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Comfortable In Your Own Skin

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Marilyn Monroe, sigh, one of the most photographed women ever and arguably one of the most beautiful. And, like all women, certainly the ones I know including myself, her body shape changed, it wasn't static. Likely that was to do with what was going on in her life at the time, happy, sad, working for a movie. Though of course that's just my assumption. Was she as confident as she looked with her body shape in all it's different forms? Did she even think about it? And was food ever an issue?

Of course I can't answer these questions, but in my latest novel, Desk Job, I decided to have a heroine, Stella, who did have body shape issues, to the point that in her history she suffered with anorexia. 

I'm no expert on anorexia but in this day and age it's impossible to have not seen it to some degree in the world around me. So I drew on my experiences and created a heroine who had recovered, but does still have to work at recovery. It is of course helped by the fact her two sexy bosses have major crushes on her and no qualms about sharing in the office or in the bedroom!

Desk Job isn't a book about anorexia, it's a book about a sexy, confident woman who is making it in the professional world. She has said goodbye to the demons who like to whisper hateful things in her ear that eroded her self-worth. That's not to say they don't rear their ugly heads from time to time, they do, but right now, things are going great...

Here's a snippet from the beginning of the Desk Job...

The weekend sauntered by. The weather was warm which seemed to inject laziness into me.

I cleaned my apartment, added some small flowering plants to a tub I had on my miniscule balcony, and caught up with reading I’d been meaning to do—a lovely new romance book by one of my favorite authors.

Monday came round and I spent longer than I’d planned straightening the seams on the new stockings I’d bought. Sian had insisted on treating me to them as a good luck present, saying they’d work just right with my black patent heels, black pencil skirt and sheer sky-blue blouse. She was, of course, right. They’d turned a smart outfit into one with just a little bit of sass, and there was no harm in that. Subtle sass I could work with.

I added a slim silver necklace with a heart pendent that hung just above my cleavage and swept my hair into a twist on the crown of my head. I then decided to splash out on a cab rather than battling The Tube. The last thing I wanted was to arrive at the interview all hot and sweaty and with damp patches on the underarms of my top. No, I needed to give the impression of smooth efficiency, an unruffled demeanor, and someone who could pre-empt a busy person’s needs.

The offices of Wainwright and Bramon were set in a tall building constructed of steel and blue-tinted glass. I stepped through the revolving doors, my heels clicking on the hard tiled floor, and made my way up to a reception desk.

I noticed a man wearing glasses glance my way. His attention lingered. Yes, I looked good. I had the type of round hips that were impossible not to roll as I walked and now, wearing high heels, that sway was even more pronounced.

A shiver of nerves went up my spine. I hadn’t always felt so confident about my shape but after a scary year where I’d realized I wasn’t eating enough and had become way too thin, I’d bucked up. A course of sessions with a therapist and some strategies that helped me get to a healthy weight again, put paid to that problem.

And I intended for it to stay that way. Making myself ill to look a certain way was not how I wanted to live my life.

“Hello,” I said to the receptionist. “I’m here for Wainwright and Bramon.”

“Yes, twenty-sixth floor. The elevator is just there.” She jabbed her pen to the right.

“Thank you.” I headed for the lift, checking my hair for loose strands.

As I rode to the twenty-sixth floor, I went over again what I’d learned about the company I was hoping to work for. Owned by two men, Andre Bramon and Tristan Wainwright, it was an up and coming marketing firm with an impressive list of clients. Fifteen people were employed in a range of roles and from what I gathered,

the joint owners were very much hands on in the day-to-day running of the company.

It was also very convenient for me, only a short cab ride or three stops on The Tube. Whatever the weather, I’d be able to get to work and it wouldn’t cost me an arm and a leg either.

I pulled in a deep breath as the elevator slowed. This was it. Time to do my stuff. This job would be the answer to a whole host of rather pressing problems.

The doors slid open and the scent of new carpet and polish filled my nose. I stepped out, my heels now quiet on the soft flooring. The lights were muted, not harsh like the ones in the reception area and the furniture was made of rich, dark oak. It had a nice feel to it, luxury, contemporary, but also comfortable.

A woman with a tight blonde bun and black glasses paused typing and looked up. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here for an interview. Stella Wright.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” She stood. “If you’d like to come this way, Andre is waiting for you.”

