If You Want Pt 02

"Hey, Mallory. Look, about last night."

I put up my hands. "Whoa. I don't want to talk about it. Really, it's nothing."

"You're sure?"

"Yeppers. Super sure."

And I was sure, at least about the part of my statement that I didn't want to talk about it. It was embarrassing for both of us, and the fact that Grant wasn't too embarrassed to bring it up was only

more

embarrassing. It had been one of the most awkward kisses of my adult life - if that feeble, off-target peck could even be called a kiss.

Honestly? The rest of the date had actually gone really well. He'd scored tickets to a show, and while it wasn't my usual entertainment scene, it had been surprisingly fun. Rather than try to impress me with dinner at an expensive restaurant, he knew a solid little Japanese steakhouse that had been absolutely dynamite. (It was only then, looking at the menu, that I realized he'd skipped the phase of our daily routine of superpower want-fulfillment that pertained to my diet. I was actually allowed to eat

meat

!)

The restaurant had even been close to my apartment, allowing us to take advantage of the perfect seventy-degree evening air to take a leisurely amble home. During our day-time lunch meetups we mostly talked about work stuff, with a smattering of current events. But the ambiance last night, strolling along under stars we could almost see through the city lights, it was easy to broach new subjects. I talked about my family, my hopes for the future, where I thought life would take me when I was finishing up school and how differently things had turned out. And he was such a good listener, letting me open up and showing what felt like genuine interest without judging or trying to control the conversation. A true gentleman.

Then we'd arrived at my apartment, he'd leaned in, and... the rest was history.

"All right. Well regardless, I wanted to say again that I had a really good time."

"Me too." For the most part. I reminded myself it wasn't his fault. I'd always been a cutie, even when I'd let myself go a bit there for a while. With his help upping my diet and exercise game, I was looking hotter than ever. The only fat left on my body was right where I wanted it, booty and boobies, right where it kept all the nice compliments from my supervisor Perry and the rest of the loser boys flowing. (The shoulderless pink romper I'd worn to work today was totally helping.)

Grant, though... It's not his fault he was born that way. Skinny, gangly, a nose just a little bit too big, eyes just a little bit too small. I don't mean he's ugly, only that if people saw us together, they'd probably figure he was my cousin, or a brother-in-law. Maybe my accountant. He simply wasn't in my league. He was a super sweet guy, and I was so grateful for all the nice things he did for me every day. But I just wasn't into him, and that didn't seem likely to change.

"So when can we go out again?" he asked, hope etched on his innocent face.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem to have grasped this fact on his own, and it looked like I was going to have to be the bad guy. But I couldn't jeopar... jeop... whatever, I couldn't lose his help. (Geez, it was even getting hard to

think

the big words now. His power was the real deal!) By now, the first thing we did every day at lunch was sit down and review all the things I wanted but hadn't been able to do on my own, then Grant used his power to make me do them. First was diet and exercise. I wanted to look sexy, so he helped me with that. I worked hard to look smoking hot, and I wanted to look good at work, too - so Grant gave me the guts to flaunt every mouth-watering curve on my body. After nearly overloading myself with a silly desire to be focused and efficient, my helpful coworker was helping me enjoy life on the other end of the spectrum, and he helped me try less, think less, do less.

Not that I was stupid now. I totally didn't wanna be stupid. I just was sooooo tired of worrying about money and bills and expectations and responsibilities and ohmygawd my head hurts just saying these gross ugly words. I wanted to just ignore all the blah and live life in the yay, you know? And if it meant I spaced out sometimes, couldn't come up with words, or couldn't do my job so good... screw it!

(Besides, Grant was sneakily using Perry's desire to have a super-hot girl like me working under him to ignore the shortcomings in my work. Isn't that sweet? Kinda scary, too, to think he could use his power without someone even knowing it, but that's why I didn't think about it. No sense raining on my own parade, right?)

Most recently, after passing my night classes (barely -

sooooo

much brainy work!) and my cooking classes, I finally had time to start dating again. So now? Next on the list was finding a guy to date. I'd thrown Grant a bone that once, but... nice only goes so far.

