Hands On My Body

ALL the characters, companies and situations in this story are completely fictitious.

JACK

As my monitor flickered to life, Penny poked her head through my open door.

"You ready for a busy week, Jack? I've got you in Richmond tomorrow and Wednesday. I booked you at the Jefferson again -- you seemed to like that last time. The Seneca Group is here Thursday and you have a city council meeting that night. Staff meeting at 10:30 today and lunch with the accountants." She double-checked her list. "Oh, and your last three intern interviews are at 9."

I checked my schedule as it opened up and nodded to Penny.

"Looks like you've got me covered." She smiled and handed me a sheet of paper. "Here's the basics on the last three. Have fun," she said breezily and left the room.

I leaned back in my chair and gazed about my office of exposed brick, plank wood floors, and a saw-tooth roof structure with north-facing glass. When I'd started StudioX I had not foreseen the rapid growth and expansion we'd experience in only fifteen years. What had started as a small design-build firm had now blossomed into one of the larger development groups in central Virginia. We employed over 100 people and our new digs in the Woolen Mills would allow us to double that, if need be.

I saw I had a few minutes before my first interview arrived. I'd just come from the gym, so I went to my private bathroom to brush my teeth and check myself in the mirror. At 62 I still felt fit and vibrant. The gym has kept my 6-1 frame slim and tight. I kept my light gray hair and beard short and wore wire-rimmed glasses, cutting a dashing figure, if I do say so myself. I'd been mistaken for a UVA professor on more than one occasion.

I have always liked the hiring process -- whether it was for a high-level executive or a summer intern. I've consistently sought to find the best and the brightest, no matter what level the position. I was particularly interested in finding the best intern available this coming summer, as it was shaping up to be a busy one and I would need the kind of eager energy and fresh ideas that a bright young person can bring to the table. Most owners of a firm our size would leave the hiring of interns up to lower staff. But I prefer to be involved and was looking forward to this hire.

I had already interviewed nine young men and women for this internship and today would be the final three. Honestly, I often make my mind up about a person within sixty seconds or less of their walking through my door. That's one reason I keep the interviews short and sweet -- 15 to 20 minutes.

The first two interviewees on this particular day were rather undistinguished -- definitely not in the top three. I was already thinking back to which three might be up for round two when the final candidate walked though my door. I started, stood, and walked around my desk to greet her.

"Jack Booth. Pleased to meet you," I stated, as I extended my hand.

"Hi. I'm Grace Wilcox. And the pleasure is all mine."

Her handshake was warm and firm and her eyes sparkled. She was stunningly gorgeous and while that is hardly criteria for hiring someone, it has never hurt in my book. If this young lady's intelligence and skills matched her presence, she had just established herself as a finalist. I would not let onto that fact, of course, but it was hers to lose.

"Please. Let's sit over here," I suggested, waving my arm toward a couple of Eames chairs angled toward a round glass coffee table in the corner under a bank of large paned windows.

I smiled to myself; I never interview my intern candidates in these chairs. I always sit behind my desk and let them squirm a bit seated across from me. But young Grace had caught my eye and I wanted to see how she'd perform under the spotlight...and how she would sit in the tight black skirt she was wearing.

As I followed her to the corner of my office I surveyed her body. She appeared to be around 5-3 and had a slender torso and great legs being showcased by a tight black skirt. Her short patterned blazer hid whatever assets she had below, but the slight hint of a colorful red camisole beneath suggested a woman who knew she had a great body and wasn't opposed to showing it off. Her modest heels were enough to give her the lift that heels induce, but not so tall as to be unprofessional for a first interview. Her chestnut brown tresses fell down over her shoulder to mid back in long luxurious waves and bounced subtly as she strode confidently to one of the chairs. She sat down gracefully as I took in her smooth olive complexion and dazzling green eyes.

As she gathered herself upon sitting and turned her legs to the side, I watched as she used both hands to push her gorgeous long locks behind her ears. She looked at me expectantly, but not nervously. We gazed at each other for a moment and smiled.

