Big Nipple Problems

Julia Wong arrives in my office for a private meeting. Our group will be hearing her pitch tomorrow, but she wants some advice first. She's seeking a 3.5 million dollar initial investment and we're actively looking for more female entrepreneurs to invest in.

What I can say about Ms. Wong is that she's a 27 year old Harvard graduate who majored in business. Thin, regular style of dress, long black hair. Lots of extra-curricular activities at university. Lots of internships. A few accolades. A decent paying Wall Street job that she quit. Overall, an impressive resume for her age.

She's sitting in front of my desk. Next to my laptop is her portfolio regarding her startup bra company, which contains business strategy and distribution plans. The name of their bra line is 'BNP' which is uninspiring to be honest.

It's our first time meeting and she's an absolute gem. When the time is right and our pleasantries are done, I broach the main topic.

"Why a bra company?"

Julia sits upright as if we're in a classroom and she's the top student. Her eyes light up, her posture is perfect. She takes a deep breath.

"Representation," she says. "Growing up, I never felt like the bra industry spoke to women like me. Asian American women are rarely presented as desirable, without being reduced to a fetish. We've been underserved by traditional bra industries and it's really harmful that so many young girls feel like they need to look a certain way.

She continues, "Body type is also a big factor. The most stylish bra lines tend to cater to bustier women. What we're hoping to accomplish is something that caters to women with my body type. Thin, flatter, who also need to feel sexy. It's geared towards Asian Americans, but of course, we celebrate everyone."

Well-rehearsed. Practiced. I like that. So far this is going well. Julia speaks with conviction, which is always a great sign.

I glance down at her chest. A-cups. No wonder she's so passionate about this. I hadn't noticed how small they were when she entered my office, because I always focus on the eyes and posture and manner of dress.

"Your business partner is also Asian, I'm assuming."

She nods. "That's right. We were roommates at Harvard and we majored in business. We're best friends, basically."

"Interesting. And I'm assuming your business partner knows you're here."

"That's correct. I actually have an awkward question for you."

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd get to the point. What's on your mind?"

"The name of our business," she says. "Well, the potential name. We're still tinkering with the meaning."

"BNP. Not bad. Not great, either."

"Officially, it stands for Bras North Pacific, which pays tribute to our Asian roots, along with being raised on the west coast of America."

"What's the unofficial meaning?"

"Big Nipple Problems."

I laugh. "Cute. I like that."

"Not exactly a name that can be displayed in department stores, which is why we went with BNP, a much safer choice."

"You've piqued my interest," I say.

This conversation breathes new life. My eyes go down for a split second, those small breasts present something different. If she's making a bra for big nipples, then I wonder how big hers must be.

"Thank you," she says. "What do you think about the name? Should I mention the true meaning tomorrow in front of the other investors?"

I think for a moment. "Not yet. Too provocative."

"Makes sense."

"I'm assuming you have big nips."

She nods. "Yep."

"Tell me more about your product. Does it truly cater to big nippled women as the name suggests?"

"It does. Before it used to be difficult for large breasted or heavy-set women to find bras that fit. The industry evolved. Now heavy-set women are prominently displayed on posters at Victoria's Secret, with a variety of bras made for them.

She continues, "Our goal is to do something for women, particularly Asian women who are built like me. Slender, small-chested, often equipped with big nips. In the current market, if you buy a thin bra for A-cups, you risk having pokies while wearing a tshirt. If you buy something with thicker padding, then it almost looks like body armor that shifts around. Our bra solves these problems. We'll bring a variety for tomorrow's pitch meeting."

"You amazing me."

"In a good way, I hope."

Her voice squeaked when she said that. Her smile is warm. She's well-rehearsed in the points she wants to make. I like that. I tap the folder on my desk.

"The business plan in your portfolio is solid. You're well-spoken. Would you like some advice?"

"Sure, please."

"Lean more towards a personal story. Tell me more about your passion. I'll help you craft a better pitch for tomorrow's meeting."

"Where should I start?"

I gesture to her chest. "Start there, without being obscene."

Julia looks down, covers her chest with the palms of her hands, then looks at me and blushes. I see the love/hate relationship she has with her body. She wants to delve deeper, but something is holding her back.

