Mesmerized...
That's the only way to describe the awe-struck feeling you get whenever he draws you near. The gentleness you want to push away from comes swirling back to you in a twirl of confusing emotions. You promised not to hurt him...at least...
The sing-song voice of rejection, followed by that skin prickling sound of booming laughter makes you wake from your daydream and straighten out your skirt.
It's your best skirt— this one. It's got the right amount of class with a stead-fast pinch of oomph just tight enough to round your curves.
You sit with perfect posture, ever the outward look of a shy girl. You watch with tightly crossed legs as the previous occupant of the deliberation room runs out of sight in a bout of uncontrollable tears.
"Bring me someone without a stick up their arse!," You hear someone shout from the inside.
"You, there. Your turn," A suave suited man points a finger in your direction and you rise from your seat, clutching your work resume in your freshly manicured hands.
You nod at him when he politely opens the door for you to step inside. The room is twice the size of any office you've ever had to clean before, but you know it's just like any other place and after all, a jobs a job.
"Thank you for meeting with me today," You day with a smile as you shake the hand that reaches out to you.
"Yes, my pleasure— have a seat, please."
Your potential boss seems impatient, he hasn't even looked you in the face, yet. He lifts from his chair without excusing himself. You watch him walk around the room, a bit of pep in his step. He's all legs, a slim build, but a gigantic presence. You admire his profile and the way that his dark lashes contrast perfectly to the olive of his skin tone when he fidgets with the curtain cords, standing in the bright sunlight.
You see the way he licks his lips as he pours himself a drink, finally sighing as he returns to his seat.
Setting his glass of clear liquor on his desk, he sits back in his chair, finally meeting your eyes. You can feel him scan your body. He doesn't even hide the fact that his line of vision stops at your chest before he smirks, sniffs, and looks down at his hands.
"Tell me dear, why do you want to work in the music industry?"
You gulp, trying to hide the look of shock from your expression, praying to God that a blush wouldn't reveal the lie.
To be really honest, this is a new town for you. The directions to get her were all out of wack. You were lost most of the morning, trying to race against time to be here for your job interview. It isn't until now that it dawns on you.....this isn't the job you thought you'd find.
"I-I um, I beg your pardon, sir. I think I've made a mistake?"
Your answer, as usual, doesn't come out as the firm statement you want it to be. Instead it sounds like a question, one of which wasn't meant to be answered.
"Hmm?," he softly hums from his throat, tilting his head to one side as he eyes you.
You note a couple things in this moment: One- this man is half tyrant, half delicate being. Two- you don't exactly know how you know that, but the shifts he's presented in the short amount of time between making someone cry to looking at you with those all-knowing eyes is enough to make your knees knock as you stand to leave.
"I apologize for wasting your time. I thought this was a maids interview. I'm terribly sorry, I must be going now. I'm late."
The way his voice deepens in response surprises you as you walk toward the door again. "Would you like it to be?"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I don't want you to leave. The faster I can get out of here, the faster I can go back home to get a quick wink of sleep before more grueling hours tomorrow.
"Would you like it to be?"
You probably know nothing about what it takes to keep up with me, but all in good time, darling— I tell you, you're going to love me.
"I don't understand?"
You say the words, but my eyes are slowly trailing from your lips to your hips. I had to stop you on the way to the exit, a fat-bottom girl with a great big pair of—
"I don't think I'd quite fit the bill. I don't even like modern music much, no offense."
Watching you respond with such manners, rejecting my offer with such good grace, I've nothing left to say at the moment. A rarity for my own tongue not to slither into ears by way of persuasion.
"Nice to meet you, anyway."
You nod, awkwardly stepping into a little curtsy only to lift your head from its bow, blushing like mad. You're adorable, really. Sexy and cute all wrapped in one tightly little pleated skirt.
"You too, dear."
The door swings shut as you pass through, but what's this? On my desk, across from me, where you were just seated is a laminated piece of paper I can't resist a look at.
"Should I send the next one in, Freddie?"
Well aren't you a busy little thing, my god, you don't look old enough to have this kind of job record. I know your name is on here somewhere, your phone number, probably your address, too. But, I do enjoy a little bit of mischief— I hope you do, too.
