"So what do we do?" Mark asked, still giving me that funny look. "Just sit here and talk? That's all right, you know, if that's all you want to do."
I looked up at him, trying to decide how to answer. God, he was so BIG! Ever meet someone who's twenty feet high? Well, to be fair, Mark wasn't quite that tall, actually nineteen feet by my proportions, but you get the idea. My head didn't even come up to his knees while he was sitting there.
You just can't understand what I was going through unless you can picture this situation in your mind. Imagine you're in your office, only it's three times bigger than normal. A co-worker comes in, sits down in a chair, and looks down at you. This is someone you've known for a long time, not really a friend, but a business associate, and now he's looking down at you from high in the sky. Now picture yourself wearing a skimpy, skintight outfit, which you know he likes to see you in, and you've got a pretty good idea of where I was at that moment.
After a long delay, I'd decided what I was going to do. "Mark," I answered, slowly and with great reluctance, "Mark, I w-want you to--"
I hesitated. "What?" he prompted after a moment.
Damn! I almost couldn't get the words out! Somehow, I forced myself to continue. "I, um, w-want you to, uh, p-pick me up. P-please, just pick me up, before I change my mind!"
He leaned over me, and I had the strangest impression, like he was a colossal ogre about to rend me limb from limb. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You really want to do this?"
He sounded completely sincere and concerned. This was a far cry from the Mark who had made fun of me after my first day on the job. What had happened that had changed his attitude so much? I couldn't believe he had just grown a sensitivity gland overnight!
That was hardly my concern at the moment, however. I was more worried about his huge hands, which were now lingering just a few inches away from my miniaturized body.
Almost as though I'd detached myself from reality, I heard myself say, "Yes, I w-want you to pick me up. Just--just be g-gentle, okay?"
"All right," he agreed, and it sounded almost like he was just as afraid as I was.
Tentatively, he reached down and put his right hand around my waist, clasping his fingers and thumb around me. His skin was very soft and warm, and his grip was firm, but cautious. I let out a little gasp at his touch, feeling some amount of amazement at the sensation, but the emotion was quickly overwhelmed by barely controllable terror.
I put my hands up and started to try to push him away, and he froze. Trembling noticeably, I pulled my arms back through sheer force of will. "It's all right," I muttered. "T-this is just--it's just really f-freaking me out."
"Me too," he admitted, swallowing and wiping his forehead with the back of his free hand. Was he actually sweating? Damn, why was HE so nervous? I was the one who was scared about this!
Cautiously, he reaffirmed his grip around my stomach and hips, but seemed very tentative, as though afraid to try lifting me. I felt his fingers trying to find a good position around my back, and then I suddenly realized what the problem was. His hand was so big, there was no way to close it securely around me without touching a body part he wasn't comfortable touching. He could have picked me up any time, of course, but he didn't know how light I was, and was taking extra care to make sure he didn't hurt me.
I waited patiently while he worked his hand into just the right position, with his thumb just below and between my breasts and his fingers wrapped around my back, the pinky just barely touching the top of my derriere. I would have laughed at his difficulties, if I hadn't been so scared. One part of me wanted to scream, tear myself out of his grip, and flee the room at the highest possible speed. The other, more rational side reminded me how important this was, and at least for now, that side won out.
In due course, Mark tried to lift me off the ground, but found I was a bit unwieldy for a single hand. Slowly, he brought his other one down to help out. I held my breath as he slowly drew me up into the air, carried me over, and set me gently down in his lap.
He was so tentative and cautious that the whole ride must have taken about fifteen seconds, but to me it seemed like an eternity. My whole body was shaking with fright. As he started to lift me, I grabbed hold of his fingers and held on tightly, squeezing so hard he must have felt it, even though he gave no sign. My brain screamed at me to struggle, get loose, and run away, but I refused to let my fears get the better of me.
Dammit, I ordered myself, I was going to get through this! I was going to deal with this stupid fear if it was the last thing I did!
Mark released me carefully, and now I found myself looking almost directly into his eyes, one foot balanced on each of his legs. He was still looking at me with that weird expression, like I was from another planet. I noticed he was indeed sweating, and quite profusely too. In fact, I got the distinct impression he was trembling slightly, although it might have just been myself, because I was still totally freaked out by this. I mean, I was standing on his lap, for God's sake!
After a moment, he wiped his brow again and said, "Do you feel all right, Ashley?"
"Y-yes," I lied, and rather poorly, I must admit.
"Are you sure?" he asked worriedly.
Then, I did something I don't normally do, and that I later regretted. I'm not really sure why I did this. Maybe I just felt I could trust him, or maybe I just needed to release all my pent-up frustrations. Whatever the reason, I let myself spill all the emotions I was feeling.
"No, okay? No, I don't feel all right!" I said with quickening intensity. "I don't feel right at all! I want to get the hell off of you and back to normal size right now! I'm scared, Mark! Good God, this scares the shit out of me!"
He looked surprised at my outburst, but when he heard my last statement, he reached out towards me.
I don't know what he was intending. It might have been to comfort me, or he might have meant to help me back down to the floor. All I know is I saw those hands--those gigantic, thick, meaty hands--coming at me, and I broke.
I started to step back, but lost my footing on his legs, which were not, after all, that stable a platform. I started to slip, and he reached quickly to grab hold of me, wrapping one hand around my shoulders and arresting my fall. I screamed, and the sudden sound caused him to jerk away, letting me go. In a panic, I scrambled back and fell off his knees to the ground.
The impact with the soft carpet didn't hurt, but Mark didn't know that. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" he blurted out, jumping off the chair and kneeling down to help.
I looked up, heart pounding, and all I saw was Mark, two stories tall, looming over me. Screaming again, now totally lost in my sudden hysteria, I ran blindly away, ducking under one of the tables and trying to bury myself in the corner.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he repeated a couple of times, looking under the table at me, but without trying to come any closer. I just cowered there, in the darkness, hyperventilating and trying to get a grip on my emotions.
I felt frightened, like a cornered animal, and more helpless than I'd ever been before. Worst of all, I was humiliated. I'd let my fear get the better of me, and in front of my partner! This was exactly the worst thing I could ever have imagined.
After about a minute of waiting for me to come out, Mark finally spoke. "Listen, I'd better go," he said, his voice thick with concern. "I'm really sorry. I wanted to--"
At that, he stopped, swallowing hard, and I almost asked what he'd intended to say, but couldn't bring myself to. I just wanted to hide in the dark corner of the room, where no one could see me.
He stood up and started to leave, unlocking the door and opening it up. But then, before he went away, he turned back. "Ashley," he said with some difficulty, "I have to tell you--I really think you were brave to try this. It's not everyone who can force themselves to stand up to their fears like you did. You really impressed me. And there's another thing I need to tell you. I need to say that I--well, it's just that--"
He wrung his hands out and paced back and forth a couple of times, but that was all. Whatever he wanted to say was just too difficult for him to get out. "Well, it's not important," he finally said with a sigh. "I'll tell you later. Call me after work--but only when you're ready to talk. Now good luck on the main floor tonight. I know you'll do great."
Then, mercifully, he turned his back on me and left.
After a couple more minutes, I wiped the tears out of my eyes and forced myself to report to work.