Layla Jones – Do Not Blow Your Job


A Smoking Layla Jones- Do Not Blow Your Job.

It was the summer of 2007, and the Twenty-one-year-old Layla Jones was a year into her first job after graduation from university. She was now busily trying to climb the greasy slippery pole of the post graduate world.

With her great grades, pretty face, and confident outgoing personality, the previous fall she had landed the roll of Personal Assistant and Head of Events to the president of the company- Mr Barcena. He was a balding slightly overweight 60-year-old man. With his Spanish ancestry as he spoke, she could close her eyes as her spoke, and dream that it was actually Antonio Banderas who was talking to her. Mr Barcena was stylish of sorts. He had his penchant for open neck shirts, gold jewellery, and fast cars.

Layla’s best friend and soul mate, and “work wife” in the office was Anne. For the last year, the two of them had fun together during working hours as she was also a manager in the claims department. She spent her whole time dealing with all the issues that would pass down the chain from management. This meant when the two girls got together, they had plenty to talk and bitch about.

Anne had not really smoked before joining the company. But the regular need for Layla to talk to her, practically every hour Layla would drag her outside to join in on one her many cigarette breaks. It was just for the “company” Layla would declare, “It was no fun smoking alone.” That was her excuse. At first Anne would grumble, but after a few months, they got on with it, cigarettes in hand.

Anne was a brunette, she was taller and chunkier than Layla, as she loved her food, snacks were always available in her handbag. Due to her constant need to eat, she countered that by also suggesting that she regularly frequented the gym. In the years that Layla worked with her she failed to notice any weight loss from the gym visits. Even Anne would occasionally admit that her diet may be the route cause and her weight. It may be down to all the excess food being eaten. But she would only disclose this after a couple of drinks on a night out. When sober more exercise was her answer.

The bitching sessions with Anne made Layla feel good in herself. She felt clean afterwards.

The two girls would practically march around the site, cigarette in hand whilst trash talking everyone and anyone. Clearing the air, between drags on the cigarettes and setting the worlds to rights. After a while Layla always had do a little skip to catch up with Anne with her longer stronger legs from all gym work, she would want to power walk far too quickly for Layla.

In all honestly Layla would have much preferred to sit down to have smoke and chat.

Whilst walking Anne would love to speak about her own manager “Frank the Tank.” At first, he was wonderful and the best thing since sliced bread. But as time went on, he definitely became the arsehole. Layla was very much happy with her Mr Barcena. She was lucky. He would shower her in compliments.

Their discussions also often touched on that Layla also had Tyler; they had practically grown up together. She was his Pebbles, he was her Bambam. He lived a couple of doors down from her. Layla played on that he was obviously fascinated with her. Almost infatuated. As such depending on her moods she could sneak in his back door, he always left that open just for her. She would quietly slink up the stairs and strip off and climb into bed and mount him, or if the feeling took, just snuggle up next to him. They were not really a couple, they had freedom to do what they liked. But for Layla he was her special one. He was always available. Any time of day or night. He was her best friend, and he had all the benefits.

Anne was for ever probing into their unusual relationship. Layla would just shrug her shoulders and smile wickedly.


There was one advantage of being the PA. Firstly it was superiority, but it also meant that Layla got to escape the humdrum of answering the office phone. It also meant that she had to spend a lot of time with both Mr Barcena, and on occasions his wife at social events. His wife was truly a lovely lady. She would fuss and look after the both of them. But she would be constantly fussing Mr Barcena. He was so busy and often distracted that she would often ring him up at lunch time and remind him to eat his food and drink his coke zero. She was worried about his weight because of sugar intake.

There would be an exaggerated eye roll from Layla after a brief friendly chat before she passed over the call. She knew by the time on the clock exactly what it was about. It happened most days. It also meant it that it was time for her to head outside for her lunch time cigarettes.

For Layla, her time was spent with Mr Barcena both in his office and or in his rather sporty Audi as they drove around the state on business. They had to do a lot of marketing and customer calls, and so had to make lots of visits to halls and customers up and down the country.

There was a lot of organising to do, and Layla was pleased to get on with it. Managing the schedule Bostancı Escort was a challenge but equally fun. Plus, she had the regular treats of cigarette or two to look forward to once she had completed the tasks.

