The Interview
© 1999 Mary Catherine Whitney
All Rights Reserved.
(A Nonspank Story)

Mary Catherine sat nervously in the big office waiting for her interview to begin. She was scared . . . petrified in fact. She wasn't sure she could go through with this, but she knew it was her only option left. Dean Michaels had caught her modeling for the art class at Penn State much too quickly. She had hoped he'd find out what she was doing eventually—emphasis on the EVENTUALLY—but that hadn't happened. She wasn't even sure what sort of effect her exposure had on him. She knew something special happened between them that night, she just didn't know if he felt it too.

Regardless, she had been left with a big dilemma as the result of her sudden unemployment. No matter how she added the figures up, she was going to be short on her tuition payment at the rate she was going. Mary knew she couldn't keep doing what she was currently trying to earn money—typing papers, tutoring, she'd even reduced herself to doing laundry for some of the other girls on campus. Her student account was out of money as well and she had sold the last of her Plaid Market merchandise. She couldn't afford to put any of her profits back into the business. Which led her to where she was now . . .

The door opens and an attractive woman in her early 30's walks into the room; closing the door behind her. She walks over to the large oak desk and takes a seat in the rich leather chair behind the desk. She opens a folder and pulls out a single sheet of paper, looking it over then taking a hard look at Mary Catherine. Mary sits up straighter, trying not to fidget. Her mouth dries, she's not sure at the moment which scares her more—the thought that she might not get the job or the thought that she might!

"Well young lady," the woman says, putting Mary's application back into the folder. "Let's see you walk." Mary nods, climbing down from the large visitor's chair. The chair had been uncomfortable . . . the whole room in fact reminded her of the Dean's office! She bites her lip and slowly walks away from the desk, then turns and walks back again. "Hmmmmm, ok, good, very good. Now I need you to strip for me so I can get a better look at you."

Mary gasps audibly, blushing furiously. Her eyes drop down to the ground. "Sssssttttrrripppp," she says. "Yyyooouuu mmmeaann . . . eevvvveeryyyythhhhhinnnnnng?" Her blush deepens, spreading across her face and neck. She turns to leave, she can't do this . . . it's just too hard. "Relax Mary, I didn't really want you to strip. I just needed to see how you look when you blush. Our clients really like girls who blush easily. I've found asking my prospective girls to undress gives me an accurate reading of their "blush factor" so to speak."

Mary turns back around, her blush lessening as she looks up at the woman behind the desk. "How did I do ma'am?" she asks. The woman laughs, walking over to Mary and giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You did very well I'd say Mary Catherine. Oh yes, I can tell you, my clients will absolutely LOVE you if you decide you want the job. My question is, WHY do you want the job? I looked at your application, you're barely 18 . . . and while you have the perfect look, an excellent background too in fact, I have to tell you that you don't seem like the type of girl who would want to work here. Come on, let's sit over here and why don't you fill me in on why you want to work for me."

They sit on the couch, Mary relaxing slightly. "Why?" Mary says. "Because, well, it seems like it'd be fun I guess." Come on, Mary Catherine, don't try to con me. I don't tolerate girls who lie working for me. What is it? You don't look like the type who's into booze or drugs. Are you pregnant?" Mary closes her eyes, why is it that everyone these days is accusing her of being knocked up? "No, I'm not pregnant." "Well, it's got to be something, Mary. Let me tell you, there's two types of girls who come to work for me, one's that are looking for excitement and adventure . . . doing something a little different and are into it, and those who need money badly. I've got to admit, given the information on your application I would've probably put you in the first category, but there's something about you . . . you're too tense to be doing this for fun. That leaves money. You might as well 'fess up. I'm very nosy and insistent . . . if you want to be one of my girls, you're gonna have to tell me why. Given your background I wouldn't think money would be an issue, but it obviously is."

Mary, sighs, looking at the woman, tears starting to roll down her face. She needs this job so badly. How can she tell this woman a stranger everything? Slowly, hesitantly she tells her story. When she finishes, she looks up. "And that's why I want to work here."

The woman nods. Despite Mary's young age, she obviously knew what she was doing. "You've got the job Mary Catherine. Three shifts a week . . . Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights from 10:00 pm to 2:00 am. Go to the closet Mary, your uniform is hanging in there. I'll be back in 10 minutes . . . I want to see how you look and I'll bring our trainer to show you how to handle the clients ok? Mary nods, "Thanks." The woman gives her hand a little squeeze. "No problem Mary, welcome to The Reformatory." She stands and walks out of the office, leaving Mary alone to change.

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