Chapter 1.   Stephanie’s Interview

I applied to Masterson Automotive for my first job in accounting.  I was 22 years old and it was the year 2134.  Six months earlier my classmates and I had received our diplomas.  The majority of my professional friends had received no job offer since graduation.

On the day of my appointment I chose to wear high-heeled shoes and a rather elegant blue dress that came down only to mid thigh.  I knew that my legs were one of my most attractive features and that showing them off might help my chances!  When I arrived on time for my appointment, I felt I really could not afford to blow this opportunity.  

I was excited but could also feel some tightness in my chest.  I found myself in a reception area.  I noted six other women about my age and two young men, all professionally dressed, and all with eclip boards busy data inputting what I assumed were job applications.  Apparently I had competition as the company had advertised only one opening.  

I had transmitted my completed forms via the opti some weeks earlier, along with a letter indicating that I had researched this firm and the reasons why I particularly wanted to work here.  I remembered that some of the questions on the forms had been quite personal, even intrusive, but I had answered them anyway.  After about fifteen minutes, a door opened and a man called out my name.

“Miss Stephanie Glenn?  

I looked up to see a tall middle-aged man looking in my direction.

“I am Jeffrey Duncan from Human Resources.  Please follow me.”

I smiled and stood to greet him.

He escorted me down a long corridor, plushy carpeted and with tasteful artwork, to what was apparently his own office.  There was a spectacular view of the New York City skyline.  He moved behind his elegant desk, with his back to me, and began speaking for a moment to someone on the phone.  I eyed the comfortable chairs in front of his desk but he had not invited me to sit down so I remained nervously standing.  After what seemed an eternity he finished his call.

“Miss Glenn, I do apologize for the interruption.  Won’t you have a seat please?  Could I have some coffee sent in for you?”  

I took my seat but shook my head regarding the coffee as I was too wired already.

“My colleagues and I have reviewed your resume and impressive cover letter, obtained your academic transcripts, and checked out your references.  Seldom have we had the pleasure of considering such a superbly qualified applicant”, he beamed!  

“Thank you sir!”  

“Your fine academic record was much enhanced by evidence of your social skills and by an obvious interest in physical pursuits.  We like to hire applicants who are both socially adept and physically fit.”

“I do try to constantly challenge myself to maintain my skills, sir!”  I said this with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

I felt genuinely complimented.  I was pretty sure that the “physical” reference was to the fact that I had been captain of the college cheerleading squad, and also an avid tennis player. The “social” reference was doubtless to the fact I had been Pledge Mistress and later President of my sorority.

“If we make you an offer,” he continued, “you will find that your duties with us may include mingling with our clients at various social functions.  You would be comfortable with that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes sir, I have always liked to mingle at social and business functions.  Perhaps you could spell out just what my duties might be at these functions?”

I felt myself tensing up just a bit, wondering if I should be reading anything between the lines in the way he was phrasing this extra-curricular job requirement.

He leaned back in his chair and seemed to be considering his next words carefully.

“I won’t go into detail on your actual duties.”  He paused to see if I would object to this omission before continuing. 

 “I will say that some of these functions may be quite formal while others may consist of picnics, swimming pool outings and the like.  Nothing you can’t handle!”  There ensued a long pause in which he seemed to be studying my body language for any clue to how I might be taking all this news.

“Your apparent social skills and obvious physical attractiveness are important to us.  Clients respond favorably to such attributes.”

 I wasn’t sure I wanted my physical attractiveness to be so much a factor in their hiring decision.  The implications of that were beginning to worry me.

“Thank you.”  I said somewhat more hesitantly than before.

“I need to inform you at this point, Miss Glenn, that we give three exams to each applicant who reaches this stage of our selection process.  One is psychological, one is medical, and the last we call a “physical aesthetics exam or P.A.E”. 

I was no longer making eye contact with him and my muscles tensed. The tests he mentioned were beginning to sound quite intrusive and in spite of my somewhat desperate circumstances and need for this job, I was contemplating a refusal and an early termination of this interview.

“I sense your hesitation,” he offered.  “It is not uncommon for candidates to feel some apprehension about these tests.  But I can assure you, Miss Glenn, that you are very close to receiving an offer from us, and that these exams are little more than a formality which will soon be over and behind you as you begin what we all hope will be a brilliant career with us!”

Not without some trepidation I reluctantly nodded my assent.  He indicated that the Physical Aesthetics Exam would be scheduled first, and gave me the date and time for that appointment.

