"But you don't understand," Phil Heinz was saying the next morning. The head of personnel for Crenshaw Manufacturing shook his head dismally as he sat behind the desk in his private office. "We don't happen to need any new secretaries."

"You said that," Becky observed mildly.

She was sitting in front of him, dressed in a prim, pleated skirt and a scoop-neck blouse that couldn't help but show off the tremendous size and firmness of her tits.

"But you obviously don't get it," Heinz sighed. The bookish-looking thirty-year-old pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked at Becky forlornly. "When Crenshaw Manufacturing needs new secretaries, Crenshaw Manufacturing puts ads in the newspaper. You're perfectly welcome to apply for a job here the next time we run an ad. Then I'll sort through the resumes, pick the best candidate, and someone will be selected. But until then, we just don't need anyone."

Becky just sighed.

"Mr. Heinz, I happen to believe that anyone can accomplish just about anything he tries to do in this big old world, as long as he tries hard enough."

"That's a very nice thing to think," Heinz said, and rolled his eyes. "But we still don't need…"

"And what I want to do is go to work for your company as a secretary. And, I want to start today! Now, maybe my typing speed isn't the best in the world, but I'm willing to accept any starting salary, and…"

"You've already told me all that."

"I know, Mr. Heinz, but you're the one who seems to have trouble understanding it! You could hire me, if you really wanted to? But you don't! So my job is to make you want to badly enough!"