Shine Slut Ch. 01

Poppy's jaw dropped as she recognised the pathetic shoeshine 'girl' through the window of the upscale coffee shop in the Arab Quarter. She swiftly removed her expensive thick framed spectacles to get a totally unobstructed view of the sleazy looking woman across the busy narrow street. Worn for style (and because Poppy believed they conveyed an added frisson of nerdy intelligence) the chunky spectacles were fitted with clear glass lenses. Poppy's big brown eyes zeroed in on the sordid girl's make-up bereft face as she wordlessly gazed at passers-by and presumably offered her shoeshine services. Surely not...

"It really is her!" Poppy obnoxiously blurted into the bustling ambience of the coffee shop. A few sets of eyes looked up from newspapers and clocked the chubby young professional woman in the business executive attire as she gazed through the window and across the street. Poppy collected herself, but had little regard for those she disturbed. Quite apart from the improbable identity of the shoeshine 'girl', Poppy wondered how such a questionable street-side concession was permitted to even operate in such a culturally conservative district.

Poppy was only in the area to attend a business meeting regarding a buy out of some failing fabric wholesaler. It was a task way beneath her executive salary, but the chairman of the board had specifically asked Poppy to oversee the deal. The young high-flyer was left with little choice but to spend her Monday morning far from the comfortable environs of her lavish air conditioned corner office.

It was a part of the city that she was personally unfamiliar with, but knew it well by reputation. Upon alighting at the Metro Station Poppy found that other than the increase in Arab citizenry, it was a lot like any other part of the city. Suited commuters filled the busy narrow streets near the Metro, but the shopfront businesses were a lot more bazaar-like, noisy and hectic. Arriving well in advance of the meeting and in need of a decent Cappuccino, Poppy had confidently strutted around for ten minutes until she found a decent looking coffee shop that wasn't full of chain smoking Arab men.

Poppy's mind boggled at the fortune of spotting her compromised old rival while supping a Cappuccino in the random Arab Quarter coffee shop. She'd probably have purposely avoided looking at the nasty woman if she'd wandered past her on the street. It was only Poppy's idle 'people watching' through the window that afforded her such an exquisite discovery.

Are shoeshine stands even a thing anymore? Poppy wondered as she took in the antiquated concession planted beneath an awning across the road. The sun beat down on the dusty street between the shadowy coffee shop and the shade of the shoeshine stand. The old-world style stand was made up of a raised platform on which four tacky looking chairs sat in a row. All four of the dirty stuffed chairs sat empty, but were attended to by the quite unexpected shoeshine girl, who sat lounging with her legs crossed, but thighs spread indecently wide on the stoop down below.

White, slim and plainly attractive, she was clad in an unflattering, revealing ensemble that appeared to be the polish smeared underthings of somebody who had fallen on hard times and hocked everything but the very shirt from their back. Despite having no takers for her shoeshine services, the girl's pleading presence didn't go unnoticed. Commuter (non-Arab) visitors to the area gazed slack-jawed at the humiliated white woman toiling as a demeaning shoeshine girl. Men and woman performed flustered double-takes before quickly moving on with eyes averted. Yet curiously, Poppy noted that the local Arab population wandered past her concession as if it wasn't even there. Those robed men who Poppy assumed would be up in arms at the stripped down presence of a fallen woman pleading for custom seemed entirely oblivious.

The whole thing was unbelievable. Still not entirely convinced that her big brown eyes weren't deceiving her, yet excited beyond logic at the notion that her old rival had become a shoeshine skank in the Arab Quarter, Poppy grabbed her designer shoulder bag, stumbled up onto her ostentatious shiny red platform heels, overpaid for her drink and dashed from the air conditioned coffee shop and out into the sweltering street.

