Read Online Knight Fall (An Erotic BBW Romance) by Marina Maddix - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marina Maddix
Ads: Link
That was a recipe for failure in Kelly's book. One extra pound — say after you give birth to his baby — and the dude's out the door, looking for more pretty young things to impregnate. So she chose to not fight nature and just allowed her body to settle into a comfortable place, while taking care to eat healthfully…most of the time. Guys who liked confident real women, no matter their size, were attracted to her, but those guys seemed to be rare in corporate America. As a result, she hadn't had a date in months, and she'd really been feeling deprived (in other words, horny) lately.
"You can go in now." Wigley's assistant gave Kelly a once-over as she walked by, skimming over her figure with a sneer before zeroing in on her old shoes — the one thing Kelly wouldn't skimp on, and of course the one thing she couldn't quite afford yet. She wanted to slap the smirk right off the flat-chested bitch's smug face, but instead she held her head high, pushed out her tits and marched into Wigley's small office. The woman's smirk turned to a glare.
Wigley sat at his cluttered desk facing his computer screen. He didn't so much as glance at Kelly when she walked in, so she wasn't sure what to do. She managed to close the door on the bitchy assistant but she hovered nearby, hoping for a quick getaway, if necessary. As she waited for him to acknowledge her existence, she quickly scanned the room. It hadn't changed much since her initial interview six months earlier, except the photo of the wife and kids seemed to have magically reappeared on Wigley's desk.
She remembered that day, remembered him shuffling a few things — which must have included the family photo — off his desk and unceremoniously dumping them in a drawer the moment she walked into the room. The interview had gone well, especially considering she'd never worked at a huge multinational corporation before, yet she was still surprised when Wigley offered her the job. She almost leapt across the desk and gave his pasty, balding head a big ol' kiss, but she managed to restrain herself.
Instead, she listened to him drone on about her responsibilities, his nasally monotone nearly putting her to sleep. Funny, but when she'd seen the job listing on the company's website, she'd had no idea that 'Information Processing Specialist' really meant 'data entry'. No wonder there were very few skills listed as required. It didn't matter. She would've taken a job cleaning the muck out of the soles of the janitors' shoes — the job market for out-of-work artists was never really hot; it really sucked now.
As he was wrapping up his monologue, Wigley told her what a promising future she had with the company. That was nice to hear but she had no intention of staying very long. She just needed to save up a few bucks, and keep herself in paints and canvases — and, more importantly, food — until she found a gallery to represent her. But her elation at landing a decent paying job so quickly was dashed by Wigley's next words.
"You have many great…," he cleared his throat, "…assets." Of course he was staring freely at her breasts when he said it so there was no mistaking his meaning. "You just let me know if you need anything , okay?" Then he winked. Kelly did her best to hide the shudder of disgust that ran through her.
She'd been dealing with shit like this since she was 14, when she'd sprouted six inches over the summer and developed what appeared to be an irresistible set of tits. She honestly didn't see what was so special about them. Yes, she was a full D cup and they were pretty perky for their size, but they just seemed like boobs to her. But they often had this strange effect on men, and she'd learned over the years that the best way to diffuse the situation was to ignore it, pretend she didn't catch the implied come-on. "Great! Thanks again, Mr. Wigley. I'll see you Monday, 8 a.m. sharp!"
Usually the technique worked beautifully. The guy either figured out she wasn’t
"You can go in now." Wigley's assistant gave Kelly a once-over as she walked by, skimming over her figure with a sneer before zeroing in on her old shoes — the one thing Kelly wouldn't skimp on, and of course the one thing she couldn't quite afford yet. She wanted to slap the smirk right off the flat-chested bitch's smug face, but instead she held her head high, pushed out her tits and marched into Wigley's small office. The woman's smirk turned to a glare.
Wigley sat at his cluttered desk facing his computer screen. He didn't so much as glance at Kelly when she walked in, so she wasn't sure what to do. She managed to close the door on the bitchy assistant but she hovered nearby, hoping for a quick getaway, if necessary. As she waited for him to acknowledge her existence, she quickly scanned the room. It hadn't changed much since her initial interview six months earlier, except the photo of the wife and kids seemed to have magically reappeared on Wigley's desk.
She remembered that day, remembered him shuffling a few things — which must have included the family photo — off his desk and unceremoniously dumping them in a drawer the moment she walked into the room. The interview had gone well, especially considering she'd never worked at a huge multinational corporation before, yet she was still surprised when Wigley offered her the job. She almost leapt across the desk and gave his pasty, balding head a big ol' kiss, but she managed to restrain herself.
Instead, she listened to him drone on about her responsibilities, his nasally monotone nearly putting her to sleep. Funny, but when she'd seen the job listing on the company's website, she'd had no idea that 'Information Processing Specialist' really meant 'data entry'. No wonder there were very few skills listed as required. It didn't matter. She would've taken a job cleaning the muck out of the soles of the janitors' shoes — the job market for out-of-work artists was never really hot; it really sucked now.
As he was wrapping up his monologue, Wigley told her what a promising future she had with the company. That was nice to hear but she had no intention of staying very long. She just needed to save up a few bucks, and keep herself in paints and canvases — and, more importantly, food — until she found a gallery to represent her. But her elation at landing a decent paying job so quickly was dashed by Wigley's next words.
"You have many great…," he cleared his throat, "…assets." Of course he was staring freely at her breasts when he said it so there was no mistaking his meaning. "You just let me know if you need anything , okay?" Then he winked. Kelly did her best to hide the shudder of disgust that ran through her.
She'd been dealing with shit like this since she was 14, when she'd sprouted six inches over the summer and developed what appeared to be an irresistible set of tits. She honestly didn't see what was so special about them. Yes, she was a full D cup and they were pretty perky for their size, but they just seemed like boobs to her. But they often had this strange effect on men, and she'd learned over the years that the best way to diffuse the situation was to ignore it, pretend she didn't catch the implied come-on. "Great! Thanks again, Mr. Wigley. I'll see you Monday, 8 a.m. sharp!"
Usually the technique worked beautifully. The guy either figured out she wasn’t
Similar Books
