By Cincinnatus ([email protected])
Copyright © 2007
Story Codes (nosex)
Alana awoke the next day with a start. She glanced at the clock by her bed, and read 7:12. 'Shit,' she thought to her self, 'I have to be at work by eight!'
She shot out of her queen bed, and cursed herself for her stupidity last night as her hangover addled brain complained at the sudden movement. After she composed herself and gained her balance, she swished through the pink plastic stars of the bead curtain separating her tiny kitchen from the rest of her one-room apartment, and quickly made a cup of instant coffee (lots of cream and sugar, thank you). Then she turned from the door to the kitchen towards the door into the bathroom, stripping off the extra long t-shirt she used as a nightgown, and got into the shower after answering nature's call.
Seven minutes later, she got out of the shower and toweled off quickly, deliberately not glancing at the mirror over the sink. Wrapping her long strawberry blond hair in a towel, she quickly brushed her teeth, then exited her bathroom and walked past the small coffee table and couch towards her chest of drawers and wardrobe on the far side of the bed, her bare feet padding on the hardwood floors.
She pulled open the doors on her wardrobe, and found it somewhat less than full; she had spent her laundry night at the bar yesterday, so pickings were slim. She quickly selected a hanger holding a short beige cotton skirt with matching off-white blouse and tossed them on the bed. It was still warm enough that she could get away with the short skirt and no hose, so she yanked open her underpinnings drawer, to find it almost empty.
"I really need to buy underwear." she softly chastised herself, and grabbed a white and red lump of cotton from the bottoms side. She slipped on the red striped boy shorts as she surveyed the selection on the tops side. She was down to one clean bra, a little blue lacy thing. She surveyed the demi bra, which had been a gift from her thin-as-a-rail little sister last Christmas. No matching panties, just a little bra, out of the box, in front of the whole family. Kelly had the best of intentions, but sometimes she wasn't the brightest sixteen year old around. Her inane boyfriend had probably suggested it.
Alana spent precious moments weighing the prospects of wearing the skimpy thing versus wearing a dirty bra; she lacked the fuzzy logic concept of 'dirty, but not funky enough to leave at home' laundry rating possessed by some males. She remembered the scheduled screening of the adult film tonight with Leo, Beth, and Corrine as she test fitted the lace on her large, hand full plus sized breasts. "We're just going to watch the thing, it's not like anyone's going to see my bra," she said to herself as she worked the clasp behind her back. Surprisingly, her sister had gotten the size right--it was actually comfortable.
She glanced at the clock: 7:31. She groaned at herself for oversleeping again as she opened the small jewelry box to select her belly adornment. Her belly piercing was her little secret. She had gotten it the past year, on the last day of a trip to the beach with her family. Kelly and her little car-tuner-wannabe boyfriend had heckled Alana the entire three day trip about being straight-laced and stuck up. Combine that with the guess-your-weight carnie overestimating her at 165 pounds, a full ten over, which did wonders for her self-esteem. She had come to the conclusion late that Sunday that she needed to do something for her--'damn it, I'll show them' as she had silently put it. Indecision as to what, was quickly fixed by the fact that she was outside a piercing parlor, so it might as well as have been that. The proprietor had recommended a belly button, so there ya go. Not that she had ever gotten around to letting them know she had it done; even now she mostly kept it hidden. She had followed it up a few weeks later with a small tattoo of a red rose on her left ankle, still in a 'prove it to them' mood.
She had mixed emotions about them since then, but was mostly happy with both. The piercing reminded her that she could do anything she wanted, and her tattoo was a small declaration to the world that she was not the bookish prude her sister's boyfriend thought she was.
She had gotten a selection of things to wear in her navel, so she quickly selected a silver bar with attached one inch long silver chain, and small round pendant on the end; fancy things tended to get caught in clothes. She quickly pulled on the clothes laid out on the bed, subconsciously leaving a couple of buttons undone to reveal a portion of her densely freckled chest.
She stole another glance at the clock (7:36) as she pulled her hair out of the towel. She stood in front of the mirror mounted on her low chest of drawers, and contemplated herself as she spent a calculated five minutes brushing her hair out. She was actually very lovely to look at, being built in a voluptuous shape. She carried her weight on her five foot two inch frame very well--the carnie actually thought she was cute and over guessed so he could give her a prize; his real guess was pounds under her weight. Her waist was trim, with just a hint of roundness on her belly, swelling--above and below--to breasts and hips. Her large breasts had the pertness of a person even younger than her 22 years, and she possessed what dirty old men would call 'child bearing hips'. Her arms and legs were well proportioned, and athletic. She wore her hair straight and to the middle of her back; she usually left makeup off her be-freckled face.
But she sighed in disappointment as she grabbed an elastic for her hair. She fought with her weight, envisioning herself becoming her mother, who was markedly obese. The image of her fat mother clouded her self-image, so she could barely see her own beauty.
She quickly put her still wet hair into a pony-tail high on the back of her head, grabbed her coffee mug and purse, snatched a light jacket off the coat tree, then dashed out the door just as the clock turned 7:44.
Part 1 - The Bar Table of Contents Part 3 - Warm Up