Anthropologist
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jul 7, 2014
- Posts
- 125
I've been here a while, known by another name, but lately I've been wanting a little playtime and, as the theme is a little different from my norm, thought I would post under a pseudonym. Any literate ladies interested in developing the following, please get in touch.
"It wasn't the dream job you had hoped to find, but in this post WW2 world, with all the men returning home, there isn't much to choose from for a 21 year old literature graduate. You can just see the stonework of the old mansion through the unkempt shrubs and trees lining the graveled path. You take a deep breath and stiffen your resolve as you push the heavy iron gate open enough to slip through and start the walk up the drive. It's been a long journey, first the train, then a taxi, and the cheap cardboard suitcase clutched in your right hand seems to be getting heavier and heavier.
You are wearing what you thought would be appropriate for a "Young lady to assist an eminent professor in the study of anthropology" which is what the newspaper advertisement said, so your tweed skirt and jacket, button up blouse and flat heels seem sensible. You are a bit concerned that your new, and hard to obtain, silk stockings may not survive the ever encroaching shrubbery though.
Finally you make it to the door. You have a reasonable expectation of just who the professor is, having asked around the college community. Tall, mid fifties, distinguished looking and oh so so eccentric. Given to going off into tangents in the classroom, known to have a temper, and there were many a suggestion of young female students getting a little more attention than they really wanted. You sigh, as you mount the four stone steps to the front door, and then hold your head high as you knock.
A few moments pass, a dog barks, but it seems to come from way back in the house. You hear footfalls, and a female voice saying "wait a moment, just coming" then the snick of a lock being drawn, and the door opens. A diminutive but very pretty Eurasian women of indeterminate age, but probably in her forties, smiles up at you "You must be Hannah, come in dear and I'll fetch the professor" She ushers you in, easing the suitcase from your fingers, and calling "Ederick, we have a guest" in a surprisingly loud voice for such a small woman.
A sandy haired man enters from what appears to be a kitchen door, a chocolate brown large dog of very mixed breeding accompanies him. His stoop and pallor makes the man appear old, but as he takes the suitcase, you can see that he is only in his thirties. It's a phenomenon you have witnessed before amongst those who have returned from the front. He doesn't make eye contact with you, just turns and takes your case upstairs, and the little woman tut tuts at his rudeness.
She ushers you into a small sitting room, and directs you to sit in on a small leather sofa. "the professor will be down shortly my dear, I'll fetch you a nice cup of tea, you must be weary after such a journey" and she leaves, the sitting room door closing with a soft click behind you. You look around, the room is crowded to the point of cluttered, with odd pieces of furniture, a wooden stool there, a chair that appears to be made of sticks, a carved chest in a corner, and more. It seems to have been furnished by someone well travelled, who has bought back a piece from every destination. And then the clutter, artifacts adorn the walls, are stuffed into cabinets, or bookshelves, with the books ending up in stacks all over the room, on every surface. the overall impression is chaotic.
The door opens, "Hello Hannah" says a deep male voice................"
"It wasn't the dream job you had hoped to find, but in this post WW2 world, with all the men returning home, there isn't much to choose from for a 21 year old literature graduate. You can just see the stonework of the old mansion through the unkempt shrubs and trees lining the graveled path. You take a deep breath and stiffen your resolve as you push the heavy iron gate open enough to slip through and start the walk up the drive. It's been a long journey, first the train, then a taxi, and the cheap cardboard suitcase clutched in your right hand seems to be getting heavier and heavier.
You are wearing what you thought would be appropriate for a "Young lady to assist an eminent professor in the study of anthropology" which is what the newspaper advertisement said, so your tweed skirt and jacket, button up blouse and flat heels seem sensible. You are a bit concerned that your new, and hard to obtain, silk stockings may not survive the ever encroaching shrubbery though.
Finally you make it to the door. You have a reasonable expectation of just who the professor is, having asked around the college community. Tall, mid fifties, distinguished looking and oh so so eccentric. Given to going off into tangents in the classroom, known to have a temper, and there were many a suggestion of young female students getting a little more attention than they really wanted. You sigh, as you mount the four stone steps to the front door, and then hold your head high as you knock.
A few moments pass, a dog barks, but it seems to come from way back in the house. You hear footfalls, and a female voice saying "wait a moment, just coming" then the snick of a lock being drawn, and the door opens. A diminutive but very pretty Eurasian women of indeterminate age, but probably in her forties, smiles up at you "You must be Hannah, come in dear and I'll fetch the professor" She ushers you in, easing the suitcase from your fingers, and calling "Ederick, we have a guest" in a surprisingly loud voice for such a small woman.
A sandy haired man enters from what appears to be a kitchen door, a chocolate brown large dog of very mixed breeding accompanies him. His stoop and pallor makes the man appear old, but as he takes the suitcase, you can see that he is only in his thirties. It's a phenomenon you have witnessed before amongst those who have returned from the front. He doesn't make eye contact with you, just turns and takes your case upstairs, and the little woman tut tuts at his rudeness.
She ushers you into a small sitting room, and directs you to sit in on a small leather sofa. "the professor will be down shortly my dear, I'll fetch you a nice cup of tea, you must be weary after such a journey" and she leaves, the sitting room door closing with a soft click behind you. You look around, the room is crowded to the point of cluttered, with odd pieces of furniture, a wooden stool there, a chair that appears to be made of sticks, a carved chest in a corner, and more. It seems to have been furnished by someone well travelled, who has bought back a piece from every destination. And then the clutter, artifacts adorn the walls, are stuffed into cabinets, or bookshelves, with the books ending up in stacks all over the room, on every surface. the overall impression is chaotic.
The door opens, "Hello Hannah" says a deep male voice................"