Not wanting to approach the woman directly, Poppy strutted up the street and then crossed through the crawling traffic. She slowed her pace and dawdled towards the shaded stand. The twenty-six year old corporate executive cut quite a figure. The tailored three piece suit may have been inappropriate attire for the weather, but it certainly signalled the BBW's career status. A fine pin-stripe pattern decorated the black jacket, lightly flared, sharply creased trousers and waistcoat. The thick knot of a black silk tie held together the broad collar of her bright red silk blouse. Despite her size, Poppy strutted expertly upon the shiny red high-heeled platform boots that peaked from beneath her flared trouser cuffs. Bountiful raven curls settled upon her shoulders and framed a petulantly cute chubby face. A narrow, slightly upturned nose and big brown eyes collided pleasingly with the full dimpled cheeks upon which her glasses sat. Gazing at her target, she puckered her petit mouth with full lips painted a glossy red. A smooth little ever-present double chin rounded out her face. An almost jet black beauty mark sat on the left side of her face between the corner of her mouth and her somewhat pointy nose. A thick layer of cosmetics slightly darkened and smoothed out her naturally pale white skin-tone. It was only the skin on her chubby ringed fingers that hinted at her natural paler colour. Poppy was a big woman uncaring of what others thought of her shape, yet well aware of how to use what she had to make an impact. The young executive used her obvious abundance to startling effect. Of smaller than average height, the platform heels more than bumped her up a few inches. Poppy was visibly big all over, but this didn't prevent her from emphasising her bust and walking with a high-heeled swagger unique for a woman of her size.

Poppy stopped against the wall nearby the shoeshine stand and surreptitiously lit a slim cigarette, while taking in the scene up close. No doubt about it. Poppy was looking at the destitute remains of her most hated executive rival Karolin Hawksmoor. Entirely unaware of being watched, the woman lazily span her shoeshine rag and shot (what she surely considered to be...) inviting expressions at shocked passers-by. For the women, a desperate submissiveness intent to evoke feelings of pity and appeal to their own sense of superiority. For the men, a teasing grin accompanied by a lazy uncrossing of the legs. This gave an unavoidable view of her barely crotch beneath the blouse.

Poppy cast her mind back to the Karolin Hawksmoor of only a year prior. A high-flying executive at the company alongside Poppy, Karolin was in her early thirties and was certainly considered to be the woman more likely to make it to the very top. Her calm, calculating intelligence and warm demeanour overshadowed Poppy's desperate ambition to succeed. Poppy had hated how everything seemed so effortless for the tall, toned, genuinely pleasant blonde. She recalled the last time that she'd seen Karolin. A meeting like any other. Karolin in her usual lilac trouser suit. A shiny white blouse. Her tanned ankles emerged from the black suede zip-up high-heeled shoe-boots she frequently wore. Glossy blonde hair cascaded down to her shoulders and she wore minimal make-up on her tanned face. Karolin was a conventional athletic beauty and arguably better at her job than Poppy was. Poppy had hated her. As long as Karolin was around, Poppy knew that she'd be forever in the slim woman's broad shadow. So nobody was as surprised and elated as Poppy when that turned out to be her last day with the company. Karolin never returned. Confusion and worry initially reigned, but after the board made some inquiries, they convened a meeting to bluntly state that Karolin Hawksmoor would not be returning to the company. Poppy enviously assumed that she'd been headhunted for an infinitely better position, but when the dust settled, the second best female executive found that she'd been promoted to number one. Karolin gradually departed from her thoughts entirely...

How the mighty had fallen. Poppy couldn't help contrasting how Karolin had looked back at that meeting with how she looked on the shoeshine stand. It was almost as if she'd stepped out of the office on that day and immediately drifted into work at the abhorrent concession.

Karolin appeared to be wearing that same white shiny blouse from the meeting. It looked to have originally been of very nice quality, but over time it had clearly become smeared with dark polish in places and stained to a dull hue far from dazzling white. The buttons were long popped off and only a chunky safety pin held it together at the front. Poppy dragged on her cigarette and gazed pointedly at the woman's chest. One look through the obscenely revealing front of the shirt and Poppy knew that she was looking at Karolin Hawksmoor. Those tiny little titties were unmistakably the 'bosoms' of the once proud Karolin. It had infuriated Molly no end that her colleague had proudly refused to get breast augmentation surgery or even stuff her button-up conservative blouses. She almost seemed proud of fronting it out with a flat chest. Poppy couldn't bare to lose even a smidgen of weight if it meant a reduction to her own sizeable rack.

But what Karolin did have was now on show to all comers. Poppy gleefully looked over and ogled her almost visible bra-less little mounds and surprisingly thick dark nipples. The shocking amount of flesh that had formed around her belly protruded out more than her titties! Poppy almost squealed with glee.

