Impact of Collision Ch. 01

"It could be worse," she says, her breath is sweet. "He could be a tech bro."

I laugh. "Ugh! That would be awful!"

"That's what I'm working with today."

"I'm sorry," I sniff. She makes a dismissive little blowing sound and pulls my shirt away from my chest, pressing it with the paper towels. She reaches inside my shirt with a handful of clean tissue and begins drying the coffee off my skin.

"That's a lovely bra. It's so sheer," she says, looking down my shirt. "Where did you get it? The only bras I can find in New York are foam armored nonsense."

"I know right?" I almost ask her if that's why she was braless on her last date, but bite my tongue.

"American lingerie is a disaster," she tells me, grimacing for effect. I nod, not really knowing what she means, but enjoying the feel of her pampering me - the warm wet paper towel wiping down my chest and belly.

"I can't wear most bras," I tell her, my voice sounds high and shallow, my tears forgotten. "I'm really hard to fit,"

"Why?" She asks, looking at my breasts with frank curiosity, her brow creased. "Are they different sizes?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm... I'm," I start, dreading having to explain. "...I'm too skinny for my boobs-"

"This is a wonderful problem to have,!" she quips with a sarcastic laugh, she's smiling brightly but still looking admiringly down my shirt.

"I know I know, but it's true," I insist. "I fall out of everything, it's such a pain."

"They're magnificent," she says, her hand just under my breasts. "And this bra looks amazing on you."

Her voice is full of... was it admiration, or something more?

" I got it at Bra Tenders in midtown," I rush to tell her, uncomfortable with her compliments and her attention. "On Ninth Ave. The name is corny but it's been around forever, I guess? Super old school New York. Like where all the Broadway dancers go."

"I love this sort of thing, old-fashioned," she agrees, her finger touching the frilly little silk rosebud at the crossing between my breasts.

"It's a second-floor space, you'd never find it if you didn't know it was there," I say, barreling on, my voice rising in pitch. Claire doesn't seem to notice, she's listening politely as she pats down my bra with a fresh handful of tissues. "A woman I work with told me about them. The ladies that work there really know what they are doing."

I'm babbling. It's my turn to be nervous again. But Claire seems oblivious, she's working to get the last of the moisture out of my shirt, she's no longer touching my skin, but I'm still exposed and her hands are still inside my shirt.

"I'm sure you don't have any trouble finding bras that fit," I tell her, enlisting a sly look and a crooked smile that makes me blush. "But they have thousands of bras, the most beautiful bras you've ever seen."

I don't know why I'm selling this place so hard. I've only been there the once, even if I did spend a small fortune that one time.

"Et voila!" she says, dropping stepping back to examine her work. "Mmm. it's better, but... I think you get away with it? I'm so sorry Sarah - but again, I think you are going to be the highlight of my day!"

We laugh as she dubiously eyes the bathroom door and the world outside where her tech bro date waites.

When we re-emerge my date is gone, hers looks peeved. He's got bland, midwestern good looks, khakis, and an oxford with a fleece vest and corporate logo.

"Is he attending a work conference nearby?" I ask.

"Uhg I know," she says.

I laugh at this, "Maybe he's going to expense your date?"

A cynical look taking over her expression. "But that's not such a bad idea. Maybe I can sell him a painting."

I snort.

"You think I'm joking?" Claire asks, raising her eyebrows. "Sometimes you flirt to sell art, sometimes you sell art to flirt... this would definitely be the former."

"I don't have mine," I tell her as she hands me her business card. She waves away my apologies before I can make them.

"You're a gem Sarah. Come by the gallery," she tells me, "I'll give you the tour."

I promise I will, giving her hand a squeeze and we part ways.

After leaving the coffee shop I found a lovely little boutique and bought myself a new blouse. In the changing room, I admired my bra in the mirror, thinking how Claire had called my breasts "magnificent."

The saleswoman put the soiled shirt in a shopping bag for me and I stopped to do a little grocery shopping before making my way home by bus, enjoying the above-ground trip and the clear fall day.

As I watched the city passing by I was thinking about my recent dates, the serial disaster of my love life. I wondered if I was being too picky. I thought about running into Claire again; how much fun it had been to see her.

I almost called her when I got home, I'd wanted to ask her to go to a show, but I'd looked at her card again. All I had was her work number. I put away my groceries, started my laundry, and called my mother instead.

We got through the questions about how much I'm eating, the latest street crime scaremongering she'd seen about NYC, and we're well into gossip about people I don't know or remember when the conversation goes off the rails.

"Your father spoke to Danny today," she told me. I could hear my father in the background, he told her things to say. God forbid he should ever call me.

"Mom please don't-" I begged.

"He hasn't found anyone new. It sounds like he's working very hard, he's even been traveling a bit for work, but he hardly ever goes out."

"Mom I've told you-"

"I know, I know. You're 'where you need to be'. I also know you're not going to mass." I heard my father say something about confession and braced. "Your father thinks you should stop by St Patrick's, it's not far from where you work. If nothing else it's beautiful, and you could give your confession..."

"Mom!"

"We just don't like to think of you being alone," she said, then more quietly, she hissed. "Jobs aren't everything Sarah Beth!"

"MOM! Seriously, stop!"

I finished my night wrapped in a robe with a quart of blackberry chocolate chip and Two Girls And A Guy on my laptop. It looked brainless, which fit my mood. But I only got as far as Robert Downey Jr eating out Heather Graham from behind when I shut my laptop. Part of the reason I turned it off is the shock of what he was doing to her, but it was also because Claire and Heather Graham look alike. The same willowy tall figure and blonde mane, but also the same big eyes. He'd pushed Graham against the wall, her hands outstretched, and buried his face in her ass. It was too much. I'd put the laptop on the bedside and turned off the light, heart pounding.

As I lay in the dark, the scene played over in my mind again and again. I wasn't aware of falling asleep, so the dream seemed to come at once.

I was in a gallery, a windowless box of high, white walls. Claire was there, dressed in the blouse she wore the first time we met, it was soaked and see-through. She was smiling and showing massive paintings of bright swirling lines hanging on the four walls. I realized they are all old projects of mine from college, things I'd done as InfoPorn, writ large and beautiful. I was excited and wanted to tell her.

"Sometimes you flirt to sell art," Claire said as she pressed herself face-first against one of the walls, between two of the paintings, her arms outstretched and feet spread wide. It was like the scene in the movie. Claire's face against the wall, she dragged her full red lips against the chalky matte paint.

That's when I realize it is her date who is watching us, that I was the one kneeling behind her, lifting her skirt, and pulling her panties down. It was my face that pushed into her ass from behind, my tongue that licked her asshole.

I woke up in the middle of an orgasm, my hand jammed in my panties, cumming as hard as I can ever remember cumming. I was panting. After months of being alone and feeling nothing, and the months before that, feeling less than nothing with Danny, I was undone; drenched. My whole body was shaking.

The dream was already fading, just an image of her bare ass. I laid there wide awake looking out my window, pale morning light shining in, wondering what's the matter with me.