I take a novel approach to these interviews and sometimes like to put the candidate on edge, to see how they handle a bit of tension and adversity.

"Ms. Wilcox. Thanks for coming in this morning. Before we start I'm going to give you a sense of what to expect here. I have a sheet of paper with your name, where you went to high school, where you attend college and how old you are. I honestly don't review the letters of interest for this position or the CVs. My staff winnows out the top picks and then I do the interviews. So, I haven't read your letter or looked at your qualifications. I know your letter of interest must be impeccable and your resume stellar or you wouldn't be sitting here. But, in the twenty minutes we have, I'm going to want you to tell me all about yourself. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, confidently.

"I also should tell you that I read people well and can usually tell something about a person within a minute of them entering my office." I let that sentence hang there for a second to watch her reaction. My God, she had beautiful eyes. "Would you like to know what I see in you?"

She squirmed slightly in her seat and nodded. "Of course."

"I see a young woman who has probably been spoiled and had many things handed to her in her short time on this planet. Surely your looks have opened many doors. You go to a highly ranked and very competitive university and surely come from a comfortable upper middle-class background. As you know this internship pays nothing. It's also demanding -- very demanding. The successful candidate will not be window dressing. He or she is going to work their ass off." I paused before continuing. "So, tell me, Ms. Wilcox. Why would you want this internship?"

She looked me in the eyes without flinching. "Thank you for your observations, Mr. Booth," she said with a slight smile. "Yes, I've done alright for myself, sir. I know my skills -- my strengths and weaknesses -- and I know my...assets. But, in truth, I've worked hard for everything I've achieved to date and I take nothing for granted."

She looked me squarely in the eye to show her confidence. "And the answer to my question?" I queried with a smile.

"I want to intern here for the summer because I want to learn from the best," she stated firmly. "And because I want to be challenged," she continued. I held off responding to see if she had anything else to add. "And I want to make a difference...and will."

"I see. Tell me. If I were to ask your parents to describe you in two words and then asked your friends to do the same, what words would they use?"

She smiled demurely and crossed her legs. I was tempted to look, but I did not. I was not going to let her subtle moves distract me from my focus and concentration. My eyes never wandered.

"My parents would say I'm driven...and intelligent." She paused, looked out the window for a second and turned her gorgeous eyes back to mine. "My friends? They'd say I'm beautiful," she stated with a soft smile. "And fun."

I smiled back. The interview went on from there. I posed questions and learned of her skills and background. She was a local girl and this internship would bring her back home to Charlottesville for the summer. My probing questions elicited thoughtful answers and displayed a young woman who seemed to not wilt under pressure. She may have gotten what she'd wanted out of life so far, but that was for a reason.

I was not going to let her know she'd pushed herself to the top of the list, but I was going to let her know this internship was not going to be won on looks and resume alone.

"Well," I said, looking at my watch, "I have to bring this to a close. But let me ask you one final question, Ms. Wilcox. I received over 100 applications for this internship and you are the last of twelve interviews. I will bring two or three back for a final interview before deciding. The competition is quite fierce, to be honest...especially for an unpaid position." I turned my gaze upon her and took in the perfect proportions of her face. "So why should you be the one I choose?"

She paused for a moment and our eyes locked in a few seconds longer than they should have.

"Because, Mr. Booth. I will do anything this internship requires. And I can guarantee you...I will work harder and longer and more efficiently than any of the other eleven candidates."

Her answer floated out there as we looked at each other and let the moment linger.

I stood up, reached out my hand and shook hers as she followed suit. Her hand conformed wonderfully to mine and the firmness of her grip and her steady eye contact made me smile.

"We shall let you know, Ms. Wilcox,,,err, Grace," I smiled. "Thank you for coming in today."

As she started to leave she paused and turned back to me.

"Oh, I should mention, Mr. Booth. I have applied for several other internships and have already been offered two of them. But, I want you to know I'm not replying to anyone else...until I hear from you. This is the internship I want." She held my gaze steadily, smiled and turned to go.

