Chapter Two: The Interview
After a rather stressful trip to the next station and back, wasting time she hadn't really had to spare, she finally found herself at the last stop. She couldn't help glancing around the station as she passed through, hoping perhaps she might see the mysterious stranger, but he was nowhere to be seen. She had looked over the little scrap of paper at the surprisingly neat handwriting, adding the number to her phone should anything happen to the precious digits, but there was no name.
Her phone buzzed as she was tottering down the street, and she groaned at the name that flashed on the screen. Why did her mother always insist on doing this? She held the phone to her ear, careful to hold it just far enough away to not touch her impeccable makeup,
"Yes, mother, I'm on time, and I'm nearly at the office." The voice on the other end was condescending,
"You should have been there half an hour ago, darling," she said. "Honestly, how are you ever going to get a job if you're always late to things?"
"Mother, I'm five minutes away, and the interview doesn't start for half an hour. I'm hardly late." The old woman wasn't listening, she was blathering on already about Verity Davies' daughter, and how she had gotten a great job straight out of university. "Yes, I know mother, it's not like I'm not trying."
That was certainly true. She had more temping work and work experience on her CV than most of her friends combined, but she had rather wasted her time at university. The first attempt, at an economics degree, she had failed right off the bat from having rather a bit too much fun, forgetting that lectures were actually a thing that she needed to get up to go to rather than wasting the day away in bed with a string of boyfriends. The second time she had attempted it, she had been more serious, but disastrously poorly matched to her business degree. Employers were hardly chomping at the bit to get her into their offices. She had been lucky that her cousin Peter had had dealings with the company in the past and passed her CV on when he had last been visiting.
"Honestly, all that money we spent on your education, and all you can get is an interview as a personal assistant?" Giselle pursed her lips, momentarily forgetting about the ruby lip that she was no doubt ruining. She reminded herself to give that a touch up soon.
"It's all I want at the moment, mother, and it's a good way to get some experience." It was like the woman was deliberately ignoring her, continuing to harp away on the other end,
"Perhaps if you dressed a little more professionally, darling. It's hardly giving your employers the right impression." Giselle tensed slightly as she arrived at the building she was looking for, and she snapped,
"Alright, mother, I'm here. I'll speak to you when I'm done." She silenced the phone with a sharp jab and stormed into the building. Call me a slut, Giselle thought. She's the one who got her first job by screwing the boss… a married boss at that.
She adjusted her handbag on her shoulder, stepped into the lift, and fixed her lipstick in the mirror. When the lift doors slid open, she was ready. Armed with her CV and a list full of questions, she stormed into the office and approached the receptionist.
The girl behind the front desk was nice looking, if a little plain, and her face split into a wide grin when she caught sight of Giselle.
"Hello, can I help you?"
"Hi, my name is Giselle van Houten, I'm here for an interview with your managing director." The girl smiled,
"Oh, yes, of course. If you want to have a seat, I'll just go and see if he's ready for you." The brunette jumped eagerly to her feet and disappeared off at top speed. She was a slight young thing, Giselle thought; she was probably older than herself, but what with her standing at least a foot shorter than Giselle even without the heels, it was hard to align that thought in her head.
She seated herself elegantly on the available sofa, crossing her legs elegantly at the ankle and pretending not to notice every male eye in the room climbing the smooth, creamy limb. She only had to wait a moment before Bella reappeared at her side,
"He's still got the other girl in with him at the moment, but I imagine it will only be a few minutes… I don't think it was going very well for her."
"Of course," Giselle said, smiling politely. The receptionist dropped into the seat beside her with a big grin on her face,
"You come far?"
"Not particularly, I'm living in my grandmother's house at present, so not a long commute if I were to be working here." The brunette dropped her chin into her palm, looking at Giselle with a familiar sappy expression. "Mr Scott mentioned that the vacancy needed to be filled urgently, have you had much interest?"
"A couple of girls. No-one's quite fit our company's exact… requirements quite yet," she said with a purr, edging slightly closer to Giselle. "I presume your cousin prepped you on the unusual culture of our company," she said, leaning in. The eyes watching the two girls goggled in slight anticipation.
"He mentioned he thought I would be sufficiently experienced, and I'm very eager to please," Giselle said, lips quirking into a small smile. The receptionist nodded,
"I can see you are... you know, Mr Scott's current assistant is going on maternity leave," she offered up.
"Oh, really?" Giselle said, leaning into the ever closing gap between the two of them. "Will she be back?"
