Editor/co-author: Lorelai
I dedicate this story to the one who brought out my desire to try writing, and the one who helped me through the writing process...even rearranging and re-writing sections for me that were not quite up to par. LoreLai, I thank you.
========================
Ok, so it's Monday morning and I'm walking down the hall toward my office. I'm a copy editor at a major publishing firm and it's usually quite busy on Mondays. The weird thing is that as I pass by several cubicles and office doors, almost every woman looks up at me, smiles, and says, "Good morning, George!" This may not sound odd to most of you, but trust me, it is! Many of the women I work with are drop dead gorgeous and never seemed to notice I existed before today. In fact, I'm surprised many of them even knew my first name! So, you see, I'm thoroughly confused as I make my way toward my office.
It's not that I'm devastatingly ugly or anything, don't get me wrong. I'm in no way disgusting, but in all my 29 years, I've never been the kind of guy women immediately go for. It's just that...well...I guess I'm forgettable in a way. I'm not all that tall...only standing around 5'10"...which is short by most standards today. I wear glasses and admittingly, I'm a little overweight. I'm not fat, but 258 pounds on this frame does look a little dumpy no matter how well I carry it. Most people do say I look like I'm in the 220's and are shocked when I fill them in on the actual weight, at least. I have plain, short, brown hair, hazel eyes, and a basic goatee. So, I'm not ugly, but I'm no Fabio either. So, you see my confusion at today's events?
Finally, I arrive at my office and set my briefcase down. I sit down at my desk and decide to make a note to myself before I forgot. I reach in my suit jacket pocket and pull out a pen. I smile realizing it was the beautiful pen I'd found on the street on my way home from work on Friday. (I usually walk home from work since I only live about 6 blocks away.) That night, I'd bumped into this couple as they walked down the street.
I couldn't help but notice the chick was all over this guy and was practically jerking him off over his pants as they walked toward me. I must have been so intent on trying to avoid eye contact with them that I actually ran them over! I apologized and they continued on their way. I was dusting off my clothes when I happened to notice it on the ground, next to a drainage area in the street. It was gorgeous! At that moment I didn't know what it was exactly, just that it had brilliant colors. It sparkled in the late day sun. Curious, I stooped down and reached to pick it up. As I raised it up, it sparkled less since my perspective relating to the light of the sun had changed, but I could still see the brilliance of the colors and could now make out the beautiful designs on it. It was an ink pen, but inlayed with gold. Whomever lost it would sure be upset over losing it, but since I rarely had any good luck, I just shrugged and put it in my pocket.
Come to think of it, my luck began to change last weekend...starting right after I found the interesting pen. Upon arriving home from work that evening, I was expecting to have one of my usual Friday nights...me, a large pepperoni pizza, and my trusty old TV. But, to my surprise, I checked my answering machine and found a message. I hit play and heard, "Hey G, it's Jenny. I know I haven't seen you since college, but I was in town and figured we could meet for coffee or drinks sometime later in the week. Call me at The Hilton...Room 1202. Hope to hear from you soon, sweetie!"
You've gotta understand something. I have never really been an active participant in the dating life. I have had only two steady girlfriends in my entire life and neither of them allowed me to get much past second base. Jenny did, however, let me feel her up a few times, which incidentally became the highlight of my college dating career. Sad, huh? So, anyway, to hear her sweet voice again brought back a lot of memories. It had been seven years since I last laid eyes on Jenny and here she was calling me out of the blue. That was a little odd in itself, but I never really put too much effort into figuring it out at the time. I simply took the pen I'd recently found out of my pocket and hurriedly wrote down Jenny's hotel information. I figured at least it gave me something to daydream about over pizza and Friday evening television...and every night since then for that matter. I dreamed about Jenny all three nights last weekend...of ravaging her as often as I could and in as many positions as her poor body could fit.
In fact, I pretty much spent the entire weekend jerking off to thoughts of her. Many times I pumped away at my cock in my fist as I pictured her naked body on top of me. Speaking of my dick, though, I guess I should mention that I've always been secretly embarrassed about its size. Honestly, I'm only around five inches long. It barely sticks out above my fist when I jerk off. It isn't terribly thin, but I can close my hand around it when it is fully erect. Let's just say that I have become so adept in the past 15 years at getting myself off that I could easily win a medal in the sex Olympics for it. So, spending the weekend jacking off wasn't exactly out of the ordinary...except that Jenny had become my leading lady for a change.
So, anyway, well-cummed and back in the office on Monday, I pulled the pen out and begin to write myself a note when our head copy editor, Missy, burst into my office. Missy is attractive, about 5'6" and 140 lbs. She's a brunette with wavy, shoulder length hair. She has great curves and her tummy has that rounded edge with a small amount of padding that I find irresistible...not to mention large breasts and a round bottom. Her wonderful smile and always cheery attitude complete the package. Almost out of breath as if she'd run through the building to get to my office, she pants, "George! G'morning! How was your weekend?!"
I was a little taken aback. Missy and I weren't exactly "buddies" if ya know what I mean. "Umm, fine. Yours?" I ask politely.
"Good, good, thanks for asking." She finally appears more calm...which, I'm pretty sure is a good thing at this point. "Do you have a minute?"
"Sure, Missy, whatchya got?" I ask, looking at the stack of papers she's carrying.
"I've got a few things I'd like to go over with you about the Arthur Brennen novel."