Andre? Did that mean I was to be interviewed by one of the partners?

I quashed a knot of nerves. That was fine. Of course he’d want to interview me. I would after all, if I got the job, be running his life Monday to Friday, nine-to-five.

I followed the young woman past several offices, all of which had their doors closed. I then came to one that was open an inch.

The woman knocked.

“Come in,” called a deep voice.

“Stella Wright is here. For the eleven o’clock interview.” “Yes, yes, send her in.”

I glanced at my watch. I wasn’t late, in fact I was ten minutes early, but somehow I felt as though I’d kept him waiting.

“Please, go through.” The woman stepped out of the way and

indicated the office.

“Thanks.” I gripped the strap of my bag a little tighter and

wondered if maybe I’d gone over the top with my outfit. She wore plain black trousers, flat shoes and a shapeless red top.

Stepping into the office, I paused for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Blinds were half pulled at the windows and the dark furniture appeared nearly black. Sitting behind a huge desk was a man in a suit. He had blond hair and his face was lit by the computer screen in front of him.

“Ah, hello,” he said, standing and walking around the desk. “You must be Stella.”

“Yes. Mr Bramon, right?”

He smiled, a warm easy grin that went right up to his blue eyes. “Spot on. Please, sit.” He gestured to one of the low bucket chairs in front of the desk and to my surprise, took the one next to it rather than heading back around to where he’d been sitting.

I settled myself, set my bag on the floor, and crossed my legs. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, something light and fresh, a little peppery maybe.

“I’ve just been through your CV,” he said, folding his arms and creasing his suit jacket. “I see you worked at Naddra.”

“Yes, for several years. I was personal assistant to the human resources director. It’s a shame the company went into liquidation. I was very happy there.”

Again he smiled. “And what was it about Naddra that made you happy?”

Interesting question. “Well, it was a convenient commute, only a few minutes from here in fact.”

He nodded as though he already knew this.

“And it kept me busy. I don’t like twiddling my thumbs, looking for things to do. I’d rather be on the go when I’m at work.”

“Well you certainly would be here.” He studied me for a moment. “You’d actually be personal assistant to both myself and my partner, Tristan Wainwright.”

“Both of you?” I pressed my lips together and thought about it. I hadn’t been PA to two people before but I didn’t see it would be a major problem. I’d just have to be super organized, but I was good at that, heck, organized was my middle name.

“Do you think that would be manageable for you?”

“Well it’s a full time position so I don’t see why not. Perhaps on limited hours being PA to two busy marketing directors would be a challenge but that’s not the case here.”

He smiled, his eye line dipping to my throat as though looking at my necklace. “Tristan is out of the country at the moment, otherwise I’d introduce you.”

“Do you both travel a lot?”

“Yes, we like to show our faces to the clients who are investing so much money and trust in us.” He looked back up at my face.

I nodded.

“So there would be plenty of flights to book, hotels, car hire, conference rooms, restaurants all that kind of thing.”

“That’s fine. Any other duties over and above the normal?”

“Not that I can think of.” He swept his tongue over his bottom lip. “It’s just having two of us to handle that you need to be sure about.”

“I can manage that.” Could I? Yes, of course. But damn this guy was cute as a button in a hot and sexy kind of a way. Blonds weren’t usually my type but his angular features and broad shoulders had made my temperature go up a degree or two.

He curled his hands around the arms of the chair. I glanced at his left ring finger. It was bare. A surge of something scarily like excitement burst in my stomach. I beat it down. What was I doing? I hoped he was going to be my new boss. The man I’d have to be one step ahead of. There was no point thinking of him as a potential bed partner. That would be just too damn awkward for my job when things went wrong.

I uncrossed my legs and smoothed at a crease on my skirt, and then pulled in a deep breath. “Would you like me to go through my qualifications?”

“No.” He shook his head and smiled. “I’ve already looked. I can see that you’d be perfect for the job. You have over and above the experience we were hoping for.”

“Oh ... that’s good then.”

“Yes. It is.” He stood and walked to the window, then stared out at the city sprawling in front of him. The fractured light littered his suit jacket and dust motes floated in the air around him. “When can you start?”

“Er ... pardon.”

“When can you start?” He turned. “I’ll be completely honest with you, Stella.” He paused. “May I call you that?”

“Yes. Of course. It’s my name.”

