Being Me (BBW Romance) Page 2

  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?

  My embarrassment didn't go unnoticed. Delilah walked by with Stacy, and they stopped at the entrance to my cubicle. I'd been foolish enough to still have my face turned that way, and they stared at my beet-red face. Delilah was the first one to insult the English language by speaking. "Eat a hot pepper or something?" she teased me.

  "Or maybe Mr. Dunner told her she had to lose weight," Stacy added.

  Usually sweet little ol' me would reply to their stupid suggestions by turning my back on them. Right then, though, spitfire Mitsy was in contro
l, and she was having none of that. My head snapped up and I glared at both of them. My red face added to my ferocity as war paint of fury. "Why don't you two just knock it off and get back to work for once?" Not exactly the meanest insult I could have thrown at them, but for me it was downright bitchy.

  The shocked looks on their faces would have been enough to make me laugh out loud if I hadn't been so surprised myself. Their mouths flopped open like kissing fish, complete with smacking lip sounds and stupid look-action. I was prepared for more of their shit, but not for their hasty retreat. Stacy pushed Delilah down the hall and out of my sight. The minute they were gone my fury deflated like a popped balloon. I was left feeling exhausted, depressed and full of regret.

  That was the perfect time to go get a donut and flaunt its deliciousness in front of everyone on a diet. I'd be too busy wallowing in my own misery to notice theirs. Unfortunately, that meant a walk to the lounge on a lower floor, and it wasn't break time. Of course, with the boss unavailable until Doomsday with his interviews, I wouldn't be scolded by him. For the sake of my depression hunger, I decided to go for it.

  I slipped out of my cubicle and slunk down the hall on the opposite end of the floor from Dunner's office. I rounded the corner of the square floor and saw the elevators at the far end of the new hall. I zoomed down the passage, past my coworkers hard at work on spreadsheets, reports, solitaire and mahjong. I even saw one striving to launch some mad birds at some defenseless sedentary pigs. I could relate to those little porkers as memories of high school dodge ball floated to my mind.

  Where was I? Oh, right, escape from L.A., office style. I was silent in my sneaking. Well, as silent as someone my size could be. My efforts were rewarded with success, for I made it to the elevators and caught one just closing. The hard part was over, and I fetched a few delicious powdered donuts from the break room. I traveled back up to my floor and had just snuck out of the elevator when I was confronted by my arch nemesis, Alicia. She had an armload of papers in her hand which were conveniently holding up her small handheld mirror so she could check to see if her makeup was running. I'd be running if I was in any way attached to her.

  "Where in the world have you been?" she interrogated me. I pulled the donuts behind my back, but it was too little too late; she saw them. Her eyes widened along with her wicked mouth. She hefted her books into one arm and glanced at her wristwatch.

  I didn't wait for her to point out that I shouldn't have been away from my desk at that time. Instead I booked it down the hall before she could get me into a tight spot, maybe even try to blackmail me into doing some horrible, unspeakable thing. Or worse, giving her my donuts.

  I laid low for the rest of the day, not an easy feet when you're as hard to miss as I am. Toward the end of the day the interviews were stopped before Dunner finished with the floor, probably on account of his having lost his sanity going through all those personalities. Most people in the place were normal enough, but every place of work has those odd ones where you're not sure whether to shake their hand or your head. Don't get me wrong, they weren't walking around pretending they were animals or anything like that, but some of them believed they were animals in a past life. Cat was a popular previous existence, which probably explained their lack of work ethic in this life.

  Anyway, Dunner was probably exhausted, and the stress of waiting and sitting through the interviews had taken its toll on everyone on the floor. More than one person snuck out early or, like high schoolers on a Friday afternoon, ran when the clock showed the work day was over at five. I was just packing up when I heard a knock at my cubicle. I swung around and was surprised to find Dunner standing there with that smile on his face.

  "Could I have a word with you before you leave?" he asked me.

  I peeked my head over the walls of my prison. Everyone close by was already gone, and the elevators were opening to take the last of my coworkers away. "Um, sure, what were you wanting to talk about?"

  He stepped aside and swept his arms toward his office. "I wanted to talk to you about your performance. It's a little private, so would you mind going into my office?"

  The blood drained out of my face. This sounded like a firing. "Uh, all right."

  I stepped out of my cubicle, but he nodded at my purse. "You might not want to leave that here. The janitors come in half an hour."

  "Oh, thanks." I'd meant to leave it as an excuse to escape a long conversation, but grudgingly grabbed it.

  He led me down the hall and into his office. I sat down at the usual chair, but glanced up at the ceiling. I swear the lights were dimmed down, and sure enough half of them were off. "Excuse the lights, I thought I was going home soon, too, and just remembered that I wanted to talk to you," he explained. I noticed he didn't turn them up all the way, but instead went over and sat on the corner of the desk closest to me. I leaned back in my chair as far as I could. "So do you know why I've brought you here?"

