Bob the Snob , the Corporate Virgin

What’s the matter, mister, haven’t you ever seen a fat girl before?

Marie hated going to these meetings anyway—the endless discussions of trivial crap, the subtle and not-so-subtle jockeying for power—and now this Suit from the board of directors was staring at her. Not overtly, and certainly not when she was looking in his direction, but she’d caught him at it more than once from the corner of her eye.

She knew it wasn’t because she was attractive. She wasn’t—she was overweight and plain and she knew it. A 28-year old virgin, in fact, and more than tired of it. A friend had told her once that she had nice eyes and, “a really sensual mouth,”—and on occasion she thought she’d noticed a co-worker’s gaze lingering on her large breasts. She secretly thought they were her best feature and sometimes wore a push-up bra under her otherwise shapeless clothes to accentuate them—at least to herself. But she couldn’t imagine ever attracting someone close enough to truly want her.

Especially not a snooty-looking guy like this, this…what was his name? She’d heard him being introduced at the beginning of the meeting but had paid no attention. Robert something, that was it…Robert…Vanderpost, or something snooty like that to match his face. Robert. He’d probably take offense if you called him Bob, she thought.

Bob the Snob. She smiled sourly to herself. Well, Bob the Snob, I don’t know what you think you’re staring at. You’re no great shakes yourself.

And it was true, he was not particularly handsome. He looked to be in his early forties and had a rather blunt-looking face, although his prematurely gray hair and close-cropped beard gave him a certain dignity. And he didn’t look like he spent any more time at the gym than Marie did, although he wasn’t fat, just a little soft around the edges. His dove-gray suit looked expensive, and fit him perfectly.

Not that she cared. She just wanted the meeting to be over with so she could escape his condescending glances and get back to work.


She worked. At noon she took the elevator downstairs and went out to lunch—by herself, as usual. She came back. She stepped into the already crowded elevator and waited dully through a seeming endless number of stops, shuffling to one side or the other to let people off.

Then, shortly before reaching her floor, she heard a soft voice by her ear.

“You have magnificent breasts.”

She whirled around, ready to lash out at whoever would dare to say such a thing to her in a public place. And found herself face-to-face with Robert Vanderpost. Bob the Snob. This only infuriated her more. Convinced he was mocking her, she open her mouth to scream at him…

…And found herself stopped cold by his hands gripping her shoulders.

And his eyes.

They were blue, intense and penetrating, and seemed to look right down into her soul. Marie found herself unable to speak or to look away.

The elevator stopped. In the instant before the door slid open, he leaned close and said softly, “You’ve been waiting a long time.”

Then he released her shoulders and stepped around her to exit the elevator, leaving her stunned.


All that afternoon she was unable to keep her mind on her work. What had he meant? No–somehow she knew exactly what he had meant. But how could he have known?

She left work at the usual time and took the subway out to where she lived. It was hot, the sidewalks were crowded and she was preoccupied, which was probably why she walked the first of the three blocks to her home before she noticed him walking beside her. Not behind her, like a stalker, but beside her, as if they were taking a walk together.

This was too much. She thought about turning and confronting him, but what could she say? Don’t walk next tome? She might get him to move away a little but she couldn’t stop him from walking on a public street. He hadn’t spoken to her; hadn’t so much as looked her way.

Fine, she thought. Let him walk me home. If he sets one foot in my building I’ll call the cops. She slipped a hand into her purse and found her cellphone. And her pepper-spray.

She turned the corner onto her street and he moved in tandem with her. She made her way to the brownstone building where she lived and stopped at the bottom of the steps. She turned to face him. She was planning to spit out something along the lines of, ‘All right, now you know where I live. So fuck off, asshole!”

But he spoke first, as if he had been merely waiting for her attention. “Nothing is going to happen that you don’t specifically ask for.” He said it in a perfectly matter-of-fact voice, as if stating the obvious. And there was nothing the least bit threatening about the way he looked at her, even though she found his blue-eyed gaze every bit as disturbing as before. There was power in it, yes, a great deal of it–but nothing of anger or violence.

So when he took her gently by the elbow and began leading her up the stairs casino siteleri she made no resistance, ignoring the unspoken coda to his words:

You are going to ask.

