Stephanie – Just When Things Turned Around by morg1284

So, this what my life has become. One terrible disaster after another. It hasn’t always seemed like that, but the last few weeks has been horrid. It started about thee weeks ago. I was pregnant with my boyfriend’s child, and we were ecstatic. At about three months along, I got into a car accident, and miscarried. I was totally devastated. My boyfriend blamed me for the accident, and in turn blamed me for losing the baby. And to finish off the hat-trick, he walked out on me.I had to be hospitalized for several days, due to internal injuries the doctors wanted to monitor. I let my boss know what had happened, and she told me she understood, and would see me back at work as soon as possible. When I got back to work about a week later, she completely flipped the script on me, and told me I should have been at work, and that the doctor’s letter was clearly a fake. I showed her my bruises from the seat belt (and the still fading black eyes from the air bag) and she chalked it up to bad make up, and fired me.

And for the last two weeks, every job I’ve submitted a resume to, they call my previous employer, and she tells them how I am incompetent, and that I lied about being in a car accident and faking a miscarriage to get a free week off of work. Needless to say, call backs weren’t happening very quickly. So I was sitting in an apartment with rent that would soon be due, mounting medical bills because my car insurance company was arguing paying for the miscarriage treatment, and not paying any of the bills they received.

Finally, when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I got a call back for one of the jobs I applied for. The caller told me about the miserable things my previous employer had said, and decided to actually look into the matter. He said he knew some folks at the police department and hospital, and they confirmed my story. He also started his personal attorneys on getting me compensated for my wrongful termination, pro bono. All I had to do was come in and interview, and hopefully accept the job. I asked if his help would be pending on me accepting, and he assured me, it only pended on coming to the interview. I thanked him for his generosity, and scheduled the interview. I asked him what would be appropriate, and he said business casual.

I went to the interview a few days later, and I dressed as suggested. I was wearing a v-necked dark colored blouse, and a bra with just enough lift to make the cleavage from my C cup breasts noticeable, but not whorish. I wore a sensible, but tight pair of dress pants, but no panties, as I hate having any panty lines showing. I was wearing a pair of sensible flats. I put my fiery red hair up in a simple, businesslike bun.

I pulled up to the address he gave me for the interview, and saw that it was at a partial estate out in the country. “What am I getting into?” I asked myself. The gate opened, and I drove upto the house, and saw someone coming down the front steps.

“Stephanie?” he asked cheerfully, flashing a very handsome smile.

“Yes.”

“I’m Robert, we spoke on the phone the other day.”

It was nice to put a face to the name. He had short brown hair, flecked with gray, bright blue eyes, a chiseled jaw line, and aqualine features. He was wearing a polo shirt, khaki slacks, and like me, sensible shoes. He stood about 6’3″, and had a strongly built chest, and the muscled arms suggested he worked out. I could imagine the abs hidden beneath his shirt.

“So I read your resume, and was thoroughly impressed. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any positions open at the company. However, I think I could use your skills as a domestic assistant. You said, you were a records manager, correct?”

“Yes, I was responsible for archiving files at the law firm I worked for, and helping the paralegals with research. Mostly retrieving case files, so they could use previous precedents for whatever cases they were currently on. But, why as a domestic assistant? It sounds like you are hiring me as a maid,” I chuckled.

“By domestic, I do mean around my house. And more importantly, I run a dog breeding operation here on the estate. And I need someone with your meticulous skills to handle registration paperwork, client lists, and, well, to be honest manage the whole thing. If you are interested, we can go back to the office in the kennels and we can discuss it.”

I was very intrigued. I had never worked as a dog breeder, and wasn’t quite sure what I was being asked. So, I agreed and we went down to the kennels. He showed me the estate, and explained the history, pointed out the stables for his horses and explained he also boarded for top horse breeders as well. The grounds were beautiful. I could only imagine getting to come work here every day. We got into the office, and I saw why he wanted someone of my meticulous nature. It was a wreck. Unorganized files, paperwork strewn about, and a sea of sticky notes.