“After you pass your ‘physical’ exam, which I am sure you will, I will notify you of dates for the other two tests”.  With that he rose, shook my hand, and escorted me out.

                         ********************************************************
 
When I reported for the “physical” exam I went directly to Room B17 in the basement in accordance with instructions Mr. Duncan had given me.  There a male receptionist, who couldn’t have been more than 19 years old, greeted me.

“You must be Stephanie Glenn”, he stated.  “We have been expecting you!”

 He escorted me down a long hallway deeper into the basement complex.  Finally we entered a private examination room.  He handed me a paper gown.

“I will need you to disrobe and put on this gown”, he said. 

“Put your clothing and personal effects in one of the lockers on the wall over there”.

When he made no immediate move to leave, I wondered for a moment if he planned to stay and conduct my examination himself. 

 “The Examiner will be with you in just a few minutes”, he finally said, and left me to get undressed.

After getting naked I very carefully put on the flimsy paper gown, which was sleeveless and came only to mid thigh.  I had to wait quite a while and this gown was little protection against the chill of the air conditioning.

While waiting, I saw a “Physical Aesthetics Examiner” certificate on the wall for a Thomas Baxter, the man who was evidently going to “examine” me.  He had no medical training but instead had a Master’s degree in “The Aesthetics of the Human Body”.  I had not even known that such a degree program or professional certification existed.  But much had changed in Capitallia in the last ten years.

At long last, Mr. Baxter entered the room, introduced himself, made some small talk and proceeded to fill out a buff colored form.  He called out his observations as he checked the various boxes and made additional notes.

“I see that you are pretty, a redhead, fair skinned, freckled, have high cheekbones, brown eyes, and a slightly upturned nose”, he announced, checking off items on his form. 

“I also see that you have the kind of thick lips most people would consider sensuous!” He announced this with some enthusiasm as he scribbled some note on the form.

“Thank you sir.”  I wasn’t sure I liked where this might be heading, but I certainly didn’t want to antagonize the man, who might very well hold my future in his hands. 

“I will need to take one or two good photos of your face for our files.  Please step over here in front of this screen.“  

I did so and waited patiently while he focused studio lights on my face and adjusted the background lights.  He took front and side shots and seemed satisfied.  With the photo taking done, he motioned me away from the photo taking area to an alcove with a paper covered leather table and softer lighting.

“I will need you to remove the gown at this time”, he stated matter-of-factly, “as these exams are always conducted with the subject naked.”  

I pondered the fact that Mr. Duncan in Human Resources had not told me about this aspect of the exam.  It was one thing to be nude for a medical exam, but doing it in that context felt very different.  I hesitated enough for him to notice my discomfort, but then reluctantly complied.  With me naked he began to call out his additional observations.

“I see that you are slender, even exquisitely so!” he observed, checking more boxes on the buff colored form.  

“You have well defined clavicles,” he continued, “breasts that are of modest size and firm, a flat and well toned stomach reflecting, no doubt, your cheerleading and tennis pursuits!”  he said, checking still more boxes on his form.

“And I can’t help but comment on your very long, slim, and beautifully muscled legs of the kind that our clients, seeing you at a beach party or swimming pool, would certainly find most attractive!  Are these the legs that won third place in the Boston Marathon?”

“Yes sir, they are.”  I didn’t like where this was going.

“I read about that on your resume.  That is why I decided to do your physical myself!  I wanted so much to see and touch those marathon winning legs!”

That last point Mr. Baxter found it necessary to verify by asking me to flex and tense my leg muscles several times while he fondled my thighs and calves.  He seemed to be particularly interested in my hamstring muscles, and how ‘defined’ the tendons under my flexed knees were. It had become way too personal, but I bit my tongue. 

“I note that your nipples erect very nicely when stimulated!”  

While he played with them, I tried to do multiplication tables in my head to avoid becoming aroused.  He made another note on the form.  Then his interest shifted to my genitals 

“I see that you are a natural redhead and that you have applied a lovely perfume to this area of your body!  You have trimmed your hair ‘down there’ just the way we like our female employees to do, so the vulva is adorned but never concealed.” 

I jerked instinctively when I felt his right hand fondling my bare left buttock as he pulled me closer to him for a better view.  I thought it outrageous that he thought any of my private parts were the company’s business.  I saw him make more notes on the buff colored form. 
 
“No doubt you are wondering why we care about such things?”  He looked at me quizzically.

“I don’t know if Jeff Duncan told you this or not, but there will likely be times when you will be socializing with clients at pool parties in the nude.  Clients like pubic hair but also like to see what you have down there!”  

