Gargarean Group Ch. 01

The Interview

David was an 18-year-old, out-of-work high school graduate who couldn't afford college and had virtually no chance of earning a decent wage. The best job he could find the summer after graduation was working part time for a landscaping company, with a tight-fisted jerk of a boss who only paid him a dime-per-hour over minimum wage. The work was good for his physical fitness but bad for his wallet. One sweltering afternoon in July, after another exhausting and disheartening five hours of low-wage manual labor, his stepmother's younger sister, 'Aunt' Ashley, came to his rescue.

"I saw an employment ad on craigslist that might interest you, David," she said. She pulled out her ever-present smartphone and sidled up beside him with her hip pressed against his, saying, "It might be worth a shot."

David smiled, enjoying the companionable closeness of her curvy body. Ever since his stepmother had married his father, there had been a flirtatious attraction between him and his new mom's 29-year-old sister. She found the page she wanted and showed him an employment ad placed by a company called the Gargarean Group. He checked the address, 118 State Street, Suite 642, and was surprised to realize that the company's office was located downtown. He had lived in Rivermouth all of his life, yet he'd never come across the Gargarean Group before. "I've never heard of them," he said, and then kiddingly inquired, "Have YOU, Auntie?"

She gave him a smirky smile, because she hated being called 'Aunt Ashley'. It made her feel old, and he knew it! "The company SOUNDS familiar," she told her handsome hunk of a step-nephew. 'I think they're a temporary employment agency in town, but I did a search for them online and couldn't find anything. I guess they like to keep a low profile."

"An EMPLOYMENT agency that likes to keep a low profile!?" he exclaimed disbelievingly. Ashley was beautiful but not very bright. Already doubtful, David became more and more dubious as he read the ad. The company, if it actually existed, was advertising an opening for a man who "must be at least 18 years old, with looks suitable for modeling. No experience necessary." The company promised temporary work starting at three times minimum wage, with the potential for higher pay, full-time work, and full benefits in the future, "for the right candidate."

He reread the ad and verified that they were actually offering THREE TIMES what he was currently earning! If he could work 20 hours a week, it would triple his current take-home pay; an ENORMOUS sum to someone barely making minimum wage. "This HAS to be a joke," he muttered skeptically. "Either that, or it's a scam."

Ashley allowed that the ad COULD be fake, but suggested, "What do you have to lose?"

"Nothing, I guess," he admitted with a frown, "except maybe my pride if it IS phony."

"I think you should go for it," she urged. "You're certainly qualified." She bumped his hip with hers, flirting, "YOU have looks suitable for modeling, Little Davey."

Her compliment and teasing nickname restored his smile. "What the hell! What DO I have to lose? I'll send them an email."

"Good for you!"

