"Well, no." Cynthia squirmed again, uncomfortable in her short print dress. She wondered if it was, a little too tight for applying for work. "Ted pays me alimony. I mean, not a lot, I didn't screw him or… I mean, I'm not a gold digger. It's just that my son still lives with me, and the house, and… well, the money's not important to me as just getting out of the house."

Hughes raised his eyebrows, and returned his attention to her employment application. A quick blush spread through Cynthia's cheeks. She knew there was no way she could tell him that she needed a part-time job to take her mind off her constant craving to fuck her teenage son, which had become worse and worse by the day.

"You just want to work twenty hours a week or so, is that right?" Hughes asked.

Cynthia nodded.

"Have you done… well, any other kind of work in the past twenty years? Volunteer work, anything?"

"Well…" Cynthia searched her memory. "For a couple of months I did some fund raising for the PTA. When Randy and Felicia were still little. That's about all, I suppose."

Hughes sighed and leaned away from his desk. "In that case, Cynthia, I don't think there's much we can do for you. You seem like a very nice woman, and your typing skills are acceptable, but Trans Amalgamated has made a general policy of hiring only those with extensive experience in an office environment. I was hoping to make an exception in your case, but I just don't see how I can. I'm sorry."

There was a long silence. Cynthia blushed and averted her eyes to the floor, feeling embarrassed and slightly humiliated. She really wanted a part-time job badly, she realized, and she doubted she could find one anywhere else.

She knew that if she didn't get one she'd just stay home and feel horny all the time, jacking off to thoughts of her teenage son. Then she'd wind up seducing and fucking him, and Cynthia didn't see how she could live with herself if she did that.