Jacqueline dressed carefully for the interview. She really wanted to make a good impression. If she didn't get a job soon she would probably lose her mind. Gaining employment had never been this hard before, but then again, she was applying for a different sort of work. She just needed something of short duration, to get her out of the house for a few months and recharge her batteries. But after six interviews in two weeks, what she really really needed was not to be rejected. It was hard on a girl's self-esteem.
Though it was just temp work, she was being driven crazy at home. Her kids were off school for summer and they were wreaking havoc on her writing schedule. Since quitting her day job almost a year ago to write full time, she'd discovered a need to keep strict working hours and routines. Leading up to the summer she had believed the new arrangement to be working wonderfully. She was prolific, her quality was high, and she was able to do the family thing in the evening without having to be a slave to her blackberry. But then the elementary school went on summer break and her three kids descended upon her quiet, structured days. Now, rather than writing the children's books and magazine short stories that provided her a career, she was taking lunch orders and ref'ing disputes about the TV. remote. It was exhausting and she missed missing them. Not that she didn't love her kids madly...she just felt professional childcare was necessity for the modern, self-employed mother. Unfortunately, she really couldn't afford the additional expense of childcare...unless she got a temp job for a couple of weeks to put toward the cause.
Just like the previous interviews, she wore her interview suit. It was dark aubergine wool, with a lined skirt that was a respectable length. Although, if you wanted to be critical, the slit on the right side cut just a tad too high. She would attempt to hide this flaw with a saddle colored leather briefcase.
The single breasted jacket was slimming and fit her like a glove. Did she look too much like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl? Post professional make over? Maybe. Perhaps the silk cami peeking through could be replaced with something more modern. She tried a few things on, all her tops looked bulky under the slim suit. She dug into the trunk inside her closet that contained old Halloween costumes. She couldn't believe she still had it, but there it was: the cat woman costume she'd never worked up the nerve to wear out of the house. It would actually be perfect with her outfit. She pulled out the black leotard underneath until just the body sock of tight woven black mesh remained. Did she have the confidence to wear it? She assured herself it could hardly be seen. When the coat was buttoned there were only glimpses of the mesh between the vee of the jacket and more of the same covering her legs like sheer stockings. People wear daring things these days, she reminded herself. She was a pretty conservative looking woman, the little bit of badness might help sell her to prospective employer.
When she put the cat suit on underneath the jacket and skirt, she was amazed at the surge of confidence she felt. In this ensemble she felt...in charge. Like a vixen. Hopefully the kind of vixen you'd like to see sashaying around your office for a few weeks. Tucking her hair back into the knot at the back of her head, and plugged in some black pearl earrings. Ready.
An hour later she was straightening her coat cuffs as she stared at the reception desk in front of her. She'd been waiting several minutes. Clearly the office worker who had shown her to the small lobby had been annoyed that her appointment was interfering with her lunch hour. Jacqueline hoped the woman had at least told her boss he had an interview waiting before heading off for a two margarita lunch with the sales department.
The wood grain door swung open and a man emerged. He called her name and bade her to enter. She walked toward him, stopping to extend her hand. He took it and squeezed strongly. He was a big, broad man. She felt a fission of sexual interest kindle inside her.
The office was oddly dim, she thought as she entered. It was very nicely furnished, but with heavy draperies that obscured the watery sunlight outside. There were dark, pattered carpets on the floor and a large mahogany desk in the center of the room. She sat herself in the small chair across from the monstrous leather one he must occupy.
"Ms. Martin," he said as he moved to take his own seat. He introduced himself a Phillip Webster. His hair was silver. It was good hair, thick and silky. Very different than the bristly mustache on his upper lip. He had a big head with a firm jaw. He looked stern, like a man who meant business. She braced herself for a hard interview. "Thank you for coming her today. I've looked over your resume, you look well qualified to be a personal assistant."
She nodded. "Yes, sir, I'd say so."
"Unfortunately, so far all the candidates I've interviewed have had good credentials. In fact, one has been Nick Cage's assistant for six years. He wants a change of pace and is trying out Seattle. Will work for peanuts. I all but told him he had the job."
