Internal Desire Ch. 01

The job posting seemed innocuous enough:

Paid Summer internship for advertising company in Mid-West market region. Applicants must be driven and possess stellar written and oral skills. Benefits not included but several other perks available with proven work ethic. Please submit a headshot with resume to following email address...

Since Nick had not seen so much as a response from any of his other inquiries, he reasoned it was at least worth a shot and quickly attached his resume and one of the more professional-looking selfies from his camera roll and sent it off. Once he had reached his self-imposed requisite ten applications submitted for the day, he triumphantly closed his laptop and got ready for an afternoon run.

As he stretched in the shared living room of the apartment, there was a loud clatter in the room directly across from his bedroom. Nick knew his drunken mess of a roommate had finally awoken from another bender from the night before. The door swung open, and a billow of smoke poured out along with a disheveled apparition that groggily shuffled towards him. Nick laced up his shoes and was putting in his earbuds as his roommate slumped into the body imprint on the couch from countless previous sessions and picked up the controller that sat in its near-permanent perch on the armrest.

"I'm going for a run. You got any plans for the day?" Nick asked, already knowing the response.

Not one to disappoint, his roommate only held up the controller, and Nick had his answer. He shook his head and took his phone out to turn on his running playlist before heading out, and before he could open the app, the phone vibrated in his hand. Mom flashed across the top, and Nick sighed loudly before mashing the red cancel button and heading for the door.

When he returned from his run, Nick found his roommate unmoved from when he had left nearly an hour before. As what had become their customary ritual, not a word passed between them as Nick kicked his shoes off and crossed to the fridge for a bottle of water. He lifted his sweat-soaked shirt over his head and used it as a sweat rag to wipe his face off before draping it over his shoulders and taking another long swig of water.

"Did you catch him yet," came his roommate's voice from the couch.

"Almost got him this time," came the response in their now well-practiced routine. "You finally win the war for us?" prompted Nick with a head nod toward the TV.

"Bastards just keep on coming," the dance continued, and they did their usual awkward ballet as Nick nudged past on his way to a seat on the couch, careful never to interrupt the field of vision. Once safely seated, he pulled out his phone, and the two sat inches apart in proximity but worlds apart in mindscape.

"Holy shit!" Nick burst out, and both jumped. Nick was still entranced by his phone and crossed directly in front of the TV, which earned him a sharp smack on his thigh. "Oh shit, sorry," he absentmindedly called out as he paced the living room.

"Fucking great! The goddamn Nazis got me again." In an instant, the controller slammed against the coffee table and was replaced by the large glass bong already prepacked and ready for what should have been a celebratory smoke. "Alright, you're killing me. What was so fucking important you got me killed?"

Nick was suddenly drawn back to the apartment from his phone. "Really sorry. I actually got a callback," and with that, he started reading out loud:

Hello Nick. I received your resume and would like to meet up and discuss the role further. As this position needs to be filled immediately, I would like to meet as soon as possible. Please text me at your earliest conven-

"Good for you, man. Might need to put a shirt on though."

Nick frantically looked at his watch and back at the message, "fuck! This came twenty minutes ago. I need to hop in the shower. I'm going to text them quick. Keep an eye on my phone and let me know if slash when they message back," he barked and tossed the phone on the couch before waiting for a response.

In a blur, Nick was in and out of the shower. He was shaving with his electric razor when he ran back into his bedroom to pick out what to wear. A shirt flew back and landed on the bed, followed by a tie and finally a pair of pants before he spun back from the closet to get dressed. He nearly tossed the razor on the bed before he saw that his roommate was laying on it, legs crossed, back against the headrest.

His hand instinctively went to cover his crotch as he realized he was not alone, "Holy fuck!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing in here?"

"Gees, I thought you wanted me to let you know they text back."

"I meant shout from the other room. In case you hadn't noticed-"

"Oh, calm down, it's not like I haven't seen it before. Those runs are really doing you favors by the way-"

"Shut up and get out of here," he said and waved with his free hand toward the door. "I thought we agreed about that kind of talk. Thanks for all your help, by the way." Moments later, Nick emerged from his room fully dressed and made his way to the door through a thick cloud of smoke as the TV was once again blaring with gunshots. "Wish me luck," he called back over his shoulder just before the door closed behind him.

