Disclaimer: All identities and locations were renamed or made ambiguous to protect everyone's privacy.
Prologue: A True-Story that Inspired the Rest
It all started a few years ago, and in a manner not unfamiliar: an incredibly beautiful young girl, impressionable, and under the influence of her (male) peers' endless attention -- and maybe something to loosen her up -- wanted nothing more than to feel the kind of excitement that giving in to that attention could grant her... Brittany Hadel's story started not exactly with a bang (maybe figuratively, of course), but rather with a splatter.
Brittany had just graduated high school, turned 18, and was feeling on top of the world. She went and got a job at the local big-league car dealership the next town over, easily "qualifying" for the receptionist position. All they really looked for were good looks and a definite lack of any male anatomy. Her natural beauty only made getting the job easier, as the interview basically consisted of one of the GMs sitting her down in his over-decorated office, staring at her huge tits for a few minutes while they chatted, and then asking her to come in on Monday.
Brittany did have the largest bust of any girl in her high school -- easily coming in around the mid-thirty 'H' size probably made passing some of her male teacher's classes easier. Not to mention her narrow waist and wide hips that made even honest men stare both coming and going. She only came in around five feet, which only served to accentuate her figure. Top it off with her long, almost platinum blonde hair, full lips, and striking blue eyes, and she was set to take over the world. That is, until the anxiety set in.
She was unfortunately plagued by it, and severely, too. No one could say for certain when it started, but it didn't change the fact that it deeply affected her daily life. It was hard to drive, it was hard to go into the grocery store, it was hard to talk to people -- the list went on. She managed it well, though, and hid it even better. And alcohol helped, too, even though she was underage.
So, short of taking over the world, that still left Brittany a lot of opportunity, and with the kind of attention receptionists get when working around over a hundred high-strung, stressed out salesman, she had plenty of outlets for her anxiety. It was a big dealership.
Some of the men at the dealership were kind, some were straightforward to the point of giving her anxiety attacks, and others were sneaky. Regardless, it seemed all of them wanted the same thing, but she was used to that. It was the sneaky kind that truly changed Brittany's newly-minted adult life.
When Brittany left for work the day it happened, she'd kissed her long-term boyfriend goodbye, said she loved him, and left, thoughts of how the day would unfold plaguing her mind. Her boyfriend, Drake, had glanced at her as she left, and offered a lazy, "Don't worry, babe. Today will be fine." He didn't really offer much else in the way of support, and that comment was about the maximum amount of effort he could be bothered to give her. She left feeling no less anxious.
That day she'd worn her favorite heels, a flowy black skirt and a slick blouse -- she didn't need to show off any cleavage since the size of her tits basically did that work by themselves -- and kept her bright blonde hair straight down in a soft curtain that flowed over her shoulders. Underneath was a black thong and a white bra, which was starting to feel a little small on her chest, despite having just bought it a few months ago.
It was a beautiful, calm sunny morning, typical for the short summers they experienced in north Idaho. She went in to work that day with a little coal of anxiety twisting up her stomach. That or it was just intuition, but she felt like something was going to happen. She took several minutes to get her anxiety under control as she pulled her black Jeep into an open parking spot a half block away from the dealership.
As she walked in front of the building toward the main entrance, she glanced in one of the huge windows and noticed that one of the desks was empty, the morning sunlight shining off the pale, polished wood. She let out a shaky breath. She was thankful that TJ was late for work again, and it relieved some of the pulsing discomfort in her chest.
She went in through the main door, her heels clicking across polished stone tiles. She passed the receptionist counter to go clock in, then walked back. She stepped behind the receptionists desk, put on her headset, and sat down on the tall stool behind the big counter. She gossiped with Stacy, the other receptionist stationed at the main building that day, answered dozens of calls by directing them to salesmen, managers, service, and so on, and texted on her phone when a quiet moment arose.
An hour before her lunch break, TJ walked out from the hallway that joined his showroom to the main showroom. He was a small, weedy young salesman with greasy black hair that was kept short enough to easily slick a few spikes into. He had a perpetual vacant smile from the regular high he maintained -- somehow without getting himself fired -- and strolled up to the receptionists' desk.
He trained his weaselly wide-eyed stare directly at Brittany and said, "Hey, ladies, how's it goin?"
Both young women rolled their eyes at the routine, but still gave him smiles and a polite, 'hey, TJ.'
"So I figured I'd let you know, it's a pretty slow day for me today, if either of you fine ladies want to hang out."
What he wanted from the two beautiful receptionists was obvious since he pulled the same routine with all the receptionists on a regular basis.
Stacy immediately said, "I think you're having all these slow days, you should be doing more to get some sales going, TJ." She wasn't rude about it, and he'd just laughed. But Brittany feigned ignorance to his intentions and gave a friendly, questioning smile. "Just for like, lunch or something?" she asked, her fingers shaky. She had spoken with TJ many, many times over the past several months she'd worked there. He wasn't a bad person, and they actually had a lot in common. He just did a lot of drugs. He'd brought up so many times how he could help her with her anxiety if she would be willing to 'experiment.' And today, she'd decided, she was finally going to just see if he was right.
"Yeah," he said slowly. "Free lunch on me, Brittany."
"Okay, sounds good," Brittany responded a little woodenly, her fingers fidgeting with a phone cord hanging under the counter. "I'll just swing by your desk when I go on lunch?" TJ nodded deeply, his smile widening. He walked away, back toward his desk and Brittany glanced at the other girl. "Hey," she said, faking nonchalance, "free lunch!"
The phones were ringing. As Stacy reached to answer the next call waiting, she gave a knowing smile and said, "Hey, I won't judge a girl taking advantage of free food and drinks."
When her lunch came around, Brittany went to TJ's desk in the next showroom over. He wasn't there. She walked by his manager's office to ask where he went. His manager, Justin, was on a phone call. When she mouthed, 'TJ?' he shrugged his shoulders, and continued his call.
She didn't like to call people, but she did have his number. After a moment waiting at his desk, Brittany called him. When he answered the phone, she could hear him coughing intensely. His coughing eventually subsided. "Hey, Brit. You on your lunch now?" he asked in a brittle voice.
