I had a happy childhood, up
until I hit my teens. I was like any other girl, pretty enough, liking pretty
much the same things, with a perfectly normal body and blonde, shoulder length
hair. The only thing which marked me as a little different were the geeky
glasses I had to wear because of my bad eyes.
That started to make a
difference as I approached my teens, as other girls began to care more and more
about their looks and how boy saw them. The better looking you were, the cooler
you were. Glasses were not cool. What was worse, I was poor, or rather, my
parents were, which meant getting the cool brand name fashions was out of the
So as I entered high school
I was made perfectly well aware of my inferiority as a person. I was a geek,
not merely because of my glasses, but because I was a ravenous reader, and
loved numbers. I didn't go much on social media because other girls were always
going cool places, being invited to great parties or taking vacations far away.
I couldn't compete.
I had a boring life. I was
boring. I became somewhat withdrawn and shy, and after a couple of embarrassing
experiences with boys – I was flat chested and they made sure to inform
everyone they knew about everything we did – I became even worse. I largely
ignored boys, convinced they just wanted to find a way to humiliate me.
I wore drab, shapeless
clothes so no one could see how flat chested I was, and ignored teasing and
taunts, pretending they didn't exist. That I began to develop, and was no
longer flat chested really made no difference to me. I was, by then,
embarrassed about my body, and no more inclined to show off my new breasts than
the old, smaller ones.
I was glad when high school
was done. I didn't bother to attend any of the celebrations. No prom for me. I
was busy looking for work to get on with life, and hopefully make a little
money. I wound up getting a job as a clerk, a purchasing clerk in a large
I was delighted. I had my
own cubicle, with high walls, higher than I was! My desk was against the wall
right by the entrance though, which meant everyone passing by in the aisle
could see me. I mean, it's not like it was super busy, but a number of people,
mostly middle-aged men, did pass by, and they all looked at me when they did.
There weren't a lot of
girls on our floor. It was mostly middle-aged people, and that might have been
why the men looked at me with interest. I was almost the only girl they saw all
day. I did not encourage them to linger. Instead I ignored them as I had the
boys and girls who had teased me in high school.
The job paid well enough to
buy some clothes, but not really nice ones. I settled on basic office clothing.
I wore a knee length dark blue or black skirt most of the time or else gray or
black business trousers, a white blouse, and sometimes a sweater if it was
chilly. I kept my hair pulled back out of my face most of the time, and tied
behind me, and tried to do my best to impress my bosses.
The only people I really
had a reason to talk to were my fellow clerks. Most were middle-aged, but one,
Sierra, was twenty-two, which, while still four years older, was still a lot
closer to my age. She was everything I wasn't.
She was taller, gorgeous,
self-confident, athletic, with glossy brown hair curving around her face and
dancing on the shoulders of her fashionable blouses and sweaters. She also
liked to come and chat, which I found annoying at first since I was trying to impress
our manager. I couldn't be rude, though. I mean, she was being friendly.
But it was kind of an eye-opening
thing, because after a bit she started talking about things she'd done,
especially on Monday, when she'd talk about the clubs she'd been to on the
weekend, and the boys she'd 'dated' by which I mean, took home and had wild sex
I was, of course,
incredibly jealous of her. My sex life was entirely with myself. Though I
wasn't about to tell her that! I wasn't sure why she was telling me this stuff
if it wasn't to brag. I kind of told her a number of times that she shouldn't
talk about things like that at work, that it was improper, but she didn't seem
She made it clear she
thought I was prudish, so I wondered if she was just making stuff up to outrage
me. I wasn't outraged, though, just embarrassed. I wasn't used to talking about
sex with other people, or even listening to them talk about it. And she asked
the most outrageous questions! Like she talked about having anal sex with a guy
and then asked me if I'd had anal sex! Imagine! As if I'd answer a question
She often wore tight jeans
or trousers, and if she leaned over you could sometimes see her thong peeking
out. She wore tight tops, as well, and the men were always hanging around her,
joking with her, smiling at her and being friendly with her.
“Men are pigs,” I said
She just grinned. “Yeah,
but if you've got a ring you can lead them around by the nose. And I got a
She pointed down between
her legs and I blushed, as I did a lot when she talked.
“That's just wrong,” I said
I was at my desk, as usual.
She was leaning against the panel at the opening of the cubicle, chatting,
“Sexual power,” she said.
“It's good to have it. You don't have it when you're older so you might as well
enjoy it now.”
“I prefer to just do my
job,” I said in a frosty voice.
“I do my job,” she said.
“But I'm also fishing for promotion.”
“You can't get them to
promote you just because of your looks!” I said, aghast.
“Why not? I can do the
work. People are often hired because of their looks, you know. Not my fault the
world is like that.”
“You shouldn't play up to
them,” I said. “They're all old enough to be your father anyway!”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but
they think I'm hot.”
“Which is why they keep
coming around here all the time,” I said with a scowl. “This is a quiet corner
of the floor. All these men walking by are just passing by to see what you're
She laughed, rather than
“And you,” she said.
“Me!? I dress properly for
She smirked down at me.
“You dress like a librarian, Amanda.”
