Chapter 1: An Evening Out
"I don't know," Cathy said, looking at herself in the mirror. "It's kind of showing a lot."
Not that she had a lot to show, really. A shirt like this was meant for a woman with a chest, a big plastic chest, not snug little cups. Probably that's what Jason was imagining when he picked it out for her--that she would put it on, and suddenly her tits would be flopping out, spilling out over the neckline, nipples akimbo in the wind. Or however men thought about breasts, which was always ridiculous. But Cathy couldn't fill a sexy shirt out like that, not even a sexy little black spaghetti strap pull down halfway to her belly button.
"It's fine," Jason said. He had a funny little smirk on his face.
Cathy twisted sideways in the mirror. "You can tell I'm not wearing a bra though." She twisted the other way, looking at the pointy bumps her nipples were making in the dark fabric. "And movie theaters are always cold."
"It will be dark in the theater once the movie starts," Jason said. His smirk became a grin. "And anyway, you said I could pick out what you wore, if I lost the weight."
She wrinkled her nose. "It was supposed to take longer."
But she had promised. Jason wasn't fat, but he was always talking about wanting to be thinner, or lighter, or to fit better into his clothes, and then one night she had offered it. An enticement. The promise of a flirty little date night, if he dropped a few pounds. And lo and behold, the weight had melted away.
"You look amazing," Jason said.
Cathy ran a brush through her hair. She knew what her boyfriend meant. She wasn't like her sister, Carolyn. Her older sister spent hours on her hair and makeup, nearly every day, in an exhausting routine of washing and blowdrying and patting and painting and God knew what else. Cathy had never been able to make herself care enough to compete with Carolyn--who, by the way, could probably fill out the shirt just as Jason wished--but she could, in a pinch, show a little skin.
That was the secret.
Once the clothes came down, or off, people weren't really looking at your face anymore, were they? When Jason said she looked amazing, what he really meant was, 'durrr, I like yur tits.' It didn't matter that she wasn't prissy or fussy or delicate like her sister. For men, tits were tits.
Cathy was fine with that. It made them obedient. Interested.
"Okay," she said, when she was done. "I'm ready."
On the drive over she had to tell him to watch the road several times. He kept looking over with a silly, stupid grin, looking over at her shirt, which hung open and low on her breasts while she fidgeted with her locket. It was hard not to smile at him, a little. It was a simple pleasure for him.
"Watch the road," she chided again, and he just grinned.
"I can see down your shirt," he said. "The pink part is almost showing, isn't it?"
It was. Cathy had modest breasts (little, not shy) but her nipples were bolder, heavy and wide, and no matter what she wore, they always seemed ready to make an appearance, even through the pads of her bras. Tonight there was no such barrier. She hitched her shoulder a little and her shirt fell open a little more.
"Better?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.
Jason groaned a little. "Yeah, that is better."
She put her breast away a few blocks later, as they approached the theater complex. But the main lot was full, and then the overflow across the street was full. But there was a spot in the alley behind iHop, where another car had left enough room to squeeze in near the dumpsters.
Cathy pulled on a hoodie that she left unzipped as she stepped out of the truck. She rolled her eyes when she saw the look on Jason's face.
"Relax," she huffed. "It's just covering up my arms, right? It's cold. I'm not gonna be cold the entire movie."
Jason held up his hands. "I'm not complaining at all," he said. "You look great. Thank you for dressing up."
She cocked her head at him and smirked, but Jason's expression remained carefully neutral. Cathy knew he would prefer as much skin as possible showing. Hell, if she got both her breasts out during the opening title screen, that would be more than fine with him. But he wasn't dumb enough to push her. Later, when he got hornier, he would be dumb enough. But right now he was still easygoing. On his good behavior.
"Lead the way, handsome," she said.
They crossed the street through the crosswalk, past a family of four. Cathy pretended not to notice the family politely ogling her neckline, but she felt the weight of their stares—the father’s quick, guilty glance, the mother’s tight, disapproving smile, and the open, curious stares of the two boys that must have been their sons. She kept her eyes fixed on the theater marquee, a flush of heat spreading up her chest that had nothing to do with the cool night air.
Jason leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “See? Everyone thinks you’re amazing.”
"Shut up," she said, halfheartedly. Cathy risked a glance down at herself, just to confirm that everything was properly put away. Everything was technically covered, but the stiff breeze was creating a firm outline of everything. No wonder the mom had seemed so irritated, and the rest of the family so interested. She shivered and pulled her hoodie tighter. But she left it open. For Jason.
There was a large group of eight at the ticket window in front of them. Only then did she think to double-check the movie they were seeing--Dawn of the Damned II. Not her first choice. Zombie movies weren't really her interest. But she had seen the first Dawn of the Damned, and it had some pretty good special effects, and some horny sex. And tonight wasn't really about the movie, was it?
