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My new coworker, Vaughn, I had no question about; he definitely wanted to torment me. Ever since he discovered the "Saturday Night Fever" soundtrack in our "in-store play" pile, he'd blast it at every opportunity."Hi, Jack." I looked between my fingers to see a dark, long-haired beauty looking over her shoulder at me. I had no idea who she was, but she looked ultra-fine. Her jean shorts were rolled halfway up her calf, exposing long, tanned legs. The vest she wore over the small green T-shirt was short and sexy. A second later when my eyes reached her face, she grinned and started walking away. With a start I realized it was her, the girl who'd freaked the hell out of me three weeks ago. That face had been grafted onto my memory!Despite the long black hair, I was sure it was her. She must have been wearing a wig, but it looked very real. Not a few men gazed at her as she sashayed towards the art section, possibly noting as I had that she probably wasn't wearing panties. I couldn't. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to raise with you for some time.’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘Now, no delicate way to put this, but it’s your breasts. I know you can’t help that they’re so big, but I wondered whether you might dress in a way that… makes them a little less conspicuous.’ Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. First Chris, now this. She cursed her confounded double-F cup bosom! It seemed to bring her nothing but trouble. ‘These are the only clothes I own, Sue,’ she said, voice trembling as for the second time in half an hour she fought back tears in the face of an attack upon her physical appearance. ‘And they’re hardly sexy clothes. Just a white blouse and a baggy old grey cardigan.’ Emma stood up. The top button of the cardigan popped open, with unfortunate timing. ‘At least, it used to be baggy, when I was younger.’ ‘It leaves little to any reasonably capable imagination,’ said Sue, surveying Emma’s jutting, round bust with visible distaste. ‘And that cleavage. Must.
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