Alice was late for her job interview. Her alarm clock hadn't gone off, and here she was, in an elevator dragging a comb through her tangled brown hair. She hadn't even had time to shower, so grabbed a small bottle of perfume from her purse and unbuttoned her blouse. She gave herself a couple of quick sprays to freshen up, realising it might have been a good idea to have worn a bra. Just her luck the interview panel would include some dried up old grandma. She was so busy trying not to get any perfume on her shirt, she didn't hear the doors open, and the man waiting to enter the lift had a few moments to observe her ablutions.
"Need some help?"
The tall, well built man in jeans and a dark green t-shirt stood observing her state of undress with unashamed interest. He looked to be in his early fifties, a short salt and pepper beard, hair a similar colour. His deep voice resonated through the elevator and she jumped, her blouse falling open. She hurriedly snatched at the shirt, buttoning it quickly.
"Pervert," she thought, noticing the amused grin on his face.
"Sorry-I'm running late for an appointment," she said quickly, tucking in her shirt.
"Then I won't delay you any further," he said pleasantly and stepped into the lift. The doors closed behind him and Alice noticed he still had a big grin on his face.
They stood facing the doors together as she made one last check of her outfit.
"Important appointment, I take it?" he asked.
"Very. A job interview, here at the Arts Centre. I'm not usually as disorganised as this," she explained.
"I understand completely, I'm running a little late myself." he glanced in her direction, and seemed a little disappointed that she was now respectably dressed.
"Do you work here?" she asked.
"Yes, though only part time these days."
Maintenance and cleaning, that sort of thing, she guessed by his attire. He must be a bit older than he looked if he only had a part time job. You could see that he had been an attractive man in his younger days, one of those 'thirty years married' guys with four kids and fourteen grandchildren. She'd probably given the poor bastard the thrill of his week by flashing him. Idly, Alice wondered as she always did when she met a big, tall man, if his impressive size extended to every part of his anatomy?
"What do you think your chances are?" he asked, shaking her out of her thoughts.
"Pretty good I should think. It's an office manager's job, fairly boring sort of work, but a foot in the door as far as making useful contacts is concerned. It's really the kind of job I could do with my eyes closed, you know, spend most of the day on Ebay or Literotica and nobody would even notice." she joked.
He gave an amused chuckle and she smiled back.
She held out her hand "I'm Alice."
He took her hand in his, his large palm and long fingers enveloping her small hand completely. "And I'm ...Charlie."
"Well- good to meet you Charlie," she smiled back as the doors opened, and they both exited, heading in opposite directions.
"Good luck," he grinned, and she noticed him give her a final once over glance, his gaze coming back to rest firmly on her breasts.
"In your dreams, old man," she thought, scathingly, but gave him a cheery wave and hurried to the interview room.
She spent twenty minutes filling out various forms, and was ushered into a small side room. Two interview panel members were seated, a blonde woman with a permanently pained expression, and a tall thin man with Einstein hair. Alice introduced herself and began to answer their questions. She heard the door behind her open and a third person entered the room. She turned to smile at the last member of the panel as he sat and was shocked to see the tall man from the lift smiling back at her, his eyes twinkling. He was now dressed in a dark, well cut suit, and a pale gold tie.
"Oh god," she thought with horror. "What the hell did I say to him?"
Then a second thought, "Oh shit, he saw my tits!"
The other two panel members spoke first, asking questions that she was barely able to concentrate on, but she managed to trot out respectable responses. When it got to 'Charlie' or 'Charles Lawson' according to the nametag on the desk, he made her wait for what seemed an eternity while he noted something down.
Abruptly he asked, "So Ms Francis. Organisation. How are your skills in that department?"
"Org-organisation?" she stuttered.
"Yes- planning, timekeeping, that sort of thing."
She was almost sure she saw a twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth.
"My organisational skills are usually exemplary, and on the odd occasion when I have a human failing in that area, I do everything I can to make up for it."
"I'm glad to hear it- I would demand nothing less."
"You should also know that we have a dress code, and expect staff to be attired..." he hesitated for effect, "appropriately."
He looked directly at her braless chest as he spoke.
"Of course," she said, her voice shaking slightly.
"You're computer literate, I take it?" he asked, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Familiar with all the usual applications? Word, Excel, how to use the internet?"
She could swear on the last word, there was a mocking tone in his voice.
"Yes, of course," she replied, coldly.
"Bastard!" Alice fumed. There was no doubt now he was teasing her.
This time he held her gaze for a few moments, flashing her a devilish smile
"Well, kiss this job goodbye," she thought.
"We do, of course, have a strict internet user policy. We wouldn't want anyone accessing anything too...exciting."
He was grinning directly at her now and she could feel the heat of her embarrassment turning her face a deep shade of lobster.
"Well', he said "I think we have all the information we need to make a decision. Thank you, Miss Francis, we'll be in touch."
He looked down at his paper again, making notes. She had been 'dismissed'. She thanked the other panel members and strode from the room, holding her head high despite the heavy disappointment in her stomach.
"Their loss," she mumbled as she punched the elevator button.
But all the way home she berated herself for her uncharacteristic lateness, disorganisation and frankly, big mouth. She was just coming in the door when her cell phone rang, the 'Thunderbirds' theme blasting her out of her depression.
"Hello?"
"Miss Francis?"
