I would like to thank celafille for inspiration and feedback on this story. It's a little different from my other stories, but different is good, yes? Let me know what you think.
*****
She struggled to keep her composure as she sat waiting on the uncomfortable chairs that lined the hall. She was the last to be interviewed; a stream of young men and women had once filled the hallway, each in turn being called into the office ahead of her. Each leaving, some looking relieved, others muttering to themselves. None looked exceptionally confident.
When they called her name her heart leapt. She wanted this job so desperately. She stood, smoothing her pencil skirt by running her palms over her thighs. She took a deep breath, repeated to herself the words of her mentor. "Be confident, be positive, smile." But at that moment she didn't feel confident, at that moment she felt smaller than her petite 5'3" frame, she felt younger than her 20 years. Still she managed to walk confidently into the room and close the door behind her.
She forced her best smile and extended her hand, "Hello, I'm..."
"Laurie Eagleton," the man behind the desk said, not looking up at her, his nose, instead, buried in what must have been her file, "Take a seat."
She was thrown by his lack of warmth, troubled that he didn't bother to shake her hand. But obediently she sat in the chair in front of his desk, trying her best to keep a good posture, chin up, knees together, hands folded awkwardly in her lap. She could never figure out what to do with her hands.
He put her folder down and looked at her for the first time. He was attractive, she thought, older certainly, mid 30s. His brown hair had just the beginnings of a few touches of grey. He ran his hand over his chin thoughtfully as he looked her over, and gave a half smile.
"I've read your resume," he began, "and it's very impressive, but truthfully, I don't want to hire you for this job."
Her heart sank, and her mouth opened as if to speak but nothing came out. She fought back the tears from frustration and anger and disappointment. He hadn't even asked her a single question. How could the interview be over so quickly?
He stood up and walked around until he was directly in front of her. Leaning back against the heavy oak desk, he folded his arms and looked down at her gauging her reaction.
"But," she finally managed to say, "But I waited all day. You didn't even ask me a question." Her voice was breathless as if she had been running for a long time.
"I know," he nodded his head, "I've seen you there, all day, every time my door opened to interview another applicant. Sometimes your legs would be crossed, sometimes not. Sometimes you played with your phone, sometimes not. Anxiously waiting your turn." Here he chuckled to himself, "I even moved your file down in the stack so that you'd be at the end."
"But why," she almost begged, "if you weren't going to hire me?"
"Well," he said, "there are two reasons. The first is that my colleague in another office has a job that you're much better suited for based upon your resume. I've already lined that job up for you. This position would be a waste of your obvious talents, and my friend has agreed to take you on, at my word." He handed her a business card. "Call him when you leave here, he'll give you the details."
She stared blankly at the card, not really taking in its content. She looked up at him, her mouth crooked with confusion.
"Like I said, there are two reasons," he began again. "You see, I've been watching you all day. The way you hold yourself, your posture, the way you wet your lips with your tongue whenever your name wasn't called. And each time that door opened, I'd flip back to your profile, get a better sense of you, there's something..." he trailed off. "Something different about you."
She wasn't sure where he was going with this, but she suddenly felt very aware of the fact that it was past 5 pm and the two of them were alone in his office. She fidgeted in her chair, looking over her shoulder at the door and then back to him.
"You see," he said standing straight and taking a step toward her until he towered over her, "I'm a man of principle. And if you came to work for me, well that wouldn't be good at all."
Staring up at him she said in a small voice barely above a whisper, "Why not?"
"Because I don't fuck my employees, and I am going to fuck you."
The words dazed her, but not just the words, the confidence, the authority. He said it as if she had no say in the matter, or at least as if he already knew that he excited her, that mixed in with fear and anxiety over the interview and the situation was a tingle of a sexual charge that was growing.
Still she felt she had to get away. Standing with an intent to leave, she found that he hovered so close to her that in moving to get away she had inadvertently moved closer to him, her small chest brushing against his torso.
Her eyes looked up at him; her expression hovered between insistence and helplessness. He gave no ground, and when she reached out her small hands and touched his waist, her intent had been to push him aside so she could leave, but instead she lingered.
His hands took her by shoulders and held her firmly, but not forcibly, the way one may hold a egg, knowing how fragile it is. There was power in his touch, and it coursed through her body like the stunning shock of an electric eel.
As he lowered his lips to hers, she told herself she had no choice, that she was pinned and helpless, but that could only explain why he was kissing her, it would never explain satisfactorily why she was kissing him back, or why it was her tongue that ventured out in search of his. His hands moved up her neck from her shoulders, until he cupped her face in them as he kissed her.
"Take off your blouse," he said into her mouth as they kissed. And without hesitation her slim fingers began undoing buttons.
