Hello reader.
Deciding what category to place this story led me to submit it in a series of chapters, since each will have elements of many different persuasions. Suffice it to say that if you read the entire series, eventually you will come across something you don't care for, but each chapter will be accurately placed in the proper category.
In addition to non-consent/reluctance; loving wives and fetish would also be possible categories for this chapter.
.....
"Maya - that's a very lovely name," I told the timid woman who had just entered my store, right before closing time."
"Thank you," the tiny woman replied in a meek voice, her eyes only meeting mine for an instant before looking back down toward the floor.
"A lovely name for a lovely lady," I answered, walking around the counter to lock the door so that we would not be interrupted. "Have you ever worked as a cashier before?"
"No, but I am very good with numbers," Maya replied with a little more enthusiasm. "I would also be willing to work very hard and will do anything that you wish."
"Really?" I said, resisting the chance to thrown in an obvious comment. "That sounds interesting. You must really need a job."
"Yes. My husband has lost his job and we need money very badly. He's waiting out in the car for me."
"Oh," I said. "So his job is driving you around to find a job? Sounds like a real ambitious guy."
Maya shrugged and looked out to the street, where a little guy with skin the same tone as Maya's sat behind the wheel of an old shit box, pushing his glasses up before giving Maya a wave.
"Why don't you come back to my office so we can talk more about the job?"
Maya looked around for a second and then followed me back to the store room, which doubled as my office. There were boxes stacked all over the place, and Maya looked intimidated by the crude surroundings.
"Not very fancy, but that's why I need help," I explained to her. "You're really a tiny girl, aren't you?"
Maya let a shy smile cross her face, glancing up at me briefly before looking back down at her feet.
"I imagine that most people look small to a person of your size," Maya said haltingly, stopping and shaking her head grimly before continuing. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to offend you by that."
"No offense taken," I said quickly. "It's not like either of us can hide what we are."
When you're 6'6" and around 275 pounds, you don't get mistaken for a jockey too often, and that was fine with me. I got the nickname Yukon Erik because that was the name of an old wrestler back in the days when it was more sport than show. I believe he spelled his Erik with a "c" at the end, but you get the idea.
In college I played offensive tackle and managed to play decent enough so that I got a free agent contract from the San Diego Chargers. I hung around all season on the taxi squad, but I didn't have the foot speed you needed to keep guys from getting around me on the pass rush. Quarterbacks, then and now, take a dim view of getting blind-sided, so my career pretty much ended there.
It wasn't for lack of effort, as I was one of those guys that were the first on the practice field and the last one off. In the real world, I kept the same philosophy in running my franchise business. Working hard everyday and working out when time permitted combined to keep me in good shape after my playing days. Maya was simply being honest, and along with that honesty came another feeling I was getting from her.
I reached over and gently stroked the side of her face, my fingers grazing the light down that swirled around in front of her ear before disappearing underneath her lobe. Her hair was black - almost indescribably so, and was longer than shoulder length. Maya couldn't have been more than five foot tall, if that, and seemed very slightly built, although she was wearing such a bulky sweater that it was tough to know for sure.
Maya shivered a bit when I stroked her faint downy sideburns, and I realized that what I was doing was leaving me open to any number of charges, but I found myself unable to resist touching her. Not only was she very cute, but she was terrified of me as well. Not just from being nervous about being interviewed for a job, but intimidated by my size, and that was something that had always turned me on.
You certainly would never get those vibes from my actions, because I'm what you might call a gentle giant. I've never so much as raised a hand to a woman in anger, and not that often to other men either, unless they started it. Still and all, whenever I would come into contact with a woman and that feeling of fear is oozing out of her, I get hard as steel. Sue me.
Maya didn't object to my touching her face, and as I pulled my hand away her face leaned in my direction as if to say she was enjoying it. She also wanted me to know that she was up to the job.
"I am very small but I am quite strong for my size," she explained.
"Would you be able to reach things that are high on the shelves, like that box, for example?" I asked
"Oh yes, I can reach that very easily," Maya said confidently, and grabbed the box of envelopes that were on the shelf above her.
I had no doubt she could reach the box, but was more interested in watching how the sleeve of her sweater slid up with the raising of her arm, and when Maya handed me the envelopes my eyes were fixed on her bare forearm. I took the envelopes from her, and as I did Maya realized what I was looking at and self-consciously tugged her sleeve back down.
My pulse had quickened as Maya's arm was briefly exposed, and my eyes had enjoyed the sight of her copper colored skin and more specifically, the dense black hair that coated the slender limb as far up as I could see.
"Yes, you are a lot stronger than you look, and that will come in handy around here," I noted, and now I was trying not to shake as much as Maya was, although for a different reason. "You would be doing a lot of lifting and reaching."
"That would be no problem," Maya assured me.
"I noticed that you have very hairy arms," I mentioned in as off-hand a manner that I could manage, and reveled in the way Maya cringed at my words.
"I would never wear any clothing that would let the customers see them, if you think that would offend them," Maya assured me, her bronze skin turning even darker.
"I don't think you understand," I said, trying to look into her eyes, and enjoying her efforts to avoid my glare. "That wasn't a complaint at all. Just the opposite. You would have to wear our company shirt though," I added, pointing to the light blue short sleeve shirt with our logo on the pocket.
"Oh," Maya said softly. "Perhaps I could wear something with long sleeves underneath it."
I went over to a box of new shirts and rummaged through before pulling out a medium.
