booklet, entitled WELCOME, CITIZEN, TO PROFIT PUSHER!, bizarrely showed a man engaged in cunnilingus on a woman as she sat on a bench in what appeared to be an orbiting space station. Testily I flipped to the table of contents to point out the chapter that would explain why Profit Pusher should, for moral, ethical, and legal reasons, exert slightly less effort encouraging rampant intercourse and lewd cereal names.
"My God," I said after a moment's scanning. "You HAVE no sexual harassment policy at this company!" "I told you, we're pretty new," Bootingaily said lamely. "Still crossing the T's and dotting the I's. We haven't even connected the Tivo in the break room yet."