I watched her exit -- her tight young ass swaying ever so slightly in black - and smiled to myself. I knew I had found my intern for the summer.

GRACE

I left the interview feeling good, but with my head spinning. I was surprised by a couple of things. First, was how attracted I was to Mr. Booth. I had not expected that. Second, I was interested in the fact that he hadn't really checked out my body the way most older men do. He had a certain nonchalance that both intrigued and excited me.

I felt quite confident I would get a second interview -- just a vibe I felt. And I knew that, if I did, I would ace it and become the next summer intern for StudioX. That confidence was strong enough to let me hold off on responding to the other offers I'd received. Something told me I'd know within a day.

Sure enough, Mr. Booth's assistant, Penny, emailed me the next day with a suggested time and date for a second interview. It was a bit inconvenient to travel all the way back to Charlottesville a second time, but I knew it would be worth it.

This time I would dress a bit differently. I wanted to see if Mr. Booth would crack like most men and let his eyes wander over my body. I'd felt a bit arrogant telling him that my friends would describe me as beautiful, but the fact is, it was true. Mr. Booth could see that for himself.

What he couldn't see were the curves I'd decided to downplay for the first interview. I have a petite frame, but have been blessed with natural C cups on a 30-inch torso. They have served me well with the male species and, if I'm totally honest, with the female side of the equation as well. I've mastered the art of showing them off when I need to. And I knew that I was going to put Mr. Booth's eyes and mind to the test the next time we met.

I'm soon to be a rising senior at a very prestigious university in the northeast. My parents had wanted me to stay in-state, but I had wanted to get away and have the full college experience. I was driven to excellence -- another kernel of truth in my first interview -- and was doing very well in school.

I was also having my share of fun and, despite the pandemic, had managed to not only have my fill of fellow students, but had had several affairs with older men, and even an older couple. I'd had a typical high school social life with a few partners my age. But an affair with an older married man late in my senior year had completely opened my eyes to what a generous age difference brings to the table - and to the bedroom.

I'd taken that newfound knowledge to college with me and played the field rather successfully once I'd arrived. I'd learned a few things about myself -- as one is wont to do once on a college campus. I loved older men -- and married men were even hotter -- probably because it was so wrong on both levels. I also loved the dynamic of an older man in power -- a professor, a boss, a man of wealth. Certainly Mr. Booth fit that profile. He had a way about him -- a demeanor -- an attitude -- that I found incredibly attractive. I'd have to put him to the test the next time we met.

I felt like I'd met myself coming and going when I returned to Charlottesville for the second interview. But, I knew it would be worth it if I could secure this internship and spend the summer living at home.

I dressed with confidence the morning of the interview. I've always found that wearing sexy underwear, even if it's not going to be seen or experienced by anyone other than me, gives me an under-lying sense of confidence. So, I wore one of my tiniest thongs and a very thin bra that allowed the true shape and profile of my breasts to be subtly on display.

I had noticed in my first interview that the dress code was quite casual in the office: lots of denim and work boots. Still, I chose to wear a nice slim pair of tailored black slacks that really showed off my bottom, along with a skin-tight sleeveless top. The top was a light green that contrasted nicely with my long auburn locks. It was conservative in that it had a high neckline and showed no cleavage. But what it did do was cling to my breasts tightly and allow their full natural shape to show clearly against my slender frame. I also loved how the sleeveless cut of the top showed lots of arm skin against the profile of my bust. I wore heels that had a nice lift and really accentuated the length of my legs and a few pieces of jewelry. I was ready.

The interview itself went well. Mr. Booth again had me sit in the chairs we'd sat in last time. I was still unable to get his eyes to wander, but I know he noticed. He had to have. This interview delved more into my knowledge and experience with both a variety of software programs as well as my facility with social media. I was able to answer every question he had and even offered some unsolicited advice about their current website and social media presence.

