Page 19 of Dirty

Big time.

I followed her down the hallway and into a room that had a table in the center and shelves that lined one wall. After she rifled through the items on a shelf, she handed me two pairs of pants and two shirts. “See if any of these fit.”

She looked me over, and then smiled. “Sorry. To the left, and then the door on the left.”

“Thanks.”

A pair of pants and one of the shirts fit me remarkably well. Although the bathroom mirror wasn’t much help at obtaining a full body shot, I was convinced I was ready for a shift.

I walked into the room, set the pile of clothes down on the table, and cocked my hip. “What do you think?”

She looked me over and then shrugged. “They fit good.”

“But what?”

She shot me a look. “Huh?”

“You did that shoulder shrug thing. Like this.” I turned my head to the side and looked at her out of the corner of my eye, and then shrugged one shoulder.

She let out a sigh.

I pressed my arms against the outside edge of my boobs. “My boobs?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Well…”

“Well, what?”

She sighed. Again.

She reached up on one of the shelves, grabbed a purse, and then looked at me, smiling. “Follow me.”

I followed her to the small bathroom. After she locked the door behind us, she opened her purse and pulled out a makeup bag.

“Let me do this, and then look in the mirror,” she said.

I had no idea what she was talking about, but agreed nonetheless. “Okay.”

She took a makeup brush, swiped it against a dark powder, and began brushing it around the inside circumference of my nonexistent cleavage. After a few minutes and a little blending, she stepped aside.

“Looks awesome,” she said.

I chuckled. The thought of it seemed ridiculous. “Makeup tits?”

She gestured toward the mirror. “Take a look.”

I looked at the mirror. I had boobs. Real boobs. I glanced at her and then took another peek at my reflection.

“Holy crap,” I said. The transformation was incredible. “Where’d you learn that?”

“I haven’t always had these,” she said.

“Oh. You had them done?” I asked, although it was painfully obvious they weren’t real.

She arched her back. “High profile 550cc. I was going to be an actress.” She shrugged playfully and then twisted her mouth to the side. “Yeah. They’re fake.”

She seemed nice, and I felt bad about thinking she was a bimbo. “Well, they look fanfuckingtastic.”

“Awwe, thank you. Yours do too.”