Pers of the Job

My name is Richard Singleton, aged 45 and I run the City Council's housing department. I am 5' 9" tall and comfortably built although it would not take too much exercise to get me into more youthful trim. There is no regular female companion in my life but half a dozen married women welcome me into their arms on a casual if irregular basis. Apart from that, I get by with pick-ups at singles bars and the odd quickie from grateful clients.

I was married for ten years but that ended five years ago on the grounds of my wife's adultery. I had played around plenty myself so would have been willing to accept my wife's misdemeanour as tit for tat had it not been for the particular bloke who was screwing her. He was my boss and I hated the bastard. For three years he had picked on me, given poor appraisals and generally ensured that I got all the shitty jobs. Then it suddenly changed. I started being given the fact finding missions to other cities with stays in plush hotels and all the little cushy overnight seminars - I even copped for the weekends abroad that were his legitimate perk. I genuinely believed that he was trying to make amends for all the previous unkind behaviour until I discovered he had only been creating opportunities to get his leg over with Anne. Well, the newspapers got hold of the story, he was demoted and moved to another city and I walked into his job, largely on the strength of the many courses that he had sent me on.

So at 9:30 a.m. on a cold late march morning, I walked into the reception area near to my office and paused to look over the mass of humanity already assembled. This area contained rows of hard backed chairs and at one end of the room, six semi-circular screens which gave an illusion of privacy for the personal interviews with the clerks on duty. The clientele were almost exclusively life's unfortunates, seeking crisis loans or accommodation or possibly waiting to dispute eviction notices. I was very glad that my years of direct interface with the customers now lay many years in the past.

Having decided that it was an average attendance for I Monday, I was about to walk on to my office upstairs when I noticed a young couple sitting tightly holding hands. Both looked about twenty but she was delightful, like an exotic flower blooming in an area of waste ground. I moved until slightly concealed behind one of the screens and from this better vantage, was able to get a close look at the pair. The youth had a shock of light coloured hair, an open face with a ruddy complexion and his general image was that of a country lad or yokel. He was wearing a bomber jacket, unnecessarily baggy trousers and heavy white trainers. In contrast she seemed neat. A very pretty face surrounded by short brown curly hair, a slim figure and what looked like very shapely legs. Even from a distance I could make out the shape of her breast through the heavy winter coat. Coming to a decision, I emerged from my hiding place and walked up to them. "Housing application?" I asked.

The girl looked up. "How did you know?" she wondered.

I ignored her question and keeping my face enigmatic said, "I am Mr Singleton, the manager. Would you like to come with me?"

The girl hesitated. "It's not our turn yet. Most of these other people are before us. It will be ages before our number comes up." As proof she showed me the numbered ticket issued at the door and then pointed up at the indicator on the wall.

I smiled. "Don't take any notice of that. I am conducting a random statistical survey and I want to ask a few questions."

She still hesitated. "That will make us miss out turn," she objected.

"Not at all," I reassured her. "I am taking personal control of your case. By dealing with me you might get out of here quicker that if you continued to queue, I most certainly will not make you any later." This was a lie because, if they failed to hold my interest than I would simply recycle them back into the system.

I led them up to my office and then quickly placed a second chair in front of my desk to join the one that always stood there. Sitting at the desk I made a great show of placing a sheet of paper in front of me then looked up and studied them in silence. The lad was sprawled back almost insolently in the chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. She sat primly, knees together, hands folded in her lap looking respectfully at me.

"Have you lived in the city all your lives?" I began.

The girl answered. "I have but Brian only moved here when he was three."

"Same thing," I murmured, pretending to make two ticks on the paper. "Do you like the city. Have you considered moving away?" I asked generally, trying to ad-lib the questions as I went along.

"We do like it here," she said. "Anyway, all our friends and relations live here so we do not want to move."

"Education, O-levels, CSE's?" I asked, this time directing the question directly towards the youth.

