Bring Your Smoking Hot College-Aged Daughter to Work Day

So the boss brings her daughter into the office today. Her 20 year old daughter. Because the daughter’s taking “time out” of her current college semester and apparently needs something to do. Being the gregarious sort, my boss makes the rounds with her daughter. Eventually, they arrived at my doorway.

“Ken, this is my daughter.”

“Hi. I’m Ken.”

“Hi.”

And I keep the small talk to a minimum. Because the boss knows me and knows what I’m all about and I’m sure only brought her daughter in to see me so I wouldn’t be the only person in the entire company who didn’t get to meet her. And, yes, her daughter is hot like you read about.

So with this quick intro completed, my boss goes to usher her daughter out of my sight and out of my life. But then her daughter notices the Mark Twain bobblehead on the bookcase next to my desk, and she skips over to it.

“Oh my god. Is this supposed to be Mark Twain?”

And she stands, with her back to me, tapping the bobblehead and laughing.

And all of a sudden, the boss’ daughter’s 20 year old arse, wrapped in impossibly tight white pants, is about two feet from my face. And the boss is glaring at me, her eyes saying, “Don’t you fucking dare turn around and check out my daughter’s ass.”

And the eternal battle rages within me… every fiber of my being wanting to crank my head and soak up the majesty that is my bosses’ daughter’s ass, while that tiny part of my brain that craves gainful employment and regular meals tells me no. Keep calm. Steady, man. Focus. But she just stands there laughing at that goddam bobblehead, her ass taunting me like the motherfucking Scylla and Charybdis (though a much rounder, softer, tighter version) and the boss practically writing my pink slip in her head as I fight the urge to twist my neck.

I think you can probably figure out who won that fight. And later, at the end of the day, my boss called me in to explain that my work on the Culvert report was abysmal at best, and that I’d have to do it again.

Coincidence? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

But that was one smoking twenty year-old ass.

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