Serving Melons

1.

Abigail Melons, uncommonly pretty and figure to die for, was feeling routinely fabulous as she arrived for work. She was thoroughly looking forward to the day ahead of her. She always did. What young lady wouldn't enjoy her job when her place of employment was populated almost exclusively by men who were head over heels for her? It was a most acceptable state of affairs.

She entered the spacious mirrored lift and, having it to herself, undertook a cool and studied 360 examination of her appearance this morning. Mmm. Yes. And the skirt was fine. It worked perfectly. The whole ensemble would go down a storm. Such would no doubt be confirmed in a few moments when she arrived at the floor where her firm was located. She smiled to herself at the prospect. She was late, would therefore be conspicuous to all and sundry when the lift opened and she had to sashay her way across the expanse of open plan to her desk over on the far side. Abi was in the habit of being late.

She might be only 22 but Abi was a self-possessed and astute girl. She understood and enjoyed the power that her exceptional looks bestowed upon her. Being a highly desirable young woman surrounded at work by smitten (and mainly older) men brought with it certain privileges and career advantages, and little Abi Melons had not been slow to make the most of them.

Abi had a whale of a time at the office. She actively encouraged the attempts of besotted male colleagues to flatter and amuse her. She found it ridiculously easy to manipulate the guys and get her own way. Simply batting her eyelashes was sufficient to have them do her bidding. They fell over themselves to please, including and especially the boss. Abi had Dominic Dankeschoen, or 'Dom' to her, a man more than twice her age, eating from her hand and she behaved with him in ways which were highly inappropriate to her junior trainee position.

It had started at her interview. The firm was smallish but prestigious and Abi had been excited at the chance to present her credentials. Which she certainly did, and consequently the interview went like a dream. It was nearly a year ago but Abi remembered vividly the way in which Dom had looked at her when she entered his lair in her fetching little purple dress. She had known immediately that the job was hers. What Abi saw for her part was a short balding chap, barely taller than herself, of about fifty who was bland of face and clearly did not exercise much. The manner belied the appearance. Dominic Dankeschoen had the crisp and decisive air that one would expect from the individual who ran a firm such as this one. He had made the offer, an excellent one, within all of ten minutes and the remainder of the 'meeting' was spent on pleasantries. Very pleasantries from the interviewer's point of view, judging by his expression and demeanour. Towards the end of the allotted hour he had asked if Abi had a boyfriend. Abi had grinned and said "sometimes!"

Their flirting had continued and intensified since then, had in truth become rather shameless. Neither was it wholly contained to the office. There was the occasional intimate drink after work, if Dom asked nicely enough and she was free, and more frequently there was lunch, being whisked off at noon to a fancy restaurant, she was almost always up for that. Little Abi was more than happy to sit there across the table presenting a plunging neckline, to smile and pout coquettishly as the big boss, the man who called all the shots at the firm, showered her with compliments and revealed the latest ways in which he planned to spoil her with brazenly preferential treatment. A ginormous salary rise, for example, and this at a time when the firm was supposedly watching costs, most of the other employees having to accept an increase of virtually nothing at all.

2.

Dom had broken this particular piece of gratifying news at her staff appraisal last month, which was conducted in Abi's case, and only in her case, outside of the building over a cocktail despite it being in the middle of the afternoon.

"Maybe best to keep it quiet," Dom told her, the pair of them closeted in a cosy corner of a nearby smart bar.

Abi giggled and said that she would.

She noticed the boss's attention lingering, as it often did, on her legs and she rewarded him by slowly uncrossing and then recrossing them, her tight skirt riding an inch or so further up her thighs. She was wearing tights today. Black and sheer.

"Oh fuck," Dom growled, leering openly at the glorious vista.

Abi giggled again. Dom was so into her legs! Well of course he was. Abi had yet to meet the man who wasn't. She deftly manoeuvred a shoe to the very edge of her toes and let it dangle there.

She took a look around the place. It was almost empty at this time but there were a couple of business types stood together up at the counter. They were talking but both appeared to be more interested in checking her out than in each other. Quelle surprise. Abi preened a little. She tossed her hair, licked her lips, stretched sensuously in her seat, enjoying both the reactions of her random admirers and Dom's wry amusement at what she was doing for their benefit. She awarded the better looking of the duo a sly smile and popped the olive from her drink slowly and extravagantly into her mouth. The guys were transfixed by the performance and this very much pleased her. Abi loved men ogling her.

