A Victim of Ambition, Part 2

"A Victim of Ambition" was the winner! I quit enjoyed revisiting Juliet's plight... 

Would any of you pay to spend the night with 'her?' 😉

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“You wanted to see me, sir?” I said, walking into Zach’s office.

He barely looked up from his laptop. “You’re fired.”

I went white. “Fired? But...”

“I’m tired of you,” he said. “And, frankly, you’re the worst secretary I’ve ever had.”

My jaw dropped. “After everything I’ve done?”

“You haven’t done a damned thing except look pretty and let me fuck you whenever I want,” Zach said. “You haven’t changed at all, though. Even as a CEO, you were always looking for the easy way out. That’s why you have to wear panties and a bra to work now.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” I said, panic rising in my chest. “I’m... I’m a girl now because of you!”

Zach grinned, his perfect white teeth glinting. “Well, I’ve been thinking. Since you drove your own company into bankruptcy and you’re in debt for nearly two hundred thousand dollars, I suppose you’ll have to work for me as a full-time escort.”

My world spun, and I struggled to speak. “E-Escort? You mean like a prostitute?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Tears filled my eyes as I saw my whole future go up in smoke. “No,” I squeaked. “I mean, I’m not a prostitute. I’m not a whore!”

Zach sighed, as if preparing to deal with a child. “You’re also not a CEO or a man or even my secretary. Not anymore. But don’t worry your pretty head. I have connections, and I’ve been making some calls. I can make sure you have a steady supply of customers. In fact, I already have an offer from a nice guy who wants to fuck you at least once a week. Remember that senator’s son we both met at the conference? Well, you were a guy back then, but I have to say that only made him more interested. You see, we’ve been emailing for a while, and I sent him all your progress pictures. He thinks your transition has been fabulous.”

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “I can’t do this.”

Zach sat back and laughed. “Well, luv, you don’t really have a choice. You can either live the life of an escort or go to jail. You see, I’ve also gotten to know your lawyer pretty well, and, apparently, there’s not much he can do if this ever went to trial. Mostly because I’ve paid him to do the worst job imaginable. Now get out, Julie. I have a lot of things to do.”

As I departed Zach’s office, I felt faint. The estrogen boosters still did a number on me every month: My breasts felt swollen, my skin tingled, and I felt dizzy. But maybe, I reasoned, this was an opportunity in disguise. I couldn’t make it as a CEO or secretary, but if I applied my business acumen to this new profession, perhaps I could use it to get free of Zach. If I didn’t lose my mind first, of course.

So I went home, reapplied my makeup, squeezed into sexy lingerie (bought by Zach), and took a few photos for the website. $500 per night, I wrote in the advertisement, feeling sick to my stomach. I’m like no girl you’ve ever fucked. Guaranteed.

Within a few days, my page was flooded with offers, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. My original business failed, but if there is one thing I know how to do, it’s how to sell myself.