“As you can see, my last manager was ineffective. He was getting the job done, but after I got an angry call from a client about him not showing up with a dog, I decided to check up on it. I came down and found…well…this. I called my accountant and asked about the income, and he looked into it, and it turns out, over the last few months, he had been charging. The right amount, but was skimming enough off the top to make it look like my business was just slowing down. He was just sentenced for embezzlement. Good riddance.”

“So, Robert…”

“Bob. I like to keep things relaxed for people who work directly for me.”

“Bob,” I started again, “what would my compensation be?”

He went on to explain that I would be taking a hefty raise from the law firm I worked at, as well as having an apartment attached to the kennels, as well as free insurance and he would cover any costs to break my lease from my old apartment.

I was sold, and thanked him, and asked when I started.

“I was hoping today?”

I lost some, if not all of my composure, and threw my arms around his neck. After all I had been through my luck finally turned around. I regained my composure, and apologized.

“Don’t worry about it. We are all bound to act like a human being from time to time,” he chuckled. “I’m going to let you get started. Liz, my executive assistant, will be down shortly with your W4, and get your sizes for the uniforms.”

“Uniforms?”

He explained that the staff all wore monogrammed shirts with the estate name, as well as employee names, khaki pants, and shoes that were all covered, as well as jackets and fleece vests for during the winter.

With that he left, and I started trying to make sense of the mess. Liz, a fairly plain woman, came in and we sat down and completed all the paperwork for payroll, insurance, and she got the sizes for my uniforms.

I met with the breeding staff, and and they were happy to help sort out the mess my predecessor left behind. By 9:00, I had sorted out most of the mess figured out, and had gotten an idea of how I was going to start organizing. I decided to call it a night and went to check out the apartment. There was a door marked “PRIVATE” in the office that opened to it, so there was no need to actually go out side. It wasn’t much more than what I was staying in, but it was fully furnished, with a big screen tv, couch, table, end tables, and the bedroom had a comfy queen sized bed. I started to head to my car and was met by Bob.

“Working late?”

“Just finishing up. I was going to head back to my apartment for the night, and start packing. I’m going to need clothes and stuff.”

“Sounds good, see you in the morning.”

I got back home, and started throwing slacks and nice shirts in a garment bag, and all my everyday wear stuff went into a pair of suit cases. The next morning, I threw everything I packed, plus the other odds and ends I needed in the car and headed for the estate.

I arrived early and put everything away, and dressed for the day. I threw in slacks and a polo shirt (I needed to look like the rest of the staff), and started with the filing and organizing that I planned out the night before.

After another long tedious day, I went back into my new apartment and showered, and threw on a pair of panties and a t shirt. I heard the door close to the office, and opened my apartment door, and there was a bottle of wine sitting on the desk with a card.

“Thank you for offering to straighten out the mess. I can’t imagine it is easy. Bob” it read. I grabbed a glass fro the kitchen and opened the wine to have a glass. I wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but then again, I wasn’t going to turn it down either. I poured the wine, and decided that I would take a walk through the kennels.

There were eight individual kennels, and each one had a massive English mastiff. A male English mastiff. Then it hit me, What Bob meant by “breeding” was that he ran a stud service. Basically, he was a pimp for dogs. The thought made me giggle, and I realized again why I didn’t drink wine, as I was already tipsy. I placed my hand on the kennel and balanced myself. When I had my balance, I went to the dogs and started letting the gentle giants sniff at my hand through the chain link. Most of them would sniff me and lick my hand, a couple gave a deep, rumbling “woof” and wag their tails. I really loved the dogs, they were all a beautiful tan, with dark faces, the perfect example of their breed. I drank the last of my wine, and decided to walk into one of the kennels.

The big dog sat down patiently as I came into the kennel. I shut the gate and latched it behind me. I went to the big dog and knelt down beside him. I was talking to him, asking his name, while petting on him. He turned and stepped into me and started licking my face, and knocking me over on my butt.

“Ow,” I laughed. “Does someone want some attention?”