Further Adventures of a Hot Chick - Part 2

By Sonia Ramos Rossi

I’m on my fourth glass when Boyfriend starts shouting something from the other room. I can’t hear what he’s saying, so I push my tits up to make sure they’re visible through the bubbles and wait for him to come into the bathroom. I’m very proud of my rather large breasts. Boyfriend put up for the operation, says he likes to feel he’s paid for at least a part of me.

A couple minutes later he arrives, carrying a new bottle of beer held between thumb and forefinger swinging slightly to and fro. The bathroom’s not small, but he’s a big guy, and he seems to fill up the whole room. "Didn’t you hear me?"

I push my titties up just a little bit more and smile winningly. "No hun, you know I can never hear you when you shout from in there."

He looks at me for a few seconds. My back starts to ache, it’s so arched. He puts the beer bottle on the toilet lid and comes over to sit on the edge of the bath-tub, dipping his hand in the water. When he sits down like that his beer belly sticks out a lot more, but I don’t mind. "I said that my team won the game." His hand runs up the inside of my leg, big hairy arm up to the elbow in bathwater. I open my legs wider for him and he slips a chubby finger in. "You remember we have to go out with the Johnsons tonight?"

"Mmm."

"At DiMario’s."

"Mmmm." I don’t think his finger can go in much further, it’s already in up to the knuckle, and he’s pushing hard. At the same time he’s rubbing my clitty with his thumb under the water, and with the other hand he’s pinching my right nipple.

"Ok, get ready by nine then, sexy."

I love it when he calls me sexy.

Gets up and dries his hands on one of the towels hanging from the towel rack. Goes out, walking funny. He doesn’t forget to take the beer bottle with him, which is good. I hate it when he leaves his stuff lying around.

The Johnsons. Don’t know Mr Johnson very well, but Nicky Johnson is a real cow. That husband of hers is some kind of a hotshot in the City and she doesn’t work, spends all day every day shopping, she says. She can’t tell Ferragamo from Biagiotti though, that’s for sure. Its not that I feel superior to her, it’s just that my job is so important, and not only to me. My girls depend on me for so much. Everything really. Sometimes I think the magazine would never be published if it weren’t for me. All that charity work she does is such a pile of crap. Handicapped kids. I ask you, how’s that for trying to make yourself look all caring and lovey dovey. Ha! And she’s got smaller boobies than I do. Honestly.

Ten minutes to study my naked self in the mirror and inhale a quick line of coke, and its time to get ready. No question about who’s going to be the hot chick at our table tonight. Thirty minute make up session and then its Dolce & Gabbanna, Gucci, Armani, Versace, Alexander McQueen, Prada, DKNY: I just have to choose anything from my wardrobe and I’m gonna shine.

I decide on a little black cocktail dress, can’t go wrong with that, mid thigh, skinny shoulder straps. Black four inch Manolos. Check myself out in the mirror, and boy do I look good. I think this particular dress makes me look especially innocent, in a grown-up, mature kind of way.

The last glass of the Bollinger goes down nicely while I’m waiting for Boyfriend to get out of the shower. I swirl the few remaining drops around in the bottom of the glass to catch the light in the golden bubbles before I swallow the last mouthful. I love everything about Champagne, the way it tastes, the way it looks, the whole idea of it.

When Boyfriend comes down, wearing one of his generous cut sharp suits, I make a big show of putting some sticky red lips on, pouting at myself in the hallway mirror, face framed by my blonde bob. He just loves it when I make myself look sexy.

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