"That's borderline impossible. In some cultures, the very topic of breasts are obscene by default."

I smile at her. "Give it a try. This is between us."

"Only if you insist."

"The floor is yours, Ms. Wong, tell me what makes you tick."

"Okay, well, I used to have a toxic relationship with my breasts. I was ashamed of them as a teenager. When I got accepted to Harvard, I thought I'd ditch my insecurities, but that wasn't the case. I found myself being weirdly jealous after the gym. Locker room showers can be spellbinding. Can parts of this stay between us?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, it was my first time showering with other women. That was when my insecurities blew up. Some girls had perfect athletic figures. Perfect breasts. Some had pointy nipples, some were tiny. The white girls tended to have small pink nipples, while other girls had browner shades. I was really into fitness, but I was naturally skinny and flat-chested. Huge nipples, as I've mentioned.

She continues, "I still remember going into the showers for the first time. Getting naked. Knowing the other girls would see me. The first few times, I kept my hands over my breasts and showered facing the walls. I was fine with showing my bare ass or crotch, but was scared of how my nipples would be perceived. They're not freakish or anything, just larger than average. Noticeable.

She continues, "That was my introduction to being a Harvard student. My parents were so happy because I achieved the American dream by going to such a prestigious place. I worked so hard in my classes. I studied all the time, I was even part of a study-group. I joined clubs and tried to make new friends. But I found it ironic that I spent so much time stressing about my body, while everyone else seemed to blossom."

"Was there a point when your view changed?"

"Yes, when I allowed myself to keep my hands down in the shower. It was a few weeks later. I mustered the courage to walk butt naked into the showers like every other girl. My nipples even turned erect. Heads turned. Girls looked. No one teased me. In fact, the opposite happened. You know how university girls are. Curious. About sex. I had plenty of glances. Some outright stares. If anything, it became easier to make friends."

"Sounds like your attributes were a big hit."

"For sure, but not how you're implying. Nobody made a move. I guess I didn't give off the correct lesbian vibes. The important thing was learning to love my body. To own it."

"I wasn't implying anything suggestive. But your story is totally relatable. I'll help you craft a personal statement tonight, then I'll email you."

She smiles. "Thank you."

"How about business strategy? Anything exciting you want to discuss?"

"We're hoping for a strong roll-out during the holiday season. We're in contact with a few downtown retailers who believe in our product."

"Nice," I say. "Sounds like you're ahead of the curve."

"We're lucky. Plus we have a cool designer who made the bras and marketing material."

"Really? Who's your designer?"

"Antonella in New York."

"Interesting choice. I'm familiar with some of her work."

"Yeah, she's a creative force. Antonella somehow convinced me to be part of the marketing campaign. Nothing with my face, so it's semi-anonymous. It might be used for promotions and advertisements."

"That's quite a leap from being the shy girl at Harvard."

"I know, I know," she says. "But this is part of my personal growth."

"Will you show any of the photographs during your presentation tomorrow?"

She cringes. "I'm still deliberating."

"What's stopping you? You're obviously very beautiful."

"Thanks. But let's just say that I feel more comfortable when it's anonymous."

"You raise a fair point. I'd crawl into a hole if anyone saw pictures of me shirtless."

"How about topless?" she asks.

"Antonella took topless shots of you?"

"A few."

"Bold move. I know she has a taste for erotic imagery in advertisement."

My eyes drift down again, this time, not by choice. It's more of a reflex. When I manage to bring my attention back to Julia's face, her lips curl, having caught me checking out her figure. She's not surprised. If anything, she understands.

"Are you curious or something?" she asks.

Her voice was shy when asking and she blushes. Her smile is inviting, almost mischievous, like she wants to delve deeper but knows we shouldn't.

"This is clearly inappropriate, and I apologize for that, but do you have a picture on your phone? Something I can see? I'd like to know what the fuss is about."

Her face is unchanged, as if she expected this, as if this topic of conversation inevitably rouses a person's curiosity, which it does.

Julia reaches into her pocket and flips through her phone screen. For some strange reason, this doesn't feel awkward anymore. It feels like a natural progression between friends as she finds a suitable picture and her eyes sparkle and her lips tense.

