Serving Melons

Abi sat down and commenced the log-on process, pleasantly aware of being 'noticed' by Adrian and of Fatima staring urgently at her keyboard. She allowed the pregnant silence to continue for some time. Then she looked to her left and smiled a big wide smile.

"Good morning, Fatty! How's tricks. Gosh you look nice today!"

Fatima made a little sniffing sound

"Doesn't she, Adrian? Isn't Fatty looking particularly lovely this morning? "

Adrian sniggered. "I think not, Abs."

It was only his third week but Adrian had slotted right in. He loved it here already. Especially sitting next to Abi. He could hardly believe that such a bewitching creature was prepared to flirt and joke around so much with him. He was utterly smitten. Ok, she was a massive pricktease, but Adrian was cool with that. And she was an unbelievable bitch to that Fatima, but so what. Who gave a fuck. Not Adrian Cheese. In any case it was funny (and kind of horny in a strange way) to see how this dropdead pretty girl loved to torment the poor fat minger. So why not join in, just like all the other guys did when they got the chance? Abi obviously approved of it. And girls who looked as good as Abi Melons looked could do no wrong as far as Adrian was concerned. Not that he had ever before met a girl who was anything like as attractive as this one. She was several fathoms out of his league, he was under no illusions about that. The word was she had a thing going with Dankeschoen. Well good luck to him, thought Adrian. If he was the big boss he would be trying it on with gorgeous little Abi too. As it was, he was happy to stick to the flirty banter.

"You on the other hand," he grinned, giving Abi the sort of wolfish once-over that he knew she relished.

He enjoyed it too and this was putting it mildly. What a honey. And that top she had on today! Was that even legal. Oh jesus.

"Moi?" Abi giggled, basking in it.

"Yeah, beautiful, you. You look fucking great today."

"So sweet of you to say!"

"Come on, you know it."

"Do I?"

"Fucking do."

"Ok. So you don't think this skirt is a little too short then?"

"No, gorgeous, I don't."

"That's a relief. I was slightly worried."

"Don't be."

"Because I wouldn't want to be a distraction for you, Mr Cheese."

"Ha ha. You a distraction? Never!"

By which of course Adrian meant always. He felt his dick hardening. The girl looked like a fucking wet dream as per usual! It rarely took long after Abi's arrival for him to be struggling with an erection, a condition that would remain, on and off, throughout the day, depending on her comings and goings and how she behaved with him. She would ignore him a lot of the time, or just not be there, but she also liked to tease him quite a bit, showing her legs off, flashing cleavage at him, that sort of thing. He got a great deal more of this than the other guys, with him sitting next to her, and had heard plenty already about how they all envied him. The other day she had rather gone to town with the prickteasing and Adrian had ended up having to beetle off to the toilets to sort himself out, as it were. Abi had guessed what he'd been up to when he finally returned, looking distinctly sheepish, and she had a great time ribbing him about it, and not in a nasty way either. She joked that if his dorky predecessor had taken a similarly healthy approach to that self-same problem then the poor guy might still be in a job. The salacious wink for his benefit which had accompanied this remark only made the swooning Adrian fall for her all the more.

Abi snickered at this last comment of Adrian's and then turned to her bleeping phone. She had a text from Dom. He was running late, it said, would be in later, and he wanted to know if she was free for lunch.

She decided to call him rather than reply.

"Hi, babe," she said. "Yeah, course I'm free. What time?"

"Twelve thirty?" said Dom.

"Sure."

"Great. Because I have an idea for it that I think you might like."

"Oooo do tell!"

"Are you at your desk, pretty girl?"

"I am, babe, yeah."

"Can you move to somewhere more private? Don't want anyone overhearing this."

"Intriguing!" said Abi. "I'll go to your room and call you back."

She did so.

"So what's this idea of yours then?"

"Ok, so how would it be if I take both of my female employees to lunch today?"

"Me and Fatima?"

"Yep."

"What, you really want to spoil the scenery like that?"

