Growing into the Job, Post 484: Lunch Meeting, p2

Melissa and Randi, each tall girls but still graceful, shifted in the bench seats they’d taken across from me at the restaurant. Both women were gorgeous, and the two of them together were a stunning sight…

…with enough cleavage to keep me utterly speechless. I think that was part of their plan.

Honestly, I tried my best not to stare, not to be the predictable, boob-monkey that I was - and that most men would be, sitting here. My gaze, though, kept drifting back across the table, mostly to Melissa, and mostly between her ginormous knockers. Good god she was gorgeous. The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her cast a faint halo around her brunette hair, emphasizing its glossy waves. Her skin glowed, her sharp cheekbones softened by the play of light and animated by her deep dimples. When she caught me staring she smiled at me, a smile that seemed to carry not only the secrets between us - remember what we did last night, sweetie? - but a thousand others. I felt my chest tighten, and had to break eye contact.

I looked to Randi. Her smile was equally, if not even more intensely huge and white. Her eyes also sparkled with secrets, ones she seemed eager to see unfettered. 

They know something, I thought. Whatever this lunch was really about, it was clear Melissa and Randi were in on it together. How they exchanged glances, their smiles just a little too knowing, their laughter too perfectly timed - it all made me feel like I was the only one out of the loop. And the way Melissa’s eyes lingered on me, warm and amused, sent a strange unease through me. What the fuck am I in for, here??

I glanced down at my menu, trying to focus on the list of dishes instead of the tits of my lunch companions, but the words blurred together. I blinked my eyes to try to clear them; dammit. I think I need reading glasses soon. Across from me and seeing me struggle, Randi leaned in slightly to point at an item, her voice breaking the silence and boobs resting on the tabletop. “They have lamb sliders here,” she said, her tone light and conversational, “I tried them last time. They’re fucking good.”

The thought - lamb - made my stomach turn. Weird, because I liked lamb.

Melissa hummed in agreement, her own menu opened. “The hummus platter is nice, too,” she said, her voice smooth and low but tinged with something dark. “Jay, you should try it. You’ll like it.”

Again my stomach turned. She knew I hadn’t been able to eat much in the way of solid food for a while. She had also insisted I not have any breakfast this morning. “I, um-” 

The girls looked at me. I couldn’t finish my sentence.

I’m hungry, but not for, uh, that.

“Mmmm I’m almost wanting a Mimosa, or maybe even a Manhattan. Oh, and hey, by the way - Angie’s suing us. Suing Far Horizons,” Randi casually blurted out, almost genially, still looking over the cocktail menu.

“What?!?” I exclaimed, eyes bugging and dropping my menu, what I might be able to stomach forgotten. “Angie W-?!?”

“Angie?” Melissa interjected, her voice - calmer but still tinged with surprise - quieting mine. “Our Angie?” She took off her sunglasses, finally, and laid them on the table.

“Yeah, ‘our Angie’,” Randi continued, a half-amused twist curling her smile as she pushed aside the drink menu and picked up her glass of water, “Sheryl told me, when I picked up the paperwork this morning. She’s suing Far Horizons for like, I dunno, ‘battery, damages and emotional distress’. She and Ameila got into it on Friday night at the gala, and I guess Amelia scratched her face.”

I pictured Ameila’s nails - long, manicured talons that could probably do a number on a brick wall, let alone human skin. She was also a tall, strong woman herself, and Angie quite the, uh, firecracker. What must that scene have been like?

Randi continued. “Anyway, Sheryl doesn’t seem too concerned. Angie’s lawyer is apparently some doofus, and Sheryl’s got that blonde squad of attorneys.”

“Aww, that makes me sad,” Melissa pouted, “that she didn’t just come to me.” She’d cocked her head, lower lip plumped out fetchingly. I don’t know if she really considered Angie a “friend”, but the two were in high school together. And Melissa always wanted people to like her. “Is she quitting? I didn’t hear anything.”

“No, I guess she’s still coming to work on Monday…” Randi answered, taking a sip of her water, and finishing her sentence with a quiet sip, “...the bitch.”

