u/ToplessForestSprite

You probably know the type. Pierced, tattooed, crust punk meets hippie girl. She's overdosed again at the festival and while you're waiting on the EMTs to come to pump her stomach, you can't help but look over how her tits are barely contained in what scraps pass for a top these days. Given no consequences, what are you doing with her?

“Can I help you?”

I’m behind the counter at my oddities and artisan’s shop on a barrier island in North Carolina. You move like you’re overwhelmed, like you’re not quite sure of what you’re looking at.

“Oh, I’m just looking – my girlfriend loves these sorts of things. She’d be here but she had a major project to finish this week for her job. I’m here for a family reunion.” As you wander past rows of everything from hand-painted ceramic aliens to locally-made earrings to incense sticks, I notice your eyes converging on a small display stand on the corner of the thick oak counter.

“What’s a belly chain?” you ask. “My girlfriend’s never mentioned those.”

Never one to pass up an opportunity for mischief – and also having sized you up since you first jingled the bells above the door on your way in – I seize the moment. “Pick one out and I’ll show you how it works,” I say with a smirk. For the first time, you notice my piercing eyes, and the outline of my nipples underneath, clearly apparent that a bra was not part of my steps of getting dressed this morning. You choose a thin gold one, the delicate herringbone smooth in your hand, and as I come around the counter I lift up my white spaghetti strap top and say,

“Now, what you do is wrap it around my waist, and hook the clasps around in the back like a necklace. There you go.” I say as I do a little twirl close to you, your finger accidentally slipping over the rim of my bellybutton.

Where do you see this going?

Today being another blazing hot day, I decided to put on a bikini and head down to the pool - as I was putting on sunscreen, I realized I might've given more of a show than I was expecting, the profile and curve of my 36DDs clearly visible. Want to talk about what you might've done if you were there?

You know the kind if you've traveled anywhere in the Midwest. All of my friends either left town or married their high school sweethearts the day after graduation, but I'm still here slinging omelets and hashbrowns while getting ogled by business travelers. You catch me in a rush one Friday morning, and I with a look of exhaustion I go to wipe off the table nearest the door. With practiced efficiency I collect the empty cups and plates, and as you go to sit down I finish wiping off the tabletop, my t-shirt momentarily sliding up my torso until my pale midriff is exposed to you, and only you, in this busy restaurant.

Given no consequences, what are you doing next? :)

Absolutely love it when he pulls out, aims for my belly button, and allows me to grade on both volume and consistency :) Bonus points awarded for accuracy. Apply within!

As someone who was born in 1986, I just barely missed living this out in real life, but there’s something about the early ‘90s aesthetic where the hairstyles got smaller but the bathing suits were just as neon and skimpy and the objectification of women was just as rampant. You know the kind – the babysitter stripping down to a tiny bandeau top by the pool, neighborhood kids ogling for a glimpse of their friend’s older sister braless, teacher/student relationships that would never fly today.

Want to talk about how I might fit into some of those fantasies you may still have?

You know the kind if you've traveled anywhere in the Midwest. All of my friends either left town or married their high school sweethearts the day after graduation, but I'm still here in this diner slinging omelets and hashbrowns while getting ogled by business travelers. You catch me in a rush one Friday morning, and I with a look of exhaustion I go to wipe off the table nearest the door. With practiced efficiency I collect the empty cups and plates, and as you go to sit down I finish wiping off the tabletop, my t-shirt momentarily sliding up my torso until my pale midriff is exposed to you, and only you, in this busy restaurant.

Given no consequences, what are you doing next? :)

And by trouble, I mean CNC :) I'm sometimes terrible at what social cues I'm either sending out or getting, would love to talk with someone about what that might lead to.

You know the type if you've ever lived in a cul-de-sac long enough. Maybe she has kids, maybe she doesn't (I don't, no plans to), but a few months after the papers are finalized her athleisure gets tighter and skimpier on her walks around the neighborhood, or maybe her bathing suit choices at the community pool start to encroach on what’s considered family-friendly, the tops she wears to the farmer's market and Trader Joe's leave less and less to the imagination. Sometimes I don’t even bother to put on anything over my bikini before walking down to the mailbox, or doing gardening in the yard. Needless to say, the HOA isn’t thrilled, and there are rumblings on the community listserv about me.

It's supposed to be a pretty hot one today, what are you doing if I walk by your place sweating from my yoga class or walk? My nipples pressed tightly against the thin material, rivulets of sweat beading down my midriff, my waistband folded over as I gulp down Gatorade and try to catch my breath. I recap my water bottle and catch your ogling me shamelessly.