Hell if I know, one moment I’m working at the premiere spot for creepy men and sloppy drunks and the next, I’m being whisked away by a moody ex-boxer and a mysterious man in a suit that overlooks his girls from the third floor of the Lafayette Club.
It wasn’t easy but now that I’m a Jett Girl, there is only one thing on my mind and that is Jett Colby.
He has captured me, stolen my heart and entwined my soul into his at such an alarming rate that it seems almost difficult to breathe without him holding me, touching me, kissing me...
He won’t give me his heart though, he won’t let me own every last inch of him and not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t want to jeopardize my ambiguity.
Because of this, there is only one thing standing in my way when it comes to completely and utterly living my life with Jett Colby and it’s called Lot 17.
The Neglected Nude
By: Meghan Quinn; Author of Becoming a Jett Girl and Being a Jett Girl
Life isn’t easy being a nude colored bra. I don’t have a bow or lace to catch a young ladies attention, all I have is a sturdy wire and the ability to look invisible under a white shirt.
My neighbors are hussies, made with lace and see through fabrics. Some of them don’t even have full cups! At least I’ll hold in your tits with all my might and even after multiple rounds in the dryer, I’ll come out clean, wrap around your body and give you the best support that I can.
My best friend is a pair of granny panties. Mauve, two racks below, believes we’re a girl’s best friend but she’s delusional because we all know, panty line equals act of crime. Mauve is unaware she’ll only be caressed by a whoo-ha when a lady receives a visit from the uterus devil and is writhing in pain while shoving her face with ice cream. That’s no life to live.
Men, the nude colored bra’s mortal enemy. I watch them wander around the store with heat in their eyes and bulges in their pants. Their fingers caress the delicate lace of my neighbors and envision how the flimsy fabric will look on their lady. They’re the reason Mauve and I can’t find a pair of ass and tits to bring us home. Men are the bane of our existence.
As I watch my neighbors be plucked away by nearly perfectly round tits, I see a lady walk toward me wearing a t-shirt and jeans. This may be it. I perk up and try to angle my cups to show off the light sheen of my fabric.
I must have pleased her because she picks me off the rack and my double stitched seams scream for joy. As I’m carried away, I wink at Mauve and send her a telepathic message that I’ll make sure my lady considers what Mauve has to offer too.
The dressing room, it’s the mecca for all bras. This is where you have to really strut, this is your one chance to seal the deal, to make sure that even if a man comes in to check on the fit of the bra, he’s not deterred by my color but enticed by the way I prominently display those bubbling sacs.
Taking a deep breath to prepare myself. She is so gentle as she carefully removes me from my hanger, she would be a good owner. She takes off her shirt and that’s when I see it, my kin, another nude colored bra but this one has seen her days, she has lived a long fulfilled life. I salute her out of respect for holding on for so long as she is dropped to the bench in the dressing room with ease.
She sets me in place and hooks me in the back. I freeze in place as she twirls in the dressing room going from side to side. I stay tight as she leans forward and bounces her chest up and down as she discovers my elasticity.
I watch as she nods her head and smiles. I think I did it. As I’m placed back on the hanger, slight panic runs through my body but I notice it’s not the same way I was found, meaning, I found a home. We walk past my old rack and I look down at Mauve, she looks sad with her dreary color and sensible crotch coverage. Without thinking, I unleash myself from the hanger and fall on top of Mauve.
She looks at me as if I’m crazy but I know, I can’t leave without her. We’ve been through so much together and it wouldn’t be right to leave her behind.
The girl bends down to pick me up and I place my hook through Mauve so when I’m pulled up, so is Mauve. The girl looks at Mauve and runs her hand over Mauve’s high bikini line and down to the sale tag. It’s our only hope of Mauve coming with me. The girl nods her approval as she takes one last look. Sold!
Without looking back, Mauve and I are carried to the register. I puff my cups out as we walk past the demi bras. I pat Mauve on the crotch with my hook and smile down at her, we did it.
Meghan Quinn Bio:
When I was in high school I occasionally read books but was consumed by other teenage things so I didn't take the time to appreciate a good book on a cloudy day, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. It wasn't until I received a Kindle for Christmas one year that my world completely flipped upside down. When looking for books I came across the Contemporary Romance genre and was sold and I haven't turned back since.
You can either find my head buried in my Kindle, listening to inspiring heart ripping music or typing away on the computer twisting and turning the lives of my characters while driving my readers crazy with anticipation.
I currently reside in beautiful Colorado Springs where the sun is always shining and there is a trail waiting to be hiked on every corner. I share a lovely and warm home with the love of my life and my five, four-legged.
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