“But she’s sUU-uing us??” I exclaimed, my voice cracking upwards in my distress, gears turning in a new anxiety. I’d had disgruntled employees before, but never really had to handle actual lawsuits from anyone. “We have t-”

“Shhh, shhh honey,” Melissa quieted me, reaching across the table to grab my hand, her eyes locking onto mine. She seemed unperturbed. “Let us handle it.”

“But I-”

“Shush,” she repeated, more demonstrably, eyes flashing at me and making her message loud and clear. This discussion is over.

As if on cue, our server was at our table, taking drink orders. Melissa and Randi did order mimosas; I was fine with my water - though when I’d sipped at it, it tasted off. Probably just city tap water.

“So, Missy, before we get into the stuff from Sheryl,” Randi said, having watched me put my water down with distaste, “Do you want your presents?”

Suddenly, Melissa’s smile sharpened with excitement. She turned to Randi - who was already reaching for her large leather bag - literally bouncing up and down in her seat. Her sudden exclamation, along with the waves of jiggles that shook her chest, drew eyes from other tables.  “Ooo yes!” Melissa squealed, newly alive with eagerness, “Do you have it?” 

Randi grinned, clearly enjoying the moment as she pulled a large yellow envelope from her bag and set it on the table between them. “Right here,” she said, tapping it lightly. “They were back again this morning, all your fans. A bit bigger crowd. More money. And some other stuff.”

Melissa’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes sparkling and fixed on the envelope. She was obviously keeping herself from grabbing it and tearing it right open, as if waiting for something - or at least trying to extend the moment. “Other stuff?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Randi replied, leaning back with a smirk. “Notes, candles - today someone even left fried pickles. You’ve got some interesting fans, Missy”

Melissa clapped her hands together, laughing, the sound bright and melodic. “That’s hilarious. Are they in there?”

Randi chuckled, shaking her head. “The pickles? No,” she replied, “Just the money.” She paused, shrugged. “Figured that was the important part.”

Melissa pouted dramatically, her bottom lip jutting out in mock disappointment. “You didn’t bring the pickles? Randi! I would’ve eaten those!”

Randi snorted, rolling her eyes. “Omigod. Okay, next time I’ll bring you all the snacks, princess.”

With a delighted giggle, Melissa pulled the envelope closer, her fingers brushing along its edges. “Yes yes yes, do that,” she said, her tone teasing but with a gleam in her eyes that hinted at a deeper longing, “I want it all.” At that, she tore the envelope open and pulled out the stack of bills inside, eyes goggling at the thick wad of it, and laughed - a laugh deep and throaty and which sent ripples through water glasses throughout the room. Her grin widened as, feigning hot and bothered, she fanned herself with the cash. “Oh my goodness look at all this! They’re just giving me money. Like I’m some kind of…I dunno! Something!” 

She held the bills out to Randi, who - with an amused grin, watching her friend’s exuberance - leaned in to sniff the money. “Smells like devotion, they all want your attention,” she joked, her eyes twinkling with something dark.

Melissa laughed again. “You are so full of it,” she said with what sounded like modesty, though I saw something else working behind her eyes, “They just like my boobs.”

“Oh, come on, Missy,” Randi replied, smile curling, “People don’t get up early on a Sunday to go hang out at suburban office parks and drop money just for some, like, big-titty Instagram office siren.”

“Well, whatever it is, this is fun,” Melissa squealed, now playfully fanning Randi with the money, “They love me!” She pulled the money closer to herself, holding it to the bare skin of her upper chest. Her fingers curled around the cash and for a moment, the lightness in her expression gave way to something deeper, something hungry. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief second, and she inhaled deeply, as if drawing strength from the offerings. Her chest rose with the breath, and for a moment, the air around us seemed to shift.

The glassware on our table rattled faintly, the vibrations spreading to the adjoining tables. My breath caught as I swore I saw her change - not in height, or appearance, but in presence. It was as if she had become, albeit subtly, more. More radiant, more commanding, more breathtaking…more Melissa. My pulse quickened, and when her eyes opened again and met mine, the intensity of her gaze made my heart lurch.

