Hi Folks, Thanks for all of the E-mails and comments on last week's story. Whether positive or negative I appreciated all of them. This week's story is a bit different though as usual. So If it's not your cup of tea fear not next week's story is very different from this one. Thanks as always to the incredible Mikothebaby for working her magic here. And for everyone who reads it. SS06

I was watching what many think of as one of the most beautiful scenes on earth. Despite the circumstances, watching the sun rise in Hawaii is on a lot of people's bucket list. Somehow with me though, it only served to increase my nervousness and the sense of how alone I was.

I'd always dreamed of doing this, but I somehow never imagined that I'd do it alone. I'm at the point now where I understand what people mean when they talk about how success means nothing unless you have someone to share it with.

I think I should add that the person you're sharing it with also has to mean something to you and vice versa. I didn't come to Hawaii alone, but after yesterday, I've begun to realize that you can be in a small group of people or even in a large crowd and still be alone.

My nervousness stems from the fact that a lot is riding on this trip and it seems like both my boss and I underestimated not only the stakes involved, but also the possibility of not getting what we came here for. With our jobs and maybe even our careers not nearly as secure as we'd like, I feel as if the sword of Damocles is hanging over our heads.

At the same time, I found out yesterday that something I thought no one knew about is something that the worst person in the world who could find out, already knows.

So this morning I got up extra early to watch the sun rise. I have no idea when or even if I'll have another chance at something like this again. A tear rolls down my cheek because as I watch the subtle hues of light as the glowing ball rises over the horizon bringing with it the hopes of a new day, I feel nothing but sadness, bitterness, regret and anger.

It really shouldn't be this way. I have no one to blame for my situation except for myself so I guess I should suck it up and try to make the best of a relatively shitty situation.

My name is Elvina Caldwell. And this trip is supposed to be a way for my boss, Lou Grant, and me to impress the new upper management team at our company. Our company, Dalton Industries, was recently sold to a group of younger investors and they seemed dead set on bringing in all of their own people. The people they brought in seemed to all be younger and bored. I'm not an old maid by any standard at 38. My boss, Lou, is 12 years older at fifty.

When we first got a chance to look at them during a staff meeting, Lou and I, along with the other members of our staff thought the same thing. We all had the idea that we'd be babysitting a bunch of kids. We thought that maybe these kids were the children of some of the stock holders. Maybe their parents didn't know what to do with them or they sent them here to give them a taste of the real world.

We thought that we'd teach them the ropes and serve as mentors for the young whippersnappers and give them the benefits of our years of experience. Within the first week, we quickly found out that we were in trouble. Even though a lot of the kids were barely out of college and some were still attending classes, we found out that it was we who had to bust our asses to keep up. To say that the culture in our workplace changed overnight would be an understatement.

Men wearing suits and ties to work disappeared, as did the business suit and semi formal attire for women. Jeans, miniskirts and sweats became the order of the day. One of the things I noticed right away was that every single one of the kids, as we called them, was wired.

They all had laptops, tablets or smart-phones and they all stayed connected through all forms of communication that I'd never heard of. In many cases, they communicated far faster and far more cohesively than our corporate network allowed.

It was extremely scary and almost nothing was written down. Almost any document they did was sent to a server that I didn't know existed. When I brought that up in a meeting, I was told that the new communications structure had been outlined on the employee's page on the new corporate website. My boss should have given me my log-in instructions weeks ago.

Neither Lou nor I even knew that there was a corporate website. Neither did any of the people we'd worked with for years. After a few more weeks, we started to notice that a lot of our former colleagues were no longer with the company. Out of curiosity, I called a couple of them thinking that maybe they'd quit or headed for greener pastures. I was surprised to find out that they'd all been let go.

I heard the same story again and again. They simply couldn't adjust to the new company model. Most of them told me that given time, they might have been able to work it out, but things moved so fast these days. And most of them didn't know what a "twitter," was, let alone have one.

Lou was pretty much the last of the dinosaurs. I didn't count because I was his assistant. Whatever happened to Lou, happened to me, by proxy. The new owners kind of liked having us around for some reason but they were always criticizing everything we did. They were also making it harder and harder for us to keep our jobs. Neither of us had been given a raise since they took over a year ago.

They'd finally found something that we could help with. More and more, businesses were spending a large part of their advertising budget on Net marketing. One of the up and coming leaders in the field of internet advertising was again accepting new business.

WellWen Marketing had sprung up from nowhere about four years ago. They had a lot of proprietary processes that were revolutionizing marketing over the internet. Their commercials both on the internet and lately on TV had everyone talking.

