Chapter 3: The Second Interview

Later that week I received a phone call from Mr. Eisenberg’s secretary, asking me if I could come in for a follow-up interview. That was a VERY good sign as it most likely meant I was someone they wanted and just had to clear up a few things. It was exciting! All I had to do was endure another hour at most, and the job would be mine ... or so I thought.

Entering Mr. Eisenberg’s office for the second time was about the same as the first. He greeted me as before, directed me to the same chair, gave me the same look-over and got right to the point.

“So Miss Wells, I’ve verified your credentials and talked with the staff about you. I was quite impressed - everyone spoke very highly of you.”

So far so good but there was something about the look on his face that told me there was a “but” coming...

“But,” he said ... I knew it!

He paused, leaving me wondering what was coming, “I also called Mr. Wright to discuss your rather unique ... shall we say ... situation.”

My mind was racing a mile a minute now. Mr. Wright was the previous administrator, the asshole that had fired me (or at least made me resign). Oh no, what he had told Mr. Eisenberg about me? Well, it couldn’t have been TOO bad or no doubt that I wouldn’t have been asked in for a second interview. Yet somehow I couldn’t imagine Mr. Wright giving me a glowing reference either, not given the manner we parted ways last year. He had made it pretty clear that as far as he was concerned, I would never teach again!

“You know, Mr. Wright had some every interesting things to say about you Miss Wells ... some VERY interesting things I must say.”

I could only hope that my face didn’t betray the sick feeling that was forming in the pit of my stomach. Oh my god, so the asshole HAD told Mr. Eisenberg about the real reason I’d left. Even worse, I knew Mr. Wright had not told me everything that Duane had told him, leaving me to squirm at the time and using it to hold over my head so I would resign. What all had he told Mr. Eisenberg? Yet if he had, why had I been asked in for a second interview? Was this some sort of sick practical joke, Mr. Wright’s evil way at getting back at me for daring to apply now that he had left, his perverted way of showing me his vendetta against me was still on?

“So tell me Miss Wells ... just how badly do you want this job?”

Now THAT was an interesting question. Normally, you would think someone would ask why I wanted the job, not to explain “just how bad” I wanted it. It was almost like he was asking me what would I do for it? Now what did THAT mean? My gut tightened further as I imagined what it might be.

“I’m not really sure what you mean Mr. Eisenberg,” I stammered, stalling for time to figure out how to react to this unexpected turn of events.

“Oh I think you know Miss Wells ... I think girls like you know VERY well what I mean.”

Hmmm, “girls like you”? I had a pretty good idea of what he meant by that little slur and it didn’t bode well for me, or at least my hopes in securing this position.

Knowing my history, some people might not understand why I was bothered so much by what was happening. After all, I’d never been afraid to use my “assets” before to get a job or most anything else (even negotiating a car price or getting some computer help) but this was different. This was my CAREER. This was something that would be with me for the rest of my life, hopefully at least in that I planned to teach for a long time. How naive I had been to have assumed I could just return to my old job and someone erase the past.

Now what were Mr. Eisenberg’s intentions? He certainly didn’t seem to be upset with me or angry. If anything, he had this Cheshire Cat smile where his lips were tight together but the corners of his mouth curled up like he was some mischievous boy caught peeking up the skirt of a girl at school. He seemed to be getting some sort of perverted kick out my discomfort. NOT exactly the kind of smile you like to see on the person deciding your career’s future.

As for me, I wasn’t accustomed to being in this situation. After all, I was the one that was always in control, the one who called the shots. Oh sure, sometimes I might let the guy THINK he was in control, but that was just me allowing him to THINK he was, not that he really was. I has a pretty good idea where he was leading to so the question was how far did he intend to carry this out? After all, he WAS married and he did have his own position to be concerned about. Even a hint of what he had said to me so far could be enough to cost a man his job in this type of unyielding environment.

Well, there was one way to find out without jumping TOO far over the line. Staying seated in the chair, I simply uncrossed and then crossed my legs again, far slower than necessary and this time not tugging my skirt back down again but instead allowing it ride up higher than was “decent”, at least so far as THIS school was concerned. It wasn’t exactly a Sharon Stone moment, but it would have certainly been enough to get me thrown out on my cute butt with old Mr. Wright!

“Well, it appears we both understand the seriousness of the situation,” Mr. Eisenberg said softly, putting his hands together with his fingertips pressed against one another as he leaned forward on his desk on his elbows to get a better look at me.

I twisted sideways in my chair such that the side of me with the most leg showing was easier for him to see. I was rewarded by his eyes shifting to my bare thighs, my ass now barely concealed as I allowed the skirt to ride up even higher.

“Oh yes Miss Wells ... I think you DO want the job, don’t you?”

I just smiled at him and waited to see where he would go. Was this enough? You never know with some men. Sometimes just a tease is all they want, something to go home and masturbate about as they fantasize about what might have happened under different circumstances. If this was all I had to do to prove my determination - show a little upper leg, then it would be the easiest I’d ever gotten out of such a situation. Well, it WOULD have been the easiest...

“OK, I think you want the job, Miss Wells, but the questions is, how MUCH do you want it?”

Like, I’d been around the proverbial block enough times to know what THAT innuendo meant. OK, if that’s how he wanted to play ... I smiled demurely at him and slowly started to unbutton my blouse, each button seemingly almost impossible to undo as one by one they finally came loose, exposing a little more of my bra with each. I left the blouse tucked in, allowing it to fall open but now as far it would have had to been loose. Finally I had them all undone down to my skirt, the blouse now opening up just enough to reveal my white bra and plenty of cleavage.

“Hmmmmmm, very nice, Miss Wells ... very nice indeed. I see your ‘credentials’ are indeed flawless.”

It was all like a scene from a bad “B” movie or something. Where things might have progressed to I’ll never know because just then his intercom buzzed, practically scaring me out of my chair. His secretary announced that his next appointment was waiting. Frowning, he looked at me and then shrugged his shoulders, telling her that he would be done with me shortly.

“I’m sorry Miss Wells, I guess we’ll have to finish this interview another time,” he apologized.

Indeed, he really DID seem sorry about it and looking at his dress pants as he stood up, I could see why. I quickly buttoned my blouse back up, then stood up and pulled my skirt down below my knees again. All prim and proper once again!

“I’ll be in touch with you soon Miss Wells,” he said, shaking my hand as if nothing untoward had just happened, “I would suggest that in the mean time you might want to think about how bad you want this job. I might also need as closer look at your ‘credentials’ next time.”

God, where did he get these lines, some B-rated sex movie? I left his office, smiling at the secretary as I departed. We knew each other from when I was there before and she had always been very nice to me. I wondered if she had any idea whatsoever what kind of man she was working for now? Who knows, maybe she had to prove how bad she wanted her job as well? Then again, she was about fifty so I doubted her “credentials” were as good as they use to be.