The Billionaire's BBW Secret (4 page)

She sighed, and made her way back
out.  She had no idea how to feel.

All she knew was that she sure she
wasn't going to last long in this job.

*****

The rest of the week was the same. 
Every morning Denny went into Larson's office, and by the afternoon she felt
despondent and dejected.  Not only was she doing seemingly nothing up to Larson's
standards, but he insisted on somehow surrounding himself with beautiful women
nearly all the time.  First there was the photo shoot, then some sort of
charity event with bikini models, then a re-shoot of the calendar.

She sighed as she saw her
reflection in the shiny glass of the double doors on the huge building.  Every
day she became more and more aware of her own body.  She felt like a lumbering
hippo next to the sleek and svelte figures of the women Larson surrounded
himself with.

She was fat.  She knew it.  She got
it.  So why did Larson insist on rubbing it in her face, day after day?

Not today.  Today was Friday, and
after a full week on the job, Denny had made her decision.  Despite the salary,
despite the comfort and the perks of the job, she was going to quit.  No amount
of money was worth going through the ridicule she endured day after day.  It
wasn't worth the insults, the chiding, and the derogatory comments.  She could
and would find another job elsewhere.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled
her nerves and pounded her way past the glass doors, her high heels clicking on
the cold marble floors of the lobby.  She felt more purpose in her stride, in
her very body, than she'd ever felt before.  She knew what she wanted now, and
that helped her against the cold stares of the gorgeous brunette receptionist. 
She lifted her chin and swept by the girl.  She wouldn't be afraid.

Despite her new found courage, she
felt her nerves begin to rise with she stepped into the elevator.  She could
see her reflection, her plump face looking back at her with disdain, her cheeks
still rosy from the brisk weather outside.

Her skirt looked good on her, damn
it all.  It hugged her plentiful curves in all the right places, and she looked
beautiful.

From that moment on, Denny resolved
to not let those thin bitches get to her.  She wasn't going to let Larson get
to her.  She was going to quit and get out of this toxic work environment.

She felt a flutter in her rib cage
when the elevator dinged and the door opened at the proper floor, though.  She
was still nervous.

Nerves or no, she stepped out and into
the short hallway, making her way to the door marking Larson's office.  She was
going to do this.  Come hell or high water, she was going to stand up for
herself, and then leave.

“Oh.  It's you,” Lola sneered as
soon as Denny walked into the room.  “I should have known.  It sounded like a
herd of elephants out there.”

At first a flush began to rise in
Denny's plump cheeks, but she steeled herself once again.  What did she care
what Lola thought of her?  Why was she trying so hard to earn the woman's respect? 
What did she have to lose if she was snippy right back at her?

“I'd rather be an elephant than a
shambling skeleton,” she said in a biting manner.  For just a moment, Lola
looked surprised, but she quickly composed her features into the prude shrewish
look she always wore.

“You look like you just ate a
lemon,” Denny added before stepping into Larson's office, shutting the vast
wooden doors behind her.  She may have gotten to the woman, but she didn't
care.  This wasn't about insulting people.  It was about standing up for
herself.

Lola was easy enough.  Standing up
to Larson would be quite a bit more difficult, on the other hand.

He wasn't even there yet, and his
office was dark, and seemed very cold at the moment.  Denny shivered and pulled
her coat a little closer before flicking a light switch on.  Then she sat down
in the very chair she was interviewed in not a month ago, and waited.

She heard him before she saw him,
so he had a little time to compose herself, but not much.  Before long, Larson
was busting through the wooden doors, a huge grin on his face.

“Ah, good, good.  Lola said you
were here already.”

“Sir?” Denny asked, feeling
off-kilter already.  Larson had that effect on her and everyone else in his
immediate vicinity.

He turned around and pushed the
doors shut now.  They slid like silent monoliths, hovering above the carpet
before clicking shut, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

“So, it's been a few days now,” he
said, striding around her to stand behind his vast desk.  “How do you like
things here so far?”

