Going Home Ch. 01

bySusanJillParker©

He lifted and pushed her hair out of the way before touching her face again as if he was a blind man needing to know what someone looks like from his touch.

"I've been growing my hair long because of the money. I hate spending money on my appearance when there's no one in my life but my customers at the diner," she said and looking as if she was about to cry.

He lightly patted her shoulder and reached to her shoulder to take his hand in hers.

"Don't take this the wrong way but from behind you look like just another beautiful blonde who has a typical pretty face but your face is so much more than that," he said.

She rolled her eyes and sighed her disbelief.

"So much more than that? I'd rather be pretty than to have a face with character," she said. "The faces of the Queens of England all had faces with character and none of them were very pretty."

Her way of not getting her feelings hurt, her posture stiffened as if she was readying herself to ward off a verbal attack from her only real friend.

"You're wrong. Your face is so much more than just a pretty face. I can read your face as if I'm a tealeaf reader and your face is the palm of your hand. I've only seen one other face like yours," he said with a pause as if remembering the other face. "I was fascinated with her face and now with your face that's nearly a carbon copy, only your face is even better after being perfected by your lineage."

She frowned her rejection of his compliments

"My lineage?" Ginny laughed. "I have no idea who my father is or if my mother was even married. She never talked about her past and I never asked her about her past. I figured it was a time she wanted to forget than to remember. Besides being that my mother had a fondness for the bottle, I didn't want to give her any more excuses for drinking other than what she already had."

At an impasse, with Jerry fascinated by Virginia's face and Ginny not liking her face at all, there weren't enough compliments that Jerry could pay her for her to think that she was pretty when she knew that she wasn't. If she was remotely pretty, she'd have a boyfriend. If she was halfway decent looking, she'd be married with children. Only except for her D cup breasts, she was plain and not very memorable other than to Jerry.

Sadly, the only that thing men saw in her was her big tits. Yet, even though men concentrated on her breasts rather than on her face and her mind, if there were two things that she loved about herself, she loved her breasts. Firm, natural, and shapely, she had a great rack. Unfortunately and interesting enough, never getting past her tits to look in her eyes or to get to know her, the only thing that men thought was that she was a slut or a whore because she had big tits.

How dare they all think that when she's only had two lovers. Then again, maybe she encouraged men to think that she was slutty by wearing a too tight uniform blouse. Maybe she encouraged men to think she was a whore by her giving them down blouses of the top of her breasts and in flashing them her cleavage and her bra for the sake of a bigger tip.

To be continued...

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