Chapter One

 

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 question.

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 I became somewhat withdrawn and shy, and after a couple of embarrassing experiences with boys - I was flat chested and they made sure to inform everyone they knew about everything we did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 insurance company.

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 with.

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 to care.

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 like that!

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 once.

She just grinned. "Yeah, but if you've got a ring you can lead them around by the nose. And I got a ring, Amanda."

She pointed down between her legs and I blushed, as I did a lot when she talked.

"That's just wrong," I said in disapproval.

I was at my desk, as usual. She was leaning against the panel at the opening of the cubicle, chatting, gossiping mostly.

"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 wearing!"

She laughed, rather than being insulted.

"And you," she said.

"Me!? I dress properly for work!"

She smirked down at me. "You dress like a librarian, Amanda."

I stared at her in confusion. "So?"

"A sexy librarian," she said.

"Don't be ridiculous!" I sputtered.

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 snapped.

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 librarian too!?

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 wasn't gay!

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 more.

"What are you, thirty-four? Thirty-four B?"

"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 tops."

"I don't want men staring at my boobs."

"Why not? They stare at your butt."

"They do not!" I said, half scandalized.

"Oh yes they do. I've seen them in the hall, in the cafeteria, and when you walk down the aisles delivering mail."

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 too freaky!

"Now let's get back to work," I said firmly.

"Okay. Can I touch your boobs?"

"No!"

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.