While Bess would never have admitted it to either of her friends, the little jokes they'd been making for years about her appetite and weight had hurt. She knew they were never meant to but, of the three girls, she and her weight was the only somewhat constant source of humour. Over the years, it had often had the effect of making her feel excluded, like brave and reliable George's fat cousin who was only along for the provision of comic relief.
She'd tried to adjust her attitude about food, to cut her intake in order to lose weight, but all that accomplished was to make her feel desperately hungry all the time. Even in addition to regular exercise, all she was ever able to do was build muscle under a stubborn layer of subcutaneous fat, which made her look even bigger.
She tried to hide it in her clothes, but found that a thin waist like Nancy's or George's couldn't be faked and, no matter how she dressed like her two teasing friends, she could never look as spare as they were.
In the end, all she could do was aerobics, a daily morning ritual that wouldn't add too much muscle mass while burning as much calorie intake as possible. Apart from that, she could only take their jokes in stride to avoid making any more of her weight than what there was. Her hips just seemed naturally rounder, bust line naturally bigger, and there was simply nothing she could do about that.
In the last year, however, she'd learned to look at herself differently. Rather, other people (men) were looking at her differently. At first, Bess thought they were staring at the chubby girl, their smiles ready to spill jokes that might be even more cruel than either Nancy's or George's, but that turned out not to be the case.
Their smiles and quick glances at her curves would sometimes be followed up by a polite hello, maybe some small talk with an introduction, and sometimes even an invitation to a night out. Bess soon came to realize that a lot of men liked her body and, when out with her two thin friends, she was the one who commanded a lot of the male attention. While she got the feeling that her friends thought they were only looking at the oddity of the group, she'd come to know different.
Bess enjoyed this attention, mostly due to the fact that the way it made her feel was so preferable to the subtle shame she'd felt about her body while standing beside Nancy and George. What she once thought of as a curse was now, in her early maturity, an advantage. And while Nancy's and George's ignorant comments still hurt, it was now more out of a resentment over their disregard for how those comments might bruise her feelings.
So she'd recently begun wearing clothes that accentuated her body for the beautiful thing she now knew it to be, allowing herself to more enjoy the attention of men and their hungry expressions as their eyes molested her body. It wasn't as though she was presenting herself indecently, just in a way that better showcased her womanhood and made her feel good about herself in a way that her awakening sexuality could appreciate.
Unfortunately, Ned Nickerson's awakening sexuality had also appreciated it.
They'd met out at the mall almost a week before and, not having a car of her own, he'd offered her a ride home. Of course, she noticed how his eyes roamed over her body; it wasn't the first time he'd looked at her like that, but she certainly never expected to end up at Lookout Point where one thing led to another and, before she knew it, the eager Ned took her virginity right there in his car.
Once the pain stopped, there was no question that she'd enjoyed it. Ned's hard five inches of young manhood pumped her quickly, making her feel better and better until his semen spurted all over her belly. Since then, she'd gone to her doctor and got a required prescription for birth control pills, often wondering how much better it would have felt if Ned hadn't spurted so soon.
Though he'd practically begged her never to tell Nancy what had happened, she was sure she could have him again if she wished, could maybe find out about how much better sex could feel. But the fact was that she was seduced by Ned and didn't intentionally betray Nancy, felt guilt over the incident and she didn't want to repeat it.
However, she also felt a certain satisfaction over the incident, wondering if her body would still be the butt of Nancy's jokes if she only knew how her boyfriend saw it, how his greedy hands had been all over it while complaining about how uptight (that was the word he'd used) Nancy was.
Yet, to some extent, Bess's behaviour with the bellhop was as much a mystery to her as it was her two friends. What she'd done was a lot different than simply dressing to accentuate the curves that men (apparently even Mr. Drew) so appreciated, and she couldn't account for where the idea of removing her bra while changing tops in the bathroom had come from. Neither could she account for her complete lack of thought over the idea before finding herself leaving the bathroom in that state with a smile and such forbidden excitement that her nipples erected in apprehension of the reaction she'd get from Manny the bellhop.