I stared at her in
“A sexy librarian,” she
“Don't be ridiculous!” I
Though being called sexy
was so novel I could hardly help but be flattered.
“Men like sexy librarians,”
she said. “You don't see them looking at you when they walk by?”
“They'd look at any girl in
here!” I protested.
“I see the way they look at
you when you walk down the hall,” she teased. “They want to see what's under
those librarian outfits you wear!”
“I'm not a librarian!” I
She laughed and went back
to her cubicle. But I was feeling self-conscious now whenever men walked by and
looked at me. I persuaded my new boss, Mr. Lineham, to put a 'privacy' panel
there. This was a panel which ran alongside my desk at the entrance, so that
those passing by couldn't see me.
When Sierra saw it she just
laughed, and came inside.
“Now you can do anything
you want in here and nobody will see you,” she teased.
“The only thing I want to
do is my work,” I said crossly, ignoring her and looking at my computer screen.
“But now you and some man
can go at it right on your desk,” she said in a breathy, teasing voice as she
leaned over my chair.
“I don't know any men here
I want to do anything with,” I growled.
“In fact, they could stand
right here like this.”
She stood just next to me,
facing me, right at the end of the privacy panel.
“They could take out their
dicks, and you could blow them, and nobody coming by would even know!”
“You really are a pervert!”
I said, exasperated.
She came in, snickering,
and bent over the back of my chair, her hands on my shoulders as she rubbed her
cheek against the side of my head.
“You're only young once,
Amanda! You should enjoy it before you got old and fat and wrinkled like most
of the women here.”
“Go away,” I said in
startled annoyance, pushing her back.
She laughed, then kissed me
on the cheek and left.
I was startled because
she'd never gotten so physically close before, rubbing her skin against mine,
kissing me, even if it was teasing, and rubbing my shoulders. I had come to
envy her, like I said, and kind of see her as this very sexual creature, one I
was terribly jealous of.
And now this very sexual,
beautiful girl was, well... it started giving me ideas, fantasies. I had an
active imagination and I read a lot. I had fantasized about sex many, many
times, like every time I masturbated, which was every day.
Mostly the fantasies
involved big, cave-man type guys having their rough way with me. Sometimes it
was gentler sex with sophisticated, rich guys, like, in front of a fireplace or
some other sexy place. But occasionally I thought about sex with another girl,
as something that might be less, well, threatening or embarrassing.
Sierra was kind of a slutty
girl, who, if she could be believed, and I believed her, had lots of sexual
experiences. I wondered if she'd done anything with girls before.
Probably! Did she think I was a sexy
No, the idea was silly. She
was a jock, very into sports, which was one of the reasons she preferred to
hang around guys. She had no interest in a nerdy girl like me. She certainly
But I had a sexual fantasy
about her and me that night in bed as I masturbated, and I had a tremendous
orgasm. And I was hyper alert for any signals after that, that she might be,
you know, interested.
Not, to be honest, that I
really knew what to look for...
But a few days later she
was sitting next to me at my desk, her chair pulled up to where it was touching
mine as she demonstrated some things on the software about how to pay bills. I
leaned forward to reach for something on the desk just as she raised her arm to
do the same. That meant my right breast pushed heavily into her left arm before
I drew back.
“Oh, sorry,” I said.
“Don't be sorry. Do it
again,” she said with a smirk.
“Sierra, really,” I said,
blushing a bit and rolling my eyes.
She laughed. “You have a
lot more boob under that blouse than I thought,” she said.
That just made me blush
“What are you, thirty-four?
“None of your business!”
She pressed her hand flat
against my upper stomach a few inches under my breasts. Not touching anything,
in other words, but pressing the fabric of my blouse in more.
“Hmm, maybe a
thirty-four-B,” she said, before I shoved her hand back.
“I'm a thirty-four-C,” I
said in annoyance.
Well, partly in annoyance,
partly because I was proud that I wasn't flat chested anymore. In a way, Sierra
represented the cool girls who had mocked my being flat. I didn't want her
thinking I was smaller than I was because... well just because!
It was stupid. I mean, what
did I care what she thought about my breast size! I had no reason to want to
impress her! Except that I was kind of starved for, something. Certainly I
wasn't a girl who got a lot of compliments.
“Oooo. I'm jealous,” she
said, staring at my chest. “I'm only a thirty-two-C
“I don't care!” I said,
giving her a stern look.
“You should wear tighter
“I don't want men staring at
“Why not? They stare at
“They do not!” I said, half
“Oh yes they do. I've seen
them in the hall, in the cafeteria, and when you walk down the aisles
I scowled. “Well, men are
pigs,” I said.
But again, I wasn't really
displeased, just startled, and wary she was just teasing me, just making that
stuff up. I had never seen myself as attractive, after all. I mean, okay, there
was nothing wrong with my face, and without the glasses I suppose I'd be pretty
enough. I'd tried contact lenses once, but putting stuff into my eyeball was
“Now let's get back to
work,” I said firmly.
“Okay. Can I touch your
She snickered, but I wasn't
taking the query seriously. I mean, I knew she was just teasing me and I knew
she wasn't gay.
But I did have more
fantasies about her, some of them quite depraved.