The Job Interview

  The Surgeon and I had our first date outside of the dungeon on Halloween.  He’d seen me three times previously inside, and on the third, he told me that he was going to a conference in Baltimore.

       “I have to give a lecture and teach, and after that, I’m bored.  These things are torture to me at this point in my career.  I want you to come with me.  You can have your own hotel room and do whatever you want during the day.  You can visit the harbor.  You can shop.”

        I laughed in his face.

        “Shop?  Shop with what, a fuckin food stamp?  Do you think that I work here because I like to shop?”

        That startled him.

        “No, I’ll go,” I said.  “I don’t get to travel much.  How are we going to do this?  And I don’t want to talk about this here.  Management could hear.”

         The Surgeon was the first client I ever poached from the Dungeon.  The only other time I did it was the Mathematician. 

         I know that going out of town with a man who was practically a complete stranger was dangerous…but it was also exciting, like an adventure.  And I was already attracted to him.  Fascinated, actually.  I didn’t want him, I didn’t want anybody at that point in my life because this was only seven months after I’d finally gotten away from John and I was very much enjoying my freedom…but I did want to study him.  

         “Where can we meet?  It has to be someplace discreet.  I can’t explain to my colleges how we met if we’re seen together.  We need to make up a story for that.” 

          “Call me tomorrow at 5 after I get off work here.”

          He called.  Ring Ring.  Where are you?

         I guided him to an Irish pub down the block from my dungeon.  It had a blinking neon sign of a four-leaf clover on the window and televisions broadcasting sports above the bar.  Guys were playing foozball and darts.  The only other women in the place were the barmaids.   I was sitting in a booth in the back. 

          I saw him right away when we came in, even though he wasn’t as tall as most of the other men.  There was an intensity to his bearing, like an aura.  He was wearing a beautiful blue suit and he actually had a flower on his lapel, and I thought he looked great. I found out later that he’d just finished administering oral exams to a class of residents.  Now that I know him as I do, the thought is enough to give me nightmares.  He grades them as harshly has he can, and if he can fail them, he does.  These people are going to be my competition, he said. 

          “Is this place okay?” I asked.

            “It’s perfect!  I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this!  We can have a private conversation!” 

       Wow, what an asshole, I thought. 

       “What’s your name?” I asked.

       “Aaron,” he lied.  “What’s yours?”

       “Margo,” I lied.

        “What do you study in school?”

       “English Lit,” I lied.

       “I thought you said history before!”

       “I lied.” The truth.

       “What do your parents do?”

       “My mother’s a paralegal and my father teaches Civics and Government at a High School,” I lied.

         “Excellent.  You have siblings?  What do they do?”

        “My brother in college and he wants to be a cop.”

         “Do you have a boyfriend?”

         “No. I broke up with him in March.”

          “Do you have any contact with him at all?”

         “What about girlfriends?  Do you have girlfriends you talk to a lot?  Who have you told about this?  I have to protect my professional reputation.  But I have to tell you, you don’t seem like the type of have a lot of girlfriends.  I respect that.”

          The Surgeon’s a social climber and he knows a hell of a lot of people, but he has no real friends.  He doesn’t trust anyone.  I was his friend.  

          “I know how to keep a secret.”  Not a lie.

            He looked me in the eyes, considering.  Then he nodded.

           The barmaid came over and the Surgeon asked me if I wanted a drink.  I ordered a vodka cranberry.  

          “I don’t want to take a crazy girl to Baltimore with me.  Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

           “What the fuck is this?  A job interview?”

           “Yes.  That is exactly what it is.”

           “Wow, what a charming guy you are!”

            He smiled.  He has two smiles, a happy one, and a scary one.  This was a happy smile.  

           “I can be charming.  I’m paying you the compliment of being up front with you. You’re a serious girl.  Most girls are not.  Now answer my question.  Why are you working at that place?”

           “For the money!  Why else?  What were you doing in that place?  You met me there!  You were there too!

          “Do you use drugs?”

           I gestured at my drink.  “Just this.”

            And with that, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit and took out an envelope, which he passed to me across the table.

            “This is for your travel expenses and hotel room. I leave on Friday.  I’ll be free after 7 PM.  Take the Amtrak train and call me when you get in.”

            Then he put $20 on the table to pay for my drink and walked out.

         I put the enveloped under the table and peaked inside.  

         It was $1200 in cash.  I almost had a panic attack.  I was still very young, and had never had that much money on me in cash before; it was a months’ stipend from my fellowship at the University.  I became immediately paranoid that someone would take it away from me, and when I left the bar I went straight to the bank and deposited it.  

          That is the story of our first date.  How romantic! 

           He loosened up a lot in Baltimore.  We had a blast, actually.  I’ll probably write about that tomorrow.

          I’ve got my Domme Darth Vader costume ready for the party.  I’ll try to take photos.  They should be safe to post with the mask on.

4 thoughts on “The Job Interview”

  1. This doesn’t read like ‘boy meets girl’ so much as a mere commercial transaction. And that’s simply because of the way in which the Surgeon is presented.

    He has all the charmless sense of entitlement that frequently sits like an aura around the rich when they are in the company of the less well-to-do. If this was supposed to transform the relationship from customer and employee to something more human, it doesn’t feel like it.

    On the contrary, it feels like something that we have been aware of ever since Adam Smith and Marx – the transformation of human relations into a mere matter of money for commodities.

    In this case, the commodity was you.

    Sorry if this seems brutal, but of course, as in those movies that start at the end and wind back to the beginning, I do have the advantage of knowing how the story ends.

  2. Hi, Tony;

    Oh, it was definitely a commercial transaction. I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been paid. I also wouldn’t have done it unless I was intrigued by him–men try to meet me outside my dungeon all the time and I tell 99% of them NO.

    But everyone sells their labor, yes..?

    I’d like to discuss this because I see that you have a point and I’m not grasping it completely.

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