There is one in every office – the person who doesn't get dates and is not even asked to go for coffee with his or her own same sex colleagues.
Bunny Richards was the girl like that in our office and it easy to see why she was 'invisible'.
How's this for starters: she's shy, short, skinny, wears scant make-up and non-descript clothes and blushes terribly whenever one of us cracks a sexy joke or engages in disgusting repartee.
It also doesn't help her being the only female in the office with thirteen male co-workers.
I'm Vinnie Hagen her supervisor and this is my story about how I helped Bunny find true romance.
At the time of this story I was shagging Viv who works at the mall and Peggy who manages a women's apparel shop. Viv and Peggy have never met, and I worked damn hard to ensure it stayed that way! Know what I mean?
So I sits at my desk smoking a joint (just kidding, I was chewing the end of my pencil) looking at Bunny and thinking she was a damn hard worker, probably the most productive of all of us. Of course, she lives at home, goes to bed early and isn't screwing so has tons of energy to put into work, doesn't she?
Bunny looks up, sees me watching her and turns pink. I flick my comb through my hair and wink at her, and she turns red. So I cup my imaginary breasts and jiggle them. She turns scarlet and flees the room. That girl really does have problems.
At lunchtime that same day the staff café is very full and I see Bunny standing holding her tray looking at the only empty seat near where she'd standing. It's right next to me, so I wave to her, and she turns away and stares at the ceiling. So I go over, grab the tray from her and encourage her to follow by saying, "Don't be stupid, follow me and take this vacant seat."
It was an inauspicious start, actually, but that's how Bunny became my protégé, which was very much to her advantage.
She always wore bright colored dresses, so I advised her to wear black and any shade of blue as that seems to take the emphasis of shortness off short women. Also she was told to get out of those ridiculously high platform shoes and acknowledge her shortness is forever and that whatever she has on her feet she'd still be short.
I could see that she was trying to get away as she kept looking at the exit but I decided to keep up the pressure. I asked her out for a drink after work – it was Friday.
Oh boy, did she panic. You would be excused for thinking I'd asked her for a fuck.
She turned crimson and her mouth opened and shut repeatedly; she was vocally muted as if struck down by some terrible disease out of an abandoned former French Colony.
I became sympathetic: "Well, do you want to come or not?"
She shrugged, pointed to her mouth. So I passed across my unfinished glass of juice which she sipped, almost gargled with, and then swallowed.
"Thank you, Vincent."
The bitch, using that foul name my parents had tossed on to me before divorcing. But at least she'd re-fired her vocal engine. I wondered if it were the first time in the history of mankind that a woman had failed to say something after opening her mouth?
"I really would like to accept your kind invitation but I am stricken with apprehension, for you see, I've never before been invited on a real date and I've never been into a bar. That explains why just now I was overcome with anxiety that my etiquette and general behavior may be inappropriate."
Date? I had no idea who'd provoked that thought in her mind, but it wasn't me. I attempted to ease her fears about bar drinking.
"Look bunny, these are the rules: Don't get into fights; don't get caught shagging in the men's restroom; if you're going to vomit aim for the potted palms – that's why there're there. And don't worry about passing out, I'll take you home, if I remember to pick you up when I'm leaving."
Bunny looked decidedly relieved, saying it appeared that everything was well organized and she would consider it an honor to be under my experienced wing.
I then mentioned that my friends Rex, Antonio and Philip would be there with us.
"But I'm not into gang bangs," she whispered, turning sheet white.
"Aw, no-one is into GB's these days," I replied, trying to think of a convincing rebuttal. "Guys have taken an intellectual approach to where they put it about and it has been proven conclusively that it is sexually inefficient standing about waiting for your turn."
"That seems a reasonable approach. I am very much relieved."
I smiled, took her hand and kissed it with amazing delicacy for me. I said gravely: "Your virginity is safe in my hands" without meaning to be so ambiguous.
"I'm not a virgin."
You could have knocked me over with a feather. Who in the world would have gotten into her knickers? I would be fascinated to hear that story and here was I thinking that I'd have to find a way of teaching her that there was more than one use for that mid-frontal orifice.
Me and the boys stayed for our usual three hours, drinking more than our share of beer and yet again cleaning out the bar of free peanuts.