Even pushing the heavy front door of the Faldor open, she could only smile about the incident, still as excited as her nipples were erected. With a slight flush in the late afternoon sunshine, her only real regrets about what she'd done were the stunned reactions of her two friends and what they might be thinking of her. Regardless, her smile remained as she walked across the dirt front yard of the hotel to the road in the same white top and a flowing, knee length, dark blue skirt. Of course, she'd replaced her bra, a simple, lacy thing that matched her white bikini panties and the garter belt and straps that held her proper white stockings up.
The high heels of her black shoes felt almost as though they were sinking into the hot tar of the chip-seal as she crossed the road in the warm, mid-afternoon sun.
Annabelle's Boutique
, the establishment that Manny told them Susan Quinn had been to, was the obvious first stop in nosing around town, and she walked straight for the front steps of that establishment. Suddenly remembering the peeing man and his hardening phallus, she glanced to the church, but didn't see him or anyone else there. With her hand on the doorknob of the boutique, she looked around the rest of the town and found that there was, like when they'd arrived, nobody else about either, the only sound being those wind chimes and the softly breaking waves that suddenly and vaguely had her wanting to go for a swim.
Inside, her steps came to a slow halt as she found herself surrounded by all things sex.
Annabelle's Boutique
, not a flower shop as she'd for some reason surmised, catered to the sensual, the erotic, the kinky and the downright filthy side of the human condition known as lust. To her right and in the window display (making her wonder how she'd not noticed this before entering the shop) were a series of manikins dressed up in sexy costumes. There was a nurse, a witch, a French maid, a policewoman and even a nun. Further on and against the end wall was a large display of lingerie while, to her left, was a rack that offered X-rated magazines, some of them appearing to be used. At the rear of the shop and completely covering the wall was a huge collection of X-rated movies for rent, two men who'd presumably been making a choice from among them now staring across a display of adult games at her.
"Why, hello and welcome," a husky, female voice offered.
In front of the left wall was an old glass and wood counter containing a large display of dildos inside with a cash register on top. Behind it stood an attractive woman who Bess placed in her early forties. Close to six feet tall, her green eyes were striking against her fair complexion and long, dark brown, curly hair. Her athletic upper body was clothed in an aqua green tank-top, C-cup breasts still perky and as attractive as her alluring face.
Presently, that face was smiling at Bess, the younger woman stunned and embarrassed at her sudden surroundings, especially with two perverted men staring at her, probably wondering how perverted she was to be there.
"Can I help you?" she inquired, briefly looking her customer up and down in much the same way the men were.
"I- Uhhh..." Bess tried, her eyes flashing momentarily back to the men who were still staring with hungry expressions and large bulges in their trousers.
"First time in an erotic boutique, hon?" the woman asked.
Wide-eyed, Bess nodded uncertainly.
"Never would've guessed," the woman joked with a good natured chuckle. "Please, don't feel uncomfortable. Obviously, this shop is for the open minded and is here to cater to whatever naughty little whims you may have. Have a look around and, if there's anything in particular that you wanted, please don't hesitate to ask, hon."
Again, Bess nodded, unable to think of any other reply. What was worse, the thought of walking up to the counter and pumping the green eyed brunette for information on Susan Quinn seemed suddenly absurd and somehow even more inappropriate than the contents of the store. This unexpected reality had her suddenly moving to the right, towards the lingerie displays as the two men finally seemed to return their attention to the wall of rent-a-smut and the wide variety of choices it held for them.
Though she started out only making a show of looking over the wide selection of lace, satin, silk and other sensual materials, Bess soon found herself sincerely interested in the frilly little garments, relaxing a little even though the two men frequently glanced over at her as though making sure she wasn't trying to steal anything.
"Here."
Bess jumped at the sound of the woman's voice from just behind her. Turning, she found the brunette looking at her with a smile again, holding what looked like a short glass of water, but which had a sharp smell of alcohol.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman offered, still with her good natured smile. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just thought you should have this. It'll help you to relax and leave with what you wanted, rather than just something that won't be too embarrassing for you to buy."
"Uh... what is it?"
"Just a little gin and soda," the woman in the tight, short, black skirt assured.
"Oh, I really shouldn't."
"Why? Driving somewhere?"
"Well, no, I just... Well, I'm actually only eighteen."
"Hon, if you're old enough to be in here, you're old enough for a shot of gin to calm your nerves. I won't say anything, neither will Ray or Brent and, even if they did, the Sheriff wouldn't care anyway."