I didn’t know which I felt more, the urge to slap his face or the urge to cry!  But I had come that far, so I might as well see it through.  I could decide later if I really wanted the job. 

After I had settled down again he asked me to do jumping jacks on a trampoline to assess my physical fitness.  I saw a flash go off and surmised that my naked body had been photographed during this exercise.  He had not asked me if he might do this, and I was not at all happy about it!

He had me turn my back to him and proceeded to palpate my firm buttocks.  He then instructed me to bend way forward and touch my fingers to the floor.  He let out a whistle!  

“I must tell you, Miss Glenn, that because of the width of you hips and the fact that your thighs are so slender, there is quite a nice gap between your legs just below your crotch!”

“And your point is?”  I practically shouted at him in my irritation.

“At the nude pool parties, our clients really notice and appreciate women of your build, since, whenever you bend forward even a little, you provide them with a lovely rear view of your vulva!”  He made another notation on the form.

“There is something else Jeff probably didn’t tell you”.  He paused, a worried look on his face, as if considering whether he should go on.  

“Sometimes, when we are entertaining clients there will be ‘opportunities’ when you could help the company if you volunteered to have sex with one of them.  I can assure you these situations are always purely voluntary.“   He said this in such a casual, matter-of-fact way, that I thought he might be making small talk about the weather.

I was quite sure by this point that I would not likely accept any offer the company made.  Nevertheless it would boost my self-confidence to at least have an offer to reject after six months of fruitless job hunting.

“You will never be forced to have sex with anyone if you don’t want to!”  He proclaimed as though pointing out one of the great benefits of working at Masterson Automotive!
“But if you do have sex with one of our clients, then we want to be very sure the client is going to find you pleasing in every way.  That is why we must now proceed to a more intimate examination of your person.”

“But I am sure I would never volunteer to have sex with a client!”  I intend to keep my work life and my personal life entirely separate!”

“That is pretty much what every young woman tells me at the time of her exam.  But quite a few of them later change their mind.  That is why we have to be thorough now, just in case.”

 “I need you to spread apart the lips of your vulva with your fingers.  I need to have a good look inside.“

I was seething inside but had not yet decided whether to let him know it yet.

“You are not a doctor sir!”  I said with more than a little concern.  “I see no reason why you need to look inside my vulva!”

I was shocked at the impertinence of this man and the company he represented.  I could feel my breathing speed up and the muscles of my upper back and neck tense.  My arms were trembling.  

“It is partly for hygiene and partly for aesthetics.  Now come along and get with the program!  I don’t have all day you know!” 
He had answered me with an impatient tone and a look that seemed to say it was almost beneath his dignity to respond to my silly female objections.

“Did all your other female job applicants agree to this procedure?”

“Nearly all of them, yes.”

I was stalling for time to decide what to do.   I reminded myself that jobs in the accounting field were extremely difficult to find under the economic conditions of the time. Finally I nodded my head in reluctant acquiescence and held by labia open for his inspection.

The man took his time and seemed to be immensely enjoying his work, examining, but not touching, each little detail of my vulva while he hummed a tune and stopped a few times to make copious notes on the buff colored form. 

“You have a very pleasant aroma ‘down there’ compared to most women I have examined!”   

He said this as though I ought to be everlastingly grateful for such a compliment.   I became aware of my own sexual scent and looked down, observing that my inner labia were becoming visibly engorged with blood.

Even though he had not actually touched me down there I was becoming aroused.  It was the humiliation of the whole situation that was making me hot, and not any feeling I had for him.
Before I knew what was happening I saw a flash and knew he had taken a second photo without my permission.   This time it was of my vulva in an aroused condition!

Without even stopping to think I shoved him away from his camera, grabbed the camera and jerked out the film cartridge, tearing the cartridge apart with my bare hands!  What I didn’t learn until much later was that the image had already been electronically stored and would be sent to Jeff Duncan and others for their perusal!

“All right bitch!  We have plenty of good job applicants here!  I don’t need to waste my time with girls like you who don’t appreciate the opportunity you are being given!”  

He stormed out of the room.  I got dressed.  Just then an attractive woman of middle age, a Mrs. Binson, came in to talk with me.

“Miss Glenn, I understand that you and my colleague, Mr. Baxter, did not get along”, she said with what appeared to be genuine concern.  “Sometimes he can be a bit rough in his manner with the applicants.  I will be happy to take over for Mr. Baxter if you would feel more comfortable with a female examiner?”