Again it was she who answered. "He's got four CSE's, I'm not sure about the grades." Turning to him for help she prompted "Brian?"

"Dunno," he said.

Trying to cover for her boyfriends unhelpful answer, she added quickly, "I got six O-levels and A-level Computer Science. I also have a secretarial diploma."

"Very good," I said, going through the motions of writing the information down. The girl was beginning to intrigue me. She was both bright and articulate. I found it difficult to understand how she had finished up engaged to such a lump of wood. In that moment, I decided that I would handle the application. Very deliberately I folded the still blank piece of paper and slipped it inside a folder that I removed from my drawer. Then, selecting a legitimate Housing Application form, I said briskly, "Right -- your application. Can I have your names please."

"Brian Duffy and Carole Benitton."

"How old are you Carole?"

"Twenty. Brian is too but he is nearly twenty-one."

"I will put twenty down for you both for now. I can get your dates of birth later. Why do you need a house?"

"We want to get married and we can't until we have somewhere to live.

"What about living with parents?"

"There,s no room. Brian has two brothers and a sister and I am the same. I only share with my sister but he has to share a bedroom with both his brothers."

"That's good. According to the rules, that classes as overcrowding and is worth some bonus points. How long have you known each other?"

Carole was pleased by the mention of bonus points and now smiled as she told me, "We've been going together for almost three years but have known each other for longer."

I spent some time writing and when I glanced up, Brian was gazing vacuously out of the window but she was watching me alertly. I could see that I would need to handle this very carefully indeed. The girl had really got under my skin. Not only was she exceedingly attractive but there was a real gleam of intelligence in her eyes. "I think that I have got everything that I need for now," I said, putting my pen back in my pocket.

Carole was surprised. "Is that all? I thought that there would be lots of forms to fill in."

"There is -- but I can't see much point in wasting time doing that until I know if there is something worthwhile to offer you. Can you come back later in the week after I have had chance to check what is available?" I already knew that there was very little available and that the best they could realistically hope for was to spend two years working their way up the waiting list.

"I can come in any lunchtime but Brian is working on a building site outside the city. He had to take the day off to come with me today."

This was exactly what I had hoped for - the whole object of the exercise was to get Carole by herself. "That's fine, you will be able to tell me all that I want to know," I smiled but then could not resist adding, "You seem to speak for the pair of you anyway."

Carole had enough humour to appreciate the justification for my dig. She grinned back. "Brian is not at his best in a situation like this," she excused.

I handed her my card. "If you give me a ring when you are coming then I will meet you at the main door and save you the trouble of finding me."

The call came in the middle of Wednesday morning so at 12:30 I stationed myself just inside the main door. Carole was exactly on time. I escorted her to my office and using the excuse that she was wet from the heavy rain, relieved her of her coat and hung it up. Sitting in the sole chair, she adopted the same posture of knees together and hands on lap. The difference was that now I could get a unobstructed look at her body and a very nice body it was. She had a nicely full bust compared to her general slim form and later when nervous agitation caused her to breath heavily, my eyes became fixated on her breasts as they rose and fell.

I took down various details that would be needed, starting with their addresses that I had omitted before, together with dates of birth. Eventually, with pen poised, I leaned forward and asked, "Do you cohabit?"

Carole seemed not to understand the question.

"Do you and Brian sleep together?"

"I told you, I have to sleep with my sist..." Her face started to colour as she realised what I was asking.

"Do you have sex?"

Now her face flushed bright red. "I didn't think you were entitled to ask me something like that," she stammered.

"It is up to you," I told her keeping my voice neutral. "There is a box here for cohabitees, a 'Yes' is worth points but I will tick 'NO' if you prefer."

"Sorry, I was being silly. Yes -- we do have sex."

"And are you on the pill?"

