I never liked giving orders. But the Chambers account was becoming a huge responsibility, and my boss made me hire an assistant. So I endured five forgettable interviews with mediocre applicants, just to keep up appearances. I figured I’d roll a die and pick one when I got to six.
Then she walked in.
The first thing I noticed was her glossy red hair. It fell past her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face, gray eyes, and pouting lips. She wore a dark gray business suit that matched her eyes; the skirt cut a few inches above the knee.
We shook hands. “Serena Hawthorne,” she said, introducing herself.
To make things more casual during the interviews, I had chosen not to sit behind my desk. We took chairs facing each other in a corner of my office. Unfortunately, that meant her legs were clearly in view when she sat down. She crossed them and her skirt immediately rode up to reveal half of her thighs.
I had always found very pale skin to be somewhat unattractive, because of the way it revealed the veins and blood underneath the surface. But Serena’s milky skin seemed flawless. Although I looked her in the eye, my view was out of focus. My consciousness was inexorably drawn to her legs and the black pumps that hugged her feet.
Normally I would start the interview with a brief introduction of the firm and the work associated with the Chambers account. However, the way my mind was working, I thought it would be better if I let her do the talking. “Ms. Hawthorne, why don’t you tell me what qualities you bring to the position of administrative assistant, keeping in mind that you would be working for a marketing executive.”
“Well, I have been in marketing for three years since I graduated from college.” Her voice was throaty and deep for a woman. “At Hanson, Eads, I handled two major accounts as an admin assistant. I have that reference right here.” She handed me a letter.
I glanced over it, my eyes flickering discreetly from the paper to her legs. She was well built, not fat at all. Her calves had a fine curve, and her thighs were solid.
“But you’re considering leaving Hanson, Eads?”
“Yes, I want more responsibility. I’m looking for more of a leadership position.” She uncrossed her legs and switched. I couldn’t miss the sight. Her legs were magnificent. “Do you mind if I take off my jacket, Mr. Brandon?”
“Sure.” It was a hot day outside. I tugged at my collar.
She wore a plain white blouse underneath. The top button was undone, exposing her throat. I could just see the outline of her bra underneath, and the swell of the breasts it embraced. Her skin was like porcelain.
“You understand that you’d be working under me. I guess I’m concerned that you might find yourself in a similar position to the one you have at Hanson. Although I am willing to give you as much responsibility as you can handle, this is another assistant job.”
Serena nodded. “I’m looking at a other jobs. I interviewed down the street at Reynolds last week. That’s an entry-level associate position. I want to consider all of my options.” Her shoe dangled from her foot as she flexed it.
“I see. Well. Oh… have you ever had a difficult work situation with a colleague or superior? And, if so, how did you handle it?”
“Mmm… One of the men I worked under at Hanson used to make passes at me all the time. Brush up against me, make sexual innuendos, you know, that sort of thing.”
“What did you do?”
“I confronted him in a private place. I told him that working with me could either be a pleasant experience or a very uncomfortable one. After that, we never had a problem again.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That was the end of it?”
“Well, I was holding his testicles at the time. But yes, he was extremely polite after that.”
“I can’t believe you would do that to your boss.”
“Usually, I get along well with people. But I learned that sometimes you just have to take control of a relationship. He could have fired me, or disciplined me, but he didn’t because he wanted me badly enough. I do good work.
“He was sort of like you,” she continued, uncrossing her legs and standing up. “Just a little more forward. Always leering at me, obsessed with what I was wearing under my clothes.”
“I… I think you have the wrong idea, Ms. Hawthorne.”
She walked towards me, her hips swaying, and her eyes locked on mine. My gaze dropped as she began to raise her skirt.
“Really, Mr. Brandon? You haven’t been trying to look up my skirt for the past ten minutes?”