“Sir, about tha-” Denny said,
trying to get her thoughts out.  But she was quickly interrupted.

“I know I've been a little hard on
you.  More than a little hard.  But I had a feeling you would be up to the
challenge.” He leaned forward now, his palms flat against the desk as his eyes
glinted in an almost predatory fashion.  Denny felt her skin burn.  He hadn't
shaved in a day or two and stubble dotted his broad jaw.  He looked so
powerful, so handsome...

She shook her head.  Now wasn't the
time for that.  “Yes, sir, about that,” she said weakly, trying again.  “I'm
not sure that I am up to the challenge.”

“Nonsense.”  He stood up again and
made his way around the desk, standing close to Denny.  Very close.  “You've
been exemplary.  I couldn't have picked a better assistant.”
He was so close to her, she could practically feel the heat of his body rolling
onto her skin.  She swallowed and shifted her stance, unsure of what to do or
say next.  This was always how it was with him.

“To be honest,” she said faintly,
“I haven't been getting that impression from you.  And to be frank, but I
haven't felt very welcome here.”

He laughed.  “Of course you haven't. 
Every damned girl in this building applied for this job and it
kills
them to see you with it.  Even Lola out there tried.  She must hate your guts
right about now.”

“I – oh – I see,” Denny said.  It
hadn't even occurred to her that this position would be so coveted.

“It's why I'm so mean to you in
public,” he said lightly, backing off now, rounding his desk yet again.  He
pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping at it as he continued the
conversation.  “Hopefully seeing how terrible the job is will make them not
regret getting it quite so much.  Regardless, they'll warm to you in time, I'm
certain.  Now.”  He jabbed his index finger on the screen of the smart phone.  “Your
list of chores for today.  And I have a favor.  A personal favor.”

“Oh?” Denny said even as her phone
buzzed with his text.  She felt even more off-kilter than before.

“I need you to stop by my apartment
tonight.  I have something personal I'd like you to take care of. 
Very
personal.”  Just then, his voice seemed to drop an octave as his eyes
smoldered. 

Denny felt very weak at the knees
for a few long moments, but then she collected herself and stood taller. 
“What's the favor?” she asked, feeling a little bolder.

“You'll see.  Here's the address. 
Meet me there at seven.”  With that said, he brushed by her as he made for the
door.  Sharp tingles of excitement raced up her body where he connected with
her, but she shoved that feeling down.  This was work.  This was work.

But if it was work, why did it feel
like he was making pass after pass at her this morning?  Denny wasn't stupid. 
She saw the signs.  It couldn't be right though.  Larson had every beautiful
woman in the building, in the city, hanging off his arms and on his every
word.  Why would he choose her and disregard all those other model level
beauties?

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly as he
opened the doors and left the room.  She was alone again.

And somehow all thoughts of
quitting slipped out of her mind, snatched away by the unstoppable hurricane
that was Larson.  He had that effect.

*****

Throughout the entire day, Denny
wondered if she had been imagining things back at Larson's office.  After all,
once they were out in public again, he turned into the same demanding monster
that he always was.  He pointed out every single thing she did wrong and never
praised her.

The only thing keeping her going
through that day was the conversation that morning, and the smoky stares he'd
given her in that office.  Indeed, every time they ended up alone, whether it
was in his car or in the elevator, he began flirting with her again.  He would
look at her a little too fiercely, or stand a little too close to her.  He
would brush a hand against her waist and let it linger there.

And the teasing was driving Denny
insane.  She had no idea what his goal was, or what his plans were.  Was that
all this was; just teasing?  Or was there more?  She felt certain that she
would find out that night, in his home.

So she endured through that
agonizing day, suffering through half an hour of being dressed down, then ten
minutes of seduction.  Her heart raced for different reasons every minute, and
she could feel her skin flush with embarrassment, then anger, then lust.

