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Firsts |
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By Margo Perry
First Design
Friday meant I’d survived a work week in this fashion house where I felt like the ugly duckling amongst swans. The very signage intimidated me and I longed to rush back to the library stacks where you reached for books, instead of the stars. Books didn’t pity my over-sized breasts, make-up-less face, or lack of fashion sense. Books didn’t remind me that I looked nothing like Libby, the beautiful sister I’d replaced. I was a black and white maid’s uniform, stuck on a rack of Technicolor designer gowns and my heart thumped with anxiety.
You work here now. There’s no turning back.
As soon as I opened the heavy double doors and my foot touched the exquisite hand-knotted Oriental carpet, excitement hit me like hot air from an oven set to broil. Vanilla and cinnamon enhanced the smell of regular coffee and the reception area was too busy and happy for 8:30 AM. The usually aloof President’s assistant was leaning over the curved mahogany desk, too involved in conversation with the receptionist to notice me or respond to my greeting. Their disinterest was a godsend. I scurried past them and down the hall to my office.
“Hi, Sarah.”
“Hi.”
I stared at my boss, Amy, always gorgeous, but today spectacular. Her blonde helmet of a hairdo shone, her vibrant blue eyes popped, and fire engine red lipstick accentuated her lush lips. Body perfect, her tanned and toned legs travelled the considerable distance from her double breasted beige shorts suit to matching high platform pumps. She was the knockout who brought men to their knees just by acknowledging them and, in this lonely place, she was my oasis.
This job, like the clothes we’d worn as children, was a hand-me-down from my sister.
“You’re being offered the job, sight unseen,” she’d said, after telling me that she’d sold her novel and quit this job. “Think of the raise in salary. Think of the people you’ll meet instead of being stuck alone in the library basement.”
That’s what terrifies me. I love being in the basement.
She’d sold Amy, her expertise, her willingness to show me the ropes. She’d sold Pres as the perfect boss who was always available and who’d suddenly take the whole bunch to lunch or dinner. Libby loved First Design, loved working with Amy, and she shovelled her enthusiasm over me until I was drowning in it, unable to resist. “Amy’s a rare and beautiful flower. She might seem the consummate conciliator, but she’s also tough enough to take on the most difficult customers and stubbornly flourish, no matter the season or circumstance.”
In just four days, I’d realized that my sister’s assessment was no exaggeration. Amy taught me how to answer difficult complaints, by phone and email, how to return and extract merchandise from our warehouse, how to handle the concerns of salesmen, in boutiques or on the road somewhere. Everybody loved Amy, except for the few women who were jealous of her good looks, independence and seeming autonomy, but I really liked her. She’d been nothing, but good to me.
“What’s the buzz? Everybody’s dressed to kill. Am I missing something?”
“Pres is back from Asia. He’ll be in later today,” Amy said.
“Why is everybody all dressed up? Will he administer a fashion test that I’m sure to fail?”
Amy burst out laughing. “No, but Pres is the kind of guy you want to impress and please. You’ll see. He’s really a great guy.”
Amy’s smile was wistful.
“You look like you really care about him. Are you two having a thing?”
A loud knock and the office door bursting open saved her from answering.
“Here are the swatches of fabric and their breakdown,” Evelyn Simpson said, throwing her display sheets onto Amy’s desk. “Haven’t you gone a little overboard in the dress department? Shorts in the office?”
I took a good look at Evelyn. She was my opposite: slim as a pencil, neat as a pin and all angles to my curves.
“Amy’s wearing a shorts suit. It’s totally appropriate and I think she looks wonderful,” I said, sticking up for Amy like I’d never do for myself.
Evelyn turned on me, dark eyes glaring. “You, on the other hand make no effort at all. You’re a mess. What made Libby think you’d fit in here?”
“She fits perfectly,” Amy said, placing a firm hand on Evelyn’s back and walking her to the door. “I love you in red. That sheath style fits you perfectly.” Amy was a diplomat of the first order and watching her operate was the education of a lifetime. She closed the door and burst into laughter again. “Don’t mind her. She’d dress us all in sack cloth and ashes, if she could. When it comes to Pres, she wants to be the only fruit in the orchard.”
I remembered what Amy had told me about Evelyn just yesterday. “There’s only one person I’ll warn you about and that’s Evelyn Simpson. She has an unhealthy craving for our President and considers every female employee her competition. He’s been divorced for four years now and, despite all her effort, has shown no interest in her, so her frustration level is constantly and dangerously way above normal.”
“You were right about her and she’s right about me,” I said. “She’s a bitch and I’m a disaster, always have been.”
“You’re forever putting yourself down and it has to stop,” Amy said. She sounded almost angry. “You’re a gorgeous voluptuous woman, but you dress, walk, talk to be ignored. It really has to stop!”
“What do you mean?”