“Yes, perhaps that would be better.”   I breathed a sign of relief.

“There is one other requirement, Miss.”  She paused, momentarily.

“We will need you to sign this consent form, Stephanie.”  As she made this announcement she put a clipboard with a form in front of me.

“What is that for?” I asked.

“It is for the clitoral response test.  It is permission for me to touch your privates, Miss Glenn, for the purpose of arousing you and for testing your capacity for sexual response.”

This female examiner was clearly going to be no better than the male one!

“We need this signed to protect me personally, and the company” 

“Protect you from what?”  I asked.

 “Why in case an applicant should later decide to file a complaint alleging that she was sexually molested during the interview exam.   Believe me, it is no big deal.  All our applicants sign this.  It is just routine.”

I felt the bile rise in my throat and I found myself yelling at her.

“I hate to fucking spoil such a successful fucking run you and your colleague have been having, Mrs. Binson, but my answer is “no fucking way!  You can tell Jeff Duncan I said so, and if that disqualifies me, so be it!”   I was hoarse from shouting at her.

With that I put my clothes back on and stormed out of the lab and out of the building.  I really did not expect to hear further from the company after my angry outbursts.

Two days later, much to my surprise, I got a call from Jeff Duncan indicating that my objection to the clitoral test had been noted, but that I was still in the running for the job. 

He scheduled me for the medical exam at a clinic where the company had a contract.  I got that out of the way the next day.  It was a routine sort of exam and certainly proved to be far less embarrassing than the P.A.E. had been.

Three days after that I got the call to come back the following day.  Upon arrival I was informed that Mr. Gregory, the company psychologist, would see me.  After a short wait a twenty something girl in a micro skirt took me from the reception area to his office.  
I wondered how they got their female employees to dress in such a lewd way.  

Before I had a chance to pursue that thought we were there and I was ushered into what seemed a much less elegant office than Mr. Duncan of Human Resources occupied.

“Hello, Miss Glenn, I am Paul Gregory, he said with a warm smile.  Have a seat.  Most employees call me ‘the company shrink’, but really I don’t bite.  This will be your last stage in the interview process.  Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, I just had some, thanks.”  I appreciated his courtesy but felt I could do a better job fielding his questions without the distraction of balancing a cup in my lap.

“Today we will see if we can learn what makes you tick, what your fears are, and what incentives would motivate you to your highest level of achievement here at Masterson Automotive.”  
He announced all the foregoing with an expansive gesture and a genial smile, but I did not feel cheerful.  I knew I needed to be on guard for a trap.  I felt the muscles in my upper back begin to tense up.  This sounded as though it might be as intrusive mentally as the other exam had been physically.

“First I am informed”, he paused for a pregnant moment,  “that you refused our clitoral response test.  Is that correct, and if so, why?”

“Sir, I just believe some things are too personal to share with a prospective employer!”  I responded, in my most mellifluous voice, with as much of a smile as I could muster.

“Quite right!  He said as he grinned from ear to ear and slapped his knee for emphasis.

“We were actually pleased” he said, “that you refused that test!  It showed us that you have some spirit and ability to be non compliant when the situation calls for that!  What surprised us, frankly, was that you hadn’t walked out when he asked you to hold your labia open for his vulva exam!  

He looked at me curiously, hoping for some reaction.  I was acutely embarrassed and at a loss for anything effective to say.  Then he continued.

“There was really no need for you to have submitted to that.  The fact that you did, however, shows us that you are pliable, at least to some degree.  We like women who are pliable, within reason.”

I was not comfortable with this conversation.  
“Mr. Gregory”, I said,  “that whole episode is something I would like to put behind me.  Could we please just move on to the rest of this interview?”

“Indeed!  I need to ask you if you have any ambitions to rise to a management level position with our firm

“Definitely yes!” I replied confidently.

I could see that he was very intently making eye contact with me and watching my body language for anything that might contradict my words.

“Would you consider yourself to be a ‘take charge’ kind of person? “
  
“I can only rely on my background to show you that I do have ‘take charge’ potential.  Would you like to hear of some of my accomplishments?”

“Most definitely!” he replied.

“In college I was Pledge Mistress of my sorority in my junior year and was elected President in my senior year!  In high school I was captain of our cheerleading team two years in a row!  I would think that illustrates that others respected me as a natural leader!”  I exclaimed as I smiled brightly.

“Then I must also ask you what kind of leader you were?”

“What do you mean sir?”  I asked, confused by his question.