Although nothing more than that for the most part. With the glaring exception of the string of hunky 'boyfriends' that she would be energetically dating at any one time, with whom she was often insatiable, it was strictly 'look but do not touch' with the captivating Abigail Melons. Certainly with guys at work it was. She was first and foremost a tease and was especially incorrigible in this regard at the office, where she would float around looking insanely hot in her sassy little dresses and her short skirts and her revealing tops, luxuriating in the sure and certain knowledge that she was driving every man in the vicinity nuts. Abi loved the thought of her male co-workers getting hard-ons from looking at her, that they all dreamt of fucking her but nevertheless realized that they had no chance whatsoever of ever doing so.

This went for the boss-man too. She had made that crystal clear and Dom had accepted it with good grace. He would not have been able to resist an affair with Abi (could any man?) but understood that it was probably as well if the option was off the table. He was happily married with five children. A first grandson had been born recently. It would be reckless in the extreme to jeopardize all of that. No, this way was better. He got to flirt with and feast his eyes on a luscious young thing and the luscious young thing got benefits such as massive pay rises and a free rein to do whatever she pleased around the office. This was their unwritten bargain and it worked swimmingly for both of them.

The boss did get one or two extras. Such was only fair. For example she regularly played footsie with him under restaurant tables. If they were having a drink together in a sufficiently secluded place Abi would sometimes permit an arm around her, and in such circumstances she might snuggle into him and allow him to do certain things. Nothing too heavy though. She would just let him adore her a little. He could kiss her passionately on the lips, nuzzle at her neck, nibble her ears, relatively mundane and innocent activity of that nature. It was okay for Dom to place a hand on her knee as they were smooching, that was absolutely fine, perhaps even on her thigh, but with the strict understanding that any higher was out of bounds. As for Abi's hands she would tend to keep them to herself unless she was feeling mischievous, when her fingers would flutter into Dom's lap, alight on the bulge in his trousers, and she would rest her palm there, pressing down gently, every so often squeezing, making him grunt and groan and squirm about in his seat. And then of course there were the times, and this was only if she was particularly pleased with him for some reason, that she would visit his office and lower the blinds and treat him to an unhurried proper look at her large flawless breasts. But things never went further even on these occasions. Dom would plead with Abi to let him fondle her tits, as they were jiggled almost unbearably just inches from his face, despite knowing that she would only laugh at him and continue teasing. Dom did not mind. Him begging Abi for more was part of the ritual. He knew that she enjoyed it.

Abi took another sip of her martini. She was contemplating matters along these very lines at this present moment. Because a whopping pay rise had sent Dom zooming to the top of the charts as far as she was concerned and hence had qualified him for one of her little 'visits' very soon. She resolved to make it a truly memorable one for him. She would push the boat out and surprise her benefactor with a full and slow disrobing, go all the way with it rather than the usual topless only. This time she would strut around his office and show him the lot. Then for good measure she could climb up onto his desk and loll about open-legged and abandoned. She would caress and stroke and finger herself in some nice places and whisper things to him, dirty wanton things, in her softest and cutest baby doll voice, whilst lying there lewd and naked before him. Perhaps she would bend the rules about him touching for just this once. Not her boobs, no way was he getting a piece of them, and definitely not her pussy, but maybe she could flip herself over and allow Dom to plant a few worshipful kisses on her buttocks. Yes, why not. Abi might even allow him to put his tongue in there. The boss gives her an eye-popping raise in salary and in return gets to lick her bum. Little Abi rather liked the sound of that.

She was delighted with the prospect of tons more money. Especially with Dom joking about how everyone else was getting peanuts. Shame she had to keep it secret. Did he really mean that?

"Might tell Fatima though," she said, testing him out.

