I know, I know, I know…I have to do it.I really don’t want to, to have to tell Melissa ‘no’, t

I know, I know, I know…I have to do it.I really don’t want to, to have to tell Melissa ‘no’, to have to say ‘I’m sorry I don’t want to meet your sales-rep friend about her company’s flaky new med’. I have a hard time disappointing pretty girls, I guess. But, I know I have to nip this in the bud though, before she gets her hopes up, before she starts thinking my time isn’t precious, that I have attention to spare. But at the same time I’m ashamed to admit I really don’t look forward to upsetting her. Especially as I remember earlier this morning, trailing behind her in the hallway…watching that big, rounded bottom and the mesmerizing sway of those hips, all wrapped up tightly in that purple outfit she has on today…So, she’s in the waiting room, Marisela tells me, helping people with their paperwork. She’s my Office Manager, she shouldn’t be doing this - working directly with patients.  I mean, I realize why…we’ve had a slew of girls call out ‘sick’, yesterday and today. She thinks she’s just being helpful. But honestly it’s just going to play into this little passive-aggressive protest the staff has agains-Yikes. W-what’s she doing?I’m frozen in my tracks, immediately, as I step into the far side of the waiting room.“Awww” I hear Melissa coo, her voice lilting like the sweetest honey, “Poor Mr. Cowelseek…”“It’s pronounced Koh-wahl-chik,” his wife - Agnes, I think her name is - corrects.Seemingly heedless, Melissa rests a comforting hand on the old man’s shoulder, bending at the hips and putting that massive, heaving chest of hers right in front of his face. Normally a rather difficult, crotchety old man, Melissa already has him pacified - almost drooling even - gazing down her top and into the chasm of her impressively deep cleavage. “Back again so soon,?” she asks him, seeing the date of his last visit on the chart clutched in his gnarled hand. Genuine concern makes itself known through her gentle tone, her soft ministrations, “What is it this time, Mr. Kahwallis?”“Buh… B-Buh…” I hear him stutter in his raspy voice, his eyes unwavering from the spectacle of femininity before him, even as he attempts his paperwork.“It’s his dang liver again,” his wife answers for him, “And, it’s Kowalczyk.” I can hear the irritation in her voice even from across the room.“Oh, his liver huh? That’s no good…” Melissa dotes, as she reaches down, takes the pen from the old man’s hand. “Here, let me check some of those boxes for you,” she offers, looking over our admission forms. The old man still holds the clipboard, so Melissa is leaned in very close…Good god, look at that. Her big breast, looking so soft and heavy, is inches away from his face.“Let’s see,” she asks, “any new sores, Mr. Cawicki? Trouble sleeping?” Melissa is checking off boxes, one two three, as Mrs. Kowalczyk keeps up with the answers…looking none too pleased.“No, no, no…and it’s KOWALCZYK…Chick! Chick! Chick!”Melissa, smiling down at her dumbstruck patient, this elderly gentleman obviously leering into her top, blithely presses on.“Let’s just call you Stanley,” she says, with chipper goodwill.To anyone who’d ask I’d pass it off as observing, evaluating a new employee…but, standing here unnoticed in my own waiting room I’m flat out staring. Just like poor Mr. Kowalczyk and just about every other set of male eyes here, I’m focused intently on Melissa, on her figure, on the impossibility of her waist and the thick toss of her hair. Her breasts are each the size of the man’s head. Her legs dwarf his. She just…glows, with health, beauty and a voluptuous vivacity.But mostly jesus it’s her tits.*kaff kaff kaff*“Oh, you poor thing, are you thirsty?” Melissa coos, as Mr. Kowalczyk is suddenly consumed by a small coughing fit. I know the guy has emphysema…but, yeah, maybe he’s thirsty too, and Melissa turns and bounces over to the water cooler, giving him a show of her shapely butt as she bends to draw him a drink.”Here you go, this’ll be better…”Mrs. Kowalczyk’s eyes are shooting needles as Melissa comes to him and, like a mother to it’s needy toddler, brings the paper cup to his lips and - his chin in her hand - assists him in a drink. Agnes is none too pleased.Lord god this is getting to be too much. What’s wrong with me?? Why is my heart racing, why are my eyes staring, unblinking, as this overgrown girl giggles and preens, tending to this weak little man. Smothering him with maternal attentions, overwhelming him as she is, oblivious to his own dignity, his independence.“There you go, sweetie, drink up,” she urges, as Mr. Kowalczyk’s eyes are, again, sunk deep between the massive swells burgeoning from her top, her elbows squashing her considerable bust up towards her throat. Nnnngh….I might be starting to sweat. Again- what’s wrong with me?!? Yes, I’m a boob-guy, but recently - and I attribute it to her, to Melissa, her mere presence in my day-to-day life - I’ve been a total mess. I can’t think of anything, unless I’m forced to, except tits tits tits. And they’re usually hers…Suddenly I hear quiet giggling.My staff, at the other end of the waiting room, at the check-in window, are laughing. They’re looking this way. Are they laughing at her, at Melissa and Mr. Kowalczyk? Or are they laughing at m-“Yep, everyone reeeeeeeealllllly likes their Melissssy…” comes Marisela’s voice, suddenly behind me.Oh my god how long has she been there for?“Oh, uh, hi,” I say, spinning on my heel, charts almost falling from my hands.“DId you need to talk to her about something?” Marisela asks me, eyeing me warily. I can’t help but imagine an amused grin hiding under that flat expression.“No, I uh…” I manage, pulling a pen from behind my ear, opening a chart, “…it’s nothing.”To that, I beat my retreat back down the staff hallway, heart still racing, palms still wet. My pulse pounds in my head. Jesus I have to calm down! I…I can’t help, though, as I close myself in my office again, slumping into my chair, acknowledging the bulge in my pants and the jealousy I currently feel toward an 83 year-old dude. The last time a woman was that tender, gentle and caring towards me, I think ruefully to myself as my hand falls between my legs……was with Rina. —–muchas gracias to @joshua67blog for the image and DB20 for his help on copy -- source link

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