Their early commercials had a guy who sounded like the AFLAC duck asking the viewer questions. "You said you were going to start advertising your business on the internet," asked the guy. "Well," he screams. "When?" Then an off camera voice talks about WellWen marketing.

They got so much business so rapidly that for the last three months of last year they had to stop taking on new accounts. They simply didn't have the staff to service them. I'd give anything to know about their corporate structure, because overnight, the company had sprung from nothing to being valued in the billions of dollars.

Anyway, they were having a "new accounts," fair and would be accepting new business starting tomorrow and that was where Lou and I had fucked up. You see, Lou and I both thought that we'd breeze in and sign up with them. We hadn't put together any kind of presentation. We never thought that we'd need one. Even on the plane, we found out our mistake. We'd met a couple of reps from other companies who were talking about the way that the model for business had flipped.

It used to be that advertising agencies came to customers and pitched their ideas for ads that would sell the products the customers produced. Now with net marketing taking off like it had a rocket up its collective ass and the few companies who had access to larger amounts of screens, the advertisers had as many clients as they could serve. They could afford to pick and choose.

Lou and I hadn't realized that when we got onto the plane. Lou had been so busy regaling me with stories about the old days that we never realized the game had changed. We'd both had the idea that they were going to try to pitch to us. I was along because even though I'm nearly forty, I'm eye candy as well as being half of Lou's brain.

I've always been considered to be very good looking. I'm medium height at about 5' 6". I have long blond hair and very blue eyes. I have a rounded butt and very curvy legs, but it's my chest that seems to just pull guys in like a magnet. I have a set of 42 DD's that seem even bigger on my normal sized frame. There aren't very many guys who can look away from them. It's both my greatest asset and my curse.

I learned from a very early age that I could get almost anything I wanted from a guy just by breathing hard and smiling. Unfortunately, I also got a lot of things that I didn't want as well. I guess we'd gotten to the point where on this trip, Lou had decided that having me along might be his ace in the hole if he needed to sweeten the deal.

That was one of the problems that I faced this morning. My moral compass needle was going crazy. I suddenly realized that that my being here just as something other than as Lou's assistant made me some sort of virtual whore. My real value on this trip would be in wearing a low cut shirt and bending over a lot. I guess I'd come to terms with the fact that in a world where technology and paradigms were changing and expanding faster than I could process them, I had to use every asset at my disposal to stay employed.

Letting a bunch of men look at me barely even registered on my moral compass. What set the needle spinning so wildly was the thought that I might have to fuck some of them. I had never done that even once. I could still, at this date, proudly say that I had never fucked a client for any reason. I have never had any kind of sex with a client for either business or pleasure.

But this trip might change me from a virtual whore to an actual one. It was a decision that I might have to make and probably a lot sooner than I was ready for. I don't think that I could do it, no matter what. Sex causes too many problems. Trust me, I should know. If the choice came between having sex with some guy and losing my job, I guess I'd have to join the ranks of the unemployed.

As I mulled the question and the circumstances over in my mind, my thoughts wandered. There were so many differences in the way that business was handled now and the way things were done 18 years ago when I left college with my bright, shiny Associates degree in business and office practices.

Today everything revolved around computers and the internet. Almost everything could be done in house including most meetings. I couldn't believe it when I saw a team of the kids having a virtual meeting with a design team located in Japan. It was like some corporate version of Skype that translated the speaker's words into English on our end and Japanese on theirs.

I had no idea how to even begin to set up something like that but the kids picked up things like that as if they'd been born with a computer in their hands.

More and more, as I think about the kids and the way they relate to technology better than they do with people, I realize that my husband would be right at home in our current environment. In fact, he'd excel. This was his playground, it had never been mine.

As I sat there watching the sun fill the area with warm light, I had an epiphany. Maybe our jobs weren't as precarious as I thought. Perhaps the kids' strength was also their weakness. Most of the kids played well with tech, but they didn't play as well with people. The majority of them had trouble functioning without their tech toys.

It was really creepy to me to see them in groups at tables in the cafeteria. Three or four of them would sit together for lunch and never look away from their screens long enough to even actually speak to each other. Did they just text "Hello," or, "Goodbye," to each other instead of actually saying the words?

That inability to deal with and actually meet with real people was the only thing that Lou and I had going for us. I saw now that it was probably the only reason the two of us were still with the company. I wonder what would happen to us if we fucked this assignment up.