Again she started to balk at the question so I hurried to explain. "It does not matter because I will tick 'NO' anyway because of the following question. It asks if you are pregnant. Now I am trying to help you and I must say that pregnancy earns a hell of a lot of points. I was going to tick Pregnant for you -- that does not mean that you will need to produce a baby, it's something that never gets checked. A little bit of judicious lying can do a lot of good -- I just like to know which are the lies and that's why I asked about the pill."

"I really am sorry. I think I'm being very silly. I am on the pill. Please ask me anything that you like," she invited.

"I gave her a relaxed smile back. "Don't worry, I have no more embarrassing questions left.

Carole was relieved and this showed in her posture. In a friendly conversational tone I said casually, "With both houses so cram full of people, it must be very difficult for you and your boyfriend to get time alone together."

"It is," she said. In the warm weather we go out in the country. Brian has a car but it is very small."

Reading between the lines, I knew she was saying that the vehicle was not conducive to the search for carnal knowledge. The girl's previous reserve seemed to have crumbled with the end of my questioning, so I risked a small joke, "Perhaps I should amend that box about having sex to 'only very rarely'."

She did laugh and then said happily, "The last couple of years we have managed a two week holiday away together."

"That sounds nice -- but you must be desperate to get married."

"We are Mr Singleton -- really desperate."

"There are a couple of properties available for immediate occupation," I said, deliberately keeping my voice flat. Her face lit up but when I continued by saying, "They are both on the Copely Estate," it fell again because I had mentioned one of the cities two notorious sink estates.

"What are they like?" she asked without much hope.

"The first one is not up to much," I admitted. "It has suddenly become vacant because the current tenant refuses to go home from hospital when he recovers from being stabbed."

"And the other?" she sounded near to tears.

"That is a lot better," I told her sounding more cheerful. "That one has been completed refurbished though-out following the fire. I think though that people who commit arson she spend the rest of their lives in prison."

Carole slowly shook her head. "Isn't there anything at all that is vacant on your books apart from those two?"

"There is one that has just come in. It is so recent that it is not even on the computer system yet. The trouble is that it is a very nice property and when it does hit the system there is going to be a lot of competition for it. Actually, I happen to have the folder here if you would like to have a look at it."

"Yes please," she said. I had warned her not to be hopeful but I could see that already she was grasping at the straw.

"Perhaps, you would find it easier sitting over there," I suggested indicating a small couch in the corner of the office. She complied so I dug out the folder and handed it over, then left her for a few minutes to look through with out distraction. Now I must point that most of the houses in the councils stock comprised of purpose built estates, built between the wars or just after but there were exceptions. There were occasional properties which had come onto the books in various ways over the years, and some of these were in very nice areas. The folder I had given Carole concerned one such house in a much sought after residential area and I knew that similar properties were selling on the open market for in excess of £240,000. The old lady who had lived in the house for over thirty years had just died and now it was mine to dispose of. It had actually been on my desk for over a fortnight, but I had withheld it from the system hoping that I might get a small earner out of it.

The girl was so engrossed in leafing through the folder that she had let her skirt ride up and I feasted my eyes before finally wandering over. I sat down beside her, pointing out various details and managing to brush her breast with my hand while doing so. "I believe that there is a farm down that lane that provides both milk and eggs," I said, putting the icing on the cake."

"It is lovely" she breathed, "And overlooking all these open fields."

"It would suit you down to the ground. The damn thing is that it is in my power to give it to you. To say, 'Here you are, the house is yours' - but that would be taking a risk and it is far safer for me to just put it into the system and let everybody take their chance." As I spoke, I snapped the folder shut, took it out of her hands and then walked back to my desk. I had effectively shown her paradise and then snatched it away again.

Carole followed and sat down in her chair. Her eyes were full of tears. "Cheer up," I said. "You are a very lovely girl. I am sure that someone who looks like you must get what she deserves in the end." As I spoke, I allowed my eyes to rove blatantly over her body. She cast a searching look at me and was about to speak but I cut her off. "I'm sorry but I will have to hurry you because I have an important appointment in less than a minute. You still have my card -- so if you want to speak to me about anything, just give me a ring. Remember that I want to help you."