Jacqueline opened and closed her mouth as she tried to formulate a reply. "Nick Cage is lame," was the best she could come up with. DAMN, looked like this job possibility was receding into the distance.
"So unless you have some passionate speech prepared to change my mind, I believe I'll go ahead and engage him until my usual assistant returns from maternity leave."
Jacqueline stood indignantly. "You could have texted me this explanation, you know. There was no need to drag me down here in person." She shuttered to think of the money she had spent in parking and grooming just to get turned down flat before she said five words. "I want this job, sir. Mr. Webster. I'd work hard for you. I would do anything you want."
She was amazed at how sexy that had sounded. She hadn't really meant to say it like that. And yet...and yet. Over a year ago she'd had an experience that seemed to have awakened her inner sex kitten. Ever since, being alone with a strange man seemed to make her senses feel heightened. Her skin was sensitive to the little fan blowing air from across the room, and his dark, hooded eyes on her. He tugged on the side of his mustache.
"Come around, Ms. Martin." He instructed. She rounded the desk and he inspected her from a few feet away. He started at her sensible two inch pumps, up her black clad legs, over the curves of her grape colored hips. He lingered on her breasts. Stared hard at them like he could see them beneath the lined coat.
She started to tingle all over. He was a boob man, she's stake everything on it.
"I have been told I am very demanding." He finally said. "I am not sure you have the strength to get the job done. It's more physical work than you might expect. You have to be willing to do things you might find distasteful or uncomfortable. I wonder if you are the type of woman who can take whatever I throw at you," he stated. His voice was low, gravelly. I reverberated through her body and seemed to strum a chord somewhere in the vicinity of her vagina. How could she be turned on? He was basically dismissing her while hinting maybe he'd be receptive to some sexual favors. Wasn't he?
Oh god, she didn't KNOW. She could be misunderstanding him. It seemed like he was propositioning her though. And if he was...did she want to take him up on it?
She had never been with an older man before. Or one that looked so grim and, well, controlling. He was a total type A, if the well-ordered pencil cup on top of his desk was any indication. The opposite of the kind of man she usually found attractive. He was a type of man she'd seen in restaurants, talking down to the wait staff. He reminded her of her friend's mean dad. Being in his powerful presence was uncomfortable but exciting. Her body was very excited. The awareness that he was waiting for her to say something was unbearable. What if she accepted his challenge and it was all a big misunderstanding? It would be mortifying. But if she wasn't wrong...at least it would be worth the cost of parking downtown.
Why not play? She didn't have the job anyway, may as well go out on a limb a little. She never had to see this man again in her life. Oh, she was starting to feel soft at her center. Juicy. Did he want to know that? She could tell him. Or show him.
Her nipples chaffed against the suit. She wore no bra as the suit held her generously sized breasts firmly. Smashed them, really. Her every breath caused her nipples to rub against fabric, so sensitive now, where moments ago they'd been dormant.
"Yes, sir. I'm the type of woman who will do whatever it takes."
She moved her hands to the center button of her jacket, flicked it open. She imagined he shifted forward as a slice of her stomach and chest were revealed. "Do you mind if I take this off? It's warm in here."
"Please, make yourself comfortable." He rumbled. His hands grabbed the sides of his chair. Jacqueline imagined they wanted to help her rip the jacket from her arms. Without meeting her eyes, she shimmied out of it. Let it fall on the ground. Stood before him all but topless, her boobs mashed against the thin fabric. She sidled closer. Hitched a hip on the side of his desk. Made sure her skirt rode up to show her curvy leg.
And sat there in silence, arching and sucking in and trying to look hot. She didn't know if it was working or not. He hadn't pushed her away, but neither had he made a move to touch her. She closed her eyes.
"Ms. Martin? I'm a married man." He finally said. But something in his tone made her know he wanted her to continue her seduction. Like it was a play with an inevitable ending.
"Are you, sir? She must be an amazing woman to have the devotion of a man like you."
