We talked about the town. Amber had been here all her life. I was new in town, sent to supervise an auto parts warehouse's construction and initial stocking, and then manage it once it was complete. I expected to be here for a while, maybe even long enough to retire. When we were done eating I asked her if she could show me all the sites on her next day off. She said she would be happy to if she could bring her children.That gave me an excuse to ask about them, and it gave her an excuse for talking about them. By the time we were done eating I knew that Sally was 8 and a handful and always wanted attention; she would act up if that's what it took, and Billy was 4 and getting into everything; he was always trying to get away from the attention so he could cause trouble in peace. I tried to pay attention and remember everything she had told me.Now, don't get me wrong, Amber really wasn't a hottie. She looked kind of dumpy and no one ever called her a genius, but she acted like a puppy. I walked out into the store itself and kept going, fearful that something else would happen. I was realizing that the way I was walking would attract its own attention, yet couldn?t seem to stop the overstated sway of my hips from side to side, or the way my hands seemed to always have a limp-wristed wave to them. I also noted, and felt with each step, how my huge breasts would bounce and jiggle inside their satin cups, which only seemed to smoothly wave to and fro underneath the sheer satin blouse. I glanced down only to become inwardly depressed to see the smooth slopes of tit quivering like jello at the opening of my blouse. I knew it was mostly the body doing all the foreign movement, yet also knew I could blame some part on the mental changes I seemed to be experiencing, and those damn high heels. How was I walking in them, anyway? And why was I taking such small steps? I thought that?s what?s causing my hips to pump back and forth so much, like some trollop out advertising what.
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