Message-ID: <30848asstr$992661003@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <Archaic69@hotmail.com> Reply-To: "Archaic69" <Archaic69@hotmail.com> From: "Archaic69" <Archaic69@hotmail.com> X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4133.2400 X-Original-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <3b29a55e_2@newsa.ev1.net> Subject: {ASSM} Perfect Applicant part2 (Ff-setup) Date: Fri, 15 Jun 2001 23:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/30848> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: newsman, gill-bates The Perfect Applicant Part 2 (This part has no sex, which I despise. I'll be sure and overcompensate in part 3.) Again, your comments (good and bad) are what make me write. Archaic@hotmail.com The morning crept up on Jennifer Grey, first articulating itself only as a sliver of light probing lightly between her curtains. As the hour crept closer and closer towards 8 a.m. however, the fabric between her sleeping form and the insisting day may as well have been tissue. Jennifer turned once, turned twice, and turned again, still not comprehending the sun's purpose in intruding on her coveted slumber. Not comprehending, that is, until the phone rang. "Oh! Oh God." This wouldn't do. She snatched the receiver from its mount, and in an instant composed herself utterly; when she spoke her obligatory greetings, her voice had eschewed all suggestions of slumber. Still... "Ms. Grey. We didn't wake you, did we? I do hope not. Occasionally our hours of operation throw even our more seasoned employees off the clock, and I haven't even a watch on today." The voice was unfamiliar, and a quick glance at the caller ID panel disclosed nothing: 'OUT OF AREA.' But Jennifer had seen to it that nobody else knew this number. "No ma'am. It's a perfectly regular hour. Ah...I was just under the impression that I was expected at six-thirty?" There was a cheerful giggle. Definitely not Ms. Taxton. "Mrs. Grey, I'm calling on behalf of the HSA to confirm your appointment with us today. Ms. Taxton did mention the schedule; I just wanted to give you plenty of time to prepare. The dress code was covered with you yesterday?" It hadn't been. Jennifer's mind raced, quickly attempting to re-establish her character, her mannerisms so as to be consistent with her performance at the interview. Acquiescence, not assertion, was the key. "No ma'am. I presumed...businesscasual?" "Slightly more. We here at HSA pursue a lofty clientelle, Mrs. Grey. If I may suggest...?" Jennifer smirked to herself. My agency has a few codes of it's own, girl. You might as well be filling evidence bags for me. "Please. I'm at a loss." "Our attire is designed to compel, to sell, and to intimidate, Ms. Grey. Stick with neutral colors at first. I suggest a charcoal suit, skirt of an attractive but daring cut, a blazer that can be discarded without ruining the outfit, pantyhose of course (gray would be preferable to beige with that color) and sensible, patent leather heels." She closed at the end with a tone was better left to the reading of a shopping list. "I have much to do now. I must be going. Good day, Ms. Grey." Jennifer still held the receiver. Her mouth was open. I've just been told what shade of hosiery to wear. Still, the woman had qualified the comment as a suggestion. If there was anything to this HSA assignment, they were no strangers to covering their backs. She hung the phone up, and, smirking, picked up the other, a black cell that was no bigger than her palm, before dialing. "Hunts, Jennifer M." A pause, and then, "6-R-7-Y-B. Good. Thank you. Hello, sir. Yes. Tell me, what sort of cash flow was I allotted for this assignment?" The large hand of her watch inched ever nearer the twelve, while the short one rested uncomfortably atop the seven. Shit. Jennifer's heels clicked quickly as she trotted up the stairs, occasionally dropping an anxious hand to tug at her too-short skirt. Shit, I'm late. The day had been spent enjoyably, after business with the Agency was out of the way. She had, she'd discovered, a federally sanctioned budget of $10,000 with which to pursue the operation. As she'd never had staff, and as most of her missions involved less...subtle investigation, the sum had been entirely a mystery to her. No longer. The exceptional suit which she wore so closely matched the one described that morning that it might as well have been tailored by her caller. The skirt was the best: colored nearly black, it was cut just above her gray stockinged knees. It made her feel sexy and confident, but as she rushed up the stairs towards HSA's sterile glass-laden entry way, self-consciousness tempered her good feelings. I mustn't forget why I'm here. The building was huge, pristine, and would have appeared vacant, if Jennifer did not know better. HSA ran around the clock, she had been told, stacking shifts differently as the need arose. Hence, it was explained, their inclination towards unmarried employees. The glass doors parted with a whisper, and Jennifer slowed to compose herself. With a deep intake of breath, she stepped across the threshold, last week's instructions cradled carefully in her memory: "Mrs. Hunt, your purpose there will be neither presume guilt nor innocence. HSA is either squeaky clean...or it's the most meticulously shrouded illegality in New York. Either way, we don't expect your stay there to be a short one." With another whisper, the doors sealed themselves behind her. The entry was large and forbidding, consisting mostly of marble. Columns paralleled the walls, and, at this late hour, succeeded at casting sufficient shadow across the room that Jennifer did not see the other woman until she spoke. "Ms. Grey." It was not a question. "Um. Yes. It's me." Jennifer approached and held out her hand in introduction. "My name is Caroline Holcomb." She seemed to appraise Jennifer, and did not take her hand until her eyes had had their fill. When they shook, Jennifer wondered if she'd ever felt anything so soft as the other woman's hand. It was as though it had just been doused in powder. "I will show you the way to the main office, where we can get started." She turned on her heel (a very high heel, she noted: nearly four inches) and Jennifer followed her to the elevator at the hall's end. But when the door opened with a soft ring, she merely stepped to the side, and gestured. "Aren't you coming?" Jennifer asked, puzzled. There was a pause, and again Caroline roamed the new arrival with her eyes. "I like your suit, Ms. Grey. And no, I cannot accompany you. I've been assigned to other duties." "Then someone will meet me up top?" Jennifer was feeling a little odd, suddenly, and didn't want to go upstairs alone. A strange light ran across Caroline's features...of interest...or...anticipation? "No." She smiled. "Things run pretty smoothly here, Ms. Grey. You'll find that your office has been duly prepared." Jennifer nodded, and with a slight shake of her head to clear her nerves, stepped aboard. Caroline watched the doors close, and then carefully withdrew a cleansing rag from her own blazer before proceeding to scrub her hands. Where she wiped, there came away a beige powder. I've gotten you for her, pretty girl, she thought as she examined the rag's new tint against the light. I had no choice, but I've gotten you. She dropped the rag in the waste basket as she walked away. Out damned spot. <1st attachment begin> <HTML removed pursuant to http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/erotica/assm/faq.html#policy> <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ ------- ASSM Moderation System Notice-------- This post has been reformatted by the ASSM Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+