The small coffee shop was nearly empty as Nick walked in, and he scanned the faces of the few customers seated to pick out the Tracy he had been exchanging emails and texts with. There were four customers in the shop, so his odds were fairly decent. There was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties sitting in a booth typing away on a laptop, and Nick figured someone so close to his age was not likely to be in a management position. His hypothesis was further confirmed by the fact that he was wearing sweatpants and hadn't shaved in days, so Nick ruled him out -- down to three.

Next, he saw an elderly gentleman dressed well enough to fit the role but seemed to be nodding off as he stared at the newspaper in front of him. Nick decided this was more than likely not the person he had been exchanging texts with as little as five minutes prior. Down to a coin flip. The final two candidates were: a woman wearing yoga pants and a low-cut cami and a middle-aged man wearing a three-piece suit and talking to someone on a Bluetooth device as he paced in a corner. Figuring the woman was either on her way to or from the gym and was less dressed for a formal interview, Nick made an educated guess and crossed her off the list, leaving only the obvious businessman.

As Nick took a deep breath, he started walking towards the man, hoping he would end his phone call to greet him. Once he was within five feet, it became clear the man had either not noticed him or was making some sort of power play and ignoring him to make it obvious who was in charge. Nick had read up on the importance of an excellent first impression as well as asserting dominance in the workplace and wanted to show he was willing to take the initiative in the role. He stood tall, pressed his shoulders back, and tried to force eye contact with the gentleman.

When that didn't work, he thought of making sure this was the right person and started to reach for his phone to once again text Tracy to make sure, but fought the urge as it might look as though he were playing a game or scrolling through social media once the man realized his presence.

The man finally glanced his way, and Nick took a breath in and reached out his hand for a shake, but the man simply gave an awkward head nod and turned his back to him. Nick felt embarrassed but still wanted to seem eager for the position and reasoned that it must be an important call that wouldn't take much longer. Still fighting the urge to check his phone, Nick took another glance around the coffee shop. The boy was still typing away while the elderly man had given up the charade of reading the paper, and his head sunk into his chest in slumber. The woman was seated on one of the high chairs, and with each tap of her toe, the silky fabric of her cami strained to contain her bouncing bosom.

Tried as he might, Nick couldn't help but become mesmerized by the rhythmic cadence of her swaying breasts. It wasn't until the man coughed loudly behind him that Nick realized he had been caught. As he turned with an outstretched hand to greet his host, two truths came crashing down on him. First: the man hadn't been getting his attention to start their meeting but was instead trying to nudge past him to get his coffee. Second, the woman who had entranced him so, and was now glaring at him as he fully realized his plight, was actually who he had come to meet with. In an abysmal attempt to cover his folly, Nick acted as though there was some confusion about whether it was his coffee or the gentleman's before excusing himself and making his way over to the woman.

"Excuse me, ma'am, would you happen to be Tracy?" Nick asked, holding out his hand, hoping she wouldn't notice how red his face must be.

"Ma'am?" she mocked. "Between that and assuming Brooks Brothers over there was the boss, I'd say this is going swimmingly for you so far." Nick could once again feel the heat rise in the tiny store. "I see on your resume you're in your third year at University, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma- Ms."-

"Tracy will do. I also see you have made Dean's list your first two years and were valedictorian of your high school class. That all looks fine. I'll be honest Nicky, the job is mostly clerical work and errands; They will be long hours and mostly admin tasks. Still interested?"

"Oh, very much so Ms- Sorry. Tracy".

"Good. Now then, do you have a girlfriend"?

"Excuse me-"

"A girlfriend. Do you have one? My last assistant left after his girlfriend was upset because of the long hours, and I really can't handle any more significant other drama."

"Well, no. Not at the moment-"

"Good. How about your home? Live with your parents? On your own?"

