The guys said it first: Shoe Bitch.
After that the chicks ran with it. It became my official title. I was
really Nikki's assistant.

The job had a practical aspect to it. Nikki convinced the company to
supply shoes for her. She made the case that women execs were
impressed when she showed up in $2000 Manolos or the like.

Especially now that we were after the Foster account. 

She won approval with the proviso that she wear the shoes exclusively
on company business, meetings and such. I was in charge of keeping
track of the shoes.

You wouldn't call me a 'Money Bitch' if I lugged around a stash of
cash all day long, now would you? It was the same with shoes. I had
more than 20 grand worth of merchandise under my control, seems pretty
important to me, but no, I'm a 'Shoe Bitch'. ...sticks and stones, I
figured. I went about my business.

Things went bad for me on the day of Nikki's big meeting with Clara.
Foster. THE Clara Foster.

I came running into the waiting area, a sort of 'Green Room' adjacent
to the main conference room, with a cache of shoes in tow.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the precise pair that Nikki wanted. She
was livid.

I said I was sorry. That pissed her off even more. The sound of my
voice set her off. She was furious. I should've kept my mouth shut but
I didn't. The more profusely I apologized, the more angry Nikki
became.

This was the biggest account of her career. One of the biggest our
company had ever landed. And it would be in a totally new area for us:
women's fashion. So it was understandable that Nikki was a little
high-strung but I thought she was over reacting and that added fuel to
the fire. My apology rang false in her ears.

To shut me up and take me down a notch she told me to eat Tiffany's
pussy.

Tiffany was Nikki's junior assistant. She was sitting there with us.
Technically she was my underling though I rarely gave her orders. She
reported directly to Nikki just like I did.

I hated Tiff. She'd fucked over several friends of mine. She was a hot
young thing just out of college and had already slept her way up from
entry level to a decent position. She should've been the 'Shoe Bitch'
but Nikki liked having a man tote her shoes. It went over big with her
clients too.

Anyway, I always called Tiffany a pig right to her face. That's what
she was. She called me "Shoe Bitch" I called her "Pig". And so it
went. Nikki liked animosity among the staff. It kept us on our toes
she thought.

Well this was a totally unacceptable order, "Eat Tiffany". As soon as
it was out of her mouth Nikki knew it was stupid. It just goes to show
how much pressure she was under to land this account. She stood there
shaking. Though she knew she was wrong Nikki couldn't bring herself to
admit it and call it off and apologize.

I could have let her off the hook by just walking out and letting her
cool off. But I didn't. I wanted to force her to call me off. I wanted
to hear Nikki admit she overstepped her bounds. I knelt down in front
of Tiffany.

It seems one the Foster people overheard Nikki's request and ducked
her head in to see what was going on. She saw me get on my knees and
that was all she wrote. The next thing I knew old Mrs. Foster herself
came in the room trailing a small entourage of smirking women.

Foster wanted to see the show. Rumors had it that she hated men. Her
husband had left her for a trophy wife and as part of the divorce she
got half his business. A failing string of department stores.

Through sheer will power, having no business training, and motivated
by her desire to succeed where her husband had failed, she closed all
but one location and turned it into a fashion boutique. It thrived
into a chain operation. Now she had an empire.

"I admire a woman who knows how to keep men in their place." Foster
told Nikki. "That's the kind of person I can do business with."

I helped Tiff off with her panties. After what Foster said I knew the
account was riding on my head--- literally.

I was going to take one for the team. Sacrifice my self-respect and
humiliate myself to land this account. My only real regret was that
Tiffany was the benefactress of my humiliation.

My Gosh. The lips of Tiff's cunt were loose and sloppy, draping down,
full of juice. And what juice it was! She tasted so sweet, so lovely,
I forgot it was Tiff. I started breathing hard as my arousal got the
best of me. I think I may have even made a yummy sound (Hmmm) because
all the girls in the room spontaneously erupted into laugher for no
reason I could see.

That brought me back to my senses.

Using two fingers in an inverted "V", Tiff pulled up on her pubic area
to expose her clit to me. I licked on the pulsing red bundle of nerve
endings as she throbbed against my wet touch.

I made the mistake of looking up at Tiff. Looking her right in the
eye. Her contempt for me riddled my soul even as I marveled at this
beautiful special part of her now in my mouth. I kissed her clit and
washed it lovingly with slippery warmth. I couldn't imagine not
wanting to do this at every chance available. I ached with passion for
this tender root of Tiff.

Tiffany earned the respect of every female in the room as she worked
my face to perfection. At times I thought she'd rip my hair out. Then
she'd command, "Kiss it!" as I made fish lips around her swollen clit
and she pulled me into her, palming the back of my head with variable
pressure. Finally she rode my face to orgasm as she humped my tongue
to a wild climax that left me soaked in her cum.

Foster's staff hooped it up, high-fiving and cheering Tiff. They
declared Tiffany the 'Champ of the Day' and took her out to party the
rest of the day away.

Oh, yeah--- We got the job.