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I asked her to please take a seat, watching as she made a production of sitting carefully and neatly. The nagging feeling that something was screwy grew stronger.Keeping my eyes on her face and body language, while listening to her replies, I worked through my checklist. It was clear after a few minutes she was intelligent, well read, and had thoroughly studied the job description. She was extremely well mannered. Too well. Everything was amplified, or it struck me, almost like it had been rehearsed. Even her voice and diction were over-correct. And she never broke eye contact. Almost like an animal trying to make sure it was not about to be attacked. I began to wonder if she was a psycho case they were trying to place.When I reached the final, open question phase of the interview, I decided to see how much additional information I could accrue. So I asked her where she had been stationed. She looked distressed, looked at the VA rep and Tim, and answered that she preferred not to say. "Do you think she'll like this?" She held up a black silk camisole that had delicate lace around the breast area."It's beautiful." I swallowed and silently ordered my cock to keep still.Holding up a similar garment of lilac, she grinned at me. "You might feel safer in the kitchen."Tom was putting away canned goods in the walk-in closet pantry. There was only room for one, so I wandered over the fridge and took out a canned drink. A moment later, I let out a string of expletives I use only in extreme circumstances and hurled the beer into the sink.Gripping the cabinet I took deep breaths, trying to get things back in control, but the pungent assault of the beer on my senses was too much. I went into dry heaves. I felt like I was on a runaway merry-go-round."Easy, Son." Tom's arm went around me and, then, he helped me to my knees."I almost took a fucking drink," I gasped.I felt a cold wet cloth on the back of neck. Seconds later I smelled Melody, which made no sense until I realized it.
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