Bunny had lasted an hour before she looked pie-eyed after three margaritas so I put her in a cab and she was coherent enough to give the driver her address. She thanked me for "a chipper of an evening" and we waved instead of kissing.
We guys left together and walked home as it was nearby and as it happened we share an apartment.
Without anything being said, Bunny and I began lunching together every day. I got a bit nervous and told her I had a girl friend, actually two, and she had enough courage to tell me it was awful of me to be sharing my affections.
I just grinned and said I had enough to share around and she laughed and called me a naughty boy. I was so encouraged about that – obviously she was capable of interacting socially including conversationally like a normal person.
But those clothes! She'd taken my advice and was now exclusively dressed in either black or blue, but only dresses and they looked like horse covers. So by appointment one afternoon after work I took Bunny to meet Peggy. I introduced them and left them at it, Peggy agreeing to spend an hour giving Bunny her views on overall dress sense, then specific advice.
Bunny came to work next day in a usual boxy dress but was highly excited. She told me that Peggy was such a charming woman that she was amazed that I could two-time Peggy. I gave Bunny my handsome sullen look and she called me a naughty boy. I was aware, then, that Bunny was growing on me, somewhat – like a little sister I guess.
As it was Friday we were to meet the boys at the bar, but Bunny said she'd meet me there as Peggy had ordered in a new dress and some other things for her.
We'd already sunk three beers each when Bunny arrived. Antonio saw her first and went "Wow!" and we turned around to take a look at presumably a big-tit blonde who'd winked at him. But no, it was just Bunny.
But glory be, what a bunny! She was in a black lace dress, scooped low in the front, short at the bottom. Oh, my. The girl actually had tits and cute freckles over the expanse above them.
Her tits, er, boobs, were encased in a bright silky red bra with no effort being made to hide the bra; it could be seen through the lace as was the slip thing below it, and the top of the bra was out above the top of her dress but looked perfectly natural as if it were meant to be like that.
Then Bunny began sipping her first Margarita with pride while we just looked at her in awe as she sat on the stool, knees slightly parted and a patch of bright silky red panties tyere for all to see. We could also see a patch of white flesh above the stocking tops – stockings, not panty hose!
We'd gotten used to it and began talking, me noticing the conversations we had were no longer exclusively about dames, sport and booze. They were still discussed, of course, we are only human, but the guys were asking Bunny for cooking tips and we were talking about music and holiday spots of the world and books.
Books? I thought the guys only read wank magazines but between them they could keep a pretty good conversation going with Bunny about A-list books and A-list authors. This was truly amazing and I found myself adding my pennyworth.
She astounded us that evening by coming out and being so knowledgeable about cars, although she didn't own one but had two brothers who were fanatical.
When I returned from the restroom, Antonio whispered that Philip had invited Bunny out to dinner the following nigh and she'd accepted. Although anger swept through me this did not surprise me as I had already accepted that I was becoming possessive of Bunny. I had decided to control it and this date would assist me to do that as it posed a real challenge.
The climate around Bunny, my Bunny, was certainly changing. When she finished her third drink and went out to flag down a taxi, all four of us went out. We lined up; she solemnly kissed all four of us on the cheek, having to stand on tip-toes to reach mine because I was easily the tallest. That's why I though it was appropriate for her to go out with Philip; he is five-six, only a couple of inches taller.
We were rather quiet back in the bar until a big-tit redhead walked in and acknowledge our leers with a cute wave, which got us revved up again.
The next evening I sent Philip back to change into a suit and back again to polish his shoes. Bunny would be dressing up and so should he,
"It should be you taking her out," he grumbled. "She's your protégé."
My protégé; what the fuck was he talking about? No-one was supposed to know, not even Bunny that I was secretly working to coax her out of her shell.
I heard Philip arrive home just before 2:00. That was very, very late for dinner; they must have gone to a hotel and taken a short-term room. I was upset and immediately recognized this thing that was twisting my insides – jealously. I should have been ashamed, as I had no claim, but my mind wouldn't allow me to acknowledge that.
Fortunately next morning when I emerged for breakfast, my jealously had gone. I asked Philip how the evening went and he said only one word, "Magnificently". I felt no reaction, and was glad about that.
