(COMPLETE)
Temah Amoah, an aspiring journalist and article editor joins one of the biggest companies that New York has to offer.
She keeps to herself unless she is around family or extremely close friends.
Her life is simple and a lack of complica...
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^^ Douglas Coleman
I swear that if one more clueless agitating woman walks through that door, to do nothing more than shamelessly flirt with me, I am going to loose my shit!
I press the heels of my hands into my face, feeling more stressed than usual.
My last assistant had to quit suddenly, when her mother got told that she had breast cancer.
I couldn't let her go without promising to pay for her mother's medical fees, but it left me in an extremely tight corner.
I had no secretary to keep me up to date with any meetings that I hadn't noted down, and the past few days has been a mess!
But today, if I don't kill anyone, I will have a new secretary by all means.
As if on cue, there is a knock on my office door.
"Come in!" I command lowly.
The door clicks open and in steps a woman.
Wow.
The first thing I notice is her hair.
It's big and proud, an array of kinky curls, atop her head.
Her eyes are a beautiful shade and her skin dark, like ebony and as smooth as coconut oil.
Her pronounced curves are even more defined in her clothes, which unintentionally strain against her skin.
Her large breasts, define the shape of her pale-pink bra against her cream coloured blouse and her thick hips are hidden under her black skirt, paired with some opaque black tights and a pair of black shoes.
And her face...
Her naturally thick eyebrows are shaped nicely and her round plump lips are coated in a clear lipgloss.
Her broad nose compliments her high cheekbones and her ears, which are studded with several piercings are nearly hidden under her healthy mass of hair.
Her eyes widen in shock, but she quickly regains composure.
"Good morning, Mr Coleman. My name is- -" she starts off, but I cut her off, rather rudely.
I cut her off for one reason.
Her voice.
Her tone is so sweet, rich and mellow.
She has a beautiful voice.
"Temah Amoah. Yes, I'm well aware of your name, Miss Amoah, and I have not the time for pleasantries." I respond, flicking through her profile.
'Born and raised in New York.
Previous jobs in catering and retail.
Marital status: Single.
Hobbies and other skills include sports and cutting hair.
Unexpected.
Interesting.
"Sit down" I demand and she does so immediately.
"What makes you fit to work for me?" I ask, going straight to the point.
"I got my Bachelor's degree for English writing and analysis in college, passing with flying colours and I want to expand my knowledge here" She says, her hands in her lap in attempt to stop the fidgeting.
I look up from her papers to see her looking directly at me.
She looks away almost immediately and even though she is dark skinned, I can tell by her body language, that she's blushing a little.
I nearly chuckle.
She's so nervous.
She might as well have the word 'Shook' stamped onto her forehead in fluorescent yellow.
I move onto the next question quickly.
"Do you have any experience, with journalism?" I ask, even though I know the answer.
She gulps a little.
"No, sir" she says quietly.
"What about with newspapers?" I ask and her face suddenly brightens up.
"Yes, I do" She says, matter of factly.
"Oh?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"My father owns a little bodega, next to the a chicken shop 'bout 20 minutes 'way from here" She says excitedly, the New York in her brimming over in her strong accent.
She then winces at her use of slang, when referring to her father's corner shop.
"And?" I ask.
"We get new sets of papers in every three days... I used to analyse them for my dad. That's what interested me" she says, her voice in a whisper, unknowingly answering my next question.
I nod.
"What do you plan on achieving from working under me" I say, my chest strain at the way it sounds, but she hardly noticed, answering anyway.
"I want to get some stories out about serious issues and I want the platform to do it." She says simply.
I nod.
"That was my final question. You will receive a call by the end of the week, which will tell you whether you have gotten the job or not." I say.
She stands up and extends her hand.
"Thank you for the opportunity" she says.
Not a single one of the interviewees today have done anything of the sort.
They were all too busy gawking at me to notice.
I take her hand and shake it firmly.
"Thank you for attending" I say and let go of her warm hand.
She leaves my office without a backward glance, closing the door behind her.
She seems to be incredibly diligent, focused and she has a set target.