Layla could not help as a pretty young looking twenty-one-year-old but flirt a little. Her ‘thing’ for older men started early. He was exceedingly rich, she was still feeling and occasionally acting like a student. She could not help but think about him looking after her. Especially as things were personally so tough at home. She could easily dream of being with him.

At this time Layla was a solid pack a day smoker. She could not help herself. As such both her and Anne would do their work and then every hour pop out for a much-needed cigarette. They did such an excellent job that no one cared that she and Anne would be outside so regularly. When Anne was busy or out of the office her favourite smoking spot was just on the curb near Mr Barcena’ s office. It was slightly shaded, but close by so that he could bellow at her if needed her urgently back in the room.

Layla would blame her habit on her stressful time at university, where no one cared that she smoked so much. Lectures only lasted an hour. Which was almost the perfect time between cigarettes.

Even if Layla was stressed, she believed that her presence in the room with Mr Barcena made him calmer, let him make better decisions. He used to use her as a sounding board. That used to fill her with pride.

The long trips driving interstate with Mr Barcena were hard on Layla. He was quite specific. He would not let her smoke in the works car. But she would kill time and entertain herself between conversations by letting her skirts ride up her thighs a little. She would make sure she was good and not flash her knickers. Even she knew that would be embarrassing. So, every now and again she would have to wiggle her hips and tug the hem of the skirt back down again. She saw nothing wrong with showing off a little bit of thigh. She knew from his eyes that it clearly teased him. They would sit there, as the car roared down the road, the potent aroma from her last cigarette permeating from her hair and body and infusing the air colliding with his equally strong freshly applied aftershave.

She knew it was bad, to actively tease her boss, but it was just so much fun to watch his eyes predictably flick down every now and then as they drove along almost checking her skirt length. In the warmth of summer, she knew her slim bare legs distracted him from talking about work.

He was kind though and understanding, he would declare after a couple of hours driving that he needed to “stretch his legs.” Which was very much his code for letting her smoke a cigarette. Layla would not be asked twice. She would thank him a lot. Even she could not help but notice as time went past that she was getting a little fidgety as they drove along. The getting agitated feeling should be impossible in the most comfortable almost moulded leather bucket seats. However, for Layla, as time from her last cigarette went on, they would become more and more prickly and almost uncomfortable. The much-needed cigarette was lit as soon as she was out of the car. The second one was hurriedly smoked as Mr Barcena marched back from the toilet block.

They would spend a couple of hours in the evenings after talking to customers unwinding having a drink their hotel bar. It was predictable after a couple of beers that Mr Barcena would start his own flirtatious routine. He would shower her in compliments. The young impressionable Layla would smile sweetly and lap up the attention.

Layla was good. There was no harm in drinking a beer or three and popping out for cigarettes whilst killing time in the evenings. It was at the time harmless flirting back as she could easily fantasize about him as he smiled back at her. As the beers flowed his hands predictably would become a little more tactile. A touch here a touch there. Deep down she hated herself for the situation, but she actually thrived off the position that she got herself into.

She knew after hurriedly smoking her last cigarette of the night on the patio outside the hotel, she would then climb up the stairs into her own hotel room alone. Then lying on top of the bed, ring Tyler, talk rubbish at him for half an hour whilst she quietly played with herself until climbing under the duvet and falling asleep dreaming of him.

Part 2

“Go on. How was your week away with Mr Barcena?” Anne asked as she exhaled her smoke. They tried a few times a week at lunch time to walk around their carparking lot at work setting the world to rights. Their 2″ heels clacked loudly along the tarmac almost echoing around the site as they marched around in their smart office wear.

“Tiring and booooring. On my feet all day!” Layla replied before she tilted her head back and pulled on her cigarette. She would have much preferred to have sat on the curb and smoked, rather than walking. For Layla that was far too much like exercise trapsing around in circles. Anne and her long legs Ümraniye Escort thrived off it.

“Oh, go on, it can’t have been that bad.”

“We would eat late at night, then he would run away and spend the evening talking to Mrs Barcena.”

“At least he bought the drinks.” Anne chuckled. “I had to buy Tank’s last drinks the other day.”