"I'm not sure I-"

Tracy rolled her eyes, clearly becoming frustrated with the continued pushback. "Sometimes I may require you to hold certain things for me at your place because my home is out of town, and it is more convenient to have you store it more readily available. I need to know that Mommy and Daddy or some nosey flatmate isn't going to have a problem with that."

"Well, I do have a roommate, but I have plenty of storage in my place, and she won't be an issue."

"She?"

"Yeah. Heather and I-"

"You two ever fuck?" she cut him off.

Not wanting to upset her any more than he already had with his objections, Nick decided it would be more prudent to give concise, truthful answers. "Yes, but that"-

"Okay, thanks for applying, but that is strike three," she said and started towards the door.

Nick couldn't believe the conversation he had just had with a complete stranger, let alone a hopeful employer, was real. He also couldn't let the only real prospect of a paying job he had seen in over a month of diligent searching walk out the door without at least an honest fight.

"Wait, Tracy. I swear it's not like that. We dated for a while when we first got to college, but that's been over for a long time, and there are no feelings from either of us anymore. There won't be any drama, and I will be the hardest worker you've ever had. Please, just give me a chance to show you what I can do for you," he plead.

Tracy briskly strutted along towards her car, unphased by the groveling puppy dog she had in tow. Nick followed closely behind and admired the supple ping-pong match of Tracy's taught yoga pants from behind as he continued to throw everything he had to make his case for hiring him. As her BMW roared to life and sped off, Nick's shoulders dropped in defeat. He trudged back to his car and thought back about the absurdity of the whole interaction.

When he opened the door to his apartment, Nick had to laugh at the image before him. Heather must have fallen victim to her bong again as she lay slumped in a heap on the couch, controller still in hand. The TV was still on, and her character on screen was running in tight circles. Nick shook his head and gently removed the controller to turn the TV off. Still tucked away in a weed-induced slumber, Heather reached out for the phantom controller. Nick lowered himself into the chair adjacent to the couch, so he didn't wake her.

He had meant what he had told Tracy: there were no romantic feelings between them, but in her utterly vulnerable state, Nick reflected back on their relationship -- or whatever you would call it- and didn't even try to hold back the smile. Her disheveled strawberry-blond hair fell haphazardly across her freckled face, and he flashed back to the countless times boyfriend Nick would brush said hair behind her ear and gently kiss her cheek. He knew it would make her recoil and wiggle her cute nose like a bunny.

As if on cue, she brought her hands tight against her chest and curled into a neat ball on a single couch cushion. Nick sat and admired as the loose-fitting short shorts she had on rode further up her thighs and revealed the bottoms of her butt cheeks. He had to restrain himself from staring as he saw that her pussy lips were winking out at him as well, but couldn't help but notice that she had let the peach fuzz of pubic hair grow in, something she never would have done while they were...intimate.

Just as Nick was being lulled into another--this time not so innocent--memory of their time together, a loud 'ding' went off. Nick panicked to get his phone out of his pocket. The noise was enough to bring a dazed Heather out of her slumber, and as Nick was staring into his phone, she groggily reorientated herself on the couch.

"No fucking way!" Nick shouted.

Heather's eyes closed tightly then bolted open, shaking the sleep from them, "what- what is it? What happened," she stuttered. Without a word, Nick bolted up from the couch, never taking an eye off his phone, and ran to his room. Heather nonchalantly picked up her bong and, lighting it, blurt out, "I guess I was just talking to myself."

Nick walked back into the room just as Heather let out yet another cloud of smoke and picked up the controller from the coffee table. Heather was about to ask where he was headed, but the door latched before she got it out. She turned her attention back to the TV and pushed the hint of jealousy for whatever girl he was about to meet up with out of her mind.

As he nervously race-walked down the sidewalk, Nick shot his glance from his phone to the numbers on the buildings. He finally arrived outside a door identical to its neighbors, quickly straightened his shirt, and reached for the handle. The nondescript lobby area was dimly lit, and just as Nick was about to poke his head back out to check the number outside the door, he heard a familiar voice in the next room.