"I doubt it," Bella said, simply. "I think she's decided to grow up now she's going to have a baby... no more time for fun and shenanigans she said to me."
They were interrupted by the sound of furiously clacking heels, and a figure stormed out of a nearby hallway,
"Sounds like another unsuitable applicant," said Bella, abruptly pulling away. The girl that passed was visibly seething as she stopped in front of the pair of them. She was stout and homely, her hair as groomed as she could manage though still unmistakably frizzy, and her face only a little bit pretty.
"Are you here for the job, too?" she snapped. Giselle raised a delicate eyebrow,
"I am?" The girl shook her head furiously,
"They're chauvinist pigs, and I wouldn't work here if they paid me." Giselle fought the urge to point out the obvious, and the girl disappeared in a whirl.
"Oh, dear," Bella said, looking at someone over Giselle's shoulder. "Not a good match?"
"I told her that she didn't fit the image that I wish our company to maintain," said a deep, rumbling voice. Giselle almost fell off her seat in recognition. "Not like the lovely Miss Van Outen here. I'm certain we will get on rather nicely."
Giselle practically threw herself to her feet, turning to face the gorgeous gentlemen from the train. The older man smiled and held out a hand, "Now to introduce myself properly, Miss Van Outen… it is Miss, isn't it?" he said with a suggestive purr.
"Oh, yes," she said, heart pounding slightly in her chest. Her manicured hand looked tiny in the bear-like grasp, and she melted slightly into it. "But you can call me Giselle." He retracted his hand, looking reluctant in doing so,
"In that case, call me Tony." He looked across at Bella, "Tell Violet to hold my morning tea," he said, his northern tones buttery and charming, "And make sure we are not disturbed." Bella nodded and disappeared off to her desk, leaving the two of them alone. "Giselle, would you like to come with me?" He asked, gently placing a hand on the small of her back to lead her into his office.
When he had ushered her into the plush, modern room, he gestured for her to take a seat. She perched herself delicately on the edge of the chair, and he prowled round his desk to recline in his large leather chair and appraise her. His fingers steepled in front of him, and he peered at her over the arch with furrowed brow. He looked at every last inch of her, his gaze burning lustful patterns into the flesh.
Finally, his deep voice broke the heady silence of the room,
"I hope you don't mind that it is just us today. Normally one of our men from Human Resources would sit in to ensure the rigour of my interviewing method, but he had to take an unexpected leave of absence." Giselle, lent forwards slightly, aware of the way her blouse collar fell open slightly, exposing a delicate collarbone.
"Oh, not at all," she said, finally finding her voice. "I prefer it this way. It's rather cosy... intimate even." He sat forward in his chair, closing the gap between them slightly as if he couldn't bear to be distanced for another second.
"Good, that is the precise manner in which I like to conduct my business." He tapped his chin with a strong finger, "Has your cousin told you much about the unique way that our industry conducts itself."
"Peter mentioned that you were part of a very tight knit community, and that your deals were conducted in a rather unusual way. He said I would enjoy myself here," she said, trailing off suggestively. He smirked.
"I like to think we can all have a little bit of fun in our dreary work lives, and I expect my staff to go above and beyond for the call of duty," he said. He pushed himself to his feet and cockily rounded the desk. He came to a halt in front of her and leaned slightly back against on the desktop, tapping on the glass. "Stand up for me, Miss van Outen."
Giselle did as he asked, body charging with adrenaline at the proximity to his muscular frame. They were so close her breasts almost brushed his broad torso. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch, and she licked her lips in anticipation.
"I told you to call me Giselle," she said, voice nothing more than a whisper.
"I like a little bit of formality," he said, with a cheeky grin. "It makes the informality that much more delicious." He reached out a single finger, running it down the long neck and thundering pulse, fingertip dipping momentarily into the delicate hollow of her neck, and then across her exposed collarbone where it came to a rest over the strap of her bra. "Take off the blouse," he whispered.
She reached up to expertly flick open the buttons of her blouse, inch by inch revealing a glorious heaving chest, encased in flimsy red lace. "If I had known you coordinated so beautifully earlier, I would have hired you on the spot," he said with a smirk.
"We didn't know each other earlier," she said, teasingly, gently tugging the swath of silk from her frame. He leant in even close, causing her breast to press against him and spill up out of their lace imprisonment.
