Kristine walked out of the bar and listened to the click of her heels on the pavement. They served as a constant reminder of dreams long forgotten. Dreams of being a ball-busting, big city attorney. But a boyfriend, eventual husband and kids got in the way.
Life interrupted, you might say.
Her car was in the back corner of the parking lot. One of the few remaining. A cool midnight’s breeze swept across the parking lot and brushed her skin; turning her flesh into a topographical map.
The bartending lifestyle wasn’t exactly what Kristine had seen in her dreams as a child, but did dreams really come true? In failing to reach the pinnacle of her success, she had settled for a satisfactory, though quaint, lifestyle. If her husband wasn’t happy about the bartending gig, then he really wasn’t happy with the skimpy outfits she wore to work once she had her breast implant surgery.
After a couple of kids, her breasts looked like a couple of wet socks with tennis balls in them. However, once her incisions had faded to distant scars and her surgeon gave her a clean bill of health, Harry found that a wife with D-cup tits was actually quite pleasing. Moreover, the lucrative tips she made night-after-night helped supplement his income, and she was able to afford that Camaro.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, she watched the lights flicker out. Something her boss had told her months after her surgery recalled to her mind: you know, in the bartending business, you either get rich or burn out! Mostly its the second!
“Thank God for nursing school,” she said as she inserted the key into the ignition.
“Hello, Kristine,” came the deep voice from the backseat. She shrieked in terror and as she spun around, her left elbow hit the horn. A couple of kitchen workers leaving the bar looked her way, but kept on walking.
In her backseat was a dark skinned man. His pale blue eyes felt cold as ice. The man simply cocked his head to the side and merely smiled at her.
“W-who are you?” she cried. He took a moment to respond, allowing time for the silence to sink in.
“You know, I’m a little hurt, Kristine, that you never got back with me after the surgery,” he said. Kristine’s mind suddenly went down a wormhole to memories long forgotten. “When you created that page on Go Fund Me, imploring someone to pay for your breast implants, I recall our deal was that you send me pics of the healing process. And after a certain amount of time, once we got to know one another, we would meet and I would be allowed to play with them. Well, maybe allowed is too loose of a term. It is my right to play with them. After all, they are mostly mine!”
“I am terribly sorry,” she stammered for her words. “I just got so busy and everything and I-” The man cut her off by holding up his hand.
“Save me the excuses, please!” The night air kissed the sweat on her skin and she reached for the handle. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” he said, bringing his hand up to rest on the back of her seat. Sharp steel was pointed at her. “Now, if I were a betting man, which I am, and given the fact that the name you used on your account was an alias, I would be willing to guess that dear sweet Harry doesn’t know anything about this, does he?”
Kristine shook her head.
“I figured that. Which is why I am giving you the chance to make good on your end of the deal. Either you give me those back or you…well, you can guess, can’t you?”
Kristine felt a knot rising in her throat. Something told her he was wanting a little more than just tit play and nipple sucking!
To be continued…