before the interview he arrived his office on time as usual. His office was just opposite Professor Frederic’s office. Only the doors of their offices looked the same, however the interior was quite different. Professor Frederic’s office was much larger and furnished with genuine antiques. It offered an overwhelming view of the great city and it was always impeccably clean, because Ms Simple personally supervised the two women who cleaned it daily.
Professor Bourgh’s office was furnished with very simple and very cheap pieces of furniture. The only window in his office was very small, and all he could see out of it was the wall of the adjacent building.
Professor Bourgh happened to be present and see Vivien when she was brought to the hospital for treatment. When he shook hands with her she looked straight into his eyes for longer than in other gentlemen’s who welcomed her. Later she asked Professor Frederic who the gentleman with the uniquely expressive green eyes and the pleasant soft voice was. Professor Frederic, however, said the man was probably somebody who by chance happened to be there and that he personally didn’t know who that man might have been.
Professor Bourgh was impressed by Vivien’s entire appearance. She looked very much like Ann, his first and only love. Between Ann and Vivien there was a time gap of thirty years during which Professor Bourgh was dreaming of and lamenting his lost happiness that had lasted for a very short time. Ann was the first and the only woman he had intimate relations with. When he lost her he also lost the will to look for another one.
Vivien’s arrival, however, changed everything. She was slim, of uniquely beautiful physique, and her cheeks were pink and fresh. He fell in love with her innocent smile and her way of speaking. However, what took his fancy most were her dainty, pointed breasts standing out in all their natural splendour under a thin blouse, because Vivien didn’t wear a bra, as well as her buttocks, small, taut, and bulging.
Since that moment he had been turning only one thing over in his mind – how to jump onto the train of happiness that had just arrived and that could leave at any second.
“Life is full of surprises,” he thought while he was sitting at his office desk.
“This train of happiness is perhaps waiting here and now only for my sake. If so, then for me this is probably the last one. Only the brave can expect fortune’s support. The decision what to do in my present situation doesn’t tolerate any delay,” he continued pondering.
“I know that I am not young any more. I also know that my deformed back makes me unattractive. The only trump that I hold is my superior intelligence. Unfortunately the main trump is in his hand – he is the boss. He is even a little older than I, but his back is only bent in the way typical of all people at his age. His chance is much better than mine, I must be aware of that. The question is only if has the same intention as I. If he had ever wanted to have a family, he would have been able to find a beautiful woman easily, for he has always been quite good-looking and never shy. However, he has obviously preferred to remain a bachelor and pick all the beautiful flowers that happen to stand on his path. Vivien would be the latest piece in his collection, but not necessarily the last. For me she would be the resurrection of my first love and at the same time my last. For that reason I am in the right more than he. If somehow I could have at least the trump card entirely in my hand; that might improve my chance. Unfortunately that can’t come about as long as he wants to stay in his present position. As long as he is the boss I can’t rival him, although in this institute nobody except me is competent.”
Suddenly he remembered that he had wanted to give his boss another jar of freshly preserved mushrooms that he had promised him a couple of days before. He took a nice cardboard box with a jar in it out of his large bag and put it on the desk. Then he stood up slowly, because he had terrible pain in his back. He took the box, walked towards the door and opened it. In the doorway he had to stop, because what he saw in front of him didn’t allow him to step out. Professor Frederic accompanied by Vivien was just entering his office. Vivien was entering first thus he could see only her back. Her hair was somehow raised into a tuft making her entire graceful neck visible and her moving forward made her beautifully shaped buttocks appear in all their splendour.
“May I . . . ?” he tried to address his boss.
“Tomorrow, please, not today,” interrupted Professor Frederic his colleague and disappeared with Vivien into his luxurious office. The only thing Professor Bourgh could hear was that the key was turned in the lock.
He shut the door of his office, went back to his desk and sat down.
He put the box on the desk.
“The rascal was so excited in anticipation of something very pleasant that he couldn’t listen to me, not even for a moment,” he thought.
He paused for a second and then opened the box, took the jar with the preserved mushrooms and put it on the table in front of him. He turned it slowly several times between his hands, gently nodding.
“What a terrible accident might have happened, but fortunately it hasn’t. I was so close to a disaster, and yet far enough away from it. If he had listened to me and taken this jar, the whole story would be considerably impoverished. So as it is, my contribution to the story can be much greater. Let him have the little jar with the preserved content tomorrow – with a slight but decisive alteration, of course. By his own efforts he has induced me to do what I am doing. Now, that’s all I can do for him.”
He put the box with the jar back into his huge bag again.
“Off we go home. I mustn’t wait here any longer, because it could happen that he comes out and finds me here and thus spoils such an important decision and such a good start.”
He left his office, locked the door and went home as fast as he could.
Professor Frederic offered Vivien a seat at the elegant round table in the middle of his office as soon as they had entered. He invited her to help herself to some fruit and chocolate neatly arranged on shiny silver plates. She thanked him for his generosity and accepted his offer.
“I love this room,” she said, looking around. “Everything is so special, so unique,” she continued, glancing at him seductively out of the corners of her eyes.
“Thank you very much for the complement, I love beautiful things,” replied Professor Frederic, his voice trembling.
“I believe you, and it is obvious that you have very refined taste.”
“If you look around carefully, you’ll notice that each piece of furniture in my office is genuine and true to style as well as to period. I hate imitations, can’t stand them,” he said.
“I love that attitude, however I must admit that I do not understand why antique objects – pieces of furniture or pictures or vases or anything else – are automatically considered as valuable and beautiful, more valuable and more beautiful than objects made say a week ago,” Vivien said.
“I am not sure I can answer that question. The only thing I can say is that I just feel with my emotional intelligence that it is so,” replied Professor Frederic.
“Could you please explain to me the meaning of the expression ‘emotional intelligence’? I have heard it so many times, but I do not understand its meaning,” Vivien asked.
Professor Frederic bit his upper lip with his lower teeth and began to rub his right thumb against his index and his middle finger, looking for the right words to express something which didn’t seem to be present in his mind at all. He was obviously embarrassed.
Vivien was astonished, for the gentleman in front of her, a professor of psychology, the country’s leading authority in his field, obviously couldn’t explain the meaning of a term that psychologists often use.
“When we speak of intelligence we make a clear difference between the social and the emotional intelligence. In either