Chapter Two β The Physical
Dr. Johnson held open the door to FNS Bank for Tessa, who entered, still somewhat confused.
"Mary Beth, this is our new secretary, Tessa Truman. Ms. Truman, meet Mary Beth Wonton, our receptionist."
"Miss Wanton," Tessa proffered her long, slender hand.
"WonTon, like the soup," the receptionist snapped, and then smiling broadly inquired, "Nice trip up the elevator?"
Tessa, flushing still further, said nothing.
"Ms. Wonton," Dr Johnson continued unruffled, "there will be the usual formalities ... employment application ... scheduled physical ..."
"What usual? We've never had, that is, the organization has never had a secretary before.
Ah, still the perfect bitch about it, isn't she, thought Dr. Johnson, but merely replied, "Ms. Wonton, please issue our standard application form. I shall arrange the physical exam. Thank you." And he exited, all pomp, circumstance and canned semen.
Scowling after Dr. Johnson's departure, something amusing apparently passed through Ms. Wonton's mind as she, smiling broadly, pulled out an application form and rose from her desk.
"This way please," Mary Beth Wonton led Tessa into a secluded room.
"If you will just sit here," indicating a chair behind a broad oak desk, "and fill this out. Take your time. Dear."
Without any warmth, Tessa definitely decided, and cynical as hell. Oh well. There's always one in every organization. Not right off the bat for the most part, but there always does turn out to be at least one bitch. Though Tessa had never met an Oriental bitch before.
The application was only one page, your basic information: name, age, address; last place of employment; who to call in case of emergency. Tessa decided not to risk leaking any erotic residue on the fine oak chair and completed the form standing up leaning over the fine oak desk.
"What! You're done already?" Mary Beth exclaimed when Tessa returned the form to her desk five minutes later.