"Ha ha. Yeah, I know. But just this one time. I thought it might amuse you."

"Not sure I follow, babe. How exactly will this amuse me?"

"Well the thing is that I won't let her order anything. She can just sit at our table and watch us have lunch. I'll say that it's a test of her discipline and fortitude, now that she's on her diet. Part of her staff development. Can she sit there quietly for two hours, glass of water and nothing else, looking like shit as usual, while the boss and his favourite employee, who will be looking her normal ravishing self, enjoy a slap up meal together? What do you say? Would you like that?"

"Oh I see. Yes, I rather think I would."

"Ok!"

"And we just ignore her, Dom, right?"

"Completely. It's like she isn't there."

"Which means we can bitch about her if we want to?"

"We can slag her off to kingdom come. Not just about how she looks either. I'll bang on and on about how slow-witted and thick she is."

"Compared to a super smart girl like me, do you mean? Is that it?"

"Exactly, gorgeous."

"Ha ha ha. You know what, it's a terrific idea!"

"Thought you'd approve."

"Oh I do. Poor Fatty! Just imagine how she's gonna feel."

"Absolutely fucking awful, is my educated guess."

"Mine too. And you and I will be flirting like mad as usual, I guess?

"Loads of that, gorgeous. Whole shebang will demonstrate how you're a goddess who gets whatever she wants and she's a piece of garbage who counts for sweet fuck all."

"Goddess. I like that."

"But you are, sugar, aren't you. And I reckon Fatima knows it too. But just in case she doesn't fully get the picture I'll spend the whole lunch adoring you, every little thing about you, and both of us will say a ton of horrible things about her. We'll eat lots and drink lots and utterly humiliate the fat cow while we're doing it. Gonna be fucking great!"

"I think I love you."

"I wish."

"Hey, Dom, you know you said she gets a glass of water?"

"Yeah. But nothing else."

"How about we amend that. She gets three glasses of water and she has to drink them all straight away when we first sit down."

"Keep talking, honey."

"You inform her that it's part of this test you're setting. We all order a large glass of water at the start and Fatima has to drink ours as well as hers. So that's, like, over a litre?"

"At least."

"Yeah, so then another aspect to this exercise, the boss informs her, is that she cannot at any time leave the table during lunch. No bathroom breaks, for example. We can, of course, but she is forbidden to do that."

"Well I never need to, sweetheart, do I?"

"Ok, so more to the point, I can go to the ladies' if I want to but Fatty is not allowed."

"Think I see where you're going, gorgeous. Not just a pretty face, are you. So let me think. She will be needing a pee within half an hour max?"

"Exactly. About when we're finishing our starters. Knowing that there's main course and pudding to come. And she won't be able to say anything, Dom, will she? Silence, remember?"

"No indeed. Although I imagine she will find a way to indicate that she needs to go. You know, squirming around in her seat, stuff like that, especially by the time we're on the main course."

"Yeah, that's bound to happen, but we ignore it. We let her suffer. We eat very slowly just so as to make it worse for her. We are really enjoying her distress. It's making the food taste even better. By the time we're finally done with the main course it's obvious that she is in mucho discomfort down below. She is getting rather upset about it, rocking and rolling about in her chair and looking desperately at you, the boss, hoping that you get the message. Which you eventually do."

"And then?"

"You tell her that if she insists on going to the loo it's a firing matter."

"Ok got it. I will tell her precisely that. If she wants to keep her job, and by the way I happen to know for a fact that she needs it badly, Fatso stays the fuck in her seat and she does not budge."

"Perfect!"

"Poor girl. What a horrific situation for her."

"Isn't it."

"And we still have pudding to eat."

"Yeah, can't skip that. You know how I adore desserts. Thank god I don't have to watch my figure!"

"Plenty of guys to do that for you, Abs, right?"

"Ha ha. Right. Any case, we do order pudding and I take my sweet time about it. Fatso is writhing around so much that I have to reassure the waiter that everything is fine. He looks a little dubious so I smile very sexily at him and I lean forward so that he can peer down my top. Which he does, oh my word he does, and he trots off happy."