I think that things would have gone better for us if we'd delivered a great presentation and then not gotten a deal with WellWen than if we just had to go back and say we didn't get it because we were not only unprepared but didn't know the game. Would they look for new dinosaurs if Lou and I couldn't get the job done?

I tried to take my mind off of business by watching the eager young and not so young surfers out on the waves. As usual, I compared each man whether skinny or fat, short or tall to my picture of the ideal man. It's funny, but my picture was far different from what people would expect.

Because of my physical attributes, I could probably have any guy I wanted and when I was younger, I had. I was a very late bloomer and didn't get the gifts of my genes until my first year of college. My mom had always told me that when, "they," came; I'd have to fight the boys off.

By, "they," she meant the breasts. Most of the women in my family are very well endowed; some to ridiculous proportions. I didn't want, "them." I'd seen the damage that, "they," could do.

My mother married my father because she loved him with every fiber of her being. She wasn't unrealistic in her expectations the way some women are. She simply wasn't prescient enough to realize that all of the factors in an equation don't always stay the same. Some women marry a man knowing that he has faults because they think that they can change him. Women always believe they can turn a man into their perfect vision of what they think he should be because they have this magical hole between their legs that God has given them to allow them to control men. Men are equally stupid though, because men have their own version of it.

Men don't marry women that they think are flawed. Men screw around until they find exactly the woman they want. But then they expect her to stay the same forever. Gravity, time and the aging process, both physical and mental prevent that from happening.

My mother, in her wisdom, knew that my father had a problem. He had an addiction of sorts. Nope he wasn't an alcoholic, or a drug user. He didn't have a problem with gambling and he wasn't abusive. My father was a tit man.

He loved my mother, but he worshipped her breasts. My mother could control my father simply with how many buttons she opened on her blouse. She could get my daddy to agree to anything just by leaning over or rubbing her tits against his arm.

By the time that I was old enough to understand what she was doing, I loved watching it. She'd say, "Honey can you cut the grass today instead of tomorrow? I want to have a few people over and it might be nice to do it outside."

He'd say, "But I was going to play golf today. I always cut the grass on Sunday." She'd open up a button and his eyes would head for her cleavage. Then she'd smile and some unsaid message would pass between them. He'd put the paper down, call his friends and I'd hear the lawn mower within five minutes.

My mom would just laugh. When I got older, I asked her about it. "But Mom, doesn't he get to see and play with your breasts whenever he wants anyway?" I asked.

"Of course he does," she laughed. "They're actually his anyway. I just carry them around for him. He got so jealous that you got to suck them when you were born that I had to let him suck on them too. My boobs are just one of your dad's triggers. Once they come out, no matter what happens, we end up making love. And they come out a lot because I love being with your dad at least as much as he loves being with me. I just have to pretend to give it to him, like it's something only he likes, so I can keep the upper hand.

It seemed like a very complicated relationship to me at the time. But I had to admit that it worked for them. There were no happier couples in my neighborhood. All of the women envied my mother. And all of the men were jealous of my dad. And the two of them loved each other fiercely until...

It all came to an end my first year of college. My, "freshman five," was actually more like a freshman twenty. My bean pole legs became curvier and thicker. My ass got rounder as well. But the biggest change was that over the course of a year my boobs got bigger so fast they hurt. I went from a respectable smaller "C" cup that barely appeared on anyone's radar to a double "D," between August and June of my freshman year at college.

When I got home, none of my clothes, especially not my underwear, fit anymore. I also arrived home to help my mom through the pain of discovering her breast cancer and the treatment and recovery. Over the years, my mom had continued to only love my dad more and more, but within a few months of the surgery it became clear that what he'd loved most was gone.

The year following my mom's surgery, I could feel his eyes on me everywhere I went while I was at home. I was twenty years old and had lost my virginity that summer so I knew what he wanted. I also knew that it would never happen. Please don't paint my father as a monster. He never laid so much as a finger on me or even made a lascivious remark. But he couldn't help what he was.

He left my mom with a note that she never revealed the contents of to me. He split everything with her fifty/fifty, except that she got to keep the house. My father was and probably is a good provider. She also gets half of his pension until she died. And he paid for me to finish college. My mom told me that he only divorced her so that she could find someone else. Someone who would love her the way that she deserved instead of loving her for what she used to be. In his own way, I guess he was being honest and though I've never sought him out, I've always respected him for that. Instead of stretching things out and torturing her, he'd chosen to give my mother one sharp blow and he waited until she'd fully recovered from the cancer to do it. No one can ever tell or control how one person feels about another.

