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by DeDeDe Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Interactive · Erotica · #1782285
You live in a world filled with sex, luckly all and every single women is to die for sexy.
This choice: Robin jumped, at the rare sound of her land-line phone ringing.  •  Go Back...
Chapter #4

Robin jumped, at the sound of her phone ringing.

    by: Mr. George Author IconMail Icon
"Shit..." she grumbled, scowling at the shrill handset. "Last fucking thing..." The caller ID, marked as 'Withheld', wasn't promising either.

Even just reaching for it, Robin was too aware of her new bust, that shifted and shimmied. Those big ol' titties might be fun to watch, but she was already tired of carrying them about. Rolling her shoulders, the girls forced the belt lower on her dressing gown, giving her a bigger display of cleavage.

The phone kept insisting on her attention, as she juggled the handset, and tugging at the belt with her free hand. The gown just ran over her flesh, refusing to tighten or hide that huge bust from her sight. Instead, the brushing cloth just reminded her of the equally sumptuous ass she was carrying behind her.

Scowling she dropped into the sofa. A hiss of pain spilling from her lips, as her chest bounced and settled heavily.

"Yes." she snarled, finally answering the phone.

"Last chance to leave, bitch." The cold voice told her from the other end.

"You're behind this...." Still a little slow-witted from waking, it was as much a question as an accusation.

"Yes, I hope you can adjust to your new life, Robyn."

The voice... Sashra, was familiar, even if the name still eluded her. Robin picked up on the subtle difference, in his name, hearing the feminine edge given to her ... his name.

"Why would I leave?"

"Thieves generally don't stay, once the police are on the way...." The explanation coming in a lilting voice, amused by her question.

"Robin's out of the country at the moment, and you're just an opportunist thief.... or whore... or whatever..."

A chill raced down Robin's spine, if she wasn't believed.... If this wasn't treated as an infection. Her heart raced, as she heard the sound of police sirens getting closer.

Looking around his apartment, Robin saw the chaos wasn't just the usual after-party disorder. There was a genuine mess. A quick trip back to the bedroom, revealed an space where a large suitcase had sat. The drawer beneath missing the passport, the bedside drawer missing his wallet, and various pieces of identification.

Seeing how he'd been set up, Robin assumed, a flight had been booked, and other evidence planted. A whimper spilling from her throat, as she imagined things planted not to suggest Robin had gone, but to suggest, she was a whore. Her cheeks burned at the idea of 'her' condoms... the thought of drugs... 'party drugs', for a party girl, made Robyn queasy, being processed as a woman, treated... dismissed as a woman.

The sirens were definitely closer now, and still coming.
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