“Oh god, really?”

“Yeah fucker.”


“Mr Barcena made it all worth it.”

“So, what’s happening next week?” Anne asked.

“Our team reached our targets. Mr Barcena is taking us all out for a meal.”

“Oh wow, at least you can get back in your own bed afterwards. So jealous.”

“Thanks.” Layla beamed as she placed the filter between her red lips.

“You will fill me in with the gossip.”

Layla laughed. “I am sure that there won’t be any!” She confidently declared.


The Friday night meal was fun, the food was great, and the drinks flowed, Layla the odd one out of the group had to keep stepping out for her cigarettes. Apart from that everyone was in a good mood. What helped was that Mr Barcena had his credit card behind the bar. Which meant everyone, including Layla was relaxed.

Layla was happy drunk. Wearing her sexy pencil skirt and fitted orange top with strapless black bar. The ensemble showed off her figure perfectly. She loved the compliments that she was getting. You could not miss her in the orange as she flitted around the bar. As the night wore on everyone was drifting off to other bars, or home. She had just lit up her first cigarette since popping out between the main and dessert. She had been so busy chatting that the thought had drifted from her mind. Her cheeks collapsed hard as and then exhaled as Mr Barcena appeared through the hanging smoke that hovered by her face as the door opened. There was no breeze to take the swirling smoke from the burning cigarette away. It stayed hanging between them.

She smiled at him and politely waved her right hand through the air trying to disperse the lingering smoke away from his face and held her left hand protectively further outstretched.

“Thanks again for a great night!” She smiled sweetly. “The speech was great.” Again, pushing the positivity.

Mr Barcena chuckled. “No, thank you for coming.” He grinned as he did not make his way to the car. “You alright to get home?”

“Yes, I only live across a couple of blocks. I’m fine.” Layla smiled as she lied.

“Oh, okay, I would have given you a lift.” He stayed put; his feet anchored to the pavement.

Layla wiggled her bare legs together and bounced on the spot attempting to keep warm. The issue of smoking outside in just a skirt and strappy top. Regretting yet again not wearing stockings or bringing a jacket. Then flicked the tip of cigarette with her finger. They both looked away from each other and watched with twisted fascination as the ash slowly drifted side to side spinning in the still air before slowly sinking to floor. She then smiled to herself as she focused back on her hand as she brought the filter back to her lips and then her eyes almost teasingly fluttered as she once again pulled more much needed smoke into her lungs.

She exhaled away from him as he remained beside her watching her smoke. They were comfortable in the silence in each other’s company. They had spent plenty of time outside buildings where he had often had to wait for her to finish a cigarette before going into a meeting. Then as now, he still hovered near her. There was nothing for him to wait for, she was about to go back inside and pop to the ladies before going home.

Her focus on him was intensified after Mr Barcena took a deep breath. He paused contemplating something before hurriedly asking. “Do you want to come to my car for a chat?” He spoke to back of her head as she had almost out of politeness already turned her head away from him to pull on the cigarette. Her head flung round. In shock.

Layla exhaled and looked through the smoke at his greying eyebrows and droopy brown eyes, she was extremely fascinated with older men. Her guard was down due to the drinks.

“Yeah, why not?” She grinned and instantly dropped the cigarette to the floor stubbing it out with her sole of her black heels. Again, politely waving the exhaled smoke away.

His car was in the parking lot around the back of the restaurant. They walked side by side. He should not be driving, and she should not have got in the car. She paused looking at her reflection in the window, dug into her bag and pulled out her lipstick. She smiled at her bright red lips.

They got in, sitting opposite each other. The fragrance of her fresh smoke again intwining again with overpowering his aftershave in the small environment of the car. “Layla,” he started, “you are the most amazing person I know.” The beer was talking rather than him, it was obvious to Layla.

“Thanks.” She uncomfortable replied shuffling around in what was suddenly feeling very small black Audi even in the large comfortable black leather seat. She did not bother adjusting her skirt as it fought her thigh rising up, Kartal Escort almost flashing her knickers.

“You are so smart and clever.”

“Thanks.” Layla smiled flimsily as she felt herself blushing as she again looked into his eyes trying to hide what she was thinking as she uncomfortably fidgeted.