That evening, dubious but desperate, David sent a cover letter with a resume attached. Doubtful that he would ever hear from them, he was startled to find a return email in his Inbox the very next day, inviting him to call to set up an appointment for an interview. The rapidity of their reply doubled his doubts about the legitimacy of the Gargarean Group, but he made the call anyway.

~~~

Despite his suspicions, David didn't want to waste this potentially lucrative opportunity. He paid nearly two week's salary for a new, dark-gray business suit, a white dress shirt, a dark-red power tie, and some black dress shoes. He arrived downtown on the morning of the interview, dressed immaculately but feeling uncomfortable in the unaccustomed clothes. With his dirty-blonde hair neatly trimmed and anxiety dilating his blue eyes, David entered the old, brick office building at 118 State Street. His doubts immediately resurfaced when he checked the building directory in the lobby and discovered that the Gargarean Group and Suite 642 were not listed.

Wondering if they even existed, David rode the elevator to the sixth floor, and then walked slowly down the hallway while searching for the office the ad had listed. All of the doors, on either side of the corridor, were made of dark wood, with a glass panel that was either frosted or clear. Beside each door was a white sign with neat, black lettering that identified the suite number and company name. He passed a dentist office, a law firm, a technology company, another law firm, a real estate agent, an insurance agency, and so on and so forth. Losing hope, he was actually surprised when he finally found the door marked '642'; it was the very last office at the end of the corridor. Unlike the other offices, THIS door was solid wood, without a glass panel, transparent OR translucent, and the sign on the wall listed the number but not the company name.

David stood in the hallway and regarded the closed door, now almost certain that he was on a wild goose chase. Some idiot prankster somewhere was probably having a good laugh at the expense of the fool who'd fallen for his hoax. What was on the other side of this door? Maybe the joker who had placed the ad in craigslist was preparing to spring his trap, or perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity awaited inside. Curiosity, greed and need tempted David to go inside, but doubt and anxiety gave him pause. He nearly turned around and walked away, but then he thought of his dead-end job and his jerk of a boss. Faced with those bleak prospects, he found his courage, turned the knob, and swiveled the door open.

The small room inside was spartan, but David didn't immediately notice the lack of furnishings; he was too distracted by the sight of a stunningly beautiful, raven-haired receptionist that looked up from her computer when he walked in. Her dark eyes gave him a quick scan, and then she rose from her office chair and glided around her small black desk, offering her hand and a dazzling smile in welcome. "Good morning!" she gushed enthusiastically. "I hope you're DAVID?"

Surprised and encouraged by her greeting, he replied, "Yes, I am!" He shook her proffered hand, which had long, tapered fingers with black-polished nails.

"It's so nice to meet you, David," she claimed with her eyes locked onto his. "I'm Jan."

"Nice to meet YOU, Jan," he said cordially, and truthfully, because she was gorgeous! She had long, black hair that was almost waist-length; dreamy, dark eyes set deep in a beautiful, oval face; a small, slightly upturned nose; full lips tinted dark red; a swan neck with alabaster skin; and a slender, fashion-model figure.

"Did you bring the non-disclosure form I emailed you?"

"Yes, I did," he said as he reached into an inside jacket pocket to retrieve it.

"Have you signed it?"

"No." Confused, he questioned, "Didn't your message say NOT to sign it?"

Jan chuckled and replied, "Right; I was just testing you. I need to witness you signing it. Did you also bring two forms of ID with you?"

"Yes," he replied before reaching for his wallet.

"Excellent. Please bring them over to my desk."

"Okay."

David's eyes couldn't resist scanning Jan's body as she turned and led the way. She was wearing a conservative black dress that was mid-thigh in length. Beneath was a curvy figure, with small but shapely breasts, narrow hips, and long legs. He followed her across the small room, eyeing her lovely backside as she sinuously strolled back to her workstation.

As Jan positioned her chair and sat down, David noticed that her only office furniture was a black mobile desk collection that included a tubular desk on casters, a matching roll-around two-drawer filing cabinet, and a wheeled office chair. The equipment on her desk looked state-of-the-art - a flat screen computer and a multi-function office telephone - but the furniture set looked tacky and temporary. The job applicant wasn't going to comment, however, for fear of ruining his chances of getting the job, or insulting the likeable lady whose lovely, dark eyes now looked up at him from behind her flimsy desk.

Jan's tone became serious and professional. "Have you read the non-disclosure form?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, although the writing was a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo that he'd only scanned.

"Do you have any questions about the non-disclosure form?"

"No."

"Do you understand that the Gargarean Group can take legal action against you, David, if you tell ANYONE about this organization, or anything that you see, hear, and experience today, or as an employee should you be hired?"

Her seriously-spoken warning worried him. When he read this particular clause, he'd been concerned. It was the most clearly-written part of the non-disclosure form, and left no doubt of the consequences if he disclosed practically ANYTHING about this interview - the company name, the interview location, the names of employees or anyone else he met, their conversations, any activities that occurred, and any information that was provided to him. He disliked the need for such security, but he understood that in the modern world, ALL companies had to protect themselves from litigation, false accusations, and violent acts. He was willing to play by their rules, if that's what it took to secure a good-paying job. He prided himself on being able to keep a secret, and so he earnestly replied, "Yes, I DO."

She dazzled David with another smile and exclaimed, "Great!" Handing him a pen, she pointed to four places on the form, saying, "I need you to initial here, here, and here, and then sign and date the form at the bottom of the page."

The applicant took the pen - black, like all of the other office equipment - and scribbled his initials and signature where she had indicated.

"Thank you," she said when he'd returned the form. "Now, I need to see your two forms of identification."

While she checked the documents - his driver's license and birth certificate - and used them to fill-in the 'OFFICE USE ONLY' part of the form, David gazed over her head. On the beige wall behind her was hanging what he assumed to be the Gargarean Group's logo, two black, three-dimensional G-clefs mounted on a mirrored glass cube.

"You're an Aries," she observed. "Me, too, only I was born on the TWELFTH of April, and four years earlier."

"WERE you," he responded while mentally calculating that Jan was 22 years old.

She seemed to read his thoughts, because she looked up and gave him a serious stare, saying, "My age is DEFINITELY covered by the non-disclosure form." She followed her stern warning with a grin to show that she was only teasing. She collected his signed non-disclosure form and his identification, and then stood, saying, "I need to give these to Ms. Esme. Please have a seat, David. Make yourself comfortable until she calls for you."

"Thanks, Jan," he said, but he kept his eyes on the dark beauty while she stepped to a door near her desk.

She paused in front of the door and glanced at him, then smiled to see that he was still watching her. "I'll be right back," she quietly promised before opening the door and leaving the room.

Without Jan's mesmerizing presence distracting him, David turned away from the desk and was surprised by the austerity of the room. There were no windows, and in the absence of the curvaceous secretary, there wasn't much to see. The glass cube with its double G-clef corporate logo hung behind her desk, but other than that, not one picture or certificate adorned the bland, beige walls, and even the wall-to-wall carpeting was a boring beige color. In the center of the spartan space were three black folding chairs that faced Jan's desk from behind a black coffee table. There weren't even any magazines on the table to read while you waited; just a small tent sign on top that warned, "NO SMOKING".

He sat in the left-side chair and pondered while he waited. Without Jan's sensual presence in the room, David's doubts and concerns returned. Everything in Suite 632 suggested temporariness. His team of three landscapers could clear this room of all its furnishing in fifteen minutes or less without breaking a sweat, and no one would ever know that the Gargarean Group was ever here, or even that it existed. Was this part of their security measures? Could this be some sort of Homeland Security work? In that case, why would the ad specify, 'looks suitable for modeling'? Maybe they were looking for a handsome spy like James Bond. That nonsensical notion made him chuckle, although Jan WOULD make a nice Miss Moneypenny.

He was still thinking about the sexy secretary when reappeared. She held the door open for him, saying, "You can go in now, David."

As he quickly stood, Jan gave him a full body visual scan and a smile that suggested he just might qualify for the "looks suitable for modeling" part of the ad. He was a rugged, six-foot-tall young man who'd played some football in high school. His landscaping work kept his body muscular and fit, and his dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes had always gotten him plenty of female attention. He also suspected that he looked damn good in his new suit of clothes. Feeling confident and hopeful, he approached the door.

Jan surprised him by giving his bicep a friendly squeeze as he passed her in the doorway. "Good luck!" she whispered

"Thanks."

