My Pregnant Stepsister

She had large breasts, and she knew it. Very, very large breasts, a size you don't often see in an office setting. Among the office's male population, her chest was a common source of conversation, the uninitiated seeking out those who had seen them in the flesh, seeking out the juicy details.

I never participated in that kind of rumor-mongering, and people knew that, as that kind of conversation tended to cease whenever I was around. But, I am a man, and it wasn't like I hadn't noticed her impressive bust size. And they were great breasts, for sure, but I guess I just wasn't the type of guy to get overly excited about a pair. I could appreciate them, but that wasn't going to sway my feelings on her either way, no matter how much she showed off. It was a little unprofessional to dress provocatively in the office, as she tended to do, but I wasn't about to tell anyone how they should present themselves. Not going to start, not with her.

I wasn't going to tell anyone to cover up or lecture them on how they live their lives. Her showing off a hint of cleavage didn't matter to me. It wasn't going to help me make up my mind either way. It would take a lot more than a large chest to make me hire someone.

According to her file, she had been reprimanded about not adhering to the dress code, so it was clear she knew how to use her body's assets to her advantage and was willing to push the limits whenever she had the opportunity. Her top was by no means indecent, but it hugged her slim frame, and it struggled to contain her large size. The few buttons that she actually had buttoned were being tested by the two large mounds inside.

As I said before, it was important for me to note how the applicant presented themselves, and now that I had given her the once-over, I promised not to acknowledge that aspect of this process again. I didn't want to give her the impression I was staring at her, and I didn't want to let myself be unprofessional and let my current situation get the better of me.

"So, how was Italy?" she asked in a tone more friendly than I had ever heard from her before.

"Oh, it was good. I got the account. It was tough, but I finally got them into the fold. But the country itself was incredible. And the architecture there... amazing," I replied, discussing my recent business trip there.

"I think I heard you'll be going to Brazil soon?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, looks like it," I said, not sure how she knew that.

"Well... maybe I'll be with you by the time you go there," she said with a smile, opening up her portfolio and retrieving her professional-looking resume and cover letter, sliding it over to me.

"Yeah, maybe," I replied with an even smile, taking the resume and glancing at it, even though she had to know I had looked at it up and down well before the interview. "So... you ready?" I asked with a smile.

"I was born ready," she replied confidently. I could appreciate that confidence.

"I like to keep these interviews pretty conversational, you know, as opposed to me asking you questions and you answering. That kind of boilerplate structure feels too... stuffy... to me, you know what I mean?"

"Right," she replied. "But I'm way ahead of you on this one."

"What do you mean?" I asked, slightly surprised.

"I actually made a little presentation on why you should hire me," she said with a smile, pulling out a USB stick from her portfolio. "Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing at a laptop hooked up to a projector.

"Oh... sure," I said, pleasantly surprised at her going above and beyond like this. She stood up from her seat, running her hands down her hips, smoothing out her tight skirt over her rear.

"Don't seem so surprised, Joshua," she began with a laugh, stepping towards the projector. "I don't know if you've heard, but I have a bit of a reputation." I held my breath, wondering what she was about to say. "I'm a very good interview," she said with a knowing smile, as if in on the joke.

"Right," I said with an even laugh. She tapped away at the laptop for a few moments before the front page of her presentation projected onto the wall.

"There we go..." she said to herself. She slid off her jacket and set it on the back of her chair, exposing her smooth, bare arms, clad only in the short sleeves of her top. With the slight bulkiness of her jacket removed, her large breasts were even more noticeable, standing out proudly from her chest. I quickly looked away, hoping she didn't notice.

I dimmed the lights slightly with a remote to make the image on the wall clearer. She took a deep breath, stood next to the projection, and turned to me. "So, before I begin, I want to make a deal with you," she started.

"Sure, what is it?" I asked, curious.

"The case I'm about to make is very... unorthodox," she began. "All I ask is that you agree to hear me through, because I think I can make the case as to why I am the absolute best woman for this job. You might not agree with me at the beginning, but if you hear me out, I think I can change your mind."

"Deal," I replied warmly, willing to give her a chance.

"I'm going to hold you to that," she said with a slight smile and a pointed look. She tapped a button on the projector remote to begin the presentation. The first page of the presentation was very familiar.

They were words I knew well:

How to Get a Job

* Know Yourself Before I Meet You.

* Do Your Research!

* Control Your Image. Change the Conversation to Emphasize Your Strengths.

* Set Yourself Apart.

* Clichés Make My Eyes Glaze Over.

* Don't be Afraid to Blow Me Away.

* Think Outside the Box.

* Know When to Ignore This List.

"Now, I am sure I'm not the first person to base their interview around your list of tips," she began, gesturing to the list projected on the wall—my list of eight tips to get hired. "And, I have to admit, as much as your dad loves these tips, there are some pretty good ones here. And to prepare for this, I have to confess, even I studied them," she said with a laugh, every gesture she made causing her chest to move ever so slightly. Stop it, Joshua, I warned myself. "Now, I didn't want to just recite them and answer them one by one. I wanted to put my personal spin on them. It took a while, but I think I figured it out."

"To summarize, I know myself very well. I've done a lot of research. I know my image and how to use it. I know my strengths and how to set myself apart. I hate clichés, and I am very good at shaking things up. And trust me, this presentation is going to be so far outside the box, so far away from what this list was designed for, that you won't know how you didn't see this coming."

"Bring it on," I challenged her, amused and impressed by the effort she was putting into this. She wasn't exactly known as the hardest of workers, so this was refreshing to see.

"I think the biggest thing here for me is knowing myself and changing the conversation," she resumed. "I've looked at the other candidates and compared them to myself, and quite honestly, in any measurable way, they've got me beat. They all have the experience, the education, the training, the sparkling reputation... and I don't. I get that. I know my place, my role, and how I got here. So, if you're just going off of a resume, I'll probably lose."

"Okay," I said, curious as to where she was going with this, surprised at her still confident tone while acknowledging her own weaknesses.

"But what I'm going to do here is to convince you to ignore the resume. I'm going to convince you to ignore the degrees and the experience and all of that nonsense, because none of it really matters anyway," she said, looking right at me with a serious expression. I gave her a quizzical look.

"And how do you intend to do that?" I asked.

"Simple... I change the conversation." She took a deep breath before advancing. "If you want to hire an assistant, the perfect little worker, you can choose one of them," she said, pointing out the door. "But you're not going to be hiring an assistant, Joshua," she said, looking at me with a knowing smirk.

"What am I going to be hiring, then?" I asked, interested.

"You're hiring not what you ask for but what you need. What you've always needed, what any man of your stature needs. Like I said, you're not going to be hiring an assistant," she paused and stepped closer, leaning over the edge of the desk, looking right at me, before speaking her next words slowly and clearly.

"What you need is a fixer."