She shows me the phone. Her breasts. Her nipples.

"Do they live up to your expectations?" she asks.

"Let's just say that your story makes sense. They're gorgeous."

She puts the phone away. "Glad you think so. You're one of the few people who's actually seen that pic."

"I'm assuming it was taken by Antonella in a studio."

"Yes, her artwork is divine and I'll do anything for her."

I wonder if she knows the kind of reputation which Antonella has. Should I tell her? Warn her? Perhaps she already knows. She's a young woman who's clearly still exploring her complex sexuality. Broaching such a topic isn't my place, as our relationship revolves around business.

But I wonder. Especially after seeing her nipples, I wonder...

Julia Wong is having her picture taken by a photographer. No face shots. Just her body wearing the bra. She's thin and elegant, if she'd have more confidence she can be a professional model and I'd hire her. Being a business woman suits her better.

I own this place, the photo studio, the offices, the section for product design. The different work stations are bustling at the 10 a.m. hour because we have multiple clients to serve. I'm in charge of everything around here.

After checking on different employees, I return to Julia's photo session because time is of the essence. The key to business is working quickly, while maintaining a high level of quality. My photographer has a sharp eye. The camera snaps pictures. Julia's poses are bland because she has no experience modeling, but all that matters is the product and the shape of her chest.

I convinced her to pose for the camera because I'm a big believer in authenticity. My philosophy has always been that buyers are sophisticated and must be treated accordingly. To my eyes, Julia is as authentic as it gets. She represents the young woman who is 'still figuring it out,' as the saying goes.

This line of work is more than just the present. It also requires a look into the future, to see what's possible. What can be done. What the limits are.

"Ditch the bra," I say. "Slow. Play with it."

She freezes and her eyes widen. She's been topless before, but never around this many people. We're fully staffed today and it's an open workspace.

"Okay."

Julia reaches back and unclasps the bra. As the CEO, she outlined the concept of the bra she wanted, but I'm in charge of manufacturing and handling the smaller details. Now she's under my direction because I have a wealth of experience in promotions and she always takes my advice to heart. I like that she admires me.

Now I'm admiring her and her delicate figure, but sadly there's no style in how she's undressing. She moves too fast for my liking.

"Slow," I say.

The photographer keeps snapping pics as Julia moves slower, unsure of herself, yet enticed by the prospect of revealing herself to my team.

Julia's hidden tenacity gives her the courage to reveal her nipples. Long. Dark. Suckable. It looks delicious on her light skinned, thin figure. Only a small number of employees are looking, just the ones working in this area. Nudity is so common in the fashion world that people are immune to it. Regardless, the ones who aren't looking are missing out.

If I had those nipples, I'd come to work braless most days. Let them poke through my tshirt. Maybe I'd return to modeling like in my younger days. The images would be posted on the wall alongside the celebrities and famous models that I've worked with over my career. God didn't bless me with those, unfortunately. Those blessings were given to Julia, who's apprehensive with the gifts she bears. Such a terrible waste. A shame. I'll have to change that. She needs to appreciate what she has.

So I instruct my photographer to take different pics of Julia's nipples. Closeups. Angles. Different shadings. These photos have artistic value and have a variety of uses later. Julia's silence is her consent. The fact that she goes along with this shows that she understands. Ever since we met, we've always been on the same page in terms of marketing and product use. We understand each other and I love her story.

I'm an advocate of body positivity, from skinny to curvy. Petite to large. Tall to short. And I admire the different sizes and colors of nipples. Hers are the cream of the crop, in terms of big ones. They make my mouth water.

The photo session is complete, we have enough shots, but I notice Julia's nipples get more erect with each pose she strikes, with each snap of a photo. Her hunched shoulders pull back. Her small chest pushes forward. There's that confidence I've been looking for! All it took was the removal of her bra.

It confirms my theory that most women are secret exhibitionists. The right circumstance can always push a woman's sexuality to new heights. As it turns out, this is Julia's medicine. Exhibitionism is the sunlight to her darkness. We've had long discussions about her insecurities, it's the reason she created this bra line. To feel sexy. To feel seen. All women want to be desired.

"I've heard that women with big nipples can orgasm if they're properly sucked. I wouldn't know. My nipples are teeny tiny."