“Oh, baby,” she said softly, as if just to me, “This is just the beginning. I can feel it.” Her gaze was heavy with meaning.

“These people see something in you, Missy  Like what they want the world to be,” said Randi softly, from alongside her. Her smirk had faltered. “And they’ll be back.”

“Wh-when..?” Melissa asked, fanning herself again with the money as she groaned. The table shook faintly - perhaps from Melissa’s enthusiasm or some strange energy that seemed to ripple through the air - only feeding into my lingering, speechless sense of awe. “When are they gonna be back?”

“Well,” Randi began, eyebrows rising slightly as she leaned back a bit, “I told them today - like I did yesterday morning -  that you appreciated their, uh, support, and that you loved the gifts, that I’d get them to you. But, Missy, we can’t have your fanclub showing up every day. So, I told them to take all their weird vibes and shoo, and not to come back until next weekend.” She said that last part carefully, watching Melissa take a drink of her water.

Melissa’s put her glass down, lips parted as if to protest, but then she nodded slowly, her fingers drumming against the tabletop. “Next weekend,” she repeated, almost to herself, though her tone betrayed a flicker of disappointment. “Yeah…that’s probably smart.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Randi said, sounding a bit relieved, like she’d made the right decision, done right by her friend.

“But next weekend…” Melissa continued, as her gaze shifted back to the money, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Her fingers now lightly tapped the empty envelope. “Will you make it special?”

“Special?” Randi asked, though I could see the gears turning in her head already. 

Across from them, I sat quietly, feeling like an observer in a game whose rules I didn’t understand. Whatever had happened this morning, whatever was happening right now, I couldn’t shake the sense that it was leading to something much bigger. But Melissa, Randi? They seemed to know exactly where it was headed.

The drinks arrived, lunches were ordered, menus gathered. I tried to settle myself after agreeing with Melissa - I didn't really need anything from the kitchen - and pleasantries again filled the next few moments. The girls had comments on the appetizers when they appeared, jokes about Randi’s love for olives - but the air between us now felt charged. There was the Angie thing, the money from the envelope, but we were here for something else. The casual ceremonies of ordering lunch were allowing us to skirt around something much larger. I tried to relax, sipping at my own water - yikes. Too cold. Maybe too much ice? - but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Melissa and Randi were beginning to gently nudge us toward some unseen precipice. I tried to distract myself by scooping up some baba ghanoush with a piece of pita. Really, I hadn’t had anything all day so maybe-

Yuck. 

Melissa’s gaze shifted to me as I put down the pita, trying not to make a face. Her expression softened into something almost motherly - sympathetic, but also amused.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, her voice low and gentle. “You’re not able to, are you?”

I froze, my cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” I mumbled, trying to wave her off.

Randi arched an eyebrow, glancing between us with open curiosity. “What’s that about?” she asked Melissa, leaning forward slightly.

Melissa didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned her full attention to Randi, ignoring me entirely as if I wasn’t even there. “His appetite’s been so small these past few weeks,” she explained, her tone warm but entirely too patronizing for my liking. “He thinks it’s the stress, poor thing, but I dunno. His little tummy just can’t handle solid food anymore.”

I gripped the edge of the table, heat rising to my face again. The way she spoke about me - like I was some child she was discussing with a babysitter - made me feel small in more ways than one. I opened my mouth to protest but quickly shut it when I realized neither of them were looking at me.

“You mean he’s just been skipping meals?” Randi asked, an uncharacteristic concern in her voice, “That’s not good, right?”

Melissa tilted her head, her thick, glossy hair spilling over one shoulder. “Oh, well, we’re doing okay with his formula,” she said, her tone brightening as if she were about to unveil a delightful surprise. She turned back to me, her eyes twinkling. “You’ve been drinking your formula, haven’t you, baby?”

“‘Formula’ ?’ Randi laughed. 

