Yes, my nipples become like pylons when I have to go into those buildings where the AC is like a meat locker. No, I can't help it, except when I can.....
Take this damn clinic. It was freezing and I was losing blood.
OK, technically, I was selling blood.
I had had the virus, and now they wanted my plasma. Good money. Maybe someone lived.
For five days, I thought I'd be dying when I had it. Then I got better.
Now I was freezing in the clinic every two weeks.
* * *
We were all shutdown. I tanned by the pool in the apartment complex, cashing my $600 a week. Crazy politicians.
We were, um, socially distanced. No one came to the pool anyway, so it didn't make much difference. I had tan lines like a model. There was no one to see them.
Every day started to be the same dull routine. I was hornier than ever. Bored. Couldn't go anywhere.
I groaned while I did my yoga. Did laps in the pool for kicks.
Largely by accident, I was in the best shape ever. Damn, girl, all that bod and no men around.
Then I got sick. Probably picked it up at the supermarket. No one wore masks then. Stupid stupid stupid.
I recovered. Slowly I got back into the pool, back into yoga, because rage scrolling is just crazy.
* * *
I would walk the fifteen blocks to the clinic. I love the summer. The temps soared into the 90s, then up each day. Humidity made me feel almost moldy.
No, my boss said, the office is closed. Stay home. Be safe. Yada yada. Were on the speaker phone. He didn't know I was naked, talking to him about what the company might do once things were going again.
Or how his traveling eyes were going to bug out when and if I ever got back to the office. He couldn't keep his eyes off my cleavage and ass before, well, honey if he could see it all now. I thrust my chest out as he kept yammering about his stupid warehouse problems. My tits were proud and my nipples were super-thick. I pinched one as we talked.
I can be bad that way. No one ever knows.
* * *
So I sold blood plasma. They paid in charged-up Visas. I had a pile of them now.
Each time I went, I saw this nurse guy, covered in a mask, face shield, hazmat plastic suit over scrubs. No name tag.
I called him, "Drac".
He'd hook me up after the long list of safety protocols. Then out goes the good stuff, in goes the replacement.
Last visit, I wore a pair of nylon running shorts and a silvery tank top. Big mistake. I froze in their damn refrigerator AC. I got the chair by the AC vents. And my bra was this light thing, all cotton, and it hid nothing.
There were two pylons on each of my boobs called frozen nipples. Dammit. I think he understood because he threw a blanket over me, this airline-looking fuzzy thing in a plastic wrapper.
Drac was a pro. I got my cards.
* * *
Last week, I thought I'd plan for the deep freeze. I wore these yoga pants that makes me look like I'm 23 again. Put a gray thong underneath. I was going to tease old Drac, or young Drac. Whatever. Would he be pleased to be vamped on? He has beautiful brown eyes. Of course, that's all I can see are those big brown eyes, dark brown eyebrows, and his shoes with the booties on them.
Drac looked tall, something over six feet. He has a deep calm voice. Then he drinks my blood into the plasma machine. He gave me my cards. And he waved goodbye, standing by the door for a long time. Ok, I put some swing in my step. No use wasting hot yoga pants, am I right?
It was sweltering. I was almost soaked to the skin by the time I got home to my tiny apartment. I stripped off and got into my tiniest bikini. It's legal, but not by much. I hurried down to the pool. The heat hit me like a two by four when I opened the door, but at the pool, it was just me.