“I wish I could have could have met you forty years ago.” His eyes sparkled as his Spanish voice purred as Layla felt wave of excitable heat flow through her as he paid his compliments, as a trickle of nervous sweat slowly meandered down her spine.

“Oh, well, that’s unfortunate.” Was all Layla could think to say as smiled kindly as she felt herself responding to him whilst looking deep into his eyes. Trying to work out if she should run or stay.

His brown eyes continued to smile warmly at her, more enticingly. Layla’s face naturally acted trying to show what he meant to her. With his kind smile her hand reached out and affectionately rested on his dark blue chino covered knee. Her fingers squeezed his body. With the connection she felt the warmth flow through her body. For what felt like hours, but was in reality minutes, they keep looking at each other not moving, saying nothing. Not knowing what the next move should be. Both breathing so hard the windscreen of the car slowly steamed up. Layla’s face told him everything he needed to know. The heat and moistness that she was currently feeling between her own thighs busily wicking into her black sexy lacy thong. Her fantasy, her dream of getting an older man was now playing out in reality. The thoughts of him touching her, to let his hard stiff wand work its magic between her thighs and deep inside her could be reality.

As the energy between them grew a basic instinct took over Layla, as for that moment her red neatly painted nails that she had done that afternoon, slowly and alluringly crept up his thigh. Tantalisingly soon reaching his fly. He did not flinch he did not remove her hand away. He could have easily done; she would not have complained. Nothing would have been said. As such her fingers continued to traverse his crotch slowly and temptingly, their eyes remained locked on each other the whole time. Their heavy purposeful breathing in lockstep with each other. With focus and intent her fingers she tugged and fought with his zip until it finally dropped. Whilst still not taking their eyes off each other, her hands crept into chinos and tried to affectionately fish around inside his y-fronts flopping out his semi hard penis. For Layla her shoulders momentarily dropped, she looked down at her catch. There was more than a hint of disappointment that emotionally flowed through her. In the dusky light she realised that she had recently been spoiled. He was no Tyler.

It was only then as both of them stared down at his practically flaccid member, that he took a deep breath of shock. The realisation that something was going to happen. He finally flinched in the leather chair, his head bouncing hard against the head rest. But his hands stayed down by his side. He did not stop her. Their eyes connected once again. Their heads nodding in agreement they stayed staring at each other as with a gently sigh of expectation she gently cupped his shaft between her warm thumb and forefinger and squeezed a little as she started to calmly stroke, slowly at first. She kept looking at his face, gliding her hand up and down, within a minute or two he was hardened.

Her breathing was fast and laboured, her heart was thumping rapidly as she was emotionally filled with both nerves and excitement. Layla contemplated stopping, getting out of the car, and lighting another calming cigarette. That would have been a good excuse to get herself out of the situation. It would have also been more enjoyable. To escape the difficult position that she had got herself into. She could have at that moment also done with that toilet visit sooner rather than later. But Layla being equally good as she is bad, she turned her internal focus away from her needs and back on his. Her hand stroked harder and faster intently watching his soft brown eyes as they implored her to do more. Layla nodded; she was going to loyally follow his orders.

Trying to pull off the sexiest eyes and smile she could, Layla tucked her hair out of the way behind her ears, then stretched as she leant over the centre console and went down on him. She instantly regretted it as she began to taste him. For all the excitement, the salty flavor of precum does nothing for her. Her mind instantly again drifted back to herself; she would have loved a cigarette between her lips not his cock. She stopped, she just had to. Layla instantly sat up and looked at his eyes. They were desperately imploring her to continue. Contrasting battle fought out in her head as her hand continued stroking him. Thoughts of her end of year bonus flew around her drink addled brain whilst her nipples were hard in her lacy bra and her vagina dripping wet. No words were said. Again, frustratingly he did not touch her. His hands remained rigidly down by his side. It was as if he was in a strait jacket. Her body was screaming for a touch. She made her move and instantly bent back down, she sucked and slobbered his shaft between her plump lips as she continued to stroke with her left hand. He surprisingly continued not to touch her; his hands remained gripping the sides of the chair.

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