"Look," I opened. Most guys were smart enough to hear that one word and know things were over, but Grant still looked wide-eyed and innocent. "I had a really fun night last night. I really did. I just think that maybe you and me aren't, like, a good match."

Grant speared a piece of teriyaki chicken from his lunch, not looking concerned. Good. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. "Really? I thought that, aside from one awkward moment, everything went well. Did I do something wrong?"

"No! No, you were so super nice. The show was awesome, dinner was good. Thanks again for letting me have that steak, by the way! I'm doing leg lifts under my desk today to make up for it. But yeah... I think we just didn't

click

. You know what I mean?"

"You're welcome, Mallory. And no, I'm not sure I do. Was it the kiss?"

"I told you, I

don't

want to talk about that."

"It must have been," he pressed, "because other than that, our date went great. You said so yourself."

"OK fine, it was the kiss. No. Not the kiss, exactly, but... I'm just not, like,

attracted

to you. All right? You wanted to make me say it, so there you go." I felt bad, but it was better to be honest than to lead him on.

He nodded. "I thought it was something like that. And I understand. To be honest, I was a little apprehensive about getting involved with someone like you, too."

"App-what?" I took a bite of my modest sized salad.

"Apprehensive," he repeated. "It means nervous."

"Oh. Duh, I knew that. Why would you be nervous about me?"

"Look," he began, and as I felt my heart hammering in my chest, suddenly I realized I was on the other end of that opener. Yikes! This

was

awful! "I like you. I do. You're confident, outspoken, and you know what you want. I think we get along well. But let's face it, Mallory, you're really superficial."

My eyes widened. "What? Are you saying I have powers, like you?" I leaned in close and whispered. "Does that mean I can talk to fish?"

Grant looked thoroughly confused for a moment, then laughed. "Wow. You may want to be a little less simple, Mal. No, superficial means shallow. You're only interested in looks."

My first reaction was disappointment, but then I was indignant. "What? Am not. If I were only interested in hot guys, I wouldn't have gone out with you in the first place!"

"But you admit that other than that, I'm exactly the kind of guy you wanted."

"Oh, totally!" He'd already used his power today, so I was

extra

wanting a guy like him now. The dates would just have to end at the front steps of my building.

"But... don't you want to be with someone you're attracted to?"

"That's what I'm trying to say, duh," I retorted. "I wish I thought of you like that, I really do, but I can't just flip a switch and be into a guy just because he's nice to me!"

But Grant could! I forgot about that. And lucky me, I was dating the man with the world's dumbest superpower, and right then and there he took my wanting to not be a super fish (just kidding!) and turned it into thinking he was... actually kinda cute.

Not

hot

, mind you. Cute. Not like I looked at the guy and swooned in ecstasy. But when he went to kiss me again on date #2, it was actually rather pretty OK. I wasn't thinking about the size of the pores on his nose, but about how much I'd enjoyed his company. That was what dating was for, right? To have a nice time with a nice person. So when he asked me for a third date, I didn't hesitate to say yes.

"So what's on the agenda for tonight?" I asked him at lunch the day of. He was checking out my butt in my new mini skirt while I tried to remember how to work the espresso machine. I'd finally found a skirt that was so tight it shoved both cheeks individually! But today, from Grant, the attention made me smile even bigger than usual.

"Depends on whether you're going to keep wearing that skirt."

I frowned. "Why's that?"

"Because if you're going to look that amazing, I may just bring you straight back to my place and go for the gold."

I giggled. My pussy was the gold. "Who says I won't wear something even funner?"

"I could always swing by early, give you a little guidance." He flashed a hopeful grin as I set down his espresso, cracking open a LaCroix for myself. (As a treat - I'd been extra good this week.)

"I like you Grant, but I think I can pick out my own clothes." I hadn't wiped out my savings on the sexiest wardrobe a data entry technician (didn't something stand for that?) had ever owned.

"What, you don't want to look good for me?"

I did, as it so happened. At first I'd thought he'd been joking, but then Grant showed up half an hour early to our date, just like he'd warned me! I laughed my ass off when I saw him standing there, a cheesy little bouquet of flowers in hand. I was super embarrassed to have someone see the inside of my apartment in its current state, though. My closet had long since overflowed into the bedroom and then into the living room. Plus, I hadn't vacuumed in weeks ever since the vacuum stopped working.