~~~

David entered the next room and was surprised by what he found. The inner office was easily twice as large as the outer office, yet the room where he was to be interviewed was just as bare as the one where he had been waiting. The unadorned walls and carpet were the same boring, blank beige color, and the only decoration in the room was a light-gray, portable partition placed near the far wall that was adorned with another mirrored cube with the Gargarean Group's black, double G-clef logo. Beneath the sculpture were three unoccupied, black-cushioned office chairs behind a wide, black mobile desk. Atop the desk were an open, black-cased laptop computer in the center, a black Wi-Fi modem/router beside it, and three white notepads with black pens. Facing the desk was a single, black folding chair that was obviously reserved for the interviewee.

What surprised David the most was to discover that THREE people would be interviewing him rather than one, and that all of interviewers were women. For some reason, he wasn't sure why, he'd had a preconceived notion that he would be meeting with just one person, and that person would be a man. Maybe his misconception was caused by the sensual secretary in the outer office, whose sex appeal suggested she'd been employed by a young businessman. Or, perhaps his wrong thinking was influenced by the Gargarean Group's bold, black logo, which seemed to be a rather masculine-looking symbol. Only slightly daunted, David locked eyes with the middle-age leader who stepped forward to shake his hand.

"Good morning, David," she greeted him warmly. "I am Ms. Esme."

