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The Recruitment Process

The Recruitment Consultant gets more than just a good candidate. Written for a good friend x

“Well to be honest Mr Simpkins, you are correct. We’re not like other recruitment agencies — and that’s exactly why we have such a high success rate. If you are seriously interested in the role, I’m afraid you will have to make the time to come into our office for the preliminary screening interview, there’s no way around it.”

I held the phone away from my ear, and could feel myself getting ruffled by the guy on the end of the phone.

“Yes, I’m prepared to see you after work, 5.30pm on Friday of this week — it’s in my diary. I’ll e-mail you all the information you need Mr Simpkins; see you on Friday. Goodbye.”

“Bloody guy’s an arrogant jerk,” I quipped to Monica, my Assistant. “He thinks I should put his CV straight forward without even meeting him. As if!”

Monica smiled as she turned off her PC, and put on her coat.

“Takes all sorts, boss! Don’t let him get to you — just think of the huge placement fee we’ll earn, if he should be ‘the one’, and judging from his CV he’s certainly got the pedigree.”

I smiled at Monica. She knew me so well and had been the perfect office assistant from the day she’d started working for me. I was driven and passionate about my recruitment business, when I had finally gotten an opportunity to support a large blue-chip finance organisation in finding a new risk management director, I was determined not to fail.

I worked late into the evening, wading through seemingly masses of internet lodged CVs. There were a couple who looked in line with the role specification I had been given by the bank — but, on paper at least it seemed, none of them came close in terms of experience to Graham Simpkins. Graham’s CV was clear and concise. Risk Management was his specialist area, and having worked previously within finance at a director level, he appeared to be a gift — or as recruitment speak goes, ‘a placement fee on legs!’.

The day had been manic — and of all the days to finally get a break into the large corporate finance company we had been targeting, this had to be the one. I had promised the bank a 48-hour submission of any relevant CVs, and the pre-interview process I had agreed to put any suitable candidates through was rigorous and long-winded. So far, I had only two applicants who were vaguely suitable to put forward, so I had to pin hopes that the time spent tomorrow with my third candidate, Graham Simpkins, would be time well spent.

I left the office, locking the door behind me. The evening chill hung visibly in the air, and I pulled my coat around me tightly as I headed for home.

Friday morning came and, as usual, passed in a manic blur. Monica was of huge support, and this week, in the absence of my receptionist — who was sunning herself in the Canaries — we had been exceptionally busy.

“Don’t forget I have a dental appointment tonight, Michelle, so I have to leave at 5pm on the dot.”

Monica’s words took me by surprise —

“Uh, oh yes, no worries, I remember you mentioning it to me. Aw crikey — I’ve got that Graham Simpkins in at half past five, haven’t I? Oh joy — I do hope his attitude has improved somewhat to when he was on the phone yesterday.”

Monica and I spent the afternoon ensuring all our bookings for temporary staff had been filled and confirmed, all notifications of hours, pay rates, check in times, tax docs, etc., had been electronically mailed — and before we knew it, it was 5pm.

“I’m off now then, Michelle. Have a great weekend, see you Monday.”

“Thanks Mon, you too. Bye.”

“Don’t let Mr Simpkins give you any flak!!” Monica smiled as she waved and left the office for the weekend.

I’d been in recruitment a long time, and had over the years learned how to liaise effectively with many differing types of candidates. Some were shy and needed bringing out of themselves, some were non-starters with no communication skills whatsoever, and then there was the Graham Simpkins type. As Sod’s law would have it, the Graham Simpkins type were usually very experienced in their chosen field and invariably were the candidates who were easy to place in business. But sometimes, they didn’t seem to understand that as the ‘middle man’ in the recruitment process, they had to be nice to the agency — me — as well as to the employing business. Well, I was going to take Monica’s advice. Mr Simpkins wouldn’t be giving me any flak, and that was for sure.

At 5.20pm, I heard the office door open. Standing up from my desk, I made my way to the reception area.

“Good evening, is it Mr Simpkins? ”

“It is, hello there, but please call me Graham,” he said as he leaned forward and shook my hand.

