**“An Entry-Level Position”**
“Come in” he says, waving her past the small front desk and down the hall. There’s a frosted glass door, lit by sunlight flooding down the hall. It’s Saturday morning, but the bright, cheerful atmosphere of the office belies the mood of the only two people in it.
David Voss follows the probate employee down the hall. *I should have my head examined for hiring her* he thinks as he watches her hips and thighs swish on her way back to his office. But she was desperate, and had a look in her eye. A willingness, a placidity, a need to please that stopped well short of eager. There was also an undeniable and almost irresistible dumb sex appeal. She had the kind of sensual curviness that comes easily to a woman in her late teens, even early twenties, when metabolism and time are her friends. By 30 she’d be fat, he had little doubt. Not that it was his concern. But now, at twenty? Now she was hips, shapely calves, an unusually round ass, big firm tits – yet not grotesquely so – that strained the buttons on her shirts which tucked into a small waist. Ordinary straight brownish-blonde hair that had seen too many home coloring jobs, and large green eyes. Fair skin that looked like it never saw the sun. Words like “pleasant, comely, plain” came to his mind. She could be a stunner with a little work. But those kinds of luxuries aren’t often afforded to young single mothers. Office eye candy. *A pair of tits to ogle* he’d speculated to himself. *Perhaps a toy to play with working late nights down the road*. *She doesn’t seem like the “file a complaint” type, but you never knew.* If only she’d had a shred of competence.