Chapter 9: The Intern at the party

Once she had an intern named Leila; her parents were acquaintances of one of her bosses, rich Tunisians who lived here year-round. They had put her in a very prestigious college, but Leila barely coasted through it; she was lazy and careless, though with flash of true intelligence when she bothered to apply it. It was obvious the Tunisian girl did not care for that internship, and she had to point to her the same mistakes several times. Leila barely listened, her attitude verged on insolence. She fumed at having to put up with her.

He started coming in her office to be around Leila. He just stayed there, on the flimsiest of pretexts, sniffing the smell of her young brown skin, darting quick looks at her heavy breast and legs, at her lips, the sort of quick dirty glances men think women don’t notice. Leila did not understand what his job was, as it had nothing to do with HR, and she was too incurious to figure it out, but she picked up on her supervisor’s deference to him, and showed him rather less insolence than to her. He asked the intern questions about her studies, and what she wanted to do later, where she lived, et cetera. She looked at them with some horror, thinking he might enthrall Leila as he had her, and she might have to share his semen with the intern, or lose him altogether. This caused her to become curter and more critical toward Leila, which caused some resentment in the younger woman and amused him greatly.