“A slight feeling of nausea, that’s all.”
The first customer arrived. A grey businessman popping in before work as he did everyday. Poppy was excited – she’d just had some squash. She decided to give him a show. Before he could say a word, she scooped her breasts – large bitten pillow-like things – from out of her blouse and began flapping them all over the shop.
Plip plap, went the the slap of her baps, plip plap, plip plap. The man smiled slightly shocked, he hadn’t witnessed a fresh set of tits for years. He loosened his tie a little. “Look at them sacks fly,” he said out loud for some reason. She was merely twisting her hips, left to right, right to left, as the pink pillows of flesh flew in all directions. Plip plap, plip plap.
A queue had formed behind the initial customer.
“Them’s be hypnotic and gross,” one bloke croaked. “Is they real?”
“They’re right beefy,” answered another slightly mishearing the comment.
Many other starchy men with hunched shoulders and bearded mouths stood watching, hands in pockets. The line now tailed off all the way to the pavement outside.
“Why is she doing this?”
5-star* Poppy was fit to fizzle away. Really giving them a show, her chest was briskly turning purple. Plip plap. She stood on the counter, smiled a smile of thick red lipstick and then “woooooooooo!!” she kicked the air.
“It’s like Coyote Ugly,” said a guy.
“She’s certainly ‘coyote’…”
“I meant she’s certainly ‘ugly’.”
The fascination in the queue had turned to irritation. Men looked at their watches and shifted the weight from one foot to the other. When would this end? Soon actually. She gave one final squeeze of her peaks, coaxing a short sharp jet of white from each teat, and wrapped them up for the weekend. She were done.
Breathless she asked the man in grey how she could help today.
“One Americano to take away please, no fucking sugar.”
“Nein!” he said.
* (5 stars out of 10.)