1. Bobbi


    Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: Gay Male, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    went along, but those were merely a lustful look or two, or an attempt to determine if I posed a threat of some sort or not. It was all quite normal for a subway ride. Before long, I found myself out of the subway, and working through the throng and push of the mid-town Manhattan crowds on my way to the first job opportunity of the five I had chosen. That was an office job as a file clerk and typist for a music publisher in the Brill Building on Broadway at 51st Street. I told the receptionist why I had come, and she just handed me a job application, telling me to fill it out. About twenty minutes after I had finished, I was e****ted to see the Office Manager. The interview did not take long at all. There was just something in the way he handled it that told me they were looking for someone with more office skills and experience than I had. The Office Manager's eyes, however, did not leave my legs for the whole time I was there. He might not have been interested in my office skills, but there were other skills that I was adept at that he was very much interested in. At the end of the interview, he gave me the standard lie about having other applicants to see before he made a final decision. I thanked him, and left. Job hunting is just not fun. My second stop was a large stationary store on one of the side streets between Times Square and Rockefeller Center. It took me fifteen minutes to find someone who was not too busy to tell me where I could find the store manager. Then ...
    it was still another fifteen minutes to find him. When I finally got to talk to him, all he said was, &#034Sorry, but the job is taken,&#034 and abruptly went back to his work. That was two down, and three to go. The other office job was in one of the Rockefeller Center buildings as a clerk/typist for a large, western railroad in their east coast, freight traffic office. Again I filled out an application with the receptionist, and she gave me a typing test. Then she told me that the Chief Clerk, who would have to interview me, was on a sudden business trip to the main office in Omaha that week, and that he would call any applicants that he wanted to see next week. I left to try the next place on my list. Just outside of the Rockefeller Center area, on a side street off of 5th Avenue, was the next stop of the five I had picked. The classified advertisement had said that it was a fashionable ladieswear shop, and it looked like it might have been fashionable in the depression, but not since. A look through the windows told me that the store's very existence depended more on the inertia of the owner in not disturbing his state of rest long enough to put up a &#034Closed&#034 sign, than from any influx of customers. The fixtures were old and out of date, and the display was unimaginative. The owner, or at least an old man who looked like he was, sat in a chair by the cash register while a woman of about his age pretended to be busy by fiddling with the stock. I did not bother to go ...
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