Being Me (BBW Romance) (2 page)

But I wasn't thinking about that right then, just about Finner. Finner gave me a wink before the elevator doors closed and took away the best boss I ever had. The other half of the day was still productive for everybody except me. I was glum from the separation, and apprehensive about the interview tomorrow. I felt there was some sort of ulterior reason for talking with everyone on the floor. Maybe cuts were coming, and I'd be laid off. That would really suck because I hate looking for a job.

That long work day finally ended. The fitness-conscious filed out down the stairs while I and my cadre of men filed into the elevators. The benefit to having coworkers intent on exercising themselves to an early grave was that there was always plenty of room on the elevator. I was on one of the last ones down; well, actually,
the
last one down in that particular elevator. I'd wanted to get some work done, so I stayed five minutes late. That made me alone in the elevator, and I was given a scare when, just before the elevator doors closed, a hand reached out from the other side and stopped it. The doors opened and revealed a man I didn't recognize. He had a briefcase in his hand and a smile on his face

"Sorry about that, I didn't mean to scare you," he apologized. He stepped in, the doors closed, and the elevator made its way down to the lobby. "I see you're working late, too. Do you do that a lot?"

"Um, sometimes, when somebody needs help," I hastily replied.

Since I knew everybody on the floor, this could only have been Mr. Dunner. Out of the corner of my eye I caught little peeks of him, and I saw now what the other women admired. He was a little under six feet tall, not too skinny and not too fat; just right for a tasty treat of man porridge. His hair was a sandy brown and he had a pair of blue eyes that dazzled when he looked at you. He wore his tailored suit well, especially against his nice ass, but had a clumsy way about him. The way he was fidgeting with his briefcase made me wonder if he'd ever held one before. With all that fine man-meat next to me I was nervous enough to break out in a sweat.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I haven't really introduced myself," Dunner spoke. He switched hands with the briefcase and his clumsy fingers caused it to clatter to the floor. The top popped open, and the ensuing explosion was like a clown car of cardboard. The whole elevator floor was littered with papers and yellow file folders. "Oh damn..." he muttered, and stooped to pick up the mess.

I knelt down and helped as best I could. That meant a lot of leaning over, and when I looked up from grabbing a folder I noticed Dunner was looking at my blouse. Correction, he was looking
down
my low-cut blouse. I leaned back on my legs and scowled at him. New boss or no new boss, I wasn't going to put up with gawking. I knew my weight made them big and bouncy, but that was no excuse for ogling. "I didn't know something dropped into my blouse," I quipped.

Dunner shook himself from his peeping tom impression and sheepishly smiled. "Sorry, I thought maybe your blouse was one of the larger papers."

That was a lame excuse, possibly the worst in the history of lame excuses. "No, I try to wear synthetic materials," I replied as I stood up.

"And wear them very well," he complimented. Dunner got his paperwork back into the briefcase and clicked it shut. The whole thing bulged with the papers and folders, and I took an uneasy step away from him. He was a walking time bomb with that thing. Papers could burst out at any moment and cause some painful paper cuts, probably on the fingers I typed the most with. "But I think I was trying to tell you who I was." He held out his hand and smiled. "Steven Dunner."

I was still a little miffed with his peeking at me, but I needed to behave around my bosses, even during off-hours, so I shook his hand. "I'm Monica Collins."

"Oh yes, you've been working here for a few years, haven't you?"

I didn't like the way he phrased that, like maybe I'd been working here
too
long. "Yeah, about two. I'm expecting to retire in another twenty-five or so." That's the way, Mitsy; a nice, unsubtle hint to desperately cling on to your livelihood. Riiigghhhtt.

He just continued to smile at me. "It's always good to have a future goal in life just as long as you stay focused on the present. I'm sure your boyfriend appreciates that."

What a funny statement; that is, if it didn't hurt just a little. "I don't have a boyfriend," I told him.

"Oh, really?" He was pleased, I was mad. For once I was wishing he was apologizing. "I must have been thinking about somebody else. Ms. Finner gave me a run-through of all the relationships on the floor, and I'm afraid I didn't take notes."

"You must not have been," I replied. It was a miracle I could say anything with my teeth ground together like that. The opening of the elevator doors avoided any more mild insults from either of us. I stepped out and glanced over my shoulder. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow."

He followed me out of the elevator and nodded. Even through my anger I had to admit he had a nice smile. "Indeed. Have a good rest."

Then he stepped past me. I glared at his back as he walked out of the lobby and disappeared into the streets. My nature, however, didn't let me dislike anyone for long unless they'd done something really terrible. He was no exception, and he wasn't the first person to ask if I had a boyfriend when I hadn't had one in years. I sighed and drove myself home to my lonely apartment in a decent neighborhood. Nothing fancy, but it was home.

CHAPTER 2

At least I had my cat to greet me at the door, demanding his after-work kibbles. I dreamed of someday having my own house with a big yard so I could become a crazy cat-lady. Then nobody would laugh at me because I could order my feline army to maul them to death. Ah, dreams. Right now there was only the one cat, Mr. Perkins, and he was hungry.

I went through the usual toiling of the evening. Feed the cat, make a nice dinner and then take myself into the bathroom for my nightly self-loathing session. That involved me standing in front of the mirror and staring back at my reflection, wishing some of those pounds would melt away like chocolate in the sun. I had thick, flabby arms and legs, both pale from lack of exercise out in the sun. My chubby cheeks rounded out my face. All in all it was a little discouraging.

My breasts were all I could count on for solace. I pulled off my shirt and glanced at the balls of flesh. Even with the bra they bounced when I picked them up and dropped them. A pair of boobs any man would want to get a hold of, just without the rest of the body. I recalled back to Dunner's lustful look at my twins. I supposed that if any man was going to look at me that was the best place to look.

