She has just turned forty, but before you make that mental image of her subtract ten years. She could easily pass for thirty. Sheâs kept herself fit and trim and she has the energy of someone at least ten years younger. When I met her a dozen years ago she still looked to be in her late teens instead of a woman approaching thirty. Sheâs not the big-breasted, long-legged woman that seems to be the norm in these stories. She is, in fact, only 4 feet 11 inches tall. I know because one of her catch phrases is, âWhat I wouldnât give for one more inch, to be 5 feet tallâŚâ She has hair thatâs colored at the salon on a regular basis to be a golden blonde. She keeps it cut to where it just touches her shoulders. She has legs that are to die for, soft and smooth, but muscular. Her eyes are brown and so is the small tuft of hair above her cunny. She wears a size zero. There are many stores she canât shop because even the petite sizes are too big for her. Now she has found a specialty store that caters to small women, but early on she often had to buy clothes off the childrenâs rack. I met her before the days of the Wonderbra, so I know that what she shows now is not all her. As I go on youâll see that I have more than that to prove it. To me, she is the ideal woman. She is beautiful in a womanly way and still has an air of innocence about her because she has a childâs body. One day, when I made a comment about her ass, she said, âYeah, right, the ass of a twelve-year-old girl.â Let me tell you, there are a lot of twelve-year-old girls out there who wish they had an ass that firm and tight. Iâm not a pedophile, but this girlish quality about her just does something extra for me.
Anyway, I reported to my new job early one Monday morning. I met my boss, and we sat at the break room table waiting for time to start. I was sitting with my back to a window with the sun shining in on a Spring day. In walks Gloria to stand next to the time clock. It was all I could do not to jump up and try some line on her. She looked like something that had stepped right out of my fantasies and into my life. Because of the bright sunlight behind me she didnât even notice that I was there. My boss didnât say anything by way of introduction, so she just punched her card at the right time and left the room. I didnât inquire about her because I didnât know the politics of the situation. What if this was my new bossâs girlfriend and I came on to her? So, I bided my time and waited for the answers to come to me.
I later learned that she was not someoneâs girlfriend, she was someoneâs wife and that she was very happy to be married to him. She was one of those women who didnât fool around, even though guys hit on her every day. This only made her more appealing to me, as I had been married more than once and every wife or girlfriend Iâd ever had had cheated on me at some time. I settled for being friends with this delightful creature and taking every opportunity to steal a glimpse up her skirt or down her blouse. She likes to wear her skirts above the knee and she has this habit of sitting with one leg up under her and the other crossed over it. Even with the most modest of skirts she shows a lot of leg. Over time we got to be good friends and started going out for lunch now and then. She would pay one time and Iâd pay the next. She began to confide in me and I reciprocated. Thatâs where it stayed for ten years, just good friends. During that time my boss moved on to bigger and better things and I inherited his job, and his secretary, Gloria.
Then, one day it changed. She confided in me that her husband wasnât giving her what she needed. Sheâd made some comments from time to time about their love life and it seemed that everything was fine between them. But, as she said, âYouâve heard those stories about how a woman reaches a certain age and she wants more? Well, itâs true. I want more and heâs not giving me more. In fact, heâs giving me less. I know his job is physical. He works hard and he doesnât have the energy he had twenty years ago, but knowing that doesnât help me. I have needs and heâs not coming through for me. And worst of all is that he still calls me his âLittle Girlâ. Iâve been short all my life and taken all the jokes about being the shortest one in class all through school. Iâm a woman and he doesnât see it.â
Well, I tried to do the right thing, I really did. This was my friend, the one who brought all her problems to me and trusted me. Also, she was my secretary, the one person in the whole company that I could lose my job over. Also, her husband really is six foot four and able to turn me into a pretzel if he were ever to find out. I told her that this doesnât mean he doesnât love her or want her. I told her that she needs to make it plain to him what she wants. I told her that sometimes a manâs body wonât do what he wants it to do. I told her that I couldnât help her with her problem. Believe me, it wasnât easy to do this when I really wanted to lay her down and ravish her that very moment, but I managed to do the right thing. She listened and said that she knows all that, but it doesnât help.