To say I was stunned would be an understatement, in front of me stood — well, not what I had imagined at all. Graham was tall, about 6’2”, had shoulder length wavy blonde hair and was elegantly but casually dressed in dark jeans and a pale pink and white, striped shirt. He had a sort of boyish, sexy charm about him, and annoyingly it was apparent, from his cheeky smile, that my look of pleasant surprise hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Forgive my somewhat casual attire. I’m heading straight out for drinks after our appointment, but please do understand that should you be able to secure me a formal interview with the bank, I will be suited and booted.”

Graham smiled at me as he spoke, and although I couldn’t be certain, for a moment I thought I even detected a wink.

“No problem.” To my irritation, there was something so very sexually attractive about this guy, and I found myself, in that instant, very glad that I had dressed so well for work that day. I knew that my black Jaeger skirt suit, with its tight, knee length pencil skirt, teamed with my ivory satin shirt looked both sexy and professional.

“Come and take a seat at my desk Mr Simpk ... Graham!” I smiled as I turned and led Graham to my desk. He sat opposite me, and handed me an envelope containing the required ID documents and other paperwork. As I leaned forward to take the envelope I couldn’t help but notice Graham’s eyes, not on my face, but my cleavage. I felt myself blush and looking down at myself, I realised that my blouse button had come undone, so Graham had taken in a full-on view, not only of my cleavage, but of my white satin bra also.

“Oh, do excuse me!” quickly I did up the rogue button, and felt myself blush furiously whilst doing so. Graham’s face broke into a wide smile, and once again, although I was irritated by my own feelings I couldn’t help but be turned on by this stranger in front of me. Trying to bring a sense of formality to the proceedings I spoke:

“Graham, we need to follow a two-stage process this evening, the results of which will be submitted to our client. Firstly, if you’d take a seat at the PC, I’ll set you up for the bank’s psychometric evaluation.”

Graham followed me to the PC and sat at the workstation. I leaned down at his shoulder to ‘set up’ the appropriate test on the system and was suddenly so aware of his closeness and the musky fragrance of his after shave. Without realising it, I lingered a while longer than necessary at his side.

“Mmm, nice after shave,” I blurted out without thinking, but Graham’s response took me quite by surprise.

“Mmm, nice legs!” he quipped back, looking down at my legs from his seated position beside me.

Now I could feel myself getting really flustered. There I was, in my own office, my normally cool and professional manner completely shattered owing to a guy I had literally met only 10 minutes before. This was just SO out of character for me, but something led me to believe it wasn’t going to stop there.

Once Graham was up and running on the PC, I returned to my desk and began to mindlessly shuffle around the papers on it. My mind and eyes remained on Graham, and I watched as he deftly worked his fingers across the keyboard. I had always had a penchant for guys with long hair, and found myself with an overwhelming longing to run my fingers through his unruly curls. As I sat watching lost in my thoughts, I could feel my pussy twitching and moistening, almost as if it had a mind of its own.

Ten minutes or so passed. “Right, I’m all done.” Graham turned to me and grinned.

His words brought me back to reality with a jolt.

“Oh — ok. if you’d like to come and take a seat back at my desk then.” Damn, I thought to myself, as my voice seemed to be completely void of its normal self controlled, authoritarian air. What was this guy doing to me!

With that Graham returned, and sat as requested. To my consternation, as he sat he picked up a ruler from my desk and began to run his hand up and down its length. His eyes didn’t leave mine and I couldn’t help but reciprocate his gaze. Suddenly the air was filled with sexual tension, and watching Graham twiddle the ruler I could feel my heartbeat increasing; I was sure its rhythm must have been audible. It was now or never.

Standing and smiling, I said, “ Let me just print the results of your evaluation.” As I sidled closely past him I paused and looked down, and without disguising my provocative tone, I added, “Then we can start the second stage of your interview process, Graham!”

Without delay, Graham leaned down and touched my black patent stiletto shoe with the end of the ruler he was still holding. I stood transfixed as he brought the end of the ruler, slowly but deliberately up over my calf and allowed it to travel up the length of my thigh, under my skirt. I could feel my pulse quickening as he continued to caress my thigh with the ruler, and an involuntary gasp left my lips as he allowed the tool to gently flick against the sheer fabric of my panties covering my mound.