She led me to the windows overlooking the city. “See that world out there? It should be your oyster, but look at yourself.” She dragged me in front of the antique mirror that decorated one corner of our office. “What do you see?”
“Me.”
“No, you see a girl afraid to be a woman; a thirty-four year old feeling like sixty and wrapped in a potato sack of a dress. You’re not working in the stacks anymore. First Wear is a design house, a circus that I insist you join.” She picked up the phone. “Mickey, it’s about Sarah. I’m bringing her over right now. Let’s do it.”
They’d obviously found time to discuss me and I was curious, humbled and vey nervous.
“You’re a diamond posing as cubic zirconia and Mickey and I are just the ones to show you the error of your ways. Let’s go!”
“Don’t we have work to do?”
“Plenty and we’ll get it all done, but, first things first. I want you feeling good about yourself and Pres feeling good that he hired you.”
“It was very nice of him to give me this job, without even meeting me. He took a big chance.”
“Not really. Your sister’s recommendation was enough. When he trusts, he trusts. You must be so proud of Libby. She worked on that novel every spare moment she had and never once neglected her responsibilities. We were all thrilled when it sold.”
“Me, too. She’s my sister, all talent and beauty, and nice to boot. Just like you.”
“And you.”
“Not really. You and Libby are the beauties to my beast.”
“Libby blames your mother for your lack of self awareness. She said she punished you because you were smart and rewarded her because she was the beauty contest material your mother always wanted to be. Libby hated all those competitions your mother dragged her to and envied your ability to learn.”
“I know. Libby always had my back, but our mother seemed perpetually aggrieved, like she’d missed her boat and blamed me for being late.”
“Never mind, she’s passed on and it’s you that matters.”
“Tell me about the President.”
“His name is Martin Fulbright, but around here he’s just Pres. His door is always open, if we have a problem, but he never sticks his oar in our day to day stuff. If a dispute involves four figures or more, I run it past him. His judgements are thankfully consistent which makes working for him a charm of a life.”
“He seems too good to be true.”
“You’ll see,” Amy chuckled. “As you know, he pays way above minimum wage and cares about all of us. That’s why everybody’s so turned on today. They miss him. Where this department is concerned, he believes that, not only is the customer always right, but must always be made whole, whether they have grounds or not. Our line is pricey, so we’ll often have returns that have been worn for some special occasion. We’re instructed to refund them and apologize for whatever excuse they’ve conjured up.”
“Doesn’t that lead to waste?”
“No, it leads to grateful women at a downtown shelter, one of Pres’ favourite charities. It’s rumoured that his wife abused him and he left her, after three months rather than return the favour.”
“A man of good judgement.”
“As you’ll see, our President is quite beyond cool. The man could start a cult and every one of us would follow.”
“Sounds like you’ve already joined.”
There was something in her tone every time she even said Pres and I wondered for the second time this morning whether they had a thing going. I would never bring it up again. I’d keep my eyes open and respect the privacy of whatever I noticed.
In the design room, Mickey, and her assistant, Jimmy, were analyzing me as a professor would a particularly obtuse conundrum. Circling me, they nodded or frowned, and I felt true terror at the prospect of hearing that I was indeed a hopeless case. Nothing could be done to save me.
“Man,” Jimmy said. “If I had your tits and eyes, I’d drive a Lamborghini and be Mrs. Pres.”
“Preach, Jimmy,” Amy said.
They talked about and touched my tits and ass and all parts in between. My tits had always been too large for my frame and I’d always felt fat in comparison to my svelte sister. My catlike grey eyes and chiselled face featured my Mexican mother, while Libby’s cool beauty mirrored the image of our Swedish dad.
“What’s your favourite colour?” Mickey asked me.
“Black.”
“Try a colour,” Amy suggested.
“Black is fine,” Mickey said. “We need her to be comfortable.”
They chattered on and my mind went blank as Mickey tucked and pinned and turned me this way and that. It was like they were speaking a foreign language and I’d never felt so naked and vulnerable.
Thank God I’m wearing my new underwear.
“Here you go,” she said, finally, handing me back my dress. “We’ll need a couple of hours.” Mickey picked up her phone. “I’m sending the next model up with a pic of what we’re going for. Do us proud.”
Model? Were they laughing at me?
“We’ll send the dress up, when we’re done,” Mickey said, handing Amy a photo.
A million questions were swarming my brain, but Amy was on the move and I knew my job was to keep up.
I’m a project.
The illustration was of a black number with ¾ sleeves. The pencil skirt hugged the curves of the body and sported a sexy side slit. The neckline was nothing short of flirtatious and the right accessories would transform it from office to party wear in a second. It looked nothing like the shapeless material I’d been pinned into and I felt both disappointed and relieved. I’d never have what it took to wear a dress like that.
“Onward and upward,” Amy said.
The elevator took us up to the penthouse suite.