I blinked at Melissa, completely caught off guard. Did she have to use that term? “Uh… yeah,” I admitted, hesitant, though intent on correcting her, “The protein drinks have-”

“Exactly,” Melissa said, beaming as if I’d just passed a test. “I make sure he gets what he needs. Evolution Pharm makes it up for me, a special formula just for us. It’s got all the, like, nutrients, everything his body needs to stay healthy.”

Randi looked across the table, down at me. She smirked. “‘Protein shakes’, huh? And he’s okay with that?”

Melissa’s smile turned playful, almost conspiratorial. “Well, he doesn’t really have a choice,” she teased, “if his formula is the only thing he can handle…” Then, without any warning, she reached down the front of her shirt.

My eyes widened in horror. “Melissa, what are you-?”

She ignored me, fingers fishing in for a moment before pulling out a baby bottle. A baby bottle: she held it up for us both - and indeed the entire restaurant, as people were watching -  to see, its glass glinting in the sunlight from the windows. It was filled with the familiar white liquid of my, uh, ‘protein drink’.

I smelled her perfume from across the table, and my eyes locked on her m-…the bottle, and the f-formula. 

“…then mommy has to keep it ready for him, nice and warm,” Melissa announced cheerfully, shaking the bottle a bit with a few flicks of her wrist. Now her eyes were intent on me. She started to lean across the table with the bottle, towards me…

“Omigod looks like lunch is ready, Squirt!” Randi laughed, looking at me, looking at the bottle, watching me recoiling in humiliation as Melissa aimed the nipple towards me. 

“M-M-Melissa..!” I exclaimed, “We’re…we’re in p-public!”

“But you’re so hungry..!” she cooed with a wide, indulgent smile, dropping for the moment into the baby-talk she’d used with me last night…and again when I woke up on her this morn-

“And Randi - n-no!!” I further exclaimed. She had her phone out! She was filming this!!

“Are you kidding?” Randi said, grinning from ear to ear behind her phone, “The ‘Dr. Vulni’ fans are going to love this! This is gold. Absolute gold!”

Melissa joined her in laughter, her face lighting up with genuine delight. “Yeah isn’t it cute?” she asked, turning the bottle slightly so the camera could really catch it. “It fits perfectly in my bra, I can keep it right at my body temperature for him.”

I wanted to crawl under the table. “Melissa, I don’t need that right now,” I said through gritted teeth, my voice barely above a whisper. I was being recorded, and didn’t want to dissolve into a meltdown. 

”Oh, don’t be shy, Dr. Vulni,” Melissa cooed, as she slowly moved in with the bottle again, towards me, “You didn’t have any breakfast this morning, and mommy made this all special…”

I backed away, as much as I could in my seat, but then felt a wave of her perfume hit me, fill my next breath. I became hungrier. I glanced into the camera and felt my cheeks flush anew. More people around the restaurant were covertly taking pictures of this too. I felt Melissa’s fingers, on her free hand, brushing mine, taking my hand as she nudged the bottle closer.

“Come on, Jay,” she said softly, her voice taking on a more soothing tone, more perfume wafting over me, with tendrils. “You need this…you want this.”

I stared at the bottle - it was mere inches away now. Melissa peered down over it expectantly, her face looming over the bottle with an indulgent smile both warm and radiant, like a mother encouraging her child to take their first steps. Her soft fingers curled around mine as if to steady me. My stomach twisted with a mix of embarrassment and something I couldn’t quite name. I could feel countless eyes on me, eagerly waiting for me to take it. What was keeping me from doing it? What pride did I have left? It would make Melissa so happy and-

”That’s right, baby,” Melissa continued to coo, the bottle's nipple scant millimeters away from my lips, “Mama knows best…”

Randi was still filming, her phone angled to perfectly capture the moment. "Come on, Squirt," she teased from behind the lens, "Let Mommy Melissa take care of you."

The heat of my humiliation was a fire spreading through my chest. The murmurs from the surrounding diners had grown louder now, a subtle buzz of fascination and disbelief. I felt their eyes, their phones documenting this bizarre spectacle of me, ‘Dr. Vulni’, about to be bottle-fed by the woman I used to consider my employee, my partner. What was she to me now?

