The Interview (short romance story) (2 page)

She wasn’t usually like that, she usually left it until the third date before sleeping with anyone, if she managed to get that far, but she let her lust take over. She was on the table, her feet dangling off the edge, her stomach and breast pressed tightly against the Formica top; her lips locked tight onto his. He tasted warm, like sweet coffee and sugared treats. She dug her tongue into his mouth, clasped her hand around the back of his neck.

He mumbled something, then pulled back. She feared he was trying to pull away, worried that she had made a mistake and that, most importantly, she wasn’t going to get what she wanted, but he allowed the kiss to hold. He moved backwards, stood and lifted her off the table, their lips separating for a split second as he stood her on her feet, kissed her again and then dipped her over backwards, back onto the table.

She grabbed at his arms, his chest, his back; felt the heat of his skin through the thin material of his shirt. She felt his hands on her thighs as he kissed her deeper and with a greater sense of urgency. At that moment she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone and she was prepared to give herself up to him, regardless of where she was and who could see them.

She clawed at his trousers, ripped open the belt and the buckle, feeling the clasp snap in her hand. She ripped down the zipper with a grating sound that erupted over the moans of their kissing, the ecstasy of their embrace. She felt his cock underneath, bracing hard against a pair of slim underpants. She felt its heat, its size and its thickness and she wanted him even more.

She thrust her hips down and up, until her skirt rode to her hips, until she felt his erection, still encased in his pants, brushing against her moist underwear. He pushed against her, as eager to feel her as she wanted to feel him. She felt the wetness in her own knickers, felt the desperation in his throbbing cock. She slipped a hand down there, slid her knickers to one side and pulled down the waistband of his underpants. She touched his cock first, feeling it; it was thick, long. She ran her finger over a pulsing vein that throbbed down the shaft, down to his scrotum which she held and squeezed gently. Then she moved her hand away, lifted her hips closer and allowed him to enter her.

He released his lips from hers when his cock slid inside her. She threw her head back, ignored the pain as her skull slammed into the table. He arched his back, thrust in deeper, until she could feel him inside every inch of her. He held it there, let her feel his length, his desire, then he slowly released, gave her another cheeky smile -- this one tinged a breathless, red-faced glimmer -- and fucked her hard.

She grabbed at his back and chest, clawed madly at whatever skin she could find as he dug in deep inside her. She screamed, she couldn’t hold it back. He kissed her into silence, his body hunched over her; his cock still deep inside. They both came in that position, her screams muffled by his mouth; his groaning ecstasy caught in the same embrace.

She felt him release inside her, felt herself shudder.

He stayed on top of her, his cock still twitching inside of her, releasing his fluid. She breathed heavily into him, looked deeply into his eyes, then he pulled back, left her sprawled out on the table, her legs open, his fluid slowly drying in the air as it trickled down her buttocks.

He looked over her as he buttoned his pants as best he could, holding up the broken clasp by wrapping his belt tightly around his waist. He checked his watch and smiled at her. He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to offer his gratitude, his phone number or even his name, but then he closed it firmly, gave her one last mischievous and handsome smile, and then left.

She watched him go, dropping her head over the back of the table to see him depart and head towards the main room. She heard him talking to someone, his pleasant voice cut through to her, made her smile, then another voice answered him and made her jump. She  rushed to her feet, slipped her knickers back in place, straightened her skirt and repositioned her top.

She smiled innocently at the doorway just as a young man, the one who had flirted with her in the office, strode in. He gave her anther flirty smile as he walked to the counter, she returned it warmly and quickly left. He was cute, but she’d had her fill and he was nothing like the man that he replaced.

She walked back to the office with her head held high, staring straight ahead. She didn’t look for the handsome man whose ejaculate she could feel soaking into her knickers, didn’t dare let the rest of the office know that she needed his verification, even if she did. After all, that was the first time she had climaxed in a long time, the first time ever that she had felt such an instant attraction to someone.

As she left the building, made it back to her car without a falter in her smile, she knew one thing for sure: she was going to take the job. It didn’t matter that it was boring and would probably suck the life out of her within weeks; she was confident that whatever life the job sucked out of her, the handsome stranger would put back into her.

***

As she expected, they offered her the job. The confirmation of their interest was on her answering machine when she got home, after stopping off to buy herself a bottle of wine in a preemptive celebratory mood. She phoned them back, told them she would love to take the job. They said she could start at the beginning of next week. She would have started straight away if it meant another run-in with the man in the kitchen, but she accepted their offer.

She was relaxed after that, happy with the way things had gone. She drank the bottle of wine, settled into the sofa and daydreamed about her man in shining armor. When the thoughts of him stirred a desire deep within her, when she remembered how her body had shook, how much he had pleasured her, she began to play with herself. She came for the second time that day because of him. She couldn’t wait for the next week to roll around.

