Oliver Benjamin
intelligent, motivated and ruthless sea-cow of a woman. Though he
found her unappealingly heavy she was not what she seemed at first
glance. She turned out to be a blessing in disguise, surprisingly sexy
even.
One night, when she offered to service his exhausted body he was
reminded how nice it was to fuck fat women. After his first wife
passed away, he no longer had to settle for this lower rung of the
sexual scale. But his new secretary had literally contained him in her
flesh; it was like returning to the womb and he told her so. “The belly
of the whale,” she whispered in his ear as his harpoon softened inside
her.
Full of life, he found her a nice counterbalance to the thin, bored
models he normally bedded. And as his secretary, she gave him no
lip, asked for nothing, and gave him no grief. Apparently a good
salary and a beachfront apartment was all she was after. He was
happy to provide her with both. He had also given her a great deal of
responsibility and she quickly submerged herself in her work.
Now, as she combed his hair and massaged his neck, checked to
see that his tie was on straight and patted him on the ass, he realized
that perhaps she was an ideal replacement for the others he had lost.
His first wife and Colin had never understood him. And while Ellie
and Roy had been his equals, they were all too human. His son with
Ellie had been a hopeless dream.
This one was a tangible, elemental, physical, unstoppable force.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” she said. He smiled. This was her joke. She
was a lioness and he was a tiger.
“Why don’t you sit in on this one. I want you to see that when the
wind blows, the bough breaks, and the little babies fall groveling at
your feet.” She smiled and followed him out of the office like a
bodyguard. “Oh, and Leona,” Bidden quickly added, “What are you
using to sweeten my milk? It tastes a little different lately.”
She smiled and rubbed his back, “It’s an alternative sweetener.
No calories.”
“Fine,” he nodded, “I do need to lighten up a bit.”
They entered the conference room where Joe Thompson, the
president of The Coffee Vine, Inc. had been kept waiting for over an
hour. He was a short, earnest-looking fellow who probably loved his
company and his employees and had once believed there would
always be room in the coffeehouse market for one more eager
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