“Here’s where the beautiful people live,” she explained. “Hair makeup, shoes, all the trimmings can be found here.”
“What are we doing here?”
Amy didn’t answer. She passed the picture to a suited man who looked from me to the picture and back again.
“Shoe size?”
“8”
“Haircut or styling.”
“What would you suggest?” Amy asked.
The man called Mr George unloosed the ponytail that was controlling my thick dark mop and ran his fingers through to my scalp. I felt like a manikin.
“Clean. Gorgeous. Make-up. Let’s go.”
Thank God I washed my hair this morning.
The next two hours were a blur of activity. People messed with my hair, until it hung, parted on one side, over my shoulders and down my back. Whatever they’d done to it, it smelled like real lemon and was softer to the touch than it had ever been. I only pretended to look at the mirror they’d shoved at me. I was afraid of the change. They put makeup on my face and stuffed product in a bag which they insisted I take, product that I had no idea how to apply.
“I’ll show you how to maintain later,” Amy said, staring at my face, nodding and smiling.
My tits were fitted into bra after bra, until they were no longer hidden, but emphasized with shameless pride, much to my chagrin. Finally, the magic dress arrived and was slipped over my head and shoulders. It flowed over my hips. Next, a pair of stiletto pumps and I was done.
“Oh my,” Amy said, glowing.
“An absolute knockout,” Mr. George said, nodding and bowing.
I had no idea how I looked, but I felt out of body special.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Amy asked, as we rode the elevator.
“Not since college,” I said. “I fell in love and he lost interest the moment I lost my virginity, without pleasure or applause. There’s been no one since.”
Amy wrapped her arms around me. “You haven’t a clue, but your life is about to change. I’m going to see to it.”
Whatever she meant, I knew it was coming from a well of kindness and I was grateful. I walked behind her down the hall, my clothes and flats in a model’s bag I’d been gifted. I felt tall. I felt different. I felt dismembered from my old body and self.
“We’ll report to Mickey, grab some lunch and then work the afternoon away. You look fantastic, don’t you agree?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t lie and I couldn’t admit that I’d closed my eyes, passing up every opportunity to see the new me.
There seemed to be a party going on when we reached the Design Department.
“Pres,” Amy shouted, rushing across the room.
I stopped breathing. The man had to be six-four or five, his square jaw and deep set dark eyes too intense to be handsome. Instead he was imposing, powerful and almost threatening, more business tycoon than designer.
“The girl who keeps our customers and salesmen happy,” he boomed.
His voice was as deep as Old Man River’s. He wrapped Amy in a giant bear hug, as Evelyn, invisibly attached to his elbow, glared, huffed and puffed.
“There’s somebody I want you to meet, your latest employee, Libby’s sister. Come, Sarah.”
Something was happening. This man was almost ugly, in a way, but I’d never been as overwhelmed by any man.
“You look fantastic,” Mickey whispered into my ear.
Pres and Amy were moving through the crowd of employees toward me. I could feel the blush moving through my body, vermillion and scorching hot. I had no sex life. I rarely masturbated, but now my mind and all my senses were emanating from my pussy. I felt delirious with horniness.
We stood staring at each other.
“Pres meet Sarah. Sarah … Pres.”
I stuck out my hand awkwardly, fearing that it was damp with excitement. He took it in both his own. His hands were graceful, but huge and electricity flowed through them. I was embarrassed as my breath became laboured and uneven and my huge breasts swelled and jiggled involuntarily. He was staring at them, at my tits, his eyes glinting with desire and I suddenly loved them, loved my tits ferociously. My pussy pulsed with unbidden pleasure, growing damp with anticipation.
This is a first. I’ve lost my mind.
“Hello, Sarah,” he said. I looked into his eyes and then down at the huge bulge in his jeans. A coiled snake of a leather bracelet encircled his thick wrist and that turned me on. I could feel pussy juice, knew that my pants were damp in this world so new. He pulled Amy aside, but I could hear. “Call and make a reservation somewhere. Let’s take Sarah to lunch, welcome her to the team in style. Meet me in my office.”
“Nice to be back,” he said, to everyone in particular, before striding from the room.
“We did better than we could have imagined,” a beaming Mickey said.
“I’m pumped,” Amy said.
“So we’re all going to lunch?” Evelyn asked.
“He wasn’t talking to us. We’re not invited,” Mickey said. “Get going you two.”
The look Evelyn gave me could have killed.
In less than a minute, we were back in the office and Amy was on the phone making lunch reservations.
“Reservation for Martin Fulbright. 12:30. Good idea. Make it the East Room, overlooking the lake. For two please.”
She hung up.
“You meant three.”
“I’ll be right back, Amy said.
