Ficlet from nothing
From Ficchat, I got yelled at to post it in full even though NOTHING happens.
Pre-Econ verse
Makoto grimaced as the gold and brown straps dug painfully into her back. “Put it on the last hook!”
“It is on the last hook,” Mina said from behind her. She gave the strap another tug; Makoto gasped in pain. “Suck it in more.”
The tall girl’s breath was knocked out of her again as her friend forced the bra strap over her back and fastened it shut. Her breasts-full, round, perky D-cups-were barely tethered by the leopard-print C-cups. She cursed the stylist for forgetting about the most generously endowed Sugar when she placed the order. The stupid puta always remembered to size up and take in the waist of “Clio’s” lacy panties, but must find some sick pleasure into forcing Makoto into corsets and bras a size too small. She windmilled her arms, and her left nipple spilled out of the cup. “This is ridiculous! I can’t dance in this!”
“Here,” Raye said flatly from her perch on the purple chaise lounge. She reached in her bag and pulled out a flat beige object. “Nip shield. Just stick it on. I don’t want it back.”
“Thanks.” She unpeeled the adhesive cover and positioned it on her breast. They seemed to be a bit more swollen than usual, and new, deep blue veins ran across the top. Mina covered them with pancake makeup before they got dressed.
Raye glared Mercedes out of her way and stared in the full-length mirror at her reflection. “So what are you doing tonight?” Her violet eyes darted between Makoto’s barely restrained breasts and her own lithe body.
Makoto shrugged. “Noah got us a room at the Meredith.”
“Ooh,” Mina cooed, tossing her hair. Her black lingerie hugged her curves like an embrace. “Fancy.”
“Must be making some now,” Raye assessed, running her finger under her eye to smooth the concealor. “Good for him.”
Makoto shrugged. “At least one of us has a real job.”
“This is a real job,” Mina said. “Maybe not the one we want right now, but it’s still real.”
Raye was giving her a patented sideways smile. “Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy having a fan club, Makoto. Besides, you can just do what I do and quit after graduation.”
“Showtime, ladies,” the club manager called from the hallway. The Sugars rose and packed up, Raye taking a few more moments to admire herself.
A knot of fear squirmed in Makoto’s stomach. She hadn’t told her friends about withdrawing yet, and the days ticking closer to her visa expiring. She couldn’t even take a deep breath to calm herself down, because that damned bra was cutting into her ribcage and making breathing damn near impossible. Deal with it later.
He was there, in the audience, dressed nicer than usual…probably Jason’s influence. Makoto felt the nerves drain out of her as she melted under his gaze; she couldn’t even feel the ache of her too-small bra. Something was off, because she couldn’t manage her trademark pull-ups past five, but the crowd seemed not to care. Raye was working her infamous flexibility, Mina was winking and flirting with the front row, and the sound system didn’t crap out on them. Their redheaded Sugar had caught the attention of a professional baseball player, and he invited them to a party in his suite after the show.
“Are you sure?” Mina called from the lobby of the Meredith, giggling and stumbling towards the private elevator with a bottle of Cristal in her hand.
Makoto zipped her hoodie and smiled as her date arrived with their bags. His hair was mussed, and he had changed back into the awful jeans she wished he would get rid of. He saw her and made his way over, his brown eyes soft and full of adoration. This was a million times better than the catcalls of strangers, the gropes of wealthy men, the sweat and bravado of professional athletes and musicians. He could look at her, and her worries about her visa, and school, and the suspicious swelling of her breasts dwindled away to quiet whispers. He could drown them out.
She decided that she had just performed her last show.
“Yes, I’m good,” Makoto called to her friend as Noah took her hand, and she believed it.
Pre-Econ verse
Makoto grimaced as the gold and brown straps dug painfully into her back. “Put it on the last hook!”
“It is on the last hook,” Mina said from behind her. She gave the strap another tug; Makoto gasped in pain. “Suck it in more.”
The tall girl’s breath was knocked out of her again as her friend forced the bra strap over her back and fastened it shut. Her breasts-full, round, perky D-cups-were barely tethered by the leopard-print C-cups. She cursed the stylist for forgetting about the most generously endowed Sugar when she placed the order. The stupid puta always remembered to size up and take in the waist of “Clio’s” lacy panties, but must find some sick pleasure into forcing Makoto into corsets and bras a size too small. She windmilled her arms, and her left nipple spilled out of the cup. “This is ridiculous! I can’t dance in this!”
“Here,” Raye said flatly from her perch on the purple chaise lounge. She reached in her bag and pulled out a flat beige object. “Nip shield. Just stick it on. I don’t want it back.”
“Thanks.” She unpeeled the adhesive cover and positioned it on her breast. They seemed to be a bit more swollen than usual, and new, deep blue veins ran across the top. Mina covered them with pancake makeup before they got dressed.
Raye glared Mercedes out of her way and stared in the full-length mirror at her reflection. “So what are you doing tonight?” Her violet eyes darted between Makoto’s barely restrained breasts and her own lithe body.
Makoto shrugged. “Noah got us a room at the Meredith.”
“Ooh,” Mina cooed, tossing her hair. Her black lingerie hugged her curves like an embrace. “Fancy.”
“Must be making some now,” Raye assessed, running her finger under her eye to smooth the concealor. “Good for him.”
Makoto shrugged. “At least one of us has a real job.”
“This is a real job,” Mina said. “Maybe not the one we want right now, but it’s still real.”
Raye was giving her a patented sideways smile. “Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy having a fan club, Makoto. Besides, you can just do what I do and quit after graduation.”
“Showtime, ladies,” the club manager called from the hallway. The Sugars rose and packed up, Raye taking a few more moments to admire herself.
A knot of fear squirmed in Makoto’s stomach. She hadn’t told her friends about withdrawing yet, and the days ticking closer to her visa expiring. She couldn’t even take a deep breath to calm herself down, because that damned bra was cutting into her ribcage and making breathing damn near impossible. Deal with it later.
He was there, in the audience, dressed nicer than usual…probably Jason’s influence. Makoto felt the nerves drain out of her as she melted under his gaze; she couldn’t even feel the ache of her too-small bra. Something was off, because she couldn’t manage her trademark pull-ups past five, but the crowd seemed not to care. Raye was working her infamous flexibility, Mina was winking and flirting with the front row, and the sound system didn’t crap out on them. Their redheaded Sugar had caught the attention of a professional baseball player, and he invited them to a party in his suite after the show.
“Are you sure?” Mina called from the lobby of the Meredith, giggling and stumbling towards the private elevator with a bottle of Cristal in her hand.
Makoto zipped her hoodie and smiled as her date arrived with their bags. His hair was mussed, and he had changed back into the awful jeans she wished he would get rid of. He saw her and made his way over, his brown eyes soft and full of adoration. This was a million times better than the catcalls of strangers, the gropes of wealthy men, the sweat and bravado of professional athletes and musicians. He could look at her, and her worries about her visa, and school, and the suspicious swelling of her breasts dwindled away to quiet whispers. He could drown them out.
She decided that she had just performed her last show.
“Yes, I’m good,” Makoto called to her friend as Noah took her hand, and she believed it.