"Two for Dawn of the Damned," said Jason.
That's when Cathy recognized him: Evan, the ticket agent.
Her ex.
Her one real, serious boyfriend, who she had dated all through high school. The guy she had lost her virginity to, on prom night. Who had broken up with her a year later, in a jealous rage, over a meaningless beer at a party, and then called her the one that got away.
"Cathy?"
Evan remembered her, apparently. He was staring at her in shock, like he had been punched in the face, mouth open as his eyes drifted downward to her breasts and the tiny black cloth hardly covering them. Suddenly he realized he was staring and snapped his mouth shut, though he didn't have decency to blush or act embarrassed. Evan had always been like that. A little brazen. Like it was his right to stare.
"Hi, Evan," she said. "How are you?"
Evan shrugged. When he didn't answer, Cathy nudged Jason. "This is Jason. We're seeing a movie."
That got Evan to nod. "Two tickets," he said. He sounded like he was recalling a distant memory, from another time and place. "Dawn of the Damned." He printed out their tickets and slid them under the glass. "It's good to see you, Cathy."
"You too Evan," she said.
There was more to say, probably, and no one was standing in line behind them. But Jason was silent, and Evan was staring, and Cathy didn't know how to introduce the two of them any further. 'This is the guy I'm sleeping with now' didn't seem like a kind thing to say. So she left him there at the empty ticket booth.
"Sorry," she said. Jason was waiving their tickets at a theater attendant in a striped vest and asking about the concession stand.
"Sorry for what?" he asked.
"I didn't know how to introduce the two of you. That was my ex boyfriend, Evan."
Jason nodded. "I recognized him from your Facebook page."
Cathy blushed. "He's not on my Facebook page."
"Anymore," Jason laughed. "But when I was obsessively stalking you on social media he was."
It was actually a pretty busy night, which was to be expected, given the time of day and year. It was summer, and the weekend, and the skies were clear if cool. People were out. And inside the crowded theater lobby, Cathy relaxed. She wasn't the only female dressed as a hoe. A pair of teenagers giggled by the pretzel stand. Their neon tube tops and low-slung jeans left nothing to the imagination. A woman in her forties, with tired eyes and a tiger-print bandage dress that strained at the seams, checked her phone near the restroom entrance, waiting for her date. People swirled around them, some looking a little, some hardly looking up from their phones.
Cathy relaxed. She wasn't out of place. She was on a date. Women sexed themselves up on dates. It was normal. It was okay to let them look a little. She could have fun with it.
"Evan would have hated this," she muttered. "This shirt. This whole idea. He was so jealous, Jason. You have no idea. On prom night..."
"I remember," Jason chuckled. "You told me. He scolded you for showing your bare shoulders in front of the school. I remember."
"He was very shy," she said. "Cute, but shy."
Cathy's breath caught and she blushed. She hadn't meant to say it. But Jason only chuckled again.
"He is cute, isn't he?" he agreed. "I'm glad you're not shy, though."
Jason’s eyes flicked down, naturally, to her chest. Cathy’s attention followed, and her stomach dropped. The black fabric had slipped, exposing the dusky pink edge of her areola and most of her nipple to the fluorescent lobby lights. A hot, prickling blush flooded her cheeks and chest, darkening her cheeks even further.
"You can just leave it, if you want," Jason murmured, his voice low and encouraging.
With a slow, deliberate calm that felt entirely separate from the frantic beat of her heart, she hitched the shirt back into place, her eyes darting across the faces in the concession line, searching for any flicker of notice, any smirk or stare that meant she’d been seen. No one acted guilty, at least.
It took a few minutes for her pulse to settle and the blush to fade, but soon they were settled into their seats. Evan had picked seats near the back, somewhere in the middle of the middle. It was a big theater, and could seat probably seventy-five people. Tonight it was only half full, maybe, though stragglers came in all through the previews.
Jason leaned over before the movie started. "That was awesome, by the way," he said, quietly, into her ear. "When you breast was showing a little in the lobby, I mean. You can do more of that, if you want. I wouldn't stop you."
Cathy elbowed him gently. "Shh."
The memory of her little slip immediately brought heat to her cheeks, but there was little chance of being overheard. Their little corner of the theater was mostly empty. No one else sat in their row, though a few face were scattered in the sparse rows behind them. It never failed that someone would pick the chairs directly in front of them at the theater. This visit was no exception; a couple was just starting to settle into the chairs. But they couldn't hear. Jason was speaking softly, in a way that tickled her ear and neck too pleasantly. He was going to distract her through the whole movie, if she let him. He really would. He could be insufferable when he got horny. Which was very often.
"I hope the movie starts soon," he said.