The right side of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “Yes.” He sat in the big leather chair on the opposite side of his desk and studied me. “We need someone now. Someone who can start right

away and get to grips with the job as quickly as possible. We’re a fast, dynamic company, there’s always something happening, we’re on the move, upwards, and there’s no time to waste.”

“I understand that.”

He nodded. “So you could start tomorrow?” “Tomorrow?” I was expecting the beginning of the next

month, or the following Monday, but tomorrow...

“Yes. Tristan is away, I have a ton of things to be getting on

with and I’m here in the office all week. I could show you the ropes so to speak. I’d be around to answer any questions you have.”

“Isn’t the er ... old PA here?” That would be usual procedure, to have a hand over as such. I wondered if it were the girl who’d shown me into the office.

He shifted in his seat and his shoulders tensed. “No. She left, suddenly.”

“Can I ask why?”

He tilted his chin. “I guess Tristan and I...”

A silence stretched between us. A clock ticked in the corner. “Tristan and you...?” I prompted.

“We try to be thoughtful, considerate, not too demanding but

sometimes, when our heads are full of a new project, new ideas, we can be a little distracted.”

“I see.”

“But we’ve vowed to do better. By you.” He leaned forward. “I want you, I mean we want you, to be happy here. To stay long term and enjoy your work. So please, anything you need, anything that’s not right. You must say, give us a chance to fix it before you walk away.”

I couldn’t remember even agreeing to take the job on and yet here he was asking me not to leave.

I stroked my necklace. Clearly they were desperate for someone to pick up the slack, sort out their diaries and the logistics of their lives. I could do that. And it was a very decent pay package too. “Am I the only applicant?”

“The only one who could interview today.”

“And you want me to start tomorrow?”

“If you could, that would be great.”

“And do you have more candidates to interview tomorrow?”

“They’ll be cancelled immediately if you accept the position, Stella. I have a feeling you’re just what we need and I hope we’re just what you need.”

“Well in that case.” I reached for my bag, then stood. I set back my shoulders and let a smile spread on my face. “Get on the phone and tell the agency the position is filled.”

He grinned. “Great.” He also stood, then stretched his hand out.

I took it. His fingers were big and warm and he shook with strength but also with a slight reserve that I suspected he kept for women.

“I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Yes,” he said. “You will.”

As you can probably tell, Stella is going to have a lot of fun working at Wainwright and Bramon. Tristan turns out to be just as sexy as Andre in a dark and brooding kind of a way. Which doesn't work at first for Stella, but when the guys put an offer on the table she can't refuse, things soon heat up! Keep reading to enjoy an extract from Desk Job when the two bosses decide to let Stella know just how attractive they find her.

“You’re going to be the most pampered, indulged, adored woman in London,” Andre said.

“And satisfied.” Tristan slid his hand higher, so his fingertips sat over the zipper of my pants.

“I’m looking forward to all these promises being fulfilled,” I said.

“And they will be.” Tristan nuzzled my ear.

I tipped my head closer to his and at the same time threaded my fingers with Andre’s. Damn this was hot.

I focused on the far side of the room. The waitress was setting an empty table, and her gaze was fixed on us.

God, what is she thinking?

Here I was with two hot men. I’d kissed them both, was being touched by them both. Any number of things could be running through her mind about me.

“We should take this somewhere else,” I said, pushing gently at Tristan.

“Mmm, where do you have in mind?”

“I live around the corner.”

“Are you inviting us?” Andre asked.

“You know damn well I am.” I paused. “If you both want to,

that is.”

“Yes. We do.” Tristan pulled back then stood. He looked down at me, a dark flash of determination crossing his eyes. “I want to finish something I started yesterday.” He held out his hand. “If that’s okay with you, Stella.”

A quiver attacked my belly. He wanted to fuck. Now. Soon. Back at my place.

I couldn’t deny I wanted him, so I took his hand and allowed him to pull me up.

Andre dropped a few notes on the table and also stood. “We won’t always both be around at the same time.”

“But you are today,” I said.

“Yes.”

Tristan tugged me toward the door. I followed, aware of

Andre right behind me.

Stepping out onto the street, I squinted in the bright sunshine.

A road sweeper passed by with its rotating brushes creating a loud whoosh just feet from ours.

“Which way?” Tristan asked over the din.