"Good choice," chimed the voice. "Your uniform is lying on the bench in the second door on your right. Put it on quick and get back out here before any of our clients show up," Tracy barked from somewhere in the house.

Nick resolved that this was his last chance since he had already fallen on his face at their first meeting and made a rule that he would not question or push back with any of Tracy's orders. He hurried toward the room to get changed, stripping off his clothes as he went. He repeated the orders in his head and clumsily stumbled into the room with his pants bunched at mid-calf. He didn't bother to close the door behind him, knowing any misstep could cost him with Tracy's high expectations of obedience. He bundled his shirt and threw it into the same corner of the room he kicked his shoes off into. He stared at the small pile of clothes on the bench as he fumbled out of his pants and tugged his socks off his feet. The doorbell rang just as Nick shared a puzzled look with his reflection in the large mirror on the opposite wall.

"I got it," Nick shouted as he jogged toward the door.

There was no response from Tracy, and Nick figured this was a sign that she had expected no less considering his garb. Luckily there was a little bit of give to the skin-tight fabric of the tuxedo pants, which was more than could be said for the veil thin dress shirt that looked like it had been painted on his skin. Considering not only that Tracy hadn't taken or asked for his measurements and that he was already skating on thin ice, he took a deep breath and straightened his long-tailed jacket before he reached the door.

When Nick opened the door, the woman's back was to him, but Nick was mesmerized by her: the backless dress she had on came together just above the crack of her backside and looked as though it were made of a series of crystals on individual strands cascading down from the choker neckline. Her hair was pulled into a large French braid with similar sparkling crystals shimmering in the reflected light and wrapped around her head as if in a large bun, which exposed her long, slender neckline and drew attention to her dangling chandelier-like earrings. As she spun to face him, her floor-length dress spun with her and sent rays of light in all directions.

Either Nick had gotten lost in the image of the gorgeous woman in front of him, or she was just as impatient as Tracy. When he finally made eye contact with her, the woman scoffed, and her eyes widened at him. Nick snapped back from his daze and pivoted to the side as he opened the door wide and waved her inside.

"Good evening, ma'am, welcome."

"Ma'am," she snapped. "That'll deduct from your score," she sneered as she sashayed past him without so much as a glance.

Nick was puzzled, but another woman was already strolling up the sidewalk, so he was forced to push the thought from his head. He took stock of her as she advanced so he would not be caught off guard again. This woman was a fair amount older than the previous woman and was also more modestly dressed. Her fur shawl was wrapped tightly around her neck, and her full gown featured elbow-length sleeves and showed very little skin. As she came closer, Nick made sure to make eye contact and flashed a wide smile.

The woman made no effort to conceal her full head-to-toe body scan of him on her approach. Once she was at the door, Nick once again held the door wide and waved her into the house. The woman paused at the entryway and flashed her eyes toward her neckline. After a beat, Nick took his cue, walked behind the woman, and took the shawl from her shoulders.

"Apologies, miss. Let me take that for you," he piped.

When he walked around to her front again, the woman flashed a pleased smile at him, "My oh my. You are new, aren't you deary? You'll learn quickly though, don't worry," she affirmed as she reached up and smoothed Nick's jacket at the shoulder. Her hand lingered on his bicep as her eyeline drifted downward. "Okay, off you go, sweetie," she sang with a wave of her other hand.

Nick was becoming used to taking orders and started off in the direction she had waved toward the same room Tracy had laid out his uniform. He figured this would also function as a coat closet and carefully put away the garment and filed the information that this shawl belonged to the woman in the ruby red gown.

When Nick returned to his post near the front door, he heard something that made him cringe in terror. Tracy called loudly for him from the other room. Nick panicked, not knowing how he possibly could have done wrong, and rushed over. He entered the living room and saw, for the first time, the lavishly decorated room and two women he had greeted standing, talking to each other.

They both turned and looked at him before sharing a smirk. The younger woman then shook her head with a scoff as she turned toward a large painting in the corner. The older woman shot him a wink and waved her toward a doorway next to him, indicating this is where he could find his boss. He mouthed a quick "thank you" and slipped through the opening.