"Then I would have ravaged you on the spot, instead," he said. "The rest of the carriage be damned." She laughed slightly, flicking her hair over her shoulder to allow him a better view of her cleavage,
"I'm sure they would have loved to see it," she said. She was stopped from saying anymore by Tony leaning in to press his hot, perfect mouth against her throat. His lips kissed and sucked at the sweet point so perfectly than she let out a gentle moan, and she gasped as he reached behind her to unclasp her bra with a single flick of the wrist. Her breasts were hit by the cold air so abruptly that her nipples pebbled against his far too clothed chest. She clumsily reached for his buttons, but he caught both of her hands in one of his, never pulling away from her neck as he nipped and nibbled,
"This is your interview," he said, huskly, "not mine." She giggled for a moment, and then he twirled her round and bent her over his desk. He pinned her there for moment, half bent over the desk, supported herself with trembling arms. The large hands slid up from her tiny waist, rough skin brushing the naked flesh, and they came to rest over her ample chest. Delicately he teased, hands massaging from behind, causing her head to fall back against him as she moaned.
His hard cock was pressed flush against her backside, and his hips began to grind, producing delicious friction. She pushed her hips back into him – fruitless in her attempts to get him where she truly wanted him. He teased her by pulling away and then bent to kiss a burning trail from the back of her neck all the way to the small of her back, where he dipped into the salty skin with a smile.
He dropped to his knees behind her, and his fingertips caught the bottom of her long pencil skirt. As he was began to push the fabric up, fumbling in his desperation to unveil every inch of her, he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
Giselle let out a slightly disappointed whine as he pulled back, and she pushed herself away from the desk to turn towards him. He was already across the room when she turned, standing by the door. He gestured for her to sit, and she sat heavily, brazenly topless, as he opened the door.
An attractive, if slightly plumping, middle-aged woman was stood on the other side. She didn't even blink twice when she saw the worked up state Tony was in, or the topless woman he was interviewing,
"I see you've found someone up to the tasks of our business," she said, never looking in Giselle's direction. Her boss smiled pleasantly at her,
"She seems to be shaping up rather nicely, Renee," he agreed. The woman's eyes narrowed,
"Well, you seem to have double booked another meeting for five minutes time, so you should wrap it up quickly. That won't be a change for you after all," the woman said, a slightly cruel dig in her tone. She held out a folder of papers. "Bella said you would be needing these, and I've put in the details for the sales expo at the O2 for three months' time. The application deadline is next week." Tony took the papers with a curt nod, and the woman turned in a whirl of shiny brunette curls.
Tony closed the door with a click. For a moment, he stood with his back to Giselle. She was aching for him to return and roughly fuck her against the desk. He didn't move.
"That shouldn't have happened," he said. Giselle deflated,
"It wasn't the most professional thing I've ever done," Giselle admitted.
"That's not the problem," he said, unable to help himself from turning his head slightly to catch a glance at the girl. She was so utterly delicious, her pale skin flushed and her breasts heaving. He had to take a steadying breath. "Here at Steele Pots and Pans, as you know we trade in a slightly unusual manner… what we just did was part of the usual interview process, to test that you would be up to demands of our clients, but I crossed a boundary." He crossed the room in two long strides, and she stood in anticipation of him relieving the intolerable need that thrummed through her entire body. "When I saw you today on the train, I wanted you more than anything I have ever wanted in this world… but we can't do this."
"Why not?" she asked breathily.
"That was my wife," he said, bluntly. She wobbled slightly. "Renee is our sales director. We have an agreement that whatever… business transactions I have to make, we leave it in the office. Nothing can ever be personal." Giselle bent to pick up her blouse, bristling slightly and embarrassed. So she was going to lose out on yet another job for almost screwing the boss, and she hadn't even gotten a good fuck out of it. Marvellous.
He caught her deftly, his large hand encircling her bird-like wrist, "I want to offer you the job."
"What?" she asked, slightly surprised after the embarrassing turn of events that had just occurred.
"I can't have you, but that doesn't mean I don't think you would do an excellent job. If you're willing, I would like you to start Monday." She almost couldn't believe it. She wanted to hug him, but given what had just happened, she didn't think that was appropriate. He opened the folder and removed some of the papers, which he handed to her with a smile.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You accept?" She nodded, and she almost went to walk out of the office, before abruptly remembering that she wasn't wearing a shirt. She reached down to pick up the fabric and tugged it on quickly, before tucking her golden ticket into her bag. At the last second, she decided to shake his hand, smiling slightly at the oddity of the formality given the previous moments. He turned the hand over and planted a gentle kiss to the top of the knuckles, "I look forward to seeing you Monday."
