Cheryl's Sage Advice

[Joe S]

“You did say you were going on a two week cruise in the Caribbean, right?” Cheryl asked, her tone aggressive, verging on interrogative, as she eyed her co-worker hard.

Denise chuckled as she stirred a packet of sugar into her coffee. She glanced around the cramped break room wishing like hell she was under the warm Caribbean sun instead of this small, boxy room bathed in artificial blue white light that made her eyes hurt, getting grilled by Cheryl.  She sighed. “What do you want me to say?” She asked as her young cube mate now stared daggers into her torso.

“Well,” Cheryl began, “for starters, you’re as pale as ever. So unless you used SPF 200, I would think you’d at least pass for more than the ghost you are.” With startling abruptness Cheryl stabbed a finger toward Denise’s chest. “And second, unless you’re hiding some forbidden exotic melons under that blouse, when did you suddenly sprout boobs? Who grows tits at 40?”

Denise held up her hands. “Easy now, Cheryl, I’m only 38. A young 38.”

Cheryl rolled her large honey colored eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Whatever Grandma.”

“Trust me, honey,” Denise chided, “you’ll understand in the not so distant future when all your parts succumb to the persistent weight of gravity. You might be Miss Perky now, but I was, too, once upon a time.”

“Guess your cruise ship was a time machine then, because you’re looking pretty perky now,” Cheryl snorted.

Denise laughed. “Fine. If you must know, I’ll confess. I took two weeks off for a boob job. I didn’t think it would be so evident.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t have jumped from whatever you were to watermelons.”

Denise looked down and studied her new bosom under the harsh light. She had to admit, Cheryl was right. They did look way too big, much bigger than what she’d planned. She looked back at Cheryl. “Yeah, I didn’t intend to go so big. I’m not sure what happened.” Denise took a sip of her coffee and considered for a moment. “But, honestly Cheryl, I’m glad that I did. They feel great now that the pain and swelling has abated.”

Cheryl cut her off. “You sure about that?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Denise said, brushing off the insult. “You should’ve seen them last week. Although they may shrink down a little more over the next month, this is pretty close to what they’ll be.”

“So why?” Cheryl asked, the first semblance of genuine curiosity leaking into her voice.

“Like you said, I’m getting older, not feeling so attractive these days. I’m still single and haven’t had a good date in forever. Instead of getting cats I decided to get boobs.”

Denise could tell Cheryl wanted more, but it was time to get back to work. “If you want to talk about it more, I’m willing but I need to get back at it,” she said, rising.

Much to Denise’s surprise several weeks passed before Cheryl broached the topic again, which was just fine with her. But then Cheryl invited her out to lunch as she was prone to do on Fridays.

They went to a small diner located in an alley around the corner from their office. It was a place they both knew would be quiet and relatively deserted. After they ordered, Cheryl piped up.

“So how’s life with your new boobs? Getting a lot of hot dates?”

Denise blushed, bright scarlet bursts on her pale cheeks. “Actually, yes, I have had some hot dates and life has been pretty good. Except for,” she paused,” ah, that might be TMI.”

Cheryl shook her head. “Nope. You can’t leave me hanging after you’ve already started.”

“Well, there’s something I didn’t quite think through. So I was going on a second date with this guy, pretty good looking for an old guy my age,” Denise said, letting the sarcasm drip, “and I thought maybe there might be a little action so I decided to do a little landscaping. Turns out, I couldn’t see past my breasts and ended up nicking myself pretty good, which put an end to any hopes of doing anything that required being sans pants.”

“Yeah,” Cheryl croaked, her face screwing up, “That was definitely TMI.” Changing gears, she asked, “So you into this guy?”

“Well, I was, but after that night I’m not so sure. I could tell he was interested in getting into my pants but obviously I brushed him off so as not to really embarrass myself. But he hasn’t called, texted or emailed since. Guess I blew that one.”

“What a dick. You should go over to his house and kick him in the balls.”

Denise blanched. Cheryl said it in such an offhanded way that it almost sounded cavalier.