“Do you like that Michelle, or should I stop? ”

“Hell no, don’t stop.” Before I had finished speaking Graham, still seated, had pulled my hips towards his face and I gasped as he slid both hands up my skirt, hitching up the fabric to my waist, exposing my stocking-clad legs and groin directly in front of his face. My nipples immediately hardened as I felt the warmth of his breath, then as his thumb pulled aside the lacy fabric covering my labia, I felt the heat of his tongue gently lapping at my pussy.

“Aw, fuck yeah, that’s so good Graham, mmm,” my hands went to his head and, grabbing his hair, I pulled him hard toward me. With that he began to work his mouth expertly against my clit. I writhed against his face, my body trembling at the sensations his warm tongue was giving me. I felt his fingers roughly enter me, searching out my G spot, massaging me from the inside whilst his tongue continued to dart in and out of my now sopping wet pussy. It was just too much to bear. My fingers entwined in Graham’s hair, pulling it hard, I threw my head back and my back arched. As I pushed myself hard to his face my body shuddered with the most powerful orgasm imaginable. Wave after wave of pussy pulses convulsed in my body making my juices run freely down onto Graham’s chin. He continued to lap his tongue against me, seemingly delighting in the copious amount of lady juice he had brought my body to bear.

“Stop, stop ... mmm, I can’t take any more, stop, stop!” the intensity of orgasm made my knees feel like they were going to give way beneath me.

As if seizing my vulnerability at that moment, Graham was immediately on his feet, behind me, powerfully pushing me down onto my desk. My heartbeat racing, and still not having regained my breath, I could feel one of his strong hands holding me down, whilst his other hand deftly removed his belt and undid his trousers.

“So you like to pull hair, do you Michelle? Like it rough, do we?” Graham’s words had only just registered in my head when the sting of his thick leather belt against my exposed arse cheek sent shock waves through my body.

“Fuck, what are you do...” the second blow hit my other cheek — “Huh, ouch!” — then another one, then another ...

“You want more Michelle ? ”

Without a moment’s hesitation, and through my erratic breath I managed the words, “Yeah, yeah ... don’t stop.” The stinging from my arse was both pain and ecstasy rolled into one. Oh my God, was this really happening to me, and was I really loving it so much? Never had I experienced a spanking before, and my pussy ached as it gushed with the juices of my satisfaction. Just as I could take no more and was about to sob and cry out for Graham to stop, he dropped his belt on the floor, and I felt his hands caressing the soreness of the welts he had made on my arse as he leaned his body forward onto mine, kissing my neck — the contrast of physical feeling was so intense, I had no control of the tears that formed in my eyes and began to roll down my cheeks.

“Spread your legs for me Michelle, I want to fuck you so bad.”

Without words, but with such wanting for the same, I did as Graham asked, and I was immediately rewarded by the sensation of his rock solid cock rubbing up and down against my soaked pussy lips. With urgency, Graham entered my body, pushing his cock deep into the swollen, velvet walls of my pussy. Slowly he gathered rhythm picking up speed and intensity, as he pumped into me I could feel his balls slapping against my arse and, once again, I could feel my body responding.

“Mmm ... fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Graham’s words, coupled with the feeling of his hot spunk shooting up deep inside my pussy, sent me over the edge and once again my body was lost to the overpowering sensation of orgasm.

Our bodies were spent. Graham pulled me back toward him, still standing behind me, his arms encircled my body and it seemed we stood like that, in silence apart from our deep breaths, for some time.

Finally, turning to face him, I smiled

“Well, Mr Simpkins, I think it’s safe to say you’ve passed the first stage of your interview.”

“Why thank you, Michelle. I’ll look forward to the second stage,” laughed Graham.

Content and satisfied I also smiled inwardly to myself, sure in the knowledge that Graham Simpkins was definitely going to earn me a ‘big’ placement fee from my new blue-chip client.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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