Alison shivered slightly as the muggy sidewalk gave way to the climate-controlled foyer. The cool air felt refreshing against her bare legs, and she was glad she’d chosen to wear a skirt. She had wanted to dress up a little, anyway. Though this was primarily a test of her mental acuity and general knowledge, she had to assume that the staff of Think! also had their eyes open for potential contestants who looked beautiful, cuddly, or stylish. Alison didn’t think of herself as “beautiful,” and she was more the skinny than the “cuddly” type. But on a good day, she calculated that she could manage “stylish.” So she’d donned an elegant, mid-length floral skirt, and a teal jersey that flattered her sharp shoulders and small, pointed breasts. She had crowned herself with a pair of retro-chic sunglasses that she knew would stay in place astride her auburn bangs, if she avoided sudden head movements.
Alison’s elegance was a bohemian sort of elegance, and stockings were usually out of the question. On some days even panties were out of the question. But today being a sticky one, Alison had thought better of that option. After all, it might not impress the game show staff if she showed up for her test with her nice floral skirt glued to the crack of her ass, courtesy of the relative humidity.
“May I help you?” asked the receptionist.
“Yes, I’m here for the 4:00 test for Think!” said Alison. She projected confidence, but she had to admit to herself that she had a few rare-and-exotic butterflies in her stomach. She hoped she’d be able to relax sufficiently for concentrating on the test. She wondered if she ought to have made a point of masturbating this morning, instead of spending quite so much time boning up on history, geography, and basic science. She knew that all her cramming wouldn’t do her any good if she couldn’t approach the questions in the right frame of mind, and she further knew that a good twenty minutes of self-pleasuring usually kept her relaxed and happy for hours afterward.
“You’re early,” said the receptionist. “You can have a seat in the lobby until they call you.”
Early, Alison reflected. As she took a seat, she noticed that there were restrooms right along the far wall of the lobby, in the familiar company of a payphone and a water fountain. She wondered if perhaps it wasn’t too late to redress her neglect. It wouldn’t be a leisurely pussy-pampering session like at home; but she had done some lovely things for herself in bathroom stalls in the past. Doing her own oyster in a strange, almost-public place made everything happen faster, and sometimes even better. She squeezed her thighs together, involuntarily, as she considered the prospect.
She was startled out of this train of thought when a tall young woman crossed into her peripheral vision from around a corner. The woman, a magnificent-looking twentysomething blonde in a sleek, navy-blue skirt suit, wore a “STAFF” badge on a lanyard and carried a clipboard. The woman seemed to break her stride for just an instant, as if looking Alison over, before making her way across the lobby. As she drew near, Alison could see that she had a friendly smile on her face.
“May I have your name, please?” The woman spoke softly but crisply. Alison noticed that she had some sort of becoming northern European accent.
Alison felt the butterflies flutter again as she answered. “I’m Alison Lloyd.”
The woman made a check mark on her clipboard. “Hello, Alison. I’m Inge. I think they’ll be ready for you shortly.” Inge smiled pleasantly again before walking briskly out of sight.
Alison knew at this point that she had better not disappear into the ladies’ room for that quick treat. It was really too bad, because her brief consideration of this option had already had an effect on her intimate physiology. She could feel the resulting wetness in her panties, which were now clinging against her pussy. It was a nice feeling, though, and in its own way it made her feel less nervous. While she compulsively reviewed her state capitals and multiplication tables one more time, the hint of wetness down there was a soothing reminder that life is not all in the brain.
Alison’s heart jumped, because she hadn’t seen him approaching her. The suave, handsome man extending his hand had evidently entered the lobby while she had been looking in the other direction.
“I’m Gavin,” he said, as she rose to shake his hand. She saw herself smoothing her skirt down in that fidgety manner she couldn’t help assuming sometimes.
Wow, he was gorgeous, she noted as she met his charismatic glance. His features were perhaps a little too quirky to make him look like a model or movie star, but they embodied a charm that set him apart from all the ordinary-looking guys. His thick, straight brown hair curled seductively under each ear, and his strong eyebrows were softened by laughing eyes and a sensitive mouth. Like Inge, he wore a name badge.
“I’ll be giving you your test today,” he told her. There was something about the way his eyes lingered over her face and her body that sent a chill–not unpleasant–from her ankles up to her clinging panties. Whereas Inge had seemed to be sizing her up from a distance, Gavin’s assessment was done from less than a foot away, and felt almost tangible. Alison’s balance of mind and matter was now veering away from its midpoint–the soft, wet matter between her legs was increasingly drawing her concentration away from the mental challenge ahead.
“We’ll be in the first conference room on the right,” Gavin said. His eyes twinkled at her for a moment. Then he began to escort her down the short corridor.
In the conference room, he ushered her to a seat at the far end of a long wooden table. In front of her were a manila folder and a pencil. Her chair was comfortably padded, and the perfectly-air-conditioned climate of the room felt delicious.
Gavin closed the door and walked to the end of the table nearest him. “Any questions before you begin?” he asked, kindly.
Alison wanted to ask him all sorts of questions–questions about whether she could undo various parts of his clothing and touch him in all kinds of places–but she merely shook her head to indicate “No.”
“Go ahead, then, whenever you’re ready,” said Gavin.
With trembling fingers, she opened the folder. Ten questions jumped out at her, ten easy questions . . . ten questions whose answers she knew yesterday, knew this morning . . . and could not, for the life of her, bring up now. “What is the capital of New Zealand?” “What is the atomic number of calcium?” “What is meant by the term andante, in musical notation?” Alison simply couldn’t concentrate. Her pussy was throbbing for attention, her focus had been totally diverted by the presence of this appetizing guy, and her legs were tingling from the kisses of the air-conditioned air.
For five intense minutes, she struggled to call up the information she should have had at her disposal. She filled in every blank, but she knew most of the answers were probably wrong.
“Okay, Alison, your time is up,” said Gavin. Alison welcomed this announcement. Clearly, this was a lost cause.
She stood up and walked to Gavin’s end of the table. “I’m afraid I didn’t do as well as I should have,” she confessed. She handed him her folder.
It only took him seconds to scan her answers and score her performance. His face seemed to sag. Then he looked up, and his eyes met hers. “This happens sometimes,” he said. “Would you like another chance? I think we have an opening tomorrow.”
She eagerly accepted, and her heart was fluttering as she scurried back through the lobby. Just as she approached the exit, Inge caught up with her.
“I am so glad to know you’ll be back,” said Inge, touching Alison very lightly on the elbow. “Gavin was so disappointed that you didn’t qualify today.”
Alison knew what she had to do.
Come back one week from today to read the sexy conclusion to this encounter.
Jeremy is a favorite author here on Every Night Erotica click here to read more from him.
Jeremy Edwards is the author of the erotocomedic novel Rock My Socks Off and the erotic story collection Spark My Moment (both published by Xcite Books). His libidinous short stories have been widely published online, as well as in over forty anthologies. His work was selected for The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, vols. 7, 8, and 9, and he has read at New York’s In the Flesh and Philadelphia’s Erotic Literary Salon. Jeremy’s greatest goal in life is to be sexy and witty at the same moment—ideally in lighting that flatters his profile. Find Jeremy here: http://www.jeremyedwardserotica.com.