“Up there.” I nodded to my right. “Then left at the end.” We walked quickly, Tristan holding my hand. I wanted to reach for Andre’s too, but didn’t. What would people think?

Andre set his hand against the small of my back, the heat of his palm penetrating my silky blouse.

It felt nice, as if I were connected to him as well.

As we approached my building I wondered what the system

would be. Would Tristan and I have alone time in my bedroom then Andre switch places with him? Or would we all pile into bed together? What if they both wanted me at the same time? How the hell would that work?

We took the elevator, there was an elderly couple going up to the same floor as I lived, so we rode in silence.

I unlocked the front door to my flat. What would they make of it? It was nothing like Andre’s posh place and probably a fraction of the size of Tristan’s. But the thought had barely formed in my mind and I was suddenly in Tristan’s arms and he was pulling me close.

“Come here,” he said, his voice husky with lust.

I gasped and slid my hands around the back of his neck.

The door shut and I found my backside up against the hallway table where I kept keys and mail. Several letters and a spare set of keys fell to the floor.

“Tristan?”

He was roaming his hands over my hips. His kisses landed on my cheek, my ear and my neck.

“Do you have any objections if I fuck you right here, like this, right now?” His breath was hot in my ear.

“Er...” Did I? “No.”

“Thank fuck for that.” He found my mouth and kissed me wildly.

I gripped his top and yanked it from his jeans. I then pulled it over his head, exposing his hair-coated chest and lean abdomen and making him break the kiss.

As I took a moment to admire his torso, he worked at my trousers, undoing the buttons.

He stepped back to yank my trousers and knickers off.

Andre was behind him, his lips parted and his eyes wide as he stared at me sitting butt naked on the table with Tristan maneuvering my Capri pants over my feet. He had a bulge behind his zipper, and I guessed he was enjoying the view.

Fuck, is he going to watch?

Tristan was back over me, his face inches from mine and his dark eyes focused. “You’re so beautiful. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you are.”

I cupped his jaw and parted my legs as he stepped between them. He was beautiful too.

“Are you wet for me?” he asked, sliding his hand up my inner thigh.

“Yes.”

“Have you been wet for me this week? Did you think of us together?”

I hesitated, then, “Yes.”

The left side of his mouth twitched into a half smile as he eased his fingers through the folds of my pussy. “Oh yeah, you’re wet. We’re so ready for this.”

I fluttered my eyes shut and let my head fall back.

He caught my crown in his palm and pressed his cheek to mine. “I’m going to make you come so hard. So fucking hard.”

“Yes.”

“And Andre is going to watch, then he’s going to make you come really fucking hard too.”

“Ahh...” I gasped as he pushed two, maybe three fingers into me. “Yes.”

“Can you handle us?”

“Yes.” I squirmed onto his fingers. “Yes, fuck me.”

He pulled out.

I moaned at the loss and opened my eyes. “Tristan.”

He undid his trousers and shoved them and his boxers to his

thighs. His cock sprang forward. The shaft was dark and thick, the end shiny and red. The hair on his belly became denser as it met his pubic hair.

“Condom,” he muttered.

“Here.” Andre passed him one then stayed standing close to us.

Quickly, Tristan tore at the wrapper then unrolled the latex down his cock. His hands were shaking slightly, his movements fast and efficient. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “I can’t remember ever being so desperate to bury deep.”

Andre pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. His gaze caught mine.

I was breathing fast, the need to feel Tristan inside me had created a tremor over my skin. I gave Andre a quick nod, to let him know I was okay with what was happening.

He stepped away.

“Like this,” Tristan said, scooping one hand beneath my ass and placing the other on my lower back. “Wrap your legs around me.”

I was already doing that but hooked my ankles together and angled my entrance toward his cock.

The smooth dome of his glans pushed forward, and he eased in.

I held my breath and stared into his eyes as he penetrated me. On and on he went, taking more, filling me.

The stretch was exquisite, and he was so damn hard.

“Ah, yeah, you’re so tight,” he said breathlessly. “You’re hugging my cock.”

“More.” I tightened my thighs around his waist.

He gave it. A sudden fast shunt to full depth as he pulled me onto him.

The table banged against the wall. His body bumped into my clit.

I gripped his shoulders and gasped.

“You want it fast?” he asked against my lips.

“Yes. Yes.”

“Thank God for that.”

