Being a loan officer wasn't exactly a terrific job, but it had it's perks. I'd been working at this bank since I graduated college, clawing my way up from a teller to eventually a mortgage specialist. I had a facility for numbers, but not much of one for people. The nice part of this job is that I usually only dealt with one or two people at a time unless I was bringing a mortgage before the committee. Lately I'd been fairly busy with the turn in the market, and I'd been working pretty hard. I was, if truth be told, frazzled. I spent all day with client appointments and all night crunching numbers. I had a good track record so I usually found ways to get people into homes. I hoped I wouldn't have to work this job much longer, at thirty-two I was hoping to crack into financial planning and investments soon, the next rung in the corporate ladder, for me at least.
It was a nice spring afternoon, so everybody who had left the office for lunch had told me, I hadn't noticed. I had one more appointment left today before I could leave for the weekend. One Lindsay Wakefield, a young woman looking to purchase a rather expensive home by the looks of the application. She had a solid foundation of investments, a good credit rating. She had seven good years of a fifteen year mortgage on a condominium in the city. I did have a few questions, she appeared to be self employed, it didn't say what she did for work. What ever it was, she was very successful at it. My intercom rang and the receptionist let me know that Miss Wakefield had arrived. I let her know I'd be right out to receive her. I stood, checking that I didn't have any crumbs on my tie, buttoned my jacket and walked down the hall. I checked in at the receptionist's desk where she pointed her out. I looked over to see an impeccably dressed woman with wavy blonde hair and a beautiful oval face, her lower lip pouted slightly as she tapped away on a tablet. She was wearing a gray suit, the skirt cut well above the knee. I scanned further down her lovely legs, next to her feet sat a stylish briefcase. The receptionist cleared her throat softly giving me a sidelong look to inform me I should have made my way over there by now. I gave her a black look, to note I was going.
"Miss Wakefield? I'm Benjamin Sutter." I said holding out my hand. She looked up lifting her eyebrows in quick appraisal before smiling and taking my hand. It was firm like the look in her dark brown eyes. "If you would follow me we can discuss your business with the bank."
"Lead on Mister Sutter." She said with a smile. She slipped her tablet into her case and stood. She was much taller than I expected and looked me in the eye. She buttoned her coat over a dusty rose silk blouse and watched me. Her eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Oh yes, this way." I said slightly embarrassed to be caught staring. I held a chair for her as she sat, a waft of perfume struck me as she did, light and flowery. I closed the door and walked around my desk. "Your application looks in order, I just need to get a few more details if I could."
"Certainly, is there anything specific that you need? I have copies of my last three years tax returns with me, as well as other information you might possibly need. I realize it's a rather large request for a single person."
"Yes it is. Your financial records are impeccable I must say." I chuckled. "The work of a sound professional."
"Thank you. I do them myself." She quipped.
"Your business. I see that you've had it now for about five years. What sort of work do you do? If I may ask."
"You may, and have I might point out." She replied. "I am, a talent agent of sorts." The expression on her face changed to that of subtle humor as she rolled her eyes skyward.
"Really? That sounds fascinating. Actors, singers, that sort of thing?" I asked.
She summed me up momentarily, and unbuttoned her coat, letting the lapels slip away from a rather impressive figure. She looked me in the eye for a long moment before quirking an eyebrow. "Can I count on your discretion Mister Sutter?"
That sounded ominous, but her eyes never stopped boring into me. My mouth felt suddenly dry and I swallowed rather audibly, at least to myself. "Yes, of course."
She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the arms of the chair. Her bloused hugged her figure in quite a distracting manner as she said softly. "I'm an exotic dancer Mister Sutter." She tilted her head swiftly, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "I've modeled for magazines, and I started my company several years ago to work outside of small, noisome clubs and began traveling to some of the larger cities as a featured act. My company also handles a small group of new talent which I teach to survive in the business." She looked at me with a slight smirk.
I looked at her, pushing my glasses up higher on my nose as I sat there slightly taken back. I cleared my throat. "Well yes." I said looking down at the files in front of me. I began to draw a breath to speak when she interjected.
"I'm not ashamed of what I do, I'm very good at it. I'm also very open minded, but I understand how some people, and businesses for that matter, are not. I don't wish to cause you or the bank any difficulty. If my business is not the type of business you want then I can and will apply for a loan elsewhere." She deftly dropped the ball in my court.
"It's not up to me or the bank to pass judgment on your choice of work Miss Wakefield."
"Call me Lindsay, please." She parted her lips slightly.