Well, for starters, Bob the Snob, she thought, as they approached her apartment door, I’m specifically not going to ask you in. She opened the door, fumbling nervously with her keys as she did so, and went in…

But she left the door open, and had no idea why.

She put her purse down on a small table where she was pretty sure she’d be able to reach it easily if need be. She looked back. He was still standing in the doorway, looking interestedly around at her apartment (making her glad, for once, that she was such a neat-freak) but otherwise showing not the slightest intention of moving from the spot. She was sure he’d remain there for hours. She considered closing the door in his face.

Oh, the hell with it, she thought, and waved him in.

He stayed where he was, but raised his eyebrows slightly.

Oh. Right. “Please, do come in, won’t you,” she asked in a sarcastically posh English accent and sketching a curtsy as she spoke.

“Thank you,” he said, ignoring her tone and stepping inside. “Would you prefer to leave the door open?”

“No. You can close it.”

She was not afraid of this man, she told herself. She watched him closing the door then turning back to face her. His expression was unchanged—he was simply waiting.

“All right, now what?” She was uncomfortable, she told herself. Not afraid.

He smiled slightly and shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“And just what do you think I want?”

“Oh, I know what you want,” he said quietly, walking towards her. “You want someone to look at you and find you desirable. You want someone to touch you in all the ways you’ve imagined.” He was now standing in front of her. looking into her eyes and speaking as if reading what he found there. “You want someone to awaken everything that’s been waiting inside you.”

Ohhh… thought Marie. She swallowed, unable to tear her gaze from his.

Then the slightest hint of a smile flickered into his expression and he said, “And, for starters, I think you want someone to admire those lovely breasts of yours.” He glanced down at them and back up again before continuing, “At least, judging by the lingerie.”

Marie glanced down…and blushed. Maybe a white blouse wasn’t the smartest thing to wear over a black lace push-up bra. But maybe she didn’t care. She met his eyes again and defiantly threw her shoulders back, causing her breasts to lift even higher, daring him to look.

He kept his gaze on hers, the smile still there in his eyes. What was he…Oh, he was so infuriating! He didn’t really expect her to…she wasn’t about to…oh, this was so fucking embarrassing…

She cast her eyes down again. “I want you to look at my breasts,” she murmured, her lips barely moving. “Please,” she added, her face burning.

Peaking up through her eyelashes she watched his gaze travel downward and focus on her chest. Watched his expression change. He was looking at her breasts the way she had seen people look at art in museums. No one had ever looked at her so openly, and certainly never so admiringly before. It felt like a touch. She felt her breath quicken. Felt her hands, of their own volition, unbutton her sleeves, then, slowly, her blouse…felt her fingers drawing it open…freeing it from her waistband…pulling it off her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor behind her.

She stood there. It was a long time before she dared to look up at him. He felt it and raised his eyes to hers. “Oh Marie,” he said, his voice now a little hoarse, as if his throat was dry. “Look what you’re doing to my cock.”

Cock. She was standing in the living room of her apartment with her blouse off and a man she hadn’t even been introduced to had just said “cock” to her. This was insane. This had to stop right here. She was going to put her blouse back on and tell him to…

“Look,” he said, and inadvertently her gaze dropped to bulge in the front of his pants. She knew he was watching her look. Knew she should tear her gaze away. Couldn’t.

“Say it,” he told her.

No, she thought.

“Say it,” he said again.

“Cock,” she whispered. Then she met his gaze again. “Cock,” she said deliberately, and felt a rush of heat inside her.

“Look at me,” she said, and ,without allowing herself to think, stepped out of her shoes, then quickly unfastened her skirt and let it drop to the floor. She pushed her pantyhose down as well and peeled them off her feet, then stood upright again, breathing heavily now. Her panties were nothing special but at least were a matching shade of black.

Let him look at me now, she thought. Let him have a good look at the fat girl.

“Look at me,” she said again, and stood straight, facing him. She watched him carefully. Would he be disgusted, repulsed? Would he make some lame excuse and leave?

He canlı casino was looking at her, his expression unreadable.

