The Fifteenth Representative by Hilla Dagan (fiction novels to read .TXT) 📕

“I thought you only had to keep switching them out every other day. Stupid china rubbish.”

“I told you I was satisfied.”

“I’m glad,” he said, and put the hard drive into his shirt pocket then gave me his full attention. Just the way I like it. The same as everyone deserved when they were talking to him. “You should tell me how you do that, some time.”

“I’ll tell you. I’ll even give you a private showing as to how it works.”

“What will you show me?” he asked.

“How to be truly satisfied, perhaps?”

“That sounds fascinating…. I have to go meet that Dutch woman right when we arrive, though, Noa… I’ve barely got ten minutes…”

“Let’s see you last half that time.”

“One more…”

Chapter Eleven

It was 18:23 PM. The sun was starting its descent over the waters of the bay area. I was sitting on the balcony, waiting for Eran to come back from his meeting with the Dutch woman. I was rather interested to know what she looked like and what her name was.

I could judge a person by the way they look and behave to a rather high accuracy rate, and in a relatively short amount of time, too. It only takes a matter of minutes, because when it comes to people having conversations with me, they’re always operating on empty during those first few moments. If it’s a man, then he’s usually a little shocked, a little embarrassed. It takes a while for people to get used to the way I look, and during that time, I get them pegged.

Everyone is different though, so it’s only when they’re calmer, when their body language is more natural and they’re not so intimidated by me, can I truly start listening to the things coming out of their mouths.

I have to tell you, some are still overwhelmed, even after knowing me years.

Honestly. All those esoteric types I met when I worked with K15—during the proper business meetings—some, to this day, still send me e-mails. You know… trying their luck.

One of those cases is Eran. Him I like, though, so I went with it.

Anyway, he never sent me an e-mail. I met him by accident in the Greenpeace offices while he was talking with Natasha. He was dropping off a key, or something of the sort. He actually didn’t pay me any particular attention. Well, Natasha was standing right there…. Even so. It was weird. He passed by me as though without noticing me at all.

He is an exceptionally good actor.

Things later evolved to where they are today after we met and worked through Timothy.

With women, however, it can go either way. They are either encouraging, or highly not. You should realize. I’m far from being a simple poster. When I talk, people listen, and I’m plenty intelligent enough to have those deep conversations—both regarding things I’ve dealt with personally and a wide general knowledge. If I hear something once, I can remember it for a lifetime. I hate reading, though. Loathe it. The only exception is when I’m reading interesting information that’s directly related to me: e-mails, e-mails other people wrote about me that somehow reached me regardless… it’s not really egocentric—it’s simply interesting, isn’t it?

Everything people write about me is interesting. Even if they write how the shirt I wore didn’t fit well with my skirt. Women always comment on my attire. Each one of their husbands would gladly switch out both of their tits for only one of mine.

My shirt was a bad fit…. Sure.

It’s when I meet a man and woman together that things go south.

It goes like this: A couple arrives. They can be husband and wife, partners, a mother and son… it doesn’t matter for shit. Let me explain this and you’ll see why—and I really hope you understand, because it makes me lose my marbles.

It’s like how all my colleagues feel as though they have to greet me with a kiss to both cheeks and a hug. I hate those redundant touchy-feely moments. When did everyone turn into that overbearing aunt at Passover? Some even kiss three times! Cheek-cheek-cheek! Seriously. We get it. Give it a rest.

If it’s a married couple, it’s a problem. They try not to send me over in those cases. The higherups are familiar with that particular issue. They do send me to deal with men, however. Apparently, though, also when the prime minister is a woman. There hasn’t been another case like this, and I’m not too crazy about thinking about others.

Eran always gets uncomfortable when he hears I get sent out to something like that. He hears about it from Timothy, and I know that Timothy is highly interested in those kinds of operations. Eran is jealous. I love him. If I could, I’d walk around everywhere and crow like a chicken—if needed from sun-up to sun-down—that I have the best suiter. And I’m such a hot chick that I’m pretty sure it makes him feel like a man’s man. Every man is a rooster. I know that from when I did the language section of the psychometric test. I told you I had an excellent memory.

Anyway, the woman is always on the defensive—practically anti everything—because of me, and the man, even if he is interested, has to show a kind of distance because of his wife. Otherwise she’d think he was interested in me because I’m hot, and if there are follow up meetings then… well, you get my drift.

It’s the same if the man and woman are partners. There’s always a kind of sexual tension between business partners because they’re constantly together, and, you know, ninety percent of affairs start in the workplace. Here’s an example.

If a mother and son arrive, and the mother can’t stand her daughter-in-law, then I can have the deal signed and ready after the first meeting.

I’m kidding. Though, to be honest, there was one case that wasn’t far off from that. Don’t laugh. I’m pretty sure that the mother