A beautiful interviewer!

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It has been a while since I could grab a chance to have a beautiful encounter with a gorgeous person, especially in any office premises where a sense of professionalism is a religion to follow. I am sitting by the window sill of my room, reminiscing about a serendipitous incident that linger somewhere in the grey folds of my memory, making me chuckle while I try to bask in the delight of first drizzle outside. It is the matter of a few days back when I had to go to attend the interview that was conducted at an organization located at the other end of the city. The venue was surprisingly attractive, but I had no idea that I was about to behold something (or someone) more beautiful with my naked eye. With a knock on the glass doors, when I entered, it was like someone opened the doors to heaven. And what a beautiful heaven it was! The fact that I was about to be interviewed by this gorgeous interviewer had me totally confused between the dream and reality. Of course, I was expected to appear and think professional, but instead, a mild sense of guilt began to soar inside me. What was it? It was an insane puzzlement about how to treat her. As a slender lady or just a company interviewer? She greeted me with a cute smile as I sat and prepared myself for the session. All my nervousness about questions and possible outcome took a backseat and a thought of being faced with a riveting beauty overwhelmed me. (I might have given her a little stare and I don’t know if she minded that). “Describe yourself in a few words,” she resonated, as if words just streamed off her lips. I started after a moment, after I could shift my focus from her charm to the actual purpose of the interview. Who wants to discuss the job when there is a lot to indulge? It was a struggle to form words that can best describe myself. “Why do you want this job? Any good reason?” A tinge of sternness was noticed in her tone now. (Not sternness, but rather professionalism, I guess). Maybe she sensed that a bad company has just infiltrated in her company. I am a terrible lad when it comes to flirting though there was anything but flirt in the look of my eyes then. What was it? In my defense, I can best describe it as a genuine, controlled yet desperate kind of adulation for her grace. “Ma’m, I…I have heard a lot many good things about the future and security that this job can give us. It offers good perks and nice work culture. I love this kind of profile.” I had a hard time speaking these words. Did I just call her Ma’m? I can’t believe this. And I was not sure if I said, “love this kind of profile” or love this kind of smile. God, I was stuck to her (or my eyes were) like a magnet, but I was a fly to her. I wish I could know what she was thinking of me, of my bold hesitation and popping eyes. Did she even care? Her eyes were on my resume, her fingers busy shaking a pen urgently. Her straight, shampooed hair was telling another story of her fineness. “Why should we hire you?” Now she had a clear eye contact with me, waiting for me to blurt out something. Was she upset or offended by my act of scanning her flesh? Again I had to call her ma’m. “I am interested in this job and I like the profile. I would do my best to do justice to my work. Once appointed, I would never disappoint you.” Seriously? Did I say that? I was correct to my words, though. I would not like to disappoint her. Whatever her expectations were. My intentions were pure as HELL. I mean pure as well. I was doing justice to my work. I will do. My work is to worship her lustrous skin. At least for now. Because upon being appointed, I could never miss a chance like this. Should I? I was taking my chances. I still am!!