Giving her not a moments pause, I handed back her coat and bustled her to the door. When she had gone I sat back and lit a cigarette. She would ring -- the only question being 'How long would she fight it?'

In the middle of Thursday morning the call came through. "This is Carole Benetton, Mr Singleton. You said that I could ring you. Would it be possible to come to your office again," she said with a rush.

"Certainly Carole," I told her briskly. "Same time and place as yesterday."

She arrived slightly early. I led her to my office and this time she removed her coat without invitation and hung it on the stand. Her appearance had changed. Today she was wearing a thin tailored blouse with a much shorter skirt and instead of knees primly together she very deliberately crossed her legs. I noticed also that her make-up was far more in evidence, giving a fuller look to the mouth and accentuating her eyes.

Carole started to talk immediately but I held up my hand to silence her, and looking down at a form in front of me, I said, "I am glad that you have come today because your application form has come back with a couple of queries. It's nothing serious but they seem to think downstairs that I have spelt your name incorrectly. Is it Carol with or without an 'e' and do you spell Benetton with one or two 'T's'?"

The girl gave a sigh of relief that there was not a real problem. "Carole with an 'E' and two T's," she said happily.

I amended the form, then looked up and smiled. "Well Carole Benetton with two T's. What can I do for you?"

She had been prepared to burst forth in flood before but now the girl found herself suddenly tongue-tied. I waited smiling encouragingly. "Mr Singleton. Do you fancy me?" she blurted out.

"Of course I fancy you. I doubt if there is a man in the world who would not fancy you. I said that you were an exceptionally attractive girl."

That stalled her for a moment but then she said, "But would you like to go to bed with me?"

"I am sure that any man would love to go to bed with you given the opportunity. I most certainly would."

"The house. Would it make a difference if I was nice to you?"

"You are being very nice now. It's because you are nice that I have taken a personal interest."

She took a deep breath. "Mr Singleton. If I let you fuck me, do we get the house?"

"I can guarantee it," I told her.

Carole slumped in her chair, gazing down at the floor.

"Will you let me fuck you?"

She looked me straight in the eye and her voice was firm as she said, "Yes."

"When?"

"Anytime that you like."

"Now," I suggested nodding towards the couch in the corner.

A look of panic crossed her face. "How do I know that you won't trick me -- you know, do it and then change your mind?"

"I would not take advantage of you like that for a start but I want you to be happy about this and know you will not be cheated. All the paperwork will be finished by next Wednesday. I suggest that you meet me somewhere on that day and I will hand you both the key and contract for the house before we conclude our ...er ...transaction."

"I can be on the corner by the bus station at 12:30."

"I'll be there."

"Where will we go?"

"There is an empty furnished house that I have a key for. Is that OK with you?"

"Fine," she said and most incongruously walked forward and shook my hand.

"There is just one other thing," I said. "Can you and your fiancé come to the office on Sunday morning. I want you both to do a profiling program on a computer."

"Why? I thought that we had just arranged everything for us to get the house."

"We have -- this is to cover our tracks," I explained. "It is almost certain that no one will check but there are random audits. Bonus points can be earned from the computer profile but it generates one hell of a lot of paperwork. Now if someone picked up your application form, it would stick out like a sore thumb that you have not got enough points for this house -- but if there is a great wad of profile attached, nobody is going to wade through to see where the points came from. You have got your house whatever happens -- this is to cover me because I would lose my job if this was discovered."

This small speech convinced her and it was arranged that the pair of them would be outside the office at 10 a.m. on the Sunday morning. I was very pleased with myself. Two of my married women friends were in their early thirties but the others tended more towards my own age and my singles bar pick-ups were in the same age range. A couple had been late twenties but it was a very long time since I had the chance of a girl so young and unspoiled. Wednesday was going to be a dream but I was hoping to squeeze a little extra out of the situation before then.