This choice: Back at Hayley's Apartment • Go Back...Chapter #6Back at Hayley's Apartment by: Mr. George   Hayley paced back and forth, as she thought of her predicament. The ogling from the taxi driver, a harsh reminder of how the world would now see her. His eyes in the rear view mirror, never straying from her body to the back window.
She shuddered, at the lewd attention to the hem of the too thin tube dress. Or to her bust, as the taxi hit every rough patch on the road, sending her bust into motion. She couldn't stop what felt like harassment, without grabbing her own tits to hold them steady. Her cheeks burned at the thought of objecting, and the inevitable denials.
Some deep instinct told her which key to use on the apartment door, and she entered. Hayley Martinez had better taste than Steve Meadows, she thought with a groan. The apartment was elegantly decorated, refined and restrained, you'd never think a whore lived there.
She shuddered, at the name, even the milder call girl, made her want to shower herself clean. It was a short exploration, to look through her apartment. Her heels tick-tacking over the hard floor. Hayley wondered if she'd entertained clients here, as she leaned against the wall.
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Thinking about her family, Steve sank to the floor. They were adjusting to his death, during a simple medical procedure, with a corpse to make it all real. She thought about introducing herself to his wife! to his kids! With the internet, they'd surely discover her past, without any effort. The accusation 'Gold Digger' sprang to mind, even though he hadn't exactly been that wealthy. With the payments from the hospital, compensation for their failure, and from his own life insurance she was now set for life.
Opening the wardrobe built into the wall, shoes lined the floor. All with terrifying heels, made to enhance and exaggerate a woman's ass... your ass, you shudder. You think how hard it'll be to adjust. The door on the inside of the wardrobe reveals you're already wearing heels. Hell, you navigate all the way from the hospital to the taxi and home without noticing.
It seems Hayley left you some residual skills, 'maldita puta', you curse. Even the curse sounds sexual with your new voice. You wobble undertainly pausing mid-step, as you realise you just swore in Spanish. Perhaps there's more of her left behind than you originally thought, it was an experimental procedure after all.
But, in the privacy of your own home, you shuck off the dress, as if she's contaminating you through her former clothes. The chill of the kitchen floor, the kettle bubbling away, as you truly need coffee now.
Walking about it's hard to deny how gorgeous Hayley is, catching her reflection in various surfaces, Steve's appreciation for the female form, still notices, moments later shuddering as she meets her own eyes.
Marching back to the bedroom, and the wardrobe, surely she has some ... er... non-work clothes, something casual. Pulling on some underwear, you want to hide that... that pussy. Somehow, it just makes it all too real. Hearing the kettle click off, you want to get drunk, rather than have a coffee. But, that lush woman in the mirror can't get drunk. You know what'd happen if she did. Even without her ... her reputation.
Pulling a soccer top down, you hide the lavish bust, tugging it lower beyond the swell. You feel the friction on your broad full nipples as you adjust it. Pouring the kettle, the familiar calming aroma settles your nerves ... a little. The taste, the first mouthful is like bliss.
Your hands wrapped around the mug for warmth, the coffee trickling down your throat makes the world feel normal ... for the first time since you woke. Almost ready to face the world, you realise you don't have to be that same call-girl. You have the skills you acquired in your life before this happened.
Looking around, you spot your reflection.
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"¡Mierda que culo mía!"
You realise nothing you wear can look plain. Your body is made to entice and delight.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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