“I mean were you the kind of leader who rose to the top by pushing anyone aside who got in your way?”  Were you ruthless?”

I got an uncomfortable feeling as I saw his eyes boring into me.  He wasn’t going to let me fluff this one off or change the subject.  Clearly he was going after something in particular!

“I don’t understand sir?  Why would you be asking me that?  I always tried to lead by setting a good example and by obtaining the consent and cooperation of all concerned.”

He leaned back in his chair with a resigned expression and avoided making eye contact with me.

“Are you telling me the whole truth, Stephanie?”  He asked as though suggesting that I was being deliberately evasive.

“I guess so.  At least I tried to.”

“Well, I do have some information about you, Miss Glenn, that I obtained by interviewing some of your old high school classmates.”   

He said this like a cat playing with a mouse.  He was again looking right at me.  I felt my spirits sag.  I knew that some of them had never liked me back in the day, and who knows what they might have said to him!
“What I learned was that when you were captain of the cheerleaders you organized your teammates and a select few other girls into an exclusive clique.  I was told that your clique was cruel to girls who were not members.”

After throwing this accusation my way he just let it hang in the air for several minutes.  He was watching my facial muscles and my body language intently.  He had not asked a direct question so I just tried to look calm and waited him out.  He continued.

“I was also told that behind your back half the girls in your high school referred to you as ‘the bitch’.  Is there any truth, Stephanie, in these statements?”

Now I had to respond, and I was at a loss!  I knew there was truth in what he had heard about me, but I struggled to find an artful response.  I needed an answer that wouldn’t kill my chances for this job.

“Perhaps some of it is true.”  I said.  “I really don’t know what to say.  That was quite a few years back and I was only 16 or 17 years old at the time.  Now, after finishing a four year college I believe I have matured.  I am not the same person I was then.”   

I could feel my brow was hot, my cheeks were flushed and I was starting to sweat.  Maybe the job was slipping away from me in spite of all I had endured so far.

“We hope so Miss Glenn.  We certainly hope so!”  He responded with a sigh and paused a long moment before continuing.

“We are certainly willing to allow for the possibility that you are not that same person after a college experience.”  He finished his thought in a more optimistic tone.

“Thank you sir!”  Maybe there was still hope, I thought.

“How would you say you have related to men in connection with dating, during your junior and senior years of college, and since then?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Miss Glenn, were your contacts with men in social or dating situations generally pleasant for both you and the men?  Or would you say these experiences were antagonistic?”

“I socialize easily and most of my friends call me an extrovert!”   As I said this I knew that it was glib, and not entirely responsive.

“That is not what I asked!”  He was nearly shouting at me now.  After a pause he continued in a calmer tone.

“I have also interviewed some of the men you have dated, and some men who wanted to date you and were rejected.  What I learned does cause me some concern.”

“What did they say sir?”

“They said you seemed to delight in putting men down, that you would only date guys who were extremely handsome and popular, and that you seemed to well …” he paused, “find, how shall we say, the ones that also had a hidden submissive side!”

I was stunned!  How could he possibly know these things about me?  Even my best friends did not know this about me!

“Also”, he continued, “it was said that you were vicious in the way you would humiliate men you did not want to date, and that men you did choose to date were usually treated badly when you tired of them!”

I thought fast.  How could I strike just the right tone and maybe make my vice seem like a virtue?

“I will not deny any of it sir.  I believe though, that some of my past behaviors could be viewed as signs of an aggressive character.  If I can smooth out some of the rough edges, such a character trait could actually help me in a future management role!”  I paused for effect and to observe his reaction.  He indicated with a wave of his hand that He liked what he was hearing and wanted me to continue.

“I think I can grow out of my past ‘bitchiness’, if you will, and put those aggressive traits to good purpose if I am given a chance here at Masterson Automotive.”

“You just said the magic words, Miss Glenn!  He beamed!

“I am impressed with your resourcefulness that you know how to sell a negative as a potential positive!”  This he uttered with an expansive sweep of his hand to show just how much effective my words had been.

He waited to be sure I would hang on every word.  I was excited to think I had possibly snatched victory from the jaws of defeat!   Maybe I was still in the running!  He continued.

“I am also impressed with your honesty” he continued “that you would so easily acknowledge the truth of what was said about you!  I will tell you that, if we were to make you an offer, you would be in a level 3 position and you would be reporting to Tom Jenkins, head of Accounts Receivable.” 

After another twenty minutes of more routine questions, Mr. Gregory announced that the interview was concluded and that I would be contacted within a week or two with the company’s decision.