"Good morning," he echoed while observing that she was an attractive woman of about forty, with confident brown eyes and shoulder-length hair that was amber-blonde with darker strands. She was only a few inches shorter than him, and her slender but shapely body was dressed in a tailored black pinstriped pantsuit over a light-pink, wide-collared shirt with two buttons undone.

She continued to hold his hand, gazing into his eyes while saying, "You made a good impression on Jan! She told us you were handsome, and I must say that I agree."

The unexpected compliment, as well as the prolonged handclasp, surprised and embarrassed the teenager. He was speechless as his cheeks tinged with pink. His discomfiture seemed to please Ms. Esme, because her eyes twinkled mischievously as her smile broadened.

"Let me introduce you to my nieces, David," she proposed as she dropped his hand at last, but then startled him by standing by his side and wrapping an arm around his waist. She guided him forward two steps, then gestured towards a corpulent 27-year-old woman. "Say hello to Ms. Tracy, our in-house diplomat who serves as the liaison between our organization and our clients. She recruits new members, assists our employees to ensure that our clients' needs are met, and mediates any disputes."

Tracy, who was wearing a plus-size, medium-gray business suit that included a matching skirt and white silk blouse, was not a beautiful woman. Her youth prevented her from being completely unattractive, but she was burdened with the meaty body of a much older aunt. Her bosoms were big, her arms and legs were thick, her derriere was somewhat oversized, and even her fingers were pudgy. She seemed to have accepted her unattractive fate, however, because her face was animatedly friendly, with unmanageable, frizzy brown hair that cascaded comically over her shoulders; big, brown eyes; a plump nose; and a nice smile that dimpled her rosy cheeks but exaggerated her slight double chin.

She pumped his hand vigorously, saying, "It's so nice to meet you, David!"

"Nice to meet YOU, Tracy," he returned in kind.

"No, David, that's wrong," Ms. Esme quickly and condescendingly corrected. Keeping her arm around his waist, she turned her head towards him and lectured, "Men are required to precede the names of female members and clients of the Gargarean Group with the title, MS. Whenever you talk to Tracy or mention her name, you must refer to her as Ms. Tracy, just as I am to be called Ms. Esme."

Confused, and a little annoyed because they didn't call HIM, 'Mr. David', he nonetheless apologized, saying, "I'm sorry, Ms. Esme; I didn't know."

"You don't need to apologize to me; apologize to Tracy."

The fact that Ms. ESME was allowed to call her niece 'Tracy' without the 'Ms.' did not go unnoticed. David was getting irritated by this class-level farce, and worried about working for a company with such blatant nepotism. He played their game, however, for now, and politely apologized, saying, "I'm sorry if I offended you, Ms. Tracy."

She grinned and assured him there was, "No offense taken, David."

Ms. Esme chuckled, and her encircling arm gave him a quick squeeze as she remarked, "He'll learn!" She guided him past Tracy and gestured towards the second young woman, an extremely beautiful, 24-year-old hottie. "Now I'd like to introduce you to my other niece, and Tracy's cousin. David, this is Ms. Joy, our Personnel and Human Services Specialist. Should you be hired, she will assist you in obtaining employment with our clients and advise you on the member's special needs, such as appropriate attire for the position, expected grooming standards, and your personal comportment."

"Hi, David!" Joy was as lovely as Tracy was plain. Her gray-green eyes gazed deep into David's blue irises as she clasped the hand he offered her, saying, "I hope we'll be working together soon."

"I do too!" he blurted without thinking, momentarily dazzled by the instant spark of attraction between them. His faux pas made her chuckle; a throaty sound that caused David to immediately fall deeply in lust with her. His cheeks colored slightly, but he regained his composure and calmly added, "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Joy."

Joy indeed; her beauty rivaled Jan's gorgeousness! Everything about her was beautiful, from her long, light-blonde hair to her fit, cheerleader figure. HER choice of attire was a dark-blue, almost-mini dress with spaghetti straps that left her slender arms, long legs, and much of her sexy shoulders bare. She was quite tall, but a pair of silver, high-heeled shoes helped her attain HIS height, and the open-toes revealed that her toenail polish matched her fingernail polish - Gargarean Group black.