Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun, which is hot but not what I expected. I assume she’s trying to look the part. And she’s wearing glasses. I find this hot in a nerdy, librarian kind of way. I imagine looking down at her while she’s sucking my dick and her looking back up at me through those glasses. I assume she has no episiotomy scar and she smells fucking incredible. She smells like melons and cinnamon. She smells like Alyna used to. She smells like something I want to put in my mouth.
I didn’t do this with any of the douchebags before her, but as she sits down I ask her if she wants a glass of water or anything. She says she’s fine. I started the other two interviews by asking them why they wanted to intern at our company and followed that with a standard list of questions that resulted in answers I didn’t give a fuck about. With Holly, I decide to throw that out the window.
I say, “So, you from Los Angeles?”
She says, “Well, Chatsworth.”
Without even thinking it might be inappropriate, I puke out, “Oh . . . porn capital of the world.”
I immediately hope her response will put me at ease enough to not worry that I’ll be sued for sexual harassment. She says, “Yeah. My mom is actually in the business.”
I can’t help myself, “Really?”
“No. I’m just kidding.” She laughs. Her laugh is hot.
“You had me there for a second.”
“Sorry. I know that was probably inappropriate.”
“Not at all.”
“So your résumé says you write for the school paper.”
“Yeah. It’s fun. I’ve been kind of toying with the idea of being a writer, a journalist I mean, but that seems incredibly hard to make a living at, so . . .”
“So you’re taking a bunch of business classes and that’s why you’re here.”
“In a nutshell. I hope that doesn’t sound bad.”
"Not at all.”
“Okay. Good. Because I’d really like this internship. I have a friend who did his internship here a few semesters ago and said it was really a great experience.”
“What was his name?”
“I can’t say I remember him, but we might have put him in a department that I don’t deal with all that much or something.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds. There’s no way I’m giving the internship to anyone else. She must sense that it’s strange I’m not asking her anything. She says, “So, should I, like tell you why I’d like this internship or anything?”
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