Hot MILF Manager

By CJ Blake

Preview:
My name is Levi Hammond and I just graduated from college three months ago.
You’re probably thinking Great! Good job buddy!
You’re wrong.
Right after college I got a job, a pretty good job, at least that’s what everyone said.
An entry-level position at Greenfield Business Analytics.
What? You’ve never heard of them?
Yeah, nobody has. But they invented this huge online database about how different companies are performing and for some reason some people will pay a lot of money for that kind of service. We are a subscription service.
Wait just a minute. Did I just say we?
When I saw we, I’m talking about all the employees here at Greenfield Business Analytics, all one thousand of us, all thirty floors of us. Yeah. We.
Sorry about the rambling, but sitting at a desk all day and staring at a computer screen will do that to a man.
That’s where I was, sitting at my desk, my own little personal cubicle, gray carpet wall to the left of me, another gray carpet wall to my right, my computer front and center, a few pens strewn about, a notepad with a Greenfield Business Analytics heading, a half-eaten honeybun, and a half-drank can of lemon-lime soda that was getting warm.
I had my coat off, because that was the first thing I did when I got here, took my coat off and hung it over the back of my chair, and I had my tie loosened, because that’s what I always did around three o’clock after venturing to the vending machine for that sweet and sticky honeybun and that sugary tangy goodness known as lemon-lime soda.
I took another sip of that warm soda and swallowed it down, then I slid up under my desk, hovered my fingers over the keyboard, and started on the bio section of a report about the country’s oldest thimble company. I didn’t even know we were still making thimbles. We are.
I was typing away, rewriting what was on the company’s website when my e-mail notification chimed.
That harp-like sound might as well have been the laughter of Satan himself. An e-mail this late in the day was not a good sign. It probably meant I’d be working late.
I slumped in my chair, minimized the window about the thimble company, and looked at my inbox. I clicked on the newest one without even reading the subject.
I scanned the usual business intro and jumped down to the second paragraph where the real meat of the message was. I stopped when I read the first sentence.
Greenfield will be under new management starting tomorrow.
I gulped.
New management. I was just now starting to get along with my current manager, a tight-ass named Gary.
Damn.
I kept reading.
The next line hit hard.
If you received this e-mail you will be retained by Greenfield.
That made me breathe a sigh of relief. Sure, I didn’t love my job, but I definitely needed it.
I guess at that moment, word started getting around that if you had an e-mail you were staying and if you didn’t...well, bye.
“That’s bullshit!” I heard someone say.
“I don’t even care,” another person said.
“How will I pay for all my aquarium maintenance now?” said yet another voice.
I slowly stood, rising up from my cubicle like an unsure prairie dog. I saw about a dozen people hastily gathering up their knick-knacks from their desk and stomping to the elevator. I slowly sat back down, waiting for the room to calm down again.
I went back to the e-mail, reading all the corporate speak and finally getting to something good on the last line.
Your new manager, Brooke Lispin, will meet with you first thing in the morning.
“Brooke Lispin,” I said the name out loud.
Didn’t sound like a manager’s name.
Then I heard a shout.
I popped my head up again and saw, Gary, my current manager running toward the elevator with a computer monitor. “They can’t do this!” He yelled, his voice taking on a maniacal tone. His eyes wide. He looked like a crazy man.
The elevator dinged, the doors

• Language: English
• Publisher: CJ Blake
• Release date: Mar 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224543410

CJ Blake

Hi, I'm CJ Blake, your average mild-mannered erotica writer.

Book preview

CJ Blake

Hot MILF Manager

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2022 by CJ Blake

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

CJ Blake asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

CJ Blake has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Cover Image © Avesun | Depositphotos.com

Author’s note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Smashwords Edition

First edition

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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Contents

Corporate Takeover

The New Boss

Cakes and Pies

The Cream Filling

Pretty Good Team

Brooke’s Office

Another Report

Crunch Time

Gym Clothes

Relax

The Boss Will See You Now

Kidnapped!

Juicy Boss

Toast?

Your Best Work?

The Team is Back

A Walk in the Park

Found You

Back with the Boss

Office Trio

Also by CJ Blake

Corporate Takeover

My name is Levi Hammond and I just graduated from college three months ago.

You’re probably thinking Great! Good job buddy!

You’re wrong.

Right after college I got a job, a pretty good job, at least that’s what everyone said.

An entry-level position at Greenfield Business Analytics.

What? You’ve never heard of them?

Yeah, nobody has. But they invented this huge online database about how different companies are performing and for some reason some people will pay a lot of money for that kind of service. We are a subscription service.

Wait just a minute. Did I just say we?

When I saw we, I’m talking about all the employees here at Greenfield Business Analytics, all one thousand of us, all thirty floors of us. Yeah. We.