He pulled almost out then steamed in again. The table knocked the wall once more but I didn’t care. Tristan inside me, over me, rubbing up against me, was all I could think of.

He repeated the action again and again. Fucking me with wild passion and energy.

My pussy heated, my clit strained for more. His cock was working me inside and creating a pressure I knew would soon overspill.

The table was deafening as it hit the wall each time he plunged to full depth.

I dug my fingernails into his shoulders.

He scraped his stubble over my cheek and rested his mouth by my ear.

His rapid breaths were loud. I shut my eyes and became lost in him, lost in the sensation he’d built in me.

“Fuck, I’m coming...” he moaned.

“Yes ... come...”

He upped the already frantic tempo and toppled me into ecstasy.

I cried out as bliss swept over my body, bursting from my clit and spreading over all my nerves.

He groaned, long and abandoned and seated himself deep, holding me tight against him.

I was aware of his cock pulsing as my internal muscles contracted around his shaft.

“Fuck ... so damn ... good,” he said into my ear. “Fuck.” I opened my eyes, my orgasm still thumping through me. Andre was watching us, though now he’d removed his top, revealing his gorgeous chest. His jeans were also undone and his right hand was down the front of them.

“Oh my God,” Tristan said, raising his head and capturing my cheeks. “That was...”

I was breathless as I stared up at him.

“Fucking hot,” Andre said, appearing at my side.

“Yeah ... I’ll second that.” Tristan kissed my forehead with along, lingering press of his lips.

Unhooking my legs from around him, I let them hang from the table.

Tristan stepped back and as he did so, slid his cock from me. I pressed my legs together.

“I hope we didn’t disturb the neighbors too much,” I said, thinking of the noise against the wall.

“Baby, the neighbors will know both of our names by the time we’ve finished with you,” Andre said.

I giggled then drew in a deep breath. “Phew, that was energetic.”

“I’m sorry, was it too much?” Tristan asked. “I don’t know what came over me, I guess I’ve just been having seriously sexy thoughts about you. I—”

“Shh.” I pressed my fingers over his lips. “There’s nothing wrong with passion. Please don’t apologize. And besides, I told you I could handle it.”

He rubbed his palm up my thigh. “You’re amazing, you know that.”

“I’m not really, but I don’t mind you saying it.” I smiled.

“You are amazing, and you’ve got too much on.” Andre reached for the top button of my blouse. He carefully undid it, then the next and the next until it hung open and exposed my white lace bra.

“Pretty,” Andre said then swept his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Shame it has to come off.” Tristan reached for the front clasp, twisted and released it.

As he took the bra away, my breasts hung heavy, my nipples brushing the silky material of my blouse.

“And this,” Andre said, gently pushing the blouse out of the way. “Off, we need you naked.”

As it slipped down my back and pooled around my ass on the table, the cool air washed over me. I was sitting naked in front of my two hot bosses, my pussy was still quivering after an intense orgasm and I wanted more. I wanted whatever it was they wanted to give me.

Fuck, this is making up for the drought in my sex life.

“You have the best tits ever,” Tristan said, staring at my chest. “Give me strength.”

Andre smiled and circled my right nipple with his finger.

I sighed and fluttered my eyes shut as it tightened beneath his touch.

“So sensitive,” Andre said quietly. “And responsive,” Tristan added. My left nipple heated.

I opened my eyes.

Tristan was sucking on my nipple, his tongue rolling against it.

“Mmm...” I said, resting my hand on his hair. He could do that all damn day.

Andre hooked his finger beneath my chin and kissed me.

I clung to his shoulder and allowed his sweet sexy flavor to fill my mouth.

“I want you,” he murmured, pulling back.

“So have me.”

“Oh I will, don’t you worry.” He gave me a sinful smile then stooped. He took my right nipple into his mouth and sucked gently. “Oh God,” I gasped, staring at the top of his head.

A bolt of lust went straight to my clit. Never in my wildest

dreams had I thought of this scenario. Having my breasts caressed and my nipples teased by two gorgeous men at the same time.

My clit trembled and my pussy tensed around nothing. I’d just orgasmed but the thought of another was very appealing. These guys had better deliver what they’d promised.

I hope you enjoyed those sexy snippets, and if you want to read the entire novel, you can grab a copy of Desk Job from Evernight, Amazon/Amazon UK, ARe and all other good ebook retailers.

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