"And Fatso?"

"She is bursting for a pee so bad that she's even forgotten how famished she is. Give her a choice right now between a big juicy steak and running off to relieve herself, it's not even close. She was just about dying as I was deliberating for an age between the trifle and the tiramisu."

"Which did you plump for?"

"The trifle."

"I'm going for the tiramisu."

"Well that's always a good choice. So, yeah, the trifle for moi, and I also asked for a glass of water. Because I reckon that Fatima could do with a little more hydration."

"Oh you utter sadist!"

"Ha ha ha. And you love me for it, Dom, don't you?"

"I really do."

"You will love this next bit then. Soon as the puddings and my glass of water have arrived, I announce that I simply have to use the bathroom. Must be all the wine, I say, and I grin at Fatima as I get up and go."

"Like I say, sadist! So that's me and Fatso alone for a bit. What do I do?"

"Great question. What you do is you order her to drink the water that I've ordered. And she will obey cos you're the boss."

"Damn right I am."

"So when I get back the glass is in front of her and it's empty, meaning that after I've made a giggling comment about how that visit to the loo was such a relief, because god I was bursting, I can have a little bitch about that. I pronounce that Fatso is not only ugly as sin but she has got no table manners, and you nod and agree with me, even though it was you who made her swig it down."

"So unfair! And Jesus, Abi, more water. Her bladder must giving her fucking agony by this point."

"It is. She's nearing a point of no return. If she doesn't get to go to the bathroom soon she'll be doing it in situ. Probably leaking a bit already."

"Oh dear. The poor cow."

"That is an understatement. It's obvious that she is on the edge. She absolutely has to pee but she cannot bear to think about the shame and humiliation of doing it in her knickers at this restaurant table in front of you and me. And if she runs off to the bathroom she loses her job. The grisly reality of the situation is etched all over her face. She's got sweat running down it."

"Must be quite a sight."

"It doesn't improve her appearance, let's just say that. Meanwhile I'm looking cool and stylish and glamorous and I'm chatting away vivaciously to you and dealing with my trifle."

"But not too fast, right?"

"No, not fast at all. You've finished your tiramisu and I still have loads of trifle left. You ask me if I want to leave the rest but I say no way, I'm determined to manage it all, I just need to take my time. You don't mind, do you, I ask? Course not, honey, you reply."

"Not great news for Fatso."

"Ha! You're telling me. This was not music to her ears. She is approaching decision time. Get up and go or wet her pants. You and I know it too, from the sight and sound of her. She's making this kind of awful moaning sound now. If I'd have eaten my trifle quickly, and you'd have settled the bill straight after, she might just have made it, but it was not to be. The time has come. Come what may, she has to pee."

"Oh Christ. What does she do? I'm guessing that she pisses her pants."

"Yeah, she does. Just as I'm finally almost finished eating, the poor creature lets go and she does it. She shudders a bit and then she goes still and looks down at the table. It's obvious what has happened."

"What do we do?"

"We pretend that we haven't noticed anything. We know that Fatty has pissed herself and we decide that the funniest and cruellest thing we can do is to prolong our meal so that she has to sit there in that condition. So you ask me if I fancy coffee and liqueurs, and I say ooo yes please!"

"Cointreau for you, brandy for me?"

"Sounds about right."

"Great. So now our waiter is back?"

"Yeah, and he gives Fatima a very odd look, but I flirt with him again so all is well."

"He gets another glimpse of your bazookas, gorgeous, does he?"

"Bit more than a glimpse. I really treat him this time."

"Lucky chap!"

"Because we don't want this hilarious thing we're doing to Fatty coming to a premature end. It will end when we're ready."

"And when will that be?"

