If there's one thing I hate more than school in summertime it's job hunting. I fully admit I'm not the best at interviews, I get nervous, I get anxious, even when it's not really a job I even want I still have an uncanny knack of blowing it.
I'd been looking around for something other than mind numbing temp work for sometime but hadn't had much success. Not being in my own country didn't help my prospects either.
"Paging Miss Summers. Miss Summers, please proceed to the General Office."
The bleep of the PA system sent a spark of excitement – or was it relief? – through me. It was the third day of the open house for Junior Colleges, and this was the first time that I'd been beeped to meet with a student or parent.
It was my good friend, Kara's boyfriend's birthday and a big group of us were heading out for a night on the town. I didn't really know her boyfriend, Levi, very well but I was in dire need of a night out. Before running out the door for my taxi, I gave myself a once over. I'd gone for a short black skirt, with a black scoop neck top that showed off my ample cleavage. I also had black, silk stockings on as it was a bit cold with black ankle boots. I looked pretty, damned good if I didn't say so myself.
Erin wanted this weekend to be special. It was finally her time. Just about a week ago, she had been on the phone with her friend Liz, chit-chatting about their boring lives, what this guy did to that girl, why Arnold cheated on Maria, etc. Erin had let out an audible sigh during the twenty minute conversation as she was flipping through the channels. Then, that same commercial came on again, "What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas."
Ellen and I have been so busy raising our children and meeting our responsibilities that we somehow managed to avoid spending time together for about ten years. We grew distant, but still loved each other. In fact, I have always lusted after my wife. When we were dating, Ellen had a wild side. We made love in cars, on beaches, and in the woods; where a hiker once caught us. I remember it well because Ellen was on top of me and just told the guy to move along as if he had found us picnicking.
"My ass is virgin," Eden had told me on our first date. A simple statement, quite out of place for an average date. A statement that might have meant "but you can fuck my cunt all you want, I'm a slut" or "I'm saving it for the right guy - is that you?"
I certainly took it as a challenge, because I was ready to be somebody's Mr. Right, and I had a bit of a soft spot for sluts. I had married one, after all.
I had just received promotion and was now in a much more senior position. I'd worked my butt of to get this promotion. Mind you, I'm well aware that some people have implied that I'm a back-stabbing bitch, but they're the losers. You have to be ruthless to get ahead in this world. Business is a dog eat dog world and this bitch is quite capable of taking her share and fending off challengers.
Normally, time is not of an essence but my next interlude had to be quick but hopefully satisfying. I was working under the gun with all kinds of deadlines – both personal and business related. Any chance to make love (yes, I said the L word), had to be seized for the pure unadulterated pleasure but with an eye as always on the clock.
A beautiful, outraged, and thirty-nine year old brunette with an elfin face, full lips, clean white skin that dove past her neck into an ample vertical line of cleavage, and authentic silk stockings – the seams of which climbed upward in a perfectly straight line from her trim ankles to disappear under the hem of her professional, side-slit skirt – swept down the long, richly carpeted corridor of the sixty-ninth floor like a small tornado, sweeping a cheap imitation dynasty pitcher from an expensive walnut sidetable with a vicious blow from her open hand and pausing not at all as it cracked like an egg on the plastered wall and tumbled to the floor.
I had talked myself into a job I was in no way qualified for, and, as the first order of business, I got sent halfway across the country and landed in a hotel in downtown Chicago. I looked around my room, a room that teetered on the border between blandness and overwrought luxury, and decided that I should stop watching Sportscenter, and go find some dinner.