Fatima Fogblower was the only other girl at the office and the name, or the first syllable at least, was apposite. If Abigail Melons had been at the front of the queue when the good lord was handing out desirable physical attributes to his earthly creations, then Fatima Fogblower had been at the very back. The size and body shape were singularly unattractive, the face unprepossessing in the extreme, and topping it all off she wore thick spectacles and was cursed with unsightly blotched skin. Quite the package.

"Yeah ok princess. Guess you can tell her if you want to."

"Oh but I do want to!"

There was a glint in her eye as she said this and Dom chuckled.

It was common knowledge that queening it over the unlovely Fatima was one of little Abi's favourite pass-times.

3.

Being introduced around the office on her first day, to a frisson of excitement amongst the menfolk, the oh-so-delectable Abi Melons had found it simply hilarious that her one and only female colleague, the 'competition' so to speak, was such a howler and she was soon taking advantage of the opportunities for workplace entertainment thus presented.

Secure in being on the right side of the enormous gulf in attractiveness, Abi took a bitchy pleasure in rubbing the less fortunate girl's nose in it. Whenever their paths crossed she would be full of animated 'pretty girl' chatter of a type that was guaranteed to lower Fatima's spirits. Abi would cover topics such as her current favourite lipstick, where she liked to shop for lingerie, the stupid earrings some amorous hopeful had just gone and surprised her with, the divinely flimsy designer top she had seen at this fab boutique on Saturday and simply had to have, oh and the neat little skirt she had purchased to go with it, such a glam outfit they would make, she couldn't wait to hit the town in it! She would talk at great length of the complexities of her social whirl, of hot new bars and clubs recently discovered, the achingly trendy restaurants she had been taken to, the host of great parties she had been invited to that were coming up. Most of all, Abi liked to oppress poor Fatima with chapter and verse about her romantic adventures, the very latest on various boyfriend dramas that she was embroiled in, complaining bitterly that it was not easy to juggle so many men, for example she was bored with a particular one but was not sure she ought to dump the guy because he spent so much money on her, took her to such cool places, that by the way she was also starting to get a bit irritated with how chaps at the office were constantly bugging her to go out with them.

Abi became less subtle, more gratuitous, once she sensed how vulnerable Fatima was. She found it impossible to resist victimizing such an inferior specimen and she dropped any pretence that she did not relish doing so. Fatima dreaded their every interaction as the 'new girl' began to torment her quite openly. Abi took to belittling and ridiculing poor Fatima in front of others, and because her audience consisted of men who were in thrall to her physical charms they tended to titter sycophantically along with the snide malicious mockery, sometimes join in, anything to ingratiate themselves with just about the prettiest little thing they had ever laid eyes on. The inevitable outcome was that the wretched Fatima Fogblower, who had been with the firm for years, was turned rapidly into a figure of fun.

Abi had then requested that Fatima be moved to sit next to her.

"That way I can have endless fun with her!" she explained, giggling, during one of her long lunches with the boss. "There will be absolutely no escape for the poor thing. Oh my god, Dom, can you imagine?"

Dom could imagine. He was aware of how Abi treated Fatima. She often regaled him in some detail about fiendish ways she had come up with to persecute the hapless girl. He found it highly entertaining. So he had readily agreed to this devious little suggestion of hers, laughing indulgently and calling Abi a heartless bitch.

"Aren't I just."

"But such a gorgeous one," Dom said.

"Why thank you kind sir! Wanna know the first thing I'm gonna do when I've got her sat next to me?"

"What, honey?"

"Put her on a diet. A strict starvation one. No food to pass her lips from the time she arrives in the office to when she leaves. No leaving the building either. So that will be, like, nine solid hours without eating. That's fine if I do that, babe, isn't it??"

"Sure it is, beautiful. Tell her that the boss has okayed it. Do her good to lose some of that weight."

"Exactly! So it's actually in her interests, right?"

"She ought to thank you for it."

"Perhaps I'll make her do that. Say thank you, Abigail, for not letting me stuff my fat face at the office."

"Ha ha ha. And if she refuses you can send her into me and I'll give her a bollocking."

"You are such a terrific boss, you know that?"

"I do my best. Ok so that's settled. We'll get her moved tomorrow and then she's all yours. You can do whatever you want with her. Starvation diet plus whatever else you have planned. Poor girl, I dread to think."

"Oh I have lots of plans."