Then she heard him say, “Forgive me, my dear.” He hesitated and she braced herself as he continued, “But I must…I know this is very rude, but I must…”

Leave immediately, she knew would be the next words out of his mouth.

She waited.

But there were no next words.

Instead, to her astonishment, his hand wandered to the front of his pants and he began to stroke himself there as he continued to look at her, his gaze wandering allover her body and a look of deep longing in his eyes.

Ohhh… She had never, even in her most feverish fantasies, imagined causing that kind of reaction in someone. Look at him, she thought. I made him do that! And I…I…

“I…w-want to do that,” she stuttered, shocking herself.

He dropped his hand back to his side and straightened up. “Do what?” he asked.

Nothing, she thought. I didn’t say a word.

“Touch you…th-there.” She pointed, tentatively, at where his hand had been.

“Touch me where?”

“Right th… She stopped as she saw the smile in his eyes. “Your cock,” she said, now relishing the word in her mouth. She stepped so close to him that her breasts were almost touching him. She looked directly into his eyes and said, “Please let me put my hand on your cock.”

By way of an answer he took her hand and placed it where his had been. He continued holding her gaze as he placed his hand over hers and showed her what to do.

Marie could not believe what she was doing with this man. She felt as if she had a fever. Standing there in her bra and panties, stroking Bob the…Robert, she corrected herself. Stroking Robert’s cock through his pants. Watching his face tighten with the pleasure that she was giving him. Oh, I’m such a slut, she thought.

Then she said it again to herself: I’m such a slut. I’m such a slut. I’m such a slut.


She murmured it to herself. “I’m such a slut.”

Robert’s eyes, which had been half-closed, opened. “What?”

She hadn’t meant for him to hear it. Maybe. But she said it again, louder, looking at him. “I’m such a slut.”

That smile again. “Are you? Would you like me to call you that?”

Her response came without the slightest pause for thought. “Yes. Please call me a slut.”

“Very well. Keep stroking my cock…you nasty little slut.”

Ohhh, it sounded so much dirtier when he said it! She sped up the rhythm of her hand. She was incredibly aroused…and she wanted more.

As if reading her mind he said, “Is there anything else you want, slut?”

At that moment she completely surrendered to her desires. She stopped stroking him and stood back a little. She took a deep breath.

“Yes. I want…to be naked with you,” she said, enunciating her words carefully as if she were slightly drunk. “I want you to touch me. Teach me. Please.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and almost seemed to purr. “Mmmmm.” Then he opened them and said, “Well, since you ask so nicely…which way is your bedroom?”

She took him by the hand and practically dragged him there.

Her bedroom was her secret girly place—all pinks and ruffles and stuffed animals—the part of herself she had never shown to anyone. She kept the filmy fabric of her curtains closed so that even on the brightest days there was always an atmosphere of twilight there. And now, when it really was close to the end of the day, the light was even more hazy and diffused. She stopped in the middle of the room, still holding Robert’s hand. Her heart was beating fast and she was frightened, but she was also savoring a moment she had dreamed about: standing in her bedroom with a man who desired her.

Slowly, timidly, she turned to face him. The light made him seemed to glow—his gray suit, his whitish hair and beard. He stood quietly for a moment, then slowly raised his free hand and traced the outline of her mouth with a fingertip. “Believe it or not,” he said softly, “the first thing I noticed about you was your mouth. At the meeting this morning… There’s something about your mouth that…contradicts everything else about you.”

And with that he dropped his hand to her shoulder and pulled her to him.

He kissed her. And for the longest time that’s all he did. He held her pressed against him so tightly that she could easily still feel his erection, but his hands didn’t wander from her lower back, and many moments went by before she felt his tongue insinuate itself between her lips. She opened her mouth to him greedily, reveling in the feel and taste of him, the way he explored her mouth, both bold and delicate.

More. She wanted more.

When at last he ended there kiss he smiled at her affectionately, as if they had been lovers for months and this was a familiar prelude. He glanced over her shoulder at something, then took her hand and led her over there.

To the full-length kaçak casino mirror on her bathroom door.

Oh no.

