The Interview goes well until HR

The beam pierced Mr. Harlan mid-question, cutting his droning monotone short as golden light flared across his rumpled shirt, twisting around his unremarkable build in pulsating surges that drenched the drab room in a deep, alluring throb. Peter's heartbeat thundered, gaze riveted on the spectacle unfolding—the interviewer's rigid edges dissolving first, flesh turning silken under the glow while thinning hair exploded into opulent blonde torrents, spilling like molten honey to embrace a countenance awakening in vibrant seduction: chiselled contours softening into luscious swells, eyes dilating with a provocative gleam from muddy hazel to electric sapphire, lashes blooming dense and flirtatious, cheekbones ascending with a feverish blush, and lips burgeoning plump and tantalizing, shimmering beneath a dewy pink lustre that evoked stolen, breathless embraces.

The glow slithered downward, coaxing Harlan's frame to shudder and shrink, his body yielding to a sleek, vibrant freshness evoking stolen campus trysts and inexhaustible zest. His wide shoulders eased into elegant dips, giving way as the chest ballooned in erotic pulses—buttons popping loose to bare emerging globes, plump and buoyant, their velvety arcs tumbling against the shifting jacket in a bold navy V, the snowy blouse below gaping wide to flaunt that enticing chasm, swelling with laboured sighs that hinted at veiled passions. Harlan's midriff tightened like silk drawn taut, blooming into hips that flared wide and beckoning, slacks evaporating into a skirt that caressed budding thighs with sensual cling, cloth stroking each tremor as limbs extended into fluid, tempting curves, slimming to arched feet poised in heels that teased poise blended with pursuit. Zesty citrus intertwined with lush vanilla in a faint veil, her fingers—slender and poised, crowned in scarlet lustre—stretching with a flutter, materializing journal and quill on the desk amid subtle hints of sophisticated grace from remote dominions.

Finally, cognition twisted within Harlan, that indifferent grimace easing as her lips curved upward in a effervescent grin, illuminating her features with dawn-like radiance while blue eyes sparkled in keen anticipation. Harley fluttered those lashes once, a light toss of blonde waves clearing the fading glimmer, her essence fizzing outward like uncorked bubbles—fingers brushing the table with tender care, posture leaning forward in ready aid, a supportive murmur escaping alongside a coy sideways glance, her duties as assistant and secretary weaving fluidly with the lover's ardour etched in, drawing her stare to Peter with warm, yearning fixation.

Harley's soft giggle bubbled up like effervescent sparks, her melodic tone dancing through the room as she leaned in closer, that gentle incline of her head drawing her closer to Peter, golden strands grazing the table's edge in a careless caress. "Oops, sorry for that weird pause, cutie," she breathed, blue eyes twinkling with playful apology, her full lips curving into a welcoming arc that hinted at shared secrets yet to unfold. "I must've drifted off for a moment there! But hey, let's talk about what makes ByteCore so perfect for a guy like you—think about it, those flexible schedules mean we could slip away for extended lunches, just you and me, stealing moments amid the bustle."

She straightened a touch, her posture shifting with effortless grace, the navy blazer parting just enough to tease the plunge of her white blouse, where creamy skin rose and fell in rhythmic invitation. Fingers, tipped in vivid red, tapped the notebook with rhythmic eagerness, nails clicking like tiny promises against the paper. "The benefits are killer too—gym memberships to sculpt that frame of yours even more, health plans that keep you energized for whatever comes next. And the growth? Oh, it's explosive roles that could launch you upward, projects that challenge and reward, all while building something real here."

With a wink that sent a spark straight through the air, Harley's bubbly vibe wrapped around him like a warm embrace, her enthusiasm spilling over in waves that pulled him in deeper. "We'd absolutely adore having you on board—I mean, I'd be thrilled especially, imagining the days we'd share." Eyes gleamed with that soft encouragement, a lover's subtle fire simmering beneath the surface, her hand gesturing lightly as if to pull the future into reach, fingers brushing the pen aside with casual flair.

The shift from mechanical queries to this fervent pitch felt electric, her voice rising and falling in engaging lilt, drawing Peter into the vision she painted so vividly. Gentle touches of humour laced her words, making the recruitment feel less like a sales talk and more like an intimate conversation between confidants, her posture leaning forward again to emphasize each perk, blonde waves swaying like a hypnotic pendulum. "Picture the team dynamics, the innovative vibe—it's all designed to lift you up, and I'd be right there, cheering every step."

