I sat in the large, richly decorated, reception area dressed in my best suit, a medium grey wool with dark buttons and a skirt that stopped just above my knees. I'd paired the suit with a white pleated blouse that sported a tied collar, a combination I thought looked good with my dark hair and average skin. In my lap I was holding my newly purchased leather padfolio with several resumés and a high-quality pen tucked inside. Taken together, I hoped the padfolio and suit made me look professional beyond my years. What wasn't professional, however, was my fidgeting, and I once again forced my leg into stillness as I waited to be called into the back for my interview.
During the summer between my junior and senior years at Alben W. Barkley high school, and then continuing at night through the rest of the school year, I took classes at nearby Bluegrass Community College where I'd earned a certificate as a paralegal. Now I was applying for my first 'real' job.
If I could land this position I wouldn't have to work a register at Kroger anymore, a job I utterly despised, not to mention the pay for a paralegal, even as an intern, was
way
better than that of a cashier. More importantly, I started at the University of Louisville in the fall with a major in history, and I hoped interning in a law office during summers, and having the certificate, would help me qualify for their law program. With less than a fifty percent acceptance rate into the Louis D. Brandeis School of Law, I was trying to stack the deck in my favor as much as possible.
I glanced at the old and expensive looking clock on the wall, forcing myself to smile at the receptionist as I focused on preventing my leg from jittering. In addition to my nerves, I was feeling squirmy, on edge, and my heart was thudding in my chest. I hadn't guzzled a pop before arriving, but I almost felt like I was jacked up on sugar and caffeine. No... that wasn't quite right either. It was more like how I felt when I needed to jill off. I smiled to myself. I wanted this job, but I didn't want it that much. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself.
A door opened that led into the working area of the firm. A man a few years older than me, dressed to impress, walked out, nodding to me in passing as he made his way to the exit.
"Ms. Pusslick? Are you ready?" My eyes widened as the woman holding the door to the offices addressed me. I stood and forced myself to smile as I crossed the room to her. There was no way she called me what I'd thought she'd called me. She gestured me through the door.
"Right this way, please. Can I offer you anything? Water or a cock?"
My heart nearly seized in my chest. "No, nothing, thank you," I said, forcing my voice to be strong.
The woman steered me into a small conference room and gestured to a chair. "Please have a seat. Mr. Cockwood will be with you in a moment."
I struggled for breath. "Thank you," I replied as I settled at the conference table, my back to the door.
The woman smiled, nodded once, and then closed the door as she stepped out, leaving me alone in the room. I glanced around, my heart pounding with terror. It had to be some kind of trick... or maybe a test.
That's it! They're testing me!
my mind brayed.
They're testing me to see if I can keep my head! That has to be it!
The squirmy feeling I'd had in the reception area continued to intensify as I waited, but now I was also hot, as if someone had switched off the air conditioning. I forced myself to breathe normally, my eyes closed as I again tried to calm myself. Swallowing hard, I fanned myself briefly with my padfolio, but it did little to cool me.
Get a grip!
my mind raged.
What's wrong with you!
I took another deep breath and let it out slowly, but my yearning continued to increase. I felt flushed, and sweaty, and I wanted to pant.
It's never been this bad, before! It has to be Emily, but what's she doing?
I was the younger half of Emily and Ella, the Luskik twins. My sister and I had always shared a special bond. We looked alike and thought alike, so much so, it was almost as if we could reach each other's thoughts. Despite the way it seemed sometimes, we couldn't. As young girls, we'd experimented with flashcards and we missed far more than we got right. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, it seemed at times we were of one mind and body. When we were twelve, Emily fell down some steps, broke her arm, and I'd cried in pain right along with her. Mom said it was sympathetic pain, that it wasn't real, and was all in my head, but I didn't believe her.
After that experience, like with the flashcards, we'd experimented by pinching ourselves, touching something hot or cold, or sticking ourselves with a pin. Like with the flashcards, our tests ended inconclusively. I could poke myself with a pin on the foot, and Emily would claim I'd pinched myself on the arm. It was the same when she was looking at the cards or causing herself discomfort. Sometimes I'd get it right, but if I were honest with myself, I was guessing.
As we grew older, we realized we were two different people, but that bond remained. We could still tell what the other was thinking with a glance, and sometimes it was creepy how one of us would know when the other was hurt, upset, or having a bad day.
Normally the feelings were just that... feelings... like when someone walked into a new place or saw a stranger, and yet had the sense they'd seen the room or person before. Despite our efforts, we couldn't force the connection, it just happened, and there was no predicting when or what would cause it. We couldn't quantify the connection other than that it required a strong emotional component, but we both knew it was real. Mostly our bond meant we had someone we could share our innermost secrets with and know we could trust them like no other person in the world.
"Ms. Luskik, I'm Donald Pokwude. How are you this afternoon?" the middle age man asked as he bustled into the room and offered his hand. Mr. Pokwude was paunchy and greying at the temples, but he had a friendly smile.
"I'm doing well," I replied, my voice sounding breathy as I rose and shook his hand
"Please, have a seat." After releasing my hand, he moved around the table and sat with his back to the floor to ceiling window, facing me. I sat as he did. "Thank you for coming in today. Before we get started, are you sure I can't get you anything. Water? Pop?"
"No, sir. I'm fine, thank you," I murmured, forcing myself not to squirm.
He glanced over my resumé before looking up at me. "So... tell me why you want to come to work for Donald Pokwude and Associates."
"Well, as you can see from my resumé, I have a paralegal certificate. I've always been interested in a career in law..." I began before my voice trailed off, the rest of my spiel forgotten. My nipples began to harden, jutting against my bra as my womanhood flooded, my left nipple tingling as if being caressed. I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus, praying my suit coat would prevent tenting so Mr. Pokwude wouldn't notice.
"I see that. And you just graduated high school?"