It strikes me funny as I think about it. I spend probably a quarter of my salary on private investigators but I've never tried to find my father. Anyway, my father leaving us affected my mother. It changed her and made her old and eventually killed her far faster than the cancer might have and in a more insidious way.

As I've mentioned before, my mother loved my father with every fiber of her being. I think that must be genetic too. She was simply never able to get over him leaving her. She started to look much older than her actual age overnight. She also lost a lot of her confidence about her own self-image. She spent a lot of time looking at pictures of herself, from when she had her boobs.

She dated a few times and a couple of the guys really liked her. But her heart never beat for anyone else the way it did for my dad. Seeing that made me realize that the guys I'd been dating were all wrong for me. I'm certain that eventually I'd have come to the same realization on my own, but seeing the breakup of my family made me even more conscious of the fact that it was very important that I find the right man.

Most of the guys I'd been dating had been the athletes or the outgoing types. They were the kind of guys who were competitors and were willing to do what it took to get what they wanted. In a lot of cases, what they wanted was to get their hands on my tits and their dick inside of me. That was, after all, normal and I got a lot out of it too in a purely physical sense. But after a while of that, I started to wonder if there was anything else.

I didn't feel the way my mother felt about my father about any of those guys. In fact, I sometimes broke up with guys just because they pissed me off or made the wrong kind of joke. There were always a lot more guys who wanted me than I needed anyway.

Things went along great until my third year of college. I had put off taking all of my math classes until that year because I hated math. Even doing percentages and compounding interest formulas in the accounting classes had me ready to pull out my hair.

They assigned me a tutor. Danny Caldwell was the kind of guy I usually looked past to see my date. Someone who looked like Danny would never have registered on my radar at all and when I first met him, it wasn't love at first site.

The first thing I noticed about him was that my grades went up. I don't think back then that if you asked me to describe him I could have, even though I was spending three or four hours a week with him. Slowly some of the things he said began to sink in and they weren't about math. Most of the guys I went out with couldn't wait to get me naked. In fact, the guys that were the most confident, didn't even bother with the dates before the sex, they just came over to fuck me. Some of them had so little patience that they'd start stripping my clothes off and just push my face where they wanted it.

I started to find myself remembering how patient Danny was with me and how he'd always make time to see me. I think the thing that made Danny jump from faceless dweeb to dating material was my birthday.

The guy I was dating was supposed to be a great wrestler. Everyone thought that he'd go to the Olympics and then ... Shit what do wrestlers do after the Olympics? Anyway on my birthday, Stu, the wrestler, came over. I expected that we'd g out to a show or a nice movie but it was business as usual. Less than thirty seconds after he got to my dorm, I was on my knees bobbing my head up and down in his crotch.

"Slow it down Babe," he growled. "I got something special I wanna try."

I continued sucking his dick and put everything I'd learned that he liked into it. I really believed that Stu had something worked out for my birthday.

"Oh shit," he growled suddenly and pushed me off of him. That was unusual for Stu because he expected me to swallow his stuff and I did because it beat cleaning it off of my clothes and furniture. But this time he roughly pushed me away from him which surprised the hell out of me. Then he just shot blast after blast of his sperm right in my face and then yelled," Happy Birthday!"

Just as I thought it had gotten as bad as it could get, he pulled out his cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures of me with his semen all over my face and running down until it dripped off of my chin.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" I hissed.

"It's called a facial," he smiled. "Did ya like it? Wait until I show these pictures to the guys." He zipped up his pants and got ready to leave.

"What about my fucking birthday?" I asked.

"I gave you a present," smirked. "What are you whining about? Jeez."

I wanted to cry. After Stu left, I took a shower and cleaned myself up. I'd just gotten out of the shower and had put my robe on when the doorbell rang. I went to the door still drying my hair off. It was Danny.

"Sorry Danny," I said. "I didn't know that we had a session today."

"We don't," he said. "Happy Birthday." He handed me a small box and then walked away.

I opened the box and inside was a beautiful gold locket. It was real gold too, not one of those cheap fakes. I opened the locket and there was nothing in it. I thought about that locket for the rest of the evening. My roommate even commented on it when she came home from her date.

"I'll trade you my gold ear rings for it," she said.

"I don't think so," I told her.

"Why'd he give it to you?" she asked.

"Today is my birthday, remember," I said.

"Shit, I forgot," she said.

It hit me then. I was this hot, beautiful, popular woman, yet not one of the guys I dated had even bothered to remember my birthday. Not even my roommate who was supposedly my best friend on campus took the time out to get me a present.