She couldn't help herself.  Larson
wasn't a man, he was a force of nature.  No woman could resist him, least of
all her.

Finally, the day ended.  At least,
the work day ended.  Now would come the late evening 'favor' that Larson spoke
of to her this morning.

They had separated during the day –
Larson had an appointment with his financial adviser and tax preparer, while
Denny was charged with arranging the pick up and drop off of his latest toy, a
Lamborghini Reventon.

It was a surreal experience, being
behind the wheel of that car, but there she was.  Even as Larson was going over
the numbers on his charitable deductions for the year, she was watching the car
being offloaded from the delivery truck.  She observed as the driver carefully
unwrapped the beast, pulling away white protective plastic and revealing the
slick, metallic gray paint job.  And before she was even aware of it, she was
squeezing her body into the rather cramped cockpit.

How had she gotten herself into
this mess?  She waved off the delivery driver and started the engine.  It
roared to life quickly and responsively, making her entire body vibrate with
the power of that engine.  Denny shivered at that feeling.  She loved the power
in this car already, but she also feared it.  It was like Larson – powerful,
wild, and untamed, and most likely too much for a woman like her.

She supposed she would find out if
that was true soon enough.

Denny only had to drive the super
car a few hundred feet, from the back of the delivery truck and into one of
Larson's private parking spots in the parking garage of his luxury apartment. 
It should have been an easy enough job, but she still felt her body shiver and
tense with nervousness as she popped the car into drive.

Slowly, ever so slowly she inched
forward and turned into the dark belly of the parking garage.  For a moment she
panicked when darkness engulfed her.  She had no idea where the switch for the
headlights was, but after a few moments of fumbling, she found it.

She rolled through the garage now,
going lower and lower as she peered out the window, looking for the appropriate
parking spot.  It was on the fifth level, so she drove on.  Down, down, down
she went, lower and lower into the garage.  The Lambo purred, almost growled
through every level.  She could feel its power underneath her foot, its desire
to be going much faster than it was, but it wouldn't.  Denny might have wielded
the beast, but she was afraid to use it.  She was afraid that she couldn't
control it.  She would only just barely tap the accelerator at all.

Finally, she found the spot and
pulled in, careful not to scratch or ding the Lambo or the cars on either side
of it.  They were two more low-slung super cars, cars that Denny couldn't even
begin to recognize.

They were Larson's, she supposed
with a sobering realization.  He was richer than God.

A flush ran up and down her body, a
warm heat that spread quickly.  Power, wealth, good looks... and here he was,
pursuing her.  The more she thought about it, the more certain she was of it.

But just because she was certain of
it didn't mean she understood it.  As she climbed out of the low-slung car, she
was painfully aware of her size, her weight, and her complete lack of grace
because of those two things.  She was no catch.  She was the washed-up result
of a messy divorce, certainly not a woman of the caliber that Larson looked
for.

She was curious though, and she had
nothing to lose, so out of the car she fell, and then she made her way up to
his apartment.

It was a penthouse apartment,
naturally, at the very top of the huge building.  She used Larson's keycard to
get into the elevator, and rode it all the way to the top.  Her nerves were on
fire the entire way there.  He probably wasn't there yet.  It was only six and
he'd instructed her to meet him at seven.  It couldn't hurt to be a little
early, though.

Denny gasped when the elevator door
opened after it's long climbed, for it opened directly into the apartment.  Apparently
Larson had the entire floor to himself.  From what she could see, his place was
expansive, a work of modern architectural art.  New York's skyline glittered
brightly in the vast windows, and everything was all lines and angles, so sharp
and precise and modern.  A leather-wrapped dark brown couch faced a massive
television, while a glittering white and square lighting fixture dangled from
the ceiling.  The walls around the television were painted brown as well and
faced in marble, making the place look a little smaller and cozier than it
actually was.  There was a rich, luxurious white carpet placed over the ebony
floor.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of
sheer opulence.  This place must have cost him a fortune.