2

She was nervous about starting work, not as nervous as she had been with the interview, but a nervousness borne out of a giddy excitement; a tinging, trembling feeling that ran through her blood and prickled goose pimples on her flesh. She had spent the entire weekend thinking about him. She had tried, in vain, to find him online, hoping what little she knew about him -- where he worked, what he looked like -- would be enough to find a social media profile. She failed to find anything.

She wore her best suit, spent time on her makeup and hair, practiced her most flirtatious smile in the mirror and then set off for the office. She arrived just as a number of others were arriving. She climbed slowly out of her car, eyeing them up as they clustered together -- laughing and joking -- and entered the building. There were only a few of them and he wasn’t with them.

There were more inside the building, loitering around reception. She studied each of them in turn, one was already watching her behind as eyes passed over him and he took her interest to mean that she liked him. He gave her a dirty smile and a wink, she tried to ignore him.

The elevator was working again and as she shifted inside, she entered into brief and awkward conversations with a few of the other workers on their way to the same floor. She was glad when the doors finally opened and everyone scattered to their separate desks, their own segments of the office. Some of them wandered away to the kitchen, Shirley followed them, walking slowly down the aisle, glancing around, trying to take everything and everyone in. She couldn’t see him in the office, and when she bustled through to the busy kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee and avoid the early morning small talk, she couldn’t find him there either.

She was dejected, her excitement and giddiness faded. She searched for him all day, shooting sly glances around the office as she worked, studying it in more detail on her many trips to the toilet or the kitchen, which she took in the hope she would bump into him. She couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Are there many people off sick today?”

One of the women in the office, a young girl in her early twenties with hair that sprayed all over her head and thin pouty lips that were caked with thick red lipstick, had started talking to her; nonsense small talk that Shirley absorbed until she found a gap in the conversation to slip in her nonchalant question.

“I don’t think so,” the girl answered calmly. “Why?”

Shirley shrugged, looked at the steaming coffee cup in her hand, tried to play casual. “Just wondering. It doesn’t seem that full, that’s all.”

“This is about as full as it gets here,” the girl said. She looked away, seemed to think something over, “I think everyone’s here,” she said with a nod. “Might be missing one or two though.”

Shirley nodded. They were missing at least one, and he was the most important one. How the girl with the big hair and pointed lips couldn’t see that, how she hadn’t noticed that the office was short of its most prized possession, amazed Shirley.

She tried not to interact much with the other workers for the rest of the day. She watched the clock, waited until the dreary day ended and then happily went home.

The next day she rose with the same eager anticipation as the last. She drove to work with a smile on her face, a smile that remained constant as she parked the car, passed reception and worked her way to the office; a smile that faded when she realized that her man had failed to show yet again. She suffered the same result the next day and the next, until she was forced to endure an entire week without him. She was annoyed by the weekend, annoyed at him and annoyed at herself. She had taken the job because of him and as he hadn’t had the decency to show, she had been forced to endure it without him.

She had a good feeling he would be there next week. She dreamt about jumping on him, taking him in the kitchen again, maybe moving to a storeroom so they could have more privacy, so they didn’t need to rush. He could take his time with her and she could let him. She was excited and horny at the thought of it, but when she got to work, that excitement dribbled away.

She searched for him everywhere, failed to find him again. She sat at her desk, ready to start another miserable work day, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It seemed pointless.

She slammed her hands onto the surface of the desk, attracting the attention of nearby workers who looked up from their phones and keyboards. She ignored most of them, scowled at one unlucky man who tried to flirt with her. She went down to reception to greet the stubborn faced receptionist who was waiting for her with perpetual look of misery.

“I was wondering if you could tell me something,” Shirley said, as politely as she could.

The receptionist glared back.

“I’m looking for someone, a man,” Shirley offered.

“Aren’t we all?” the receptionist said blandly.

Shirley frowned. “A
particular
man,” she explained.

“You’re not alone.”

“He’s muscly, handsome, tall--”

“Ah, just the
perfect
man then,” she cut in dryly. “Right well--””

Shirley slammed her fist onto the desk, surprising the receptionist and herself. They both stared at the desk, at her clenched fist. Shirley coughed, bringing her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “But this is important.” She faked a smile. “He was here when I had my interview,” she said, trying to soften her tone but unable to hide the distaste on her face.

The receptionist shook her head, staring into Shirley's eyes apprehensively.

“He was wearing a tight shirt,” Shirley tried. “He was in the kitchen…” she offered.

The receptionist glared at her momentarily, Shirley tried her best to maintain her smile.

“Max,” the receptionist said eventually, looking away from Shirley.

“Max?” Shirley replied, her smile now genuine.

The receptionist nodded and looked up again, a glimmer of sadism in her eyes. “Handsome Tall. Strong. Cheeky smile, nice eyes?”

“Yes,” Shirley nodded, exaggeratedly. “That’s him. Is he sick, is he on holiday?”

The receptionist shook her head, the glimmer still in her eyes. “He doesn’t work here.”

Shirley felt her heart sink, felt the smile drip from her face. “What? But I saw--”