She knows I'm talking to her, but pretends the statement is for someone else because she doesn't want to answer. There's silence in the room. The photographer will keep taking pictures until I say stop, even though we have enough pictures. Finally, she indulges me.

"That sounds realistic," she says.

"What's the answer then?"

"I don't know."

"You would be the authority on this issue," I say. "What's the answer?"

"It's complicated."

"You really don't know? Are you a 28 year old virgin? Have you never had an orgasm before?"

"Sure I have."

"Can you orgasm if your nipple is sucked properly?" I ask.

"Just my nipple?"

"Yes, if only your nipple is sucked. Nothing else."

She hesitates. Gulps. Shoulders curl. A cowardly move, but I enjoy making people squirm. I enjoy making people nervous in my presence. It gives me power. It also helps create beautiful art. She'll be stronger when I'm done with her.

"I think it's possible," she says. "I'm sure I can orgasm if my nipples are sucked enough, but I've never gone that far before."

"Why not?"

"My insecurity stops me from enjoying it. People I've dated have sucked on them, obviously, but sometimes I'll ask for it to stop."

"Do you hate receiving oral sex?"

"No. Just on my breasts. I feel embarrassed if they're being sucked, that feeling of my nipples elongating in a person's mouth, that triggers my insecurity."

"Why?"

"Because of how big they can get when being sucked."

Her voice is shaky. Her confidence is gone because she's revealed something so personal about her youthful sexuality. Yet her nipples are rock fucking hard at the moment. Epic nipples. Begging to be toyed with. Perfect.

With a wave of my hand, I signal for the photographer to put the camera down.

I walk towards Julia with purpose. My confidence is real. Hers is fake. I'm statuesque and mature. She's inexperienced and skinny. She's intimidated that I'm standing in front of her. The employees in this room have worked here long enough to know what I'm going to do.

This is the moment I bend down and suck her right nipple. I've sucked on plenty of Asian nipples before, this is the most plump. I can feel it stretch in my mouth as I suck harder. I nurse like it's a freshly served milkshake and I'm trying to get the frozen liquid through a narrow straw.

Her body reacts. She gasps. Her body moves. Is this her first nipple-suck from another woman? Most likely. But it's definitely her first time being sucked with other people around. I twirl my tongue around it, then spit it out.

I step back and look at my handiwork. The dark nipple protrudes and it's coated with my saliva. Julia is mortified by what I've done, her jaw hangs open as if I'd committed some atrocity, but I'm not interested in her face. I'm only concerned with how her breasts look. That's what I've been hired for.

"How did that feel?"

"Good."

"We're going to take more pictures. The glistening saliva on your stimulated nipple adds an extra dimension to this shoot. When it comes to glamor shots, I'm never wrong."

"Sure, if you think there's value."

"There's always value to be found."

Because I'm bad sometimes, I flick the tip of her nipple with my finger and I'm sure it stings, just to provoke her again.

I snap my finger towards my busty assistant, who is a raging lesbian, but with the appearance of a Catholic angel. She's been working here for a couple of years and I turned her quickly. I made the first move, but in all fairness, she had been eying my legs for months.

My assistant knows to follow my lead when I point to Julia's breasts. She brings her red lipstick mouth to the nipple I sucked and she continues where I left off, nursing on the small tit. Slow and sensual, the way I had trained her.

I gesture for the photographer to stand closer, to zoom in, getting pictures of my assistant's mouth sucking on Julia's dark nipple. The contrast of red lipstick on fair skin is erotic. When the tongue swirls around the nipple, the sight is enticing. Artwork at its finest.

"Antonella, can you have a look at this?"

Someone from a different department brings a laptop and places it on the table. I ignore Julia and focus on other work. Looking through the screen, I give final approval on sketches and illustrations to begin production. I always work fast and rely on instincts. That's the secret to my success.

"Oh my god..."

Julia's moan echoes, along with the sounds of the camera snapping. She tried keeping her pleasures quiet, but a studio is a studio, and an open workspace has its downsides. Too bad for her. I know she's gotten the attention of other employees around here and they'll be peeping. They always do, both men and women. Who doesn't love a little workplace romp?