"I bet you do."

"Mmm."

"Care to share?"

"How long have you got?"

"Ok, an example."

"Well, like this diet, although we agree that it's for her benefit, the poor thing is gonna be ravenous by the afternoon, I figure."

"She'll be fucking starving."

"Right, and so what if I now suddenly make a habit of treating myself to a snack at about three thirty. You know, I send one of the guys out to get me something delicious and then I have it at my desk with her sitting there next to me. That would be rather naughty of me, Dom, wouldn't it?"

"Quite funny though!"

"Chocolate cake perhaps. I love that and I know that she does too. Fatima lives for chocolate cake."

"You are a wicked girl."

"I could kind of tantalize her with it first if I wanted to be especially wicked."

"How do you mean?"

"I could have this big slice of cake on a plate and waft it in her face, so close that she can smell and just about taste it, torture the poor thing like that. Then I whip it away and eat it, smacking my lips and telling her how yummy it is."

"Love it, babe!"

"Maybe sometimes I'll make her help me out with it."

"Actually give her some?"

"Ha ha. No chance. No, what I mean is that I might be feeling a bit lazy, in which case I will just sit there, feet up on the desk, reading a magazine or something, and Fatima can serve me my cake. She can cut it up and feed it to me piece by piece."

"Abi, honey, you are demonic."

"Thanks. Oh and if I can't finish, which I might not be able to, given I will have had lunch, Fatima gets to throw the leftovers in the bin."

"Well you certainly will have had lunch, Abs, won't you? You might even have had it with me."

"I might. In which case I will possibly have already sent Fatima a photo of what me and the boss happen to have ordered that day."

"Technicolour and high definition?"

"Absolutely! Send it from the restaurant just before we tuck in."

"Ha ha ha. Great idea, sweetheart. I look forward to it."

Fatima's move went as planned the following day. The period since had gone to plan too. To Abi's plan, that is.

Having Fatima located permanently next to her was a fabulous arrangement. One immediately obvious consequence was that the chasm in looks was emphasized to an extent that was almost laughable, something which amused Abi greatly, since she knew how horribly conscious of it Fatima was. And of course it only made a certain pretty girl look all the more appealing!

For Fatima the desk move was catastrophic because Abi could now torment her pretty much constantly. Abi was the cat with a captive mouse. The 'diet' was duly implemented and the fun and games with food were soon in full swing, often with an appreciative audience, but that was the least of it. Abi was cruel and capricious. She bullied Fatima remorselessly. Fatima, go get me a coffee. Fatima, sweetie, could you pop out and get me some tights, I have a hole in these. Fatima, my keyboard is dirty, would you mind giving it a clean. Fatima, would you be an angel and touch up the varnish on my toes. Yeah, do it right now is what I mean. Fatima, could you please go over and tell Richard that Abi really loves that tie he's wearing today. There was little respite from it all. Fatima's life at work, once pleasant, was now one of unrelenting misery and humiliation at the hands of the little miss gorgeous beside her.

Abi's casual sadism knew no bounds. She had the whole firm playing along. Guys had long come to realize that a sure-fire way of scoring points with the office hottie was to insult Fatima, therefore when one or a number of them came over to flirt and fool around, as of course the aforesaid hottie encouraged them to do, they took to making increasingly nasty jokes and disparaging remarks about Fatima's appearance, the target of this abuse sat there stewing in abject silence, having to listen to every word. People kind of competed in this game of roasting Fatima, seeing who could make Abi chortle the most, and Abi took immense delight in egging them on.

She particularly liked it when her fan club made comments directly comparing the two girls, for instance some guy or other asking Fatima what it felt like to resemble a dumpster and would she not prefer to be totally fucking gorgeous like Abi? Because Abs really is fucking hot, Fatima, isn't she? I mean, just look at her today. 12 out of 10, am I right? And what the fuck are you? Minus 1 on a good day? Christ, it's beauty and the beast over here, it really is! Abi would be almost wetting herself, listening to this, and often as not it would continue until a highly distressed Fatima fled to the bathroom in floods of tears. "Oh dear, the poor thing is all upset again," Abi would exclaim, joyfully, when this happened. "You chaps are just terrible!"