But Melissa was patient, her gaze never wavering, her grip never loosening. She gave the bottle a slight nudge forward, the rubber nipple brushing against my lips. She cooed again to me, coaxing me to take it. The warmth radiating from it, faintly scented with something sweet and familiar, tugged at some deeper part of me.

I opened my mouth, just slightly, and that was all she needed - the nipple slipped between my lips. The first taste of the creamy liquid - just the first drops expressed from the nipple- was warm and soothing, a strange contrast to the cold water l'd just abandoned. It was rich, velvety, with a faint hint of vanilla and a definite taste of her. My body betrayed me instantly, the warmth spreading through me like a balm, relaxing muscles I hadn't even realized were tense and taut. I took my first suck. 

Melissa's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with delight. "There we go," she whispered, her voice dripping with approval as she tilted the bottle slightly, letting the liquid flow more easily. "That's my good little guy."

I closed my eyes, shutting out the restaurant, the cameras - even Randi's amused laughter - and began to suck some more. I tried to focus on the simple act of drinking, on the soothing warmth down my throat, filling my stomach. I felt the gentle strength of Melissa's hand on mine as she fed me. But her giggles pulled me back into the moment.

“Look at you…” she purred, “being so good.”

"Omigod, Missy," Randi said, her tone equal parts incredulous and entertained. "This is the most insane thing I’ve ever seen. You two are naturals at this. Look at him go!"

Melissa chuckled, her soft laugh carrying her pride. "Yeah, isn't he just adorable?" she said, her voice pitched just a bit louder now, clearly for the benefit of her audience - not just Randi, but the phone’s camera and the restaurant's diners. "He was so hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything all day. Poor baby just needed his mommy to help."

Her words sent a fresh wave of heat to my cheeks, and I suddenly realized that she hadn’t made me a drink earlier this morning just so I’d be hungry enough for this moment, in public. I could be angry but the bottle was too good, too comforting for me to pull away. I continued taking long, suckling sips, the body-warm liquid pooling in my mouth before sliding down my throat. I could feel Melissa watching me, her gaze heavy with affection and satisfaction.

"That's it," she murmured, her tone low and intimate. "Drink up, baby. You're doing so good."

The bottle's nipple settled deeper through my lips and into my mouth as she adjusted her grip. I dared to open my eyes and glance up at her. Her face was glowing, her smile so genuine and filled with happiness that, for a fleeting moment, I forgot my humiliation. Melissa looked radiant, so beautiful, almost otherworldly. She seemed so pleased, so utterly content, that it sent a strange mix of emotions swirling through me - shame, yes, but also a deep desire to keep her smiling like that.

The murmurs from the restaurant had faded into the background, a distant hum that seemed less important with each passing second. Even Randi's snickering felt like white noise now, as if the world had narrowed to just Melissa and me. I did hear Randi say something in praise of Melissa - “wow your tits look amazing in this shot” - and heard Melissa giggle in reply, shifting her shoulders just-so, towards the camera. But really the only sounds that meant anything to me were her purrs, coos and clucks. 

After about a minute, though, Melissa tilted the bottle back slightly, breaking the flow. "That's enough for now," she said softly, easing the nipple from my mouth. She held the bottle up triumphantly, grinning at Randi and the camera. "Halfway done already," she said, her tone teasing but deeply rich, newly full of a maternal pride, "Isn't he such a good boy?" That she had gotten me to do that on camera was a big win.

Randi cackled, lowering her phone slightly.

"Oh, he's a champ, alright, and Missy you looked awesome,” she said, addressing the two of us, “Your fans are gonna love this one, guys. I’ll edit it tonight, post it up."

Melissa laughed, setting the bottle down on the table before leaning closer to the camera, looking right into it. "Hope you all enjoyed our little lunch break," she said, her voice light and playful, her dimples deepening as she giggled and made her eyes flash. Then she turned back to me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Her hand reached out to ruffle my hair. "I'm so proud of you."