“Pick up your jaw, Denise. The food’s here,” Cheryl said, reaching out for her club sandwich. The waiter handed over the sandwich and then set Denise’s salad in front of her as she sat there mouth agape.

After the waiter walked away Denise spoke in an intense whisper. “How can you say that like it was nothing? I can’t just go kick some guy in the nuts at random.”

Cheryl leveled her gaze at Denise. “It’s not random. Sounds to me like he was just after your goodies and when you denied him, well, poof, he disappeared. Good a reason as any to deliver a swift kick to his goodies.” She smirked and took a big bite of her sandwich.

“Well, I never,” Denise practically cried, shaking her head.

“Jesus, Denise. You even sound like my grandmother.”

Denise glared at her young and oh-so-pert friend.

“Seriously,” Cheryl continued, giving no heed to Denise’s outrage. “You’ll feel so much better if you do. Trust me on this one. Hey, can you pass the ketchup. These fries are kinda dry.”

And just like that, thought Denise, Cheryl was already on to something else, like what she’d just proffered was an inconsequential afterthought.

 

That night, Denise lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. She couldn’t get Cheryl’s voice, that nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone out of her mind. “Just go over to his house and kick him in the balls.” “Trust me.” “You’ll feel better.” She couldn’t stop the snippets from echoing inside her head.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She looked over and panicked. It was a text from Brad. She looked at the clock. It was 12:17. She hadn’t heard from him in over a week and now he texts after midnight? She read the message.

Hey Denise, sorry I haven’t been in touch. Things got crazy. I was just thinking about you and thought I’d see if you were out and about. Hit me back if you want to meet up.

Denise sat back, her mind spinning. Was this a booty call? Or was he just out on a Friday night living it up like she could be? She thought of his strong jaw, charming smile and warm eyes. Not to mention his toned physique. She should put some clothes on and go out. Quickly she texted him.

Her phone buzzed again, almost immediately.

Why don’t you come over? I just opened a nice bottle of wine.

Okay, she messaged back.

He texted back his address and added hope you’re wearing something hot.

Denise froze midway through pulling on a pair of black jeans. So this is a booty call. She threw her phone on the bed in disgust and started to grab the nightshirt she’d just shed. And then, out of nowhere, Cheryl’s voice was ringing in her head and suddenly, she could imagine exactly what Cheryl had prescribed. Denise dropped the nightshirt, ditched the jeans in favor of some sheer tights and one of her shorter skirts, pulled on her slinkiest black heels and slipped into her favorite new bra. After admiring the swell of her enhanced cleavage for a moment, she pulled on a sweater with a plunging neckline. How’s that for hot, she thought. Quickly she did her makeup and pulled her hair into a loose pony tail. It would look better down but there was no time. She found her legs were actually quivering in anticipation.

She practically bounced down the stairs of her three flat and hailed a cab. It was only a ten minute ride to Brad’s place, a small bungalow a few neighborhoods over from where Denise lived. The porch light was on and she could see his silhouette through the curtain hanging in his front window. Even his silhouette looked ripped.

Before the cab driver could take off she slipped him an extra ten dollars. “Wait here for a minute. I’ll be right back.” He took her cash and then looked her up and down skeptically. “Whatever you say, honey.”

Halfway up the walk to Brad’s house she looked back and the cabbie hadn’t moved. Knowing he was still there calmed her nerves a little. She pressed the doorbell and then found she wasn’t sure what to do. It felt like an eternity before he answered the door. She could hear the squeak of bus brakes several blocks over, the jangle of wind chimes from a neighboring house, music coming from somewhere. Hell, she could hear the blood rushing through her own veins.

She heard the slide of a chain lock and quickly adjusted her breasts, making them seem to pop out of her sweater. She wanted him distracted.

When he opened the door, it was Denise who got distracted.

“Hi there,” Brad said brightly. “Glad you could make it.”

There it was. That damned boyish smile that was so disarming. And it looked good on his stubbled jaw. His distinguished, strong and stubbled jaw, she corrected herself. And then there was the way his ribbed t-shirt hugged his broad shoulders, which was of course tucked into his pants to accentuate his trim waistline. Her eyes, involuntarily, drifted lower. She nearly gasped when she saw how the fabric of his trousers strained with the weight of the bulge between his legs, which he was clearly happy to show off.