Sorry about the rambling, but sitting at a desk all day and staring at a computer screen will do that to a man.

That’s where I was, sitting at my desk, my own little personal cubicle, gray carpet wall to the left of me, another gray carpet wall to my right, my computer front and center, a few pens strewn about, a notepad with a Greenfield Business Analytics heading, a half-eaten honeybun, and a half-drank can of lemon-lime soda that was getting warm.

I had my coat off, because that was the first thing I did when I got here, took my coat off and hung it over the back of my chair, and I had my tie loosened, because that’s what I always did around three o’clock after venturing to the vending machine for that sweet and sticky honeybun and that sugary tangy goodness known as lemon-lime soda.

I took another sip of that warm soda and swallowed it down, then I slid up under my desk, hovered my fingers over the keyboard, and started on the bio section of a report about the country’s oldest thimble company. I didn’t even know we were still making thimbles. We are.

I was typing away, rewriting what was on the company’s website when my e-mail notification chimed.

That harp-like sound might as well have been the laughter of Satan himself. An e-mail this late in the day was not a good sign. It probably meant I’d be working late.

I slumped in my chair, minimized the window about the thimble company, and looked at my inbox. I clicked on the newest one without even reading the subject.

I scanned the usual business intro and jumped down to the second paragraph where the real meat of the message was. I stopped when I read the first sentence.

Greenfield will be under new management starting tomorrow.

I gulped.

New management. I was just now starting to get along with my current manager, a tight-ass named Gary.

Damn.

I kept reading.

The next line hit hard.

If you received this e-mail you will be retained by Greenfield.

That made me breathe a sigh of relief. Sure, I didn’t love my job, but I definitely needed it.

I guess at that moment, word started getting around that if you had an e-mail you were staying and if you didn’t…well, bye.

That’s bullshit! I heard someone say.

I don’t even care, another person said.

How will I pay for all my aquarium maintenance now? said yet another voice.

I slowly stood, rising up from my cubicle like an unsure prairie dog. I saw about a dozen people hastily gathering up their knick-knacks from their desk and stomping to the elevator. I slowly sat back down, waiting for the room to calm down again.

I went back to the e-mail, reading all the corporate speak and finally getting to something good on the last line.

Your new manager, Brooke Lispin, will meet with you first thing in the morning.

Brooke Lispin, I said the name out loud.

Didn’t sound like a manager’s name.

Then I heard a shout.

I popped my head up again and saw, Gary, my current manager running toward the elevator with a computer monitor. They can’t do this! He yelled, his voice taking on a maniacal tone. His eyes wide. He looked like a crazy man.

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open. Gary sure did time that perfectly.

He’s gonna make it, I said. That crazy son of a bitch is gonna—

Then Gary ran right smack into the chest of our ex-pro wrestler security guard, Beauford.

Gary pinballed off Big Beauford and hit the ground, the computer monitor still in his arms.

Put that down, Mr. Gary, Big Beauford said. That’s company property.

Gary hugged the monitor one last time, then he let it go.

Come on, Big Beauford said putting his huge hand out. Time to go.

Gary nodded nervously, he took Big Beauford’s hand and stood up. Beauford, he said as they stepped into the elevator. You think I could get a job in the wrestling biz?

The elevator door closed before I could hear Big Beaford’s answer. I could only imagine that it was a good one. I had chatted with the big mountain of a man several times. I knew security was a thankless job, my dad had done it for years.

I sat back down, closed all the windows on my computer, and shut the damn thing down. I tossed the rest of my honeybun and gulped down my soda. If the manager was fired and the new manager wasn’t coming in until tomorrow, I was heading home. I put on my coat, grabbed my bag, and made my way to the elevator. I wasn’t the only one.

* * *

As I stood in line to get to the elevator I felt a gentle nudge.

I turned around and saw Geena Spurtnick. Geena was my age, twenty-three, but she had been working here for over a year. In the break room one day we found out we had attended the same college (Ford State) but Geena had graduated in just three years.

She had red hair that was always up in a bun and these big gold-rimmed glasses that looked like something my grandpa would wear. They seemed to magnify her green eyes and whenever I talked with her I felt like I was under a microscope.

In typical Geena fashion, the girl had on a frumpy gray sweater that almost went to her knees, after the sweater, her long skirt took over, then her blocky black leather shoes. Geena dressed like my third-grade teacher, but she was nice to talk to. One of the more normal employees here.

I guess you got an e-mail, Geena said. You didn’t storm out.

Yeah, I said. And you did too?

She nodded. What do you think the new manager will be like?

I shrugged. I just hope she’s not crazy.

Same, Geena said.

The elevator dinged and those silver doors slid open. It was our turn. I motioned for Geena to go ahead.

Thank you, Levi, she said, looking straight at me as she stepped in.

I followed her