Claire re-read the rejection letter from MI5 once more and sighed.
She had felt certain that, after her exciting missions with top secret agent Conn Fiddle, she would be accepted as a trainee spy with Britain’s secret service, MI5. She had met Conn in a bar when he’d ask for help to pose as his girlfriend to fool some criminals. She had then spent an exciting few days including meeting and seducing a top terrorist, Mr. Big, to extract his most precious secrets much like a modern day Mata Hari.
However three days ago she had received the rejection and her hopes had been dashed.
When she’d found out, she had called Conn and he had agreed to meet her in the local red light district under the cover of prostitute and punter. She had dressed in as tarty a way as she could, as requested, and, after she had refused two offers from kerb-crawlers and fended off an attack from a disgruntled professional, he had picked her up and driven her to a quiet street.
She had explained what had happened and he had promised to sort it out all out and get back to her the next day.
“It must be an administrative error. Let me call my handler and arrange a meeting for you. Now as we’re here under cover and just in case anyone followed us we’d better live up to our roles. Here, give this a suck and get your tits out,” he’d said unzipping his cock.
She had spent the next hour having sex with him in various ways until he had confirmed that the coast was clear and that any observers would be convinced of their intentions. She knew that her boyfriend, Danny, wouldn’t have been happy about this but it was just a job and he didn’t need to know.
Unfortunately, Conn hadn’t called the next day and when she’d tried to call him, his number had been unobtainable. She’d even called MI5 but, unsurprisingly she supposed, they didn’t give out any details of agents.
Supposing that he’s had to go into deep cover, she cursed her luck and threw the letter in the bin. She had really been looking forward to surprising Danny with the great news that she’d finally got a job, and a responsible and exciting one at that. It looked like her long job search would continue. She just couldn’t seem to hold down a job without something happening to her.
She knew that she was a fit young well-turned-out woman; she was slender and tall with red hair, green eyes and freckles. Her body was both busty and leggy and, although she wasn’t a rocket scientist, nor was she completely stupid even though Danny seemed to hold the view that she was often a touch naive when it came to the motives of a certain type of man.
In any case it looked like it was time to scour the job ads once more.
Surprisingly, she found a suitable opportunity in the back of the local paper almost immediately.
A small advert in the personal columns stated, “Small Corporate Training Agency looking for Bright, Enthusiastic and Dynamic trainers willing to give 100%. No experience necessary.” It ended with a contact name, Bobby Flapjack, and a mobile number.
Excited, she called and made and appointment to see Bobby that afternoon. She decided not to tell Danny just in case he raised any objections. Once she had the job she would let him know, she said to herself confidently.
The address she found herself later that afternoon was over a Chinese takeaway on the High Street. She carefully walked up the rickety outside stairs in her 4 inch leopard-print stiletto heels holding onto the wobbly banister and cursing her shoe choice.
As ever, she had decided to make sure she looked her best for the interview. She was wearing a low-cut cream stretchy mini-dress that hugged her stupendous figure enticingly as well as matching linen jacket. Because of the clingy nature of the dress, she was wearing her skimpiest underwear, a transparent red half-cup bra and a tiny matching g-string as well as her usual black patterned hold-up stockings. Looking good always made her feel confident.
She pressed the doorbell marked BF Corporate Training at the top of the stairs and waited. She was sure she could hear some shouting from inside the flat followed by the sound of a slap.
Suddenly the door was pulled open and a short yet exceptionally pretty Asian woman stormed out, bumping into Claire.
“Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise. She looked Claire up and down. “If you’re here about the job then I’d leave now! You have no idea what that filthy pervert just asked me to do!” she said as she skipped down the stairs.
Claire was flabbergasted. She turned to see a short heavy-jowled overweight man in his forties hobbling towards the door. He had droopy moustache and, despite a receding hairline, shoulder-length curly black hair. He was wearing a slightly shiny suit that was a few sizes to small for him. He also had a huge red mark on his left cheek in the shape of a hand.
He smiled warmly as he grabbed Claire’s hand before she could leave, revealing crooked yellow teeth.
“Please ignore her! She just doesn’t have the commitment I’m looking for. I can tell immediately though that you’re a determined woman and won’t let minor issues stand in your way,” he said.
Claire didn’t know what to do although she was flattered that he had discerned her never-say-die attitude so quickly from just a glance. “Um, er, well…” she started to reply.
“You must be Claire,” he interrupted. “My name is Bobby Flapjack. Please come in.”
She might as well go in for an interview, she thought. What harm could it do?
She found herself in a reasonably tidy but obviously bachelor-inhabited flat.
“Please come into my office,” Bobby said guiding her to a mid-sized room with a desk, a meeting table and a few chairs. There were files and papers strewn across the desk around a PC and a dozen or so impressive-looking certificates framed on the walls.
“Have a seat please, Claire. No need for formality. Would you like a drink, perhaps?”