Grant reminded me it needs to be plugged in to work when I apologized, but then I made him apologize for giving me more cleaning to do. I've learned that I enjoy titillating (that word I remember because it has tit in it) the male gaze, but that doesn't mean I want to cook and clean for them, too!

So I gave him a tour of my new wardrobe, which was pretty fun. A lot of the stuff I buy can't really be worn outside the apartment, so nobody gets to see how hot I look in it but me. Sometimes I was tempted to change in front of the window just to have someone to admire me, but I'm no slut. Just proud of what I've done for myself, ya know?

I gave Grant a fashion show! I must've tried on dozens of outfits for him. We started with some of the things I'd been thinking of wearing out - my blue and yellow floral sun dress, that tight purple knee-length skirt and cream-colored silk blouse, a burgundy cashmere sweater dress I'd gotten on sale for only $300 or something. Less sexy than the stuff I wore to work, sure, but all cute enough for a night out.

But I could tell Grant wanted something funner. (Because he told me so.) He'd already seen a lot of my work clothes, short and clingy and low-cut and revealing and drool-inducing. So we skipped right over that stuff to the clothes that definitely crossed the line. Grant definitely liked these better! I showed him my sheer red lace teddy. I'd thought it was a cute dress when I bought it, but then the saleswoman complimented me on my choice in lingerie, so I guess it was technically underwear. There was that electric blue micro mini skirt that I could never quite get to cover both the top and bottom of my ass. I had a matching top that looked like a bikini but wasn't because it was leather and you can't get leather wet. I figured it wasn't too slutty because the matching boots I got with it covered up most of my legs.

Finally, Grant happened to notice one of my costumes sitting off to the side and asked about it. Blushing, I confessed I'd gotten a little carried away and wound up getting a whole bunch of sexy costumes, too. I figured Halloween was coming up in a couple months and I could always send back the ones I didn't wear. I wanted my options available was all. Last year Justine wore a potato costume and I wore a green bean and everybody thought we were making a statement or something, but the only statement I want to make about Justine is: hey, Justine, you suck. Gym memberships aren't that expensive, by the way.

But Grant got a big kick out of them, chuckling it up as I showed off my bondage slave costume (complete with silver chains and buckles and a ball gag); my slutty police cadet uniform, where the blouse ended right under my boobs and the tie came down and turned into panties; and of course the admittedly cliché sexy schoolgirl outfit. I tried to make it my own by going with a black and white checkered skirt instead of the usual tartan pattern, but Grant said the classic look was probably better anyway.

I complained that we were going to take so long playing dress-up that we were going to miss our dinner reservations, but Grant helpfully reminded me I could save time by not bothering to go back into my closet to change. I did want to hurry things along, so... he got himself quite a little show! The way he stared at me when I was in my underwear or naked between outfits, I wondered if we'd ever get out of the apartment!

Sure enough, we didn't. I guess all the stripping and modeling and being leered at got me kind of excited, too, because we wound up making out on the couch for like an hour. Making out like

crazy

. I guess he was super turned on watching me change, and I guess I wanted it, too. I'd thought of Grant as nothing but a coworker for so long that it was weird suddenly having his hands on my boobs and stuff, but...

"We had fun, didn't we?" he asked over lunch the next day.

"Yeah, I guess we did." I giggled at the sweet way he was looking at me. No surprise he was admiring my outfit, since I'd let him pick it out. On the surface it was less daring than my usual - a black knee-length pencil skirt, a snug blazer, and dark stockings with these super high heels - but nobody but me and Grant knew I wasn't wearing

anything

underneath. No blouse, no bra, no panties. My tits were trying to break free every step I took! The guys were going nuts. I wanted him to pick out my clothes all the time now. (I told him so, and he had me add it to the list.)

"When can we do it again? Tonight? Come on, say tonight."

I frowned. "I can't tonight. I have my performance review with Perry tomorrow morning, so I wanna have a relaxing evening and bring my A game."

"Who needs an A game with D cups?" He poked playfully at the side of my boob. Or tried to, at least; I swatted his hand away.