Brad drank in what Denise was showing off as well, but unlike her, he kept his greed for her body hidden. He definitely had the upper hand here, he thought.

“Looks like you like what you’re seeing,” he said, trying to affect a feigned cockiness.

Except to Denise, it didn’t sound feigned. It sounded cocky as hell. And it snapped her from her girlish revelry. With new purpose she eyed him standing there in the doorway. One arm rested idly against the door frame while the other dangled, as if in emphasis, near his crotch. He was clearly proud of what was begging to get out of those pants, she thought.

Not noticing the shift in her eyes as they transformed from glossy enchantment to keen excitement, Brad invited her in. He crowded the narrow doorway forcing her to squeeze past him, enjoying the brief moment as her breasts pressed against him. Just that one little touch and he could feel his hands tingling with the desire to hold them.

He started to close the door but Denise stepped into him, this time purposefully pushing her brand new overstuffed boobs against him. She ran her hands up his arms and then let them rest casually on his muscular shoulders. He put his arms around her waist and then let his hands drift down. She cooed breathily when they cupped her ass and squeezed. Denise looked up at him, lips parted and he bent his head toward her, anticipating the sweet fullness of her kiss.

Her movement came naturally, without thought or consideration, a movement that later she could only describe as innate, a deep-rooted instinct borne from being a woman.

Though she’d never done such a thing before, somehow she knew just what to do. She drove her knee squarely between his legs, hard enough to make her teeth click together. Her pale face flushed with excitement and adrenaline as her knee cap smashed his balls.

Her heart fluttered involuntarily as he cried out in anguish, a torturous guttural moan. It leapt in her chest as his hands flew down to cradle his busted balls. Finally, her heart beat euphoric with delight when he sank helplessly to his knees.

Rapt in bloodlust and without thinking, she reached down and grabbed his hands, pulling them up. When he looked up at her, Denise could see the sheer panic and terror in his eyes. All the cockiness wiped away. His face betrayed, nakedly, the power she had over him.

She calmed herself, and in an even tone asked, “Was this a booty call?”

Brad only looked at her, his once bright eyes now dulled, pleading for mercy.

When he said nothing she leaned in close to his face, not caring that she was giving him an eyeful of her deep cleavage, though he was probably in no position to appreciate it. “I asked you a question,” she said sternly, lifting her foot and bouncing his swelling testicles on the toe of her slinky heel. She smiled devilishly when he grimaced. But still he did not answer.

“One last chance,” she offered.

He let his eyes drop and for Denise, that was answer enough. She withdrew her foot from between his legs and she felt the tension in his hands ease.

She glanced outside and the cab was still there. An urban chariot for this enlightened queen, she thought. She looked back to Brad and smiled warmly.

Then she drew her leg back and kicked his bruised balls as hard as she could and walked out.

Denise left the door open so that anyone happening by, and hopefully someone did, even at that late hour, could see him there slumped forward, his cheek against the floor, still on his knees, though nearly prone, with both hands pressed firmly between his legs. And she knew they would know, especially a woman, what had happened.

Just another night. Just another man who found his night ended appropriately. Which is to say it was ended by a woman. Ended because, rightly, she crushed his balls.

As the cab sped away, Denise conceded. Cheryl was right. She did feel better.

 

 

 

 

 

[Sophie Lucas]

Woo! What's been going on, Joe?

Haven't read yet, but so excited!

[Joe S]

Well, I hope it's worth a read lol. It's been impossible to get any decent free time to write lately.I have so many ideas and no time to execute (curse you real life and responsibilities lol). I appreciate your enthusiasm and will try to get a new chapter out soon.

[Jax]

They’re always good Joe, this is no exception.  Always look forward to it when I see you’ve got a new one, I definitely enjoy the story section here, wish I was a better writer and able to contribute.

[CC]

If I were a rich man, I'd just pay you salary to write stories all the time, lol

[Cheryl Novot]

Love to do that to you