Just then, our waitress appeared with the girls’ lunches. I barely registered it, though, still reeling. Melissa’s last words of praise - she’s proud of me? - hit me harder than I expected, a strange mix of comfort and embarrassment wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I glanced down at the half-empty bottle, then back up at Melissa. She was accepting her plate from the server with the same radiant smile that hadn't faltered for a second. Whatever she was building here - whatever we were building, I guess - I couldn't deny the power she held over me now. And, in some strange, inexplicable way, I couldn't bring myself to resent it.

Randi and Melissa had already started on their meals - a branzino for Randi, oxtail tortellini for Melissa. They were splitting a large Aegean salad, and had ordered me a small dish of hummus, just to be polite. Phones away, the two had already stepped back into girlish banter.

After a bit, Melissa noticed I’d been quiet. I’d also been eyeing the half-empty bottle, still sitting sentinel on the table between us. 

“If you’re still hungry I’ll help you if you need me to,” she said, a pasta pocket poised on her fork. “We can do this together.” Though she was obviously referring back to the bottle, I couldn’t help but recall the other way she’d found to feed me -  chewing her own food and spitting it into my mouth. I shuddered at the thought of doing that here, and prayed she’d spare me that humiliation, at least.

 I listened to the girls talk, for a bit, and tried to pick at my hummus, or at least the pita. It tasted like stale cardboard, if there is such a thing. The girls, quickly, were nearly finished with their meals, the fish stripped clean on Randi’s plate and Melissa’s pasta reduced to just a few bites. Every so often, still, my eyes flicked to the half-empty bottle sitting in the middle of the table, standing like a strange monument to my surrender.

“So,” Randi said, setting her fork down with a soft clink against her plate. “Should we finally get to the paperwork?”

Melissa’s face lit up, her dimples deepening as she dropped her fork so she could clap her hands together. “OOoOooo yes for sure let’s do it!” she squealed, like an excited schoolgirl.

What was this paperwork they’d been talking about? I guess I’d be finding out soon enough as Randi was already reaching down into her large leather bag, the rich material creaking softly as she rummaged through its depths. 

“I like your bag, Rand,” Melissa offered.

“This? I’ve had this thing forever,” she said idly, as she pulled out two manila folders and snapped the bag closed again, sticking it aside herself on the bench seat. Melissa pushed both Randi’s and her own plate to the side, so Randi could set the folders on the table between the three of us with a deliberate motion. The sight of them, suddenly, sent an uneasy ripple through me. From my angle, I could clearly see the handwritten labels on the tabs, written in the unmistakable looping script of Sheryl’s handwriting. One tab bore Melissa’s name - “Melissa Monroe”. The other bore mine.

I swallowed hard, suddenly hyper aware of the tension in my shoulders. “What…what is this all about?” I asked, trying to chuckle and keep my voice steady.

Randi didn’t answer right away. She leaned back in her seat, taking a leisurely sip of her water as if to prolong the suspense. Then she shrugged, her smirk teasing. “Well, I picked them up from Sheryl’s place this morning. Your employee folders. Stuff for you each to sign. She wanted me as a witness.”

I felt the pit of unease in my stomach deepen. The casual way Randi spoke, the ease with which she and Melissa exchanged a knowing glance - it only heightened the sense that I was the only one at the table who didn’t know what was happening here. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being handled, that the two of them were leading me somewhere I didn’t fully understand, yet I had no choice but to follow.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Randi asked, her tone light but her eyes flickering with amusement as she glanced between us.

“OOOooOo me me me!” Melissa exclaimed, raising her hand, again like an eager schoolgirl, this time volunteering in class. She practically bounced in her seat, her excitement palpable and eyes sparkling with anticipation.

I forced a weak smile, my heart sinking further. Whatever was in those folders, it was clear that Melissa and Randi had already decided how this would play out. I was just along for the ride. No surprise; this was how my life went these days. But I couldn’t help the sinking feeling that whatever was going to happen here would mark yet another step in my gradual loss of control and be a reminder that my life, my decisions, were no longer entirely my own but managed almost entirely by women.

Randi pulled Melissa’s folder towards herself with a grin. “Alright, Missy. Let’s do you first…”

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