"Hey, we're at work! Let's try to be professional, mkay?" I scolded him, then realized part of my nipple was showing again. Oopsie! "But much as I wish having great big boobs would make for a great big raise, this is the real world, buster."

"Surely you could find a way to use those babies to score points with your boss. I mean, if you wanted."

I giggled. "I definitely don't want to whore myself out to get good marks, silly bear. You'll just have to wait until this weekend to take me out again. And we

are

going out this time, you hear me?"

"Hey, you know me. Whatever you want."

My boyfriend is such a goober, I swear.

My performance review did

not

go well. Not even in that super sheer camisole! Perry was really mean about it, too. He complained I was showing up late, sneaking out early, and that my quality of work was totally erratic (not erotic, which was what I heard at first, and figured he was finally giving me a compliment). Half of it was missing all sorts of information and skipped lots of necessary steps. I told him it wasn't my fault, that some of the other DETs - I remember my job letters that morning, thanks to a good night sleep - were volunteering to do my work for me (because they were losers who thought it might help them get a shot at fucking me), and they must be doing a terrible job.

Then he asked if I was trading sexual favors for help with my workload! Totally insulting, right? Like just because I look hot and am not ashamed of it, I'm some kind of slut? Made me wish Grant had let me wear underwear that day. The jerk.

"So he put me on probation," I vented to Grant over lunch after the daily power refresher. "If I don't step it up by my next quarterly review, he said he would fire me!"

Grant gave me that comforting, empathetic look of his. "That's awful. I swear, this company - all those months you were killing yourself for them and they give you no credit at all."

"I know, right? I was thinking maybe we need to scale it back some, so I can do my job better? Ugh, I

so

don't want to, but I can't lose this job, you know? My credit cards are maxed as it is!"

Grant squeezed my hand softly. "See, but if you don't want to, I can't help with it. I mean, not with my power. I totally support a woman prioritizing her career."

"See, that's it right there. Like, I

know

what that word means, but I have to think to know it, which totally harshes my mellow. All the time any more, by the time I've figured out what something means the guy has already said like a bajillion more words and I just have to pretend I'm understanding him. Super frustrating."

"Hang in there, Mal. We'll get you through this."

I scowled at my kale chips. "You say that, but how? I

like

how I feel now. I

like

that I'm finally focusing on me and not my dumb job. But if I keep going like this, Perry's going to fire me! And if I don't, I'll go back to being unhappy all the time!"

Grant moved around to my side of the table and put his arm around me. Normally I'm not a big fan of PDA in the workplace - leers, wolf whistles and catcalls are one thing, but touching crosses the line - but right then, it was what I needed. I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.

His voice was a soothing murmur in my ear. "You know, you're probably right. We aren't going to fix this in a day. Maybe what you need right now is to think about what's going right in your life, and focus on that. Working for the weekend isn't the solution, but for now let's just get you through the week."

In spite of myself, I gave him a little peck on the cheek. He really was the sweetest guy I'd ever dated. For once, I'd landed one of the good ones. And he was definitely more attractive than I'd given him credit for. He was probably right, too. This was a bad day, and I'd figure out how to course correct in time. I'd probably have to turn my stupid brain on and actually think, but I could handle that for one day. Part of one, anyway. For now, I needed to cheer myself up. In that tender moment, I knew exactly what I wanted to focus on.

"Thank you, Grant. You're the best boyfriend ever."

That night, I was the one asking

him

out. Once more he showed up, told me what I should wear - my latex pants that laced up the sides and a black leather halter top with these kick-ass black platform boots - and he took me out dancing. I think he liked showing me off, so I humored him a little. It was weirdly like going to work, in some ways - all the guys staring at me, flirting with me, doing stuff for me. I couldn't dance for shit in those boots, but Grant couldn't either, so we looked good together.

I thought so, at least, but I guess the other guys at the club didn't. They all looked so surprised I was there with Grant! One guy - this huge dude with all these piercings and tattoos with skulls and boobs and stuff on them - even got confrontational about it! He got up in Grant's face, but my date took a long moment to look him over. Then, instead of taking a swing, he asked him if, instead of fighting, he'd rather snort some cocaine behind the building. The guy thought about it, then said he'd settle for that and went. Out back, I guess.