Grateful that a bathroom was next door, I claimed a stall, slipped down my undies and sat. For the first time in my life, I needed to touch myself more than I needed to pee. I touched myself. There. Caressed the nub of my swollen clit. Stars fell and erotic pleasure surged all through my groin. My clit teetered on the edge of pleasure/pain. My pussy dripped with lust and then exploded so hard, so violently that my body convulsed before sagging in the aftermath of my orgasm. I was a spent, a sexually obsessed crazy woman and all I could think of was him, his power, and the huge bulge I’d seen.
I cleaned myself carefully, washed my hands and looked at my image for the first time since I’d been renovated. I saw a woman, a sultry woman with cascading waves of hair, an exposed bosom with rivers of cleavage, a woman with eyes glazed with want. I thought of Pres and my heartbeat raced again. I wanted him. I wanted to be the woman in the mirror who’d inspired his cock to madness.
Amy was waiting in the office.
“I’ll speak frankly because there’s no time for coy. There’s something going on with you two and you don’t need a chaperone. I told Pres that I had work to do and he was relieved. That says it all.” She stood right in front of me. “He’s waiting at the elevator. Follow you heart and your instincts. Now, go.”
She pushed me out the door and I have no idea how my shaky legs got me to the elevator. The two of us waited. I could feel his power, his need matching mine. It was glorious. He took my hand, as we stepped into the elevator. He stared into my eyes and watched them fill with tears of longing. And then we kissed, my mouth loose with desire. His tongue probing, claiming, seducing, fucking. My tits were squeezed against his chest and I could feel his cock pressing into my pubic bone. I wasn’t myself. I was mad with lust.
We crossed the garage quickly, to his limo, where a driver held the door open for us.
“Give us a minute,” he said.
We climbed in.
“This is at least lust at first sight, plus more,” he said. “I haven’t had any real interest in a woman since my divorce; until now that is. You are the most alluring creature I’ve seen in years and I admit to being very hungry for you.” I squirmed as I felt my heat rising, again to fever pitch. “I need to know how you feel.”
“I haven’t had anybody since college,” I said. “I’m crazy about you,” I blurted out, before I could stop myself.
He tugged off my panties and positioned me comfortably on the seat, before lowering his head.
“You’re so ready,” he growled.
He licked, sucked, stroked and ate me to another orgasm. I tasted cum as we kissed after, as I massaged the largest cock I’d ever felt in my life. It would hurt, thrusting inside my tight, almost virginal pussy and I wanted it to, wanted him at all cost.
He unzipped himself. I took his cock in both my hands. I caressed it, stroked it and toyed with his foreskin before lowering my head. I worshipped that cock, stroking it before taking it into mouth. I loved his groans of pleasure, his demanding hands on my head. I licked it, ate it and nibbled it. I used my tongue and teeth, fingers and hands to arouse him. I felt his climb.
“You’d better stop.”
I couldn’t. My strokes got faster and I added my mouth to the fucking of his cock and soon he came in giant spurts in my mouth. So much cum. It dribbled from my mouth, even after I had swallowed more than once.
We cleaned up and he held me, silently, and for a long time.
“Let’s save the rest for later. Hungry?”
“Starving.”
He lowered the window. “We’re ready,” he told the driver.
We snuggled our way to the restaurant and enjoyed a lovely lobster quinoa risotto with a light white wine. I don’t know what made him so easy to talk to, but I lay my life at his feet, without fear and without reservation. I told him how I’d looked when I came to work that morning and how Mickey and Amy had made me over. It amused him. I told him I didn’t know whether I could be the woman they’d created. He told me that a designer could only enhance what already existed.
It was three before we returned to the limo.
“I have a few things to attend to at the office,” he said. “Will you have dinner with me later?”
I giggled. “You’re going to make me fatter than I already am.”
“As long as you’re you, the more the better,” he said, as we walked hand in hand toward First Design.
“This is the first time I’ve almost fucked before the first date,” I said, bold in my new found bliss.
“This is the first time I’ve almost fucked before or after a first date.”
“This is the first time I’ve almost fucked my boss.”
“This is the first time I’ve almost fucked an employee who happens to be the woman of my erotic dreams. I’ll be a slave to your tits, you know.”
I giggled like a schoolgirl.
“I’ll call when I’m ready to leave the office. We’ll have drinks at my condo and I’ll cook, if I can keep my hands off you long enough.”
“I’ll be waiting and I won’t breathe a word of us to anyone.”
“I know women and you’re dying to tell someone. Let’s share our first secret. Nobody knows, but Amy is my niece. She’s going to be a big part of this business, but wants to learn from the ground up. She knows me like the back of her hand and will know whether we tell her or not.” He laughed and laughed, just like Amy. “This is anything but casual,” he said, putting his arms around me. “Soon, everyone will know.”
We had dinner at his city condo and spent the weekend making love. I was supposed to renew my apartment lease on Monday. I didn’t. I moved in with a man for the first time.
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