"Not for ages. We keep her there, stewing in her own juice, while we savour our drinks. We chat and joke around, not bother with her at all. Then one or other of us, actually I want to do this, so let's agree that it will be me, I wrinkle my nose and pronounce that I can smell something funny. I sniff around here and there, making an enormous production of it, before I eventually settle on you-know-who as the source. I really do drag things out. I want to give her plenty of time to think about what's coming. Allow the dread to build. You know what I mean?"

"I think I do. It's like this. The ugly girl is about to be busted as a totally pathetic knicker-wetter at a restaurant table by you, the gorgeously pretty colleague who has been relentlessly tormenting her in the office for months, all of this in front of the boss, and the poor thing gets some time, while you're mucking around sniffing this and that with your cute little nose, to think about exactly what that is going to feel like."

"You got it, babe."

"What happens when you finally bust her? How does that play out?"

"I make it as gruesome for her as I possibly can. The situation is simply delicious and so I make an absolute meal of it. I'm having the time of my life. I look at her and I enquire if she has any theories on what this rather unpleasant odour could be. Because it smells suspiciously like urine, I say, and then I request your opinion. You say that yeah it definitely does. I ask Fatso if she thinks it could actually be piss and if so where on earth does she reckon it might be coming from. Is there anything, anything at all, that she would like to say to me and Dominic?"

"And she confesses?"

"No choice. She knows that I know. That you know too."

"So she actually speaks at last."

"Only because I force her to. I make her admit to me that she has wet her knickers. Oh you dirty little disgrace, I tell her, in a tone of complete disgust. I order her to stand up. She does and I have a good look at the mess. Oh jesus christ, I exclaim, she really has pissed herself. Look at it, Dom. You are incandescent. God what a fucking embarrassment, you say, really grave and deep and furious, unleashing your best boss-man tone and making her quake. She is absolutely shitting herself."

"Although luckily only metaphorically in this case. Thank heavens."

"Ha ha ha. Good one, babe."

"Thing is, she probably thinks that I'm going to fire her anyway now. Because she hasn't really passed the test, Abs, has she?"

"Technically she has. She never left the table."

"You don't want me to fire her then? You know, like with Rodney."

"Definitely not. I'm not bored with the poor thing yet. Maybe in a few weeks."

"Well be sure to let me know when you are."

"Thanks. I will."

"Are we finished with this now?"

"Not quite. We torture her a little more. What about the chair, you ask me, has it gone all over that? I lean over and exclaim that oh my god yes it has. The chair looks ruined. The filthy fat cow has completely soiled it. What should we do, I ask? Get the manager, you say."

"The manager?"

"Yeah, you call for the manager and he comes to the table. You and I apologize profusely for the fact that our companion here has had an accident. Some sort of medical issue, we say. Then we make Fatima apologize to him."

"And the financial damage? Do I offer to pay for that?"

"For sure. You tell them to add a grand to the bill. So the manager goes off feeling well disposed to us."

"A grand? Wow."

"It was a nice chair. And who cares anyway because you inform Fatima that it will be docked from her next month's salary."

"That doesn't leave her too much."

"Well whose fault is that, Dom?"

"True."

"Maybe I'll lend her some money."

"You can certainly afford it now, honey, can't you?"

"Ha ha ha. Very funny."

"So anyway, gorgeous, it sounds like this idea of mine, lunch with Fatima, meets with your approval."

"Oh most definitely. You'll stop by later and pick us up?"

"Yep. Twelve thirty."

"I can hardly wait."

"Ok. And just one more thing. Given that you like the plan so much, how about I get a reward for coming up with it? Is there any chance of that, gorgeous?

"A reward?"

"Come on, Abigail, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Ah I see. You are such a naughty boy, Herr Dankeschoen!"

"Yeah yeah yeah. So how about it? Will you show me your jugs this afternoon?"

"Ha ha ha. You love my tits, sugar, don't you?"

"I do."

"Are they a thousand times better than your wife's?"

"They are, honey, yes."

"Ok. And you'd like to see them today, would you?"

"I really would."

"Well that is good to know."

"And?"

"And what?"

"So what do you say?"

"I will consider it."

END