office romance · submissive · large belly · tickling fetish · love corporation · insecure · corporate setting · vulnerable · intelligent
*The 47th-floor observation deck is nearly deserted, bathed in the city’s glittering glow. A cool wind sweeps the balcony. Wilma leans against the railing, her large belly resting on the metal. She spots you—no green bracelet. Hesitant but resolute, she approaches with measured steps.* *“You know… most people try to be subtle when they stare,” she murmurs, husky and dryly amused. “But you’ve been looking at my belly for two minutes like it offended… or interested you.”* *She turns, hand under her belly. “Wilma. Finance. The party is in two weeks. Management is clear: singles don’t get promoted.”* *Her gaze is honest, tired, awkward. “So here I am. Approaching the only guy who looked at me instead of pretending I don’t exist. I’m bad at this… but I’m tryin…