The interview had lasted about 20 minutes when he stated that he had what he needed and thanked me for coming in. I was a bit taken aback, but maintained my cool. As I turned to leave he spoke.

"Oh, Ms. Wilcox. One more question."

I turned part way, leaving my left breast protruding in perfect profile. His eyes still did not waver.

"What is it? A third interview?" I asked with a smile.

He grinned. "No, Ms. Wilcox. I was wondering if you could start the Monday after your last exam?"

I turned to face him with our eyes locked.

"I can, Mr. Booth. Thank you."

"Penny will follow up in writing. Thanks for coming in again. This will be a good summer - for both of us."

We shook hands and I headed for the door. I turned before leaving.

"Oh, and, Mr. Booth? You can call me Gracie."

He smiled. "We use first names here too...Gracie. You can call me Jack."

I started several weeks later and took to the office culture immediately. My workstation was not far from Mr. Booth's office -- near the marketing department, but also near Penny's desk. Everyone was both friendly and forthcoming and I felt welcomed from day one. I also found I was not just window dressing -- not just there to make copies and run for coffee. I was given several assignments that were challenging, but also right up my alley.

It was clear I was going to be working closely with Jack, as he had suggested from the outset. He was very generous with his time and I could see that he enjoyed and embraced the role of mentor. Sometimes he would invite me along to a job site to see what the firm was doing out in the field. A few times he invited me to shadow him at meetings -- just as an observer. He also invited me a few times to join him for lunch to discuss the progress I was making on my assigned tasks.

All of this gave me an opportunity to see him in action. I must admit, my admiration for him grew as the weeks went by and I got to see him in his element. What struck me most was how natural he was in any setting. He treated everyone in the same relaxed manner -- whether it was a sub-contractor on a job site or a mayor. He was just himself and people responded to him, regardless of their station in life. He was a natural born leader, but did so in a most casual and subtle manner. He was just one of those people you wanted to follow.

I also was interested to see the effect he had on women. More than once I saw a woman fawn over him. It was quite clear to me, at least, that he could have had any woman he wanted. It didn't matter if she was a partner in a law firm or a waitress in a diner; he had an uncanny way of connecting with women, in particular.

One evening as I was getting ready to head home, he asked if I wanted to go to a Chamber of Commerce dinner with him. I had no plans, other than to head home and eat with my parents, so I accepted his invitation.

Once we'd arrived, signed in and gotten a drink at the bar, we got separated. Several times I would see him across the room -- often in the company of an adoring woman. I, on the other hand, was busy attending to my own crush of male attention. We caught each other's eyes a few times and I knew we'd find one another when the dinner started.

At one point I saw him talking to a very attractive young woman who was looking up at him with doe-like eyes -- hanging on his every word. I swore if they'd been alone, she would have just dropped right to her knees. Perhaps I was projecting my own desires onto her, but there was no question he had an innate authority and style that women flocked to.

Later as we ate dinner with some other colleagues, he chided me for all the attention I had been getting from my male counterparts. I kidded him about not doing so badly himself. The evening ended with him dropping me at my car and parting ways with a firm handshake. I couldn't help but notice how wet my panties were as I headed into the house that night.

I was loving this internship. I was learning, felt like I was seriously contributing to the firm, and was fascinated by the arms-length relationship I had developed with Jack. I was an intern, yet he treated me like an important colleague.

And the real truth was, I was totally and unequivocally attracted to him. The subtle power he had over people was working on me as well. I knew he was married, but that just made him all the more alluring to me. I'd always found married men both a challenge and a turn-on. There was something so naughty and wrong about being with an older man -- and if they were married, that added to the allure. I knew it was wrong, but it was my truth.

I saw one of my old high school exes that summer, along with two friends with benefits. But the man who was in the forefront of my mind -- in the midst of my mid-summer fantasies -- was Jack Booth. I saw him as unattainable, however. He was too busy and too absorbed in the firm and the work we were doing to pay much personal attention to me. Ours was, to my chagrin, a purely professional and collegial relationship.