Leaning across the table, Harley's blue eyes sparkled with that eager gleam as she locked them onto Peter's, her bubbly giggle escaping softly when she caught him glancing at the deep plunge of her blouse shifting with the motion. She hovered her pen over the notebook, tilting her head in gentle encouragement while infusing each word with helpful warmth that turned the sterile conference room into a cozy space just for them. "So, tell me more about your passion for tech, cutie," Harley said, her voice light and melodic as she drew him in closer. "What excites you most—those coding puzzles that keep you up at night, or building apps that change people's lives? At ByteCore, you'd have all the tools to dive right in, with mentors who'd guide you every single step of the way. I'd make sure your onboarding goes smooth as silk—coffee runs, desk setups, whatever you need to feel right at home."

Peter parted his lips to answer, Harley's bubbling warmth easing the knot of nerves in his stomach, when a sharp click shattered the moment—the door swinging wide to let in a stern woman in her late 40s, her drab gray pantsuit draping loosely over a wiry frame, mousy brown hair yanked back into a tight bun, clipboard gripped in white-knuckled fingers like a blunt instrument ready to strike.

The name tag pinned to her lapel declared Ms. Evelyn Thorpe - Head of HR, and her thin lips curled into a sneer as she raked her cold, beady eyes across the room, finally fixing on Peter with raw contempt that made him shift in his seat. A sudden chill seeped into the air, draining the color from Harley's cheeks as Evelyn strode forward, her sharp elbows cutting through the space like invisible blades, shoving aside any warmth with each clipped step, her voice slicing out before anyone could speak, laced with venom that hinted at deeper grudges long nursed in fluorescent-lit meetings.

"What's this?" Evelyn snapped, her voice scraping like nails on metal as she barged further into the room, eyes narrowing on Harley before flicking past her to jab a bony finger straight at Peter. "Another man? We don't need any more of them cluttering up this office—haven't you learned a damn thing from our last rebalancing, you ditz? ByteCore is pushing ahead, modernizing, and that means clearing out all the dead weight from the old boys' club."

Evelyn leaned closer to Harley, thin lips twisting into an even deeper sneer as spittle dotted the air between them, her clipboard trembling in knuckles gone white from the squeeze. "Equity programs are in place for a reason—we're rebalancing this office, pushing out the old guard to make room for real progress, and that means no more men slipping through with their entitlement!" The words tumbled from Evelyn in a venom-laced torrent, her eyes bulging as she slammed the clipboard down on the table. "Biased? Ha—those hiring quotas are saving us from more of the same, and don't get me started on the anonymous complaints that finally give us leverage to clear out every last one of those guys who think they belong here."

Peter jolted upright in his chair, the shock slamming into him like an icy surge as Evelyn's rant pieced it all together in his mind: this was the reason behind Harlan's robotic detachment during both interviews, the way Harlan had scarcely raised his eyes from those notes—it all traced back to Evelyn's toxic sway warping every step of the hiring process into a fixed setup, crafted to shut out men like Peter unless no alternatives existed at all. His mouth went dry, a fresh wave of disbelief crashing over him at how brazenly Evelyn laid it all bare, her words hanging in the open air without a shred of disguise; Peter had always figured people skirted around such blatant biases, whispering them in corners or cloaking them in corporate jargon, not spitting them out loud like this in front of a candidate.

Those words caused Harley’s fingers to twist the pen between them until the plastic creaked softly, her sapphire eyes flaring wide as shock seized her. Her full lips parted in a hesitant stutter, voice trembling. "Ms. Thorpe, I was just—"

"Quiet, you airheaded twit!" Evelyn spun toward Harley, her cheeks flushing crimson as veins bulged in her neck, tiny flecks of spit spraying from her lips while she stomped forward a single, heavy step.

"What are you even doing in here? Flirting instead of filtering out these candidates? We have standards now—no more hiring all these entitled boys who think they can waltz in and snatch spots from deserving women. Get him out, or I'll report you for incompetence—again!" Evelyn's pitch climbed to a piercing shriek, her clipboard slashing through the air like a judge's gavel, her eyes narrowing into slits as she loomed over Harley, the kind of glare that had crushed countless careers with one typed memo hidden behind layers of corporate-speak.

Peter slid his hand into his pocket, his fingers curling tight around the remote's cool plastic while a hot surge of anger bubbled up in his chest, the idea igniting sharp and clear: time to flip everything on this nasty hag.