Marie hated her mirror. She avoided looking at it any more than absolutely necessary for making sure her clothes were on straight. And now he was positioning her directly in front of it. In her underwear.

No, she thought. This will spoil everything. I don’t want to look at the fat girl. Don’t make me!

He was standing behind her, looking at her eyes in her reflection, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “Look,” he said, his voice a whisper, or an incantation. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

His eyes never leaving hers, he slowly slid the straps of her brassiere from her shoulders, then reached behind her to unfasten the clasps. The bra fell away. Her breasts, freed, fell into their natural contours. They were heavy but full and pink-tipped.

“Oh…” he said, his eyes feasting on their lushness. “Look at how beautiful you are!”

She felt, and then saw his hands slipping under her breasts—lifting them, cupping them. Caressing them. Watched him gently seize her nipples and roll them between his thumbs and forefingers, making her gasp, and then whimper with pleasure. Felt his hardness pressing urgently between her buttocks…

…And suddenly began to see herself as if through his eyes.

She wasn’t fat, she was…voluptuous. Bountiful. And…yes, if he said so—beautiful.

She reached up to cup his hands more firmly over her breasts, and he began to massage them in a slow, sensual rhythm. She groaned out loud. Reached down to shove her panties off her hips and let them fall to the floor. Saw herself in the mirror, now completely naked…and desirable. Desired, well and truly.

She fumbled behind her back for a moment, trying to find and stroke him with her hand again, to please him as he was pleasing her. But then it wasn’t enough, and she abruptly turned and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him again, now rubbing herself against him shamelessly. He responded by cupping her naked buttocks in his hands and pressing her loins even harder against him as he rutted against her.

But then he stopped and pushed her away, gently but firmly, and held her at arm’s length. They were both breathing in gasps now.

Marie was terrified that she had been too aggressive. Had he been put off by it?

He held her in his gaze again. “Tell me what you want now…slut.”

Marie knew exactly what she wanted. She gathered her courage, took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak…

…Then without saying a word dropped to her knees and began tearing frantically and his belt and then his zipper. In no time she had his pants and then his boxers down around his ankles. She stared at what he had. She knew vaguely what they were supposed to look like but she had never actually seen one. And it’s all for me, she thought. She leaned forward, pursing her lips…

…And was stopped a few inches short of her goal by his hand resting lightly on her head, tilting her face up to look at him. “Was there something you wanted?’ he asked teasingly.

She thought he looked a little silly with his suit jacket and vest and shirt and tie all neat and pristine above and everything else down around his ankles—with a large exclamation point in between as if to mark the contrast. “I want you to be naked too,” she said firmly to him. Her gaze was drawn back to his erection. “And then I want to…I want to…” Oh, she couldn’t say it!

His hand gently tilted her face up again to meet his gaze. “You want to be my…cock-sucking slut, don’t you?”

The words hit her with almost physical force, and she gasped and swallowed, her face burning. Nothing will happen that you don’t specifically ask for, she reminded herself, and forced herself to meet his eyes and speak. “Yes. I want to be y-your…” She took a breath and spoke deliberately, “…cock-sucking slut. Now take off your clothes, God damn it.”

He raised his eyebrows at this, but immediately began shedding his jacket and undoing his vest while Marie shucked off his shoes and socks, and then pants and underwear. Soon he was naked as well and he stood quietly to allow Marie to look at him.

She had been right, she thought, he was nothing special to look at. He was soft and a little paunchy and had noticeable love-handles. But he stood, not as if he thought he was something special to look at, but as if he knew he wasn’t and didn’t care. He stood as comfortably as if he were still fully dressed.

And that was a revelation to Marie. She stood too, facing him. Look at me, she thought, but didn’t need to say, because she knew he was. This is who I am. She felt a great unease inside her, an unease that she had carried so long she didn’t know it was there, suddenly unclench and vanish. She felt…she didn’t know how she felt. Different. The same. Both.

She stepped forward and drew him to her. They kissed again, now flesh to flesh, and Marie tingled with the feel of the silky hair on his chest and stomach. She allowed her hand to drift between them and gently grasp him. Ohh, the feel of it, so warm and smooth and slippery-skinned. She wanted it.

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