Mr. Perkins jumped up onto the toilet seat and meowed at me. "Oh, you think I'm pretty, do you?" I cooed to him.

"Meow," was the reply I got.

"Well, maybe I am and just haven't found the right guy," I wistfully agreed.

With my daily-dose of self-loathing filled, I toddled off to bed. I slept and another work day rose up to greet me when I woke up. Yay. I drove back to work, rode the elevator to my floor, and stepped off for a big surprise. People were at their desks. It was ten till and people were actually at their desks. Usually I'd come in and find the women, and some of the men, jabbering away in their cliques. Now they were at their desks pretending to work while everyone had an eye on the closed office door now belonging to Mr. Dunner. This was like a Children of the Corn change if the children needed to shave.

I also noticed the shades were pulled on the lone window looking into Dunner's office. Finner had never used those, and I didn't think the change was for the better. I gave him the benefit of the doubt that he wanted privacy for the interviews. I moved toward my desk but was stopped by Delilah. She was dressed up again and there was a hat in her hand with scraps of paper inside. Her chest was puffed out and she proudly held her head up. If I would've had a needle I could've deflated her puffy chest. "You need to take a number," she commanded me.

I blinked my eyes at her. "I need to do what now?"

Delilah thrust the hat toward me. "You need to take a number. It's for the interviews Mr. Dunner is going to do today. Everyone gets called in by their number."

I stared at her like she was mad. "You're joking, right? What's he doing to us, judging us like livestock?"

A great scowl crossed her face as I dared question the great and powerful Dunner. "Just take it, I don't have all day." There were a couple of other people coming off the elevator, so I snatched a piece of paper and went on my way to my desk.

After I'd plopped my butt down in my chair, I opened the paper. It read lucky number seven. Funny, I didn't feel lucky, just nervous. With the subdued voices all around me, apparently I wasn't the only one who'd come to the conclusion that maybe this was a way to fire some people who didn't pass muster with the new boss.

At nine o'clock sharp, the door to Dunner's office opened and the devil himself stepped out. The whole floor went quiet, waiting in breathless anticipation for his godly word. Well, some of the women were doing that. He smiled and glanced over the cubicles. "Could I have number one come in here please? I'd like to speak with you."

And so began the great interviewing process. One by one the people entered the office, never to return again. Just kidding, they came out with smiling faces and praise for our new overlord. Even with their encouraging words I was still nervous when number six walked out and Dunner glanced around the room. "Number seven," he called out.

I took a deep breath and stepped out of my cubicle. His smile widened when he saw me coming down the hall toward me. "Good morning, Monica Collins," he playfully greeted me.

"Good morning, Mr. Dunner," I returned. I wasn't angry with him anymore about the staring; my focus was too much on the interview and what questions he would ask me.

He directed me to a chair opposite his large desk. I noticed that there were a few changes since Finner left, namely in the form of some plants and a long, wide couch to the right of the door as I entered. I seated myself and he sat opposite me on the other side of the desk. There was a stack of folders on one side of the desk and a few folders on the other; I realized they were the same color as the ones he'd taken home with him last night. He must have studied everyone on the floor, and now he was going through us one at a time like a conveyor belt of authority with the power of employment and unemployment in his hands. Kind of scary.

Anyway, he got right down to business. "I've been reading your file and I have to say I'm impressed. Ms. Finner gave you a good recommendation before she left, and she noted all the extra hours you've put in for the company," he informed me.

My face brightened up at the mention of Finner's name. "I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Dunner."

Dunner smiled. "Please, call me Steven. Whenever anyone uses my last name it makes me feel old."

Using a boss' first name was new for me, and thus kind of uncomfortable. I'd humor him long enough to see what everyone else was doing about this name change. "All right, Steven," I obliged.

"Good, now what are your dreams for the future? I'm not just talking about with the company, but for yourself personally."

I wasn't about to tell him my dream of a cat farm. "Well, I'd like to work my way up in the company to buy a nice house," I replied.

"One in the country?" he guessed.

I shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it, but I don't think that'd be close enough to commute every day." Good ol' practical me.

Dunner seemed to latch onto this theme. "But if you had a choice, would you live out in the country?" he persisted.

This was all very confusing questioning. "I guess so, if I worked from home or something like that."

"Ah yes, you mentioned wanting to work for the company for what? Another twenty years?"

Hearing it said back to me made me a little depressed. That was a hell of a long time. "That was my plan, Mr-Steven." Almost slipped there.

He smiled and glanced down at my file. It was tilted up in his hands so I couldn't see what he was reading. After a few tense, quiet moments he slapped it closed and set it aside on the desk. I wondered why he didn't put it on the pile on the floor with the others. "Well, I think that'll do for now." He stood and walked around the desk where he held out his arm to guide me to the door. I jumped up and practically ran to the door. If he hadn't put his hand on the door knob first I would have made a clean getaway. I stiffened when he set his other hand low on my back.
Really
low, like right on my butt. He acted like nothing was wrong. "Just as a warning, I might call you back later with more questions."

Then his hand slipped away and he opened the door. I stumbled out and got a few looks when I nearly crashed into the wall of the cubicle nearest his office. I sheepishly smiled and dashed off down the hall while behind me Dunner called off the next number. When I got back to the safety of my square world I plopped myself down in my chair and just sat there for a while. I was too stunned to do anything else.

He'd actually groped me. My own, albeit cute, boss had actually taken a feel of my butt. My face felt hot and I imagined I resembled a red Christmas light. My mind was also in a conundrum. If Dunner had been an ugly, stupid man I would have been disgusted by his actions. However, he wasn't. He was cute, polite, cute, friendly, cute and suave. Did I mention he was cute?