Only Danny had. I started to think about Danny then. I thought about the way that he always looked at my eyes when he spoke to me. He was always patient with me when it came to teaching me new things or even going over things that I'd forgotten for the twentieth time. I started to wonder how he'd be with other aspects of life.

I even started to look at the long term picture. I was sure that he'd be perfect for me. Like my mother before me, I realized that Danny's limitation might be a good one for me. So he was socially inept and not that great looking. One we were out of college, no one would care what he looked like and it meant that he was far less likely to cheat on me.

And since he wasn't mesmerized by my tits, the way every other guy was, maybe he'd get to know me and love me instead of just my boobs. The next day, when we met for tutoring, before he even got the books out, I was asking him questions.

"Danny, what is this for?" I asked.

"I got it for your birthday," he said. The he looked in my eyes and his face changed. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's my mistake. I've been tutoring you for a few months now and I didn't mean to overstep. I guess I'd started to think of us as friends instead of just ... me being your tutor. It won't happen again."

He actually looked sad. He had done the only thing that kept my birthday from being grounds for suicide and he was apologizing for it.

"Danny, it's a great gift," I smiled. "It was very thoughtful. I just wondered why you'd done it. And we are friends. I'll never take it off."

I had worn a deep V sweater and the tiny locket dangled between my breasts. He looked at me and smiled and the smile wasn't sexual or anything lewd. He was just happy that I liked it.

"What should I do with it?" I asked.

"I have no idea," he said. "I guess you could get a small picture of yourself and one of Stu and put them in it."

I was really floored that someone just wanted to make me happy. I didn't get much math done that day, but Danny was as patient as ever. I spent the whole afternoon staring at him. He was small but not ridiculously so. If he started working out, he could probably have a decent body. He wasn't exactly ugly but he hid his features under a mop of long frizzy hair and those gigantic glasses.

I told him that I'd been distracted all afternoon by a big blot of dirt on his glasses. I took them off on the pretense of cleaning them for him. I was struck by the biggest, softest most innocent brown eyes I've ever seen. The best thing about it was that with his glasses off I could look at him and analyze him as much as I wanted because his vision was so bad that he could barely see me without them, let alone tell that I was evaluating him.

I decided right then and there that he was the one. I was done dating. I was also stupid. And although Danny couldn't see, I was the one who was blind. As my mother had told me, ever since I got my boobs, I was used to things going my way. It was kind of like the golden rule only with tits instead of just gold. Those who had the golden tits made the rules.

It had worked for me just fine until I met Danny. All of those hormonally driven football players and others would do whatever I wanted for a shot at the golden tits. Danny never even noticed. If I came out of the shower with no bra on under my blouse or robe, he was still able to concentrate on math, but he'd tell me how great my hair smelled.

Once I even pretended that I'd forgotten to put on underwear and he noticed that. He even told me to avoid my embarrassment. I don't think that the thought of me trying to seduce him ever occurred to him.

It took me two weeks, and that was far longer than I'd ever tried to get any guy to do anything for me. And that two weeks, was just for me to find out that not only did Danny have no idea that I was interested in him, but he had a girlfriend already.

I smiled when I discovered that. I saw myself as being involved in a competition that I would undoubtedly win. It took me two days to find out who his girlfriend was. I laughed my ass off. The girl was so plain that there was no way she could give him anything that I couldn't. I also couldn't figure out why he hadn't dumped her immediately when I'd begun to hint that I was interested in him. No other guy that I'd ever known would have even thought about that.

I guess that was what made him so God damned special and made me want him even more. He was a man who honored his commitments and stuck with what he had. It also showed me that he was more of a man than my father had been or any of the assholes I'd dated had been. Danny was the kind of guy who had his girl's back no matter what happened.

Luckily for me, his girlfriend didn't have the same kind of scruples. If she did you probably wouldn't be reading this story. We did what they call in team sports a three cornered deal. I offered one of the guys on the football team a date with me in exchange for going out on a date with Danny's girlfriend. I also hinted at what he might get if he broke the two of them up.

To make a long story short, less than an hour after I'd made my call, my football playing sucker put the moves on Danny's girl. She was in his bed in less than ninety minutes and had broken up with Danny in less than two hours.

Did I get to do my best Hannibal Smith impression and tug on my cigar and say, "I love it when a plan comes together?"

Surprisingly, not. I expected Danny to fall in my arms that evening but it didn't happen. I didn't even see Danny or hear from him for more than a week. Even then, I had to go and track him down. I was so used to breaking up with a guy or having him break up with me and then seeing him out with someone else the same evening, that the pain I'd caused Danny shocked me.