  I shrank down in my chair. "Because you're going to give me a raise?" I guessed.

  He leaned down toward me and his eyes caught mine with their intensity. His voice was low and sultry. "I'm afraid that's not quite what I had in mind."

  My face flushed at the innuendo. I did what any sensible woman would do; I jumped up and stammered out an excuse to leave. "Um, I think I hear my cat calling me."

  I swung around and dashed to the door. Dunner uttered some apology, but by that time I was out of the office and down the hall, purse clutched in my hand.

  CHAPTER 3

  I didn't want to wait for the elevators, so for the first time since one of my coworkers tricked me into going with them, I took the stairs. They were easy to drop down when one is in a hurry to be anywhere else, and that fit me to a T. I didn't turn around until I was in the lobby. To tell you the truth, I stopped in the lobby to catch some air. There I stood, huffing and puffing like the last dinosaur wondering what in the world just happened to me.

  My mind was a swirling mass of thoughts half-starved of oxygen and very confused. I replayed what he'd said to me in the office, and the pit of my stomach suddenly hurt. Maybe he hadn't been meaning what I thought he'd been meaning. Maybe he had wanted to fire me, or perhaps even give me a better position. I glanced at the elevators behind me. They tempted me to go back up there and risk his strange eyes to find out what he had meant by those words.

  "No," I wheezed out. I wasn't ready, not right now. Maybe after a night's rest, preceeded by a lot of glasses of wine and chocolate.

  Then that was the plan; I'd get some sleep and face my cowardice in the morning, fresh and ready for, well, for whatever was going to happen. With my decision made, I scrammed out of there faster than a drunk to a call of beers on the house. I made it back, and was greeted by my cat's demands for food and worship. The meal was provided, but my mind was too high-strung to give much thought to pettings that night. All I could do was slink onto the couch with my promised bottle of port and box of chocolates, and wonder what in the world happened in that office. The bottle disappeared with each indecisive thought, which meant I skipped the glass and just popped the cork.

  His words were spoken in such a lustful voice that I was sure I'd read him right. He'd been writing a love story of him and me, and the scene would have taken place right in that office. Then again, there was that large voice in the back of my head telling me I'd just been hearing things out of my own lack of sexual escapades for a good many years. Maybe I was desperate; maybe I had been hearing what I wanted to hear.

  Maybe there really was someone knocking at my door.

  Actually, there really was somebody at the entrance to my domain. I jumped up off the couch, and was struck with how much time had passed and alcohol I'd imbibed during that time. I also struck the coffee table with my leg because I was so tipsy I couldn't walk straight. My eyes were so crossed that I could have been made into a road intersection. The banging continued, and I was reminded of that Poe story about the black bird always pecking at the window. Maybe it was a lit
tle birdy at my door wanting in from a cold winter's night.

  Two problems with that: I wasn't in a Poe story, it was Fall, and I was so drunk I couldn't count right. The pounding at my door grew louder and louder while the thumping on my leg grew worse and worse. "I'm coming!" I shouted to my unexpected visitor.

  I stumbled my way over to the door and looked through the peephole. At least, I tried to look through the peephole. The damn thing kept swinging from side to side, so I gave up and just flung open the door. The person on the other side wasn't expecting that, and I wasn't expecting the person to be Dunner. My mouth fell open while on his face was a look of surprise.

  "Um, is this a bad time?" he asked me.

  "Oh, no, I was just, um, just drinking, er, thinking about stuff," I replied in my best slurred speech.

  He glanced down at my hand and pointed at it. "The whole bottle?" he wondered. I followed his pointer finger and realized I was holding the empty wine bottle in my hand. I swung it behind my back, which sent all of me toppling backward onto the floor. He jumped inside and knelt down beside me. "You okay?"

  I sat up and rubbed the back of my head. A knot the size of a goose egg was growing back there. "I've been better," I grumbled, and glanced at him. Some of the drink haze wore off with the slam to my head and I started thinking again. "But what are you doing here? How are you here?"

  Dunner smiled. "I came to see if you were okay, and I came by car."

  I frowned at his sassiness. I was the only one allowed to be sassy in my apartment. "I meant how did you find this place? I never told you where I lived."

  "I have your personnel file, remember? Now let's get you off this hard floor and onto the couch. Looks pretty comfortable." I grudgingly let him help me up and over to said comfy couch, where I plopped down onto one of the comfy cushions. He took another one, and that left one last cushion between us. Mr. Perkins took that one, and the little traitor started purring the minute Dunner's hand started petting his back. "I think he likes me," Dunner pointed out with a laugh.