On her bottom half Karolin wore a tacky pair of almost transparent silky white short-shorts. They were quite loose on Karolin's still relatively slim frame, but Poppy could clearly make out the red designer thong underneath. The ketchup coloured bright panties were tastelessly visible through the transparent short-shorts. The thick white elastic waistband of the thong peaked over the worn out waist of the shorts and boldly revealed the logo of the designer brand. Her legs were entirely (and somewhat indecently for the area...) bare, while her feet were clad in grubby white nylon invisible socks that barely clung to her heels and a pair of cheap thin mule-like flat slippers. So thin were the slippers that Poppy could clearly see her white socked feet through the threadbare garish orange uppers.

Poppy was again struck by the impression that Karolin had been stripped of the attire she'd worn at that final meeting and immediately put to work. The blouse certainly looked familiar, but the no-nonsense red cotton designer thong seemed like just the thing her VPL aware rival would wear under her hideous lilac suit. And the little grubby secret socks appeared to be just what a professional woman would wear for comfort beneath a pair of low-cut shoe-boots.

Beyond her sartorial shortcomings Karolin seemed to have changed in a variety of even more shocking ways. Her once perfect straight blonde locks had been hacked to neck length and then tied back into a lank ponytail. The grown out dirty blonde tone certainly exposed the lie that had been her dazzling creamy blonde hair of yesteryear. With a face entirely bare of cosmetics, Poppy was shocked to discover that her pointed, but attractive features had filled out significantly.

The chubby voyeur almost gasped when the shoeshine 'girl' then fished a cigarette butt out of her shoeshine box and began dozily puffing away. Again, Poppy wondered if she'd been entirely mistaken in identifying the wretch as Karolin. The rival executive had been extremely health conscious, so the prospect of her smoking anything, much less dirty butts, seemed unthinkable.

The slight fattening of her face was also reflected elsewhere. The spare tyre around her belly had entirely wiped out the athletic woman's once sculpted abs. Poppy would hardly call her fat by any means, but the wayward belly and chunkier legs were in stark contrast to the moderately ripped, athletic features that had been frequently exhibited by her rival. The tan had also gone, leaving a sallow, white natural skin tone that Poppy never would've guessed at.

Despite the seemingly improbable transformation suffered by her once superior rival, Poppy knew intuitively that the shoeshine 'girl' flashing her gash in the Arab Quarter was indeed Karolin Hawksmoor. That much hated face was unmistakeable. The definitive realisation up close made Poppy giddy. She almost buckled on her tottering platform boots and was forced to lean on the wall for support. Overheated and excited beyond reason Poppy shuffled closer to the shoeshine stand. She intuitively knew that just witnessing Karolin's downfall would never be enough for her. No, Poppy wanted the woman to know that she knew. She wanted to look the fallen bitch in the eye when it became clear how high Poppy had risen in the 'popular girl's' absence. She wanted to gloriously revel in Karolin's debasement. A part of her cringed at experiencing such unsavoury feelings. When not stomping all over other women on her way to the top, Poppy was a proud Feminist who would ordinarily find the notion of a destitute woman selling sexualised shoeshines an abhorrent affront to her principles. Poppy's better side inwardly asked,

'Shouldn't I be helping these women to escape such oppressive situations?'.

'But this is freaking Karolin Hawksmoor!' Shrieked the devilish side of Poppy who then steered her towards the lolling shoeshine 'girl' smoking on the stoop.

As Poppy approached, the woman leaned over to the left to get something out of the shine-box to. In doing so she revealed her back to the lurking executive. As she stretched, the blouse rode mid-way up her back and revealed a gobsmacking tramp-stamp tattoo. Emblazoned just above the woman's butt crack sat two bold, black, tattooed letters,

SHINE SLUT

Poppy was absolutely staggered at the full extremity of such a thing. For a moment she had second thoughts about approaching her destroyed old colleague, but it was too late.

Karolin turned back and lazily looked up as Poppy's shadow covered the little sun that beamed down upon her bare spread legs. The woman turned suddenly and Poppy was aghast to see that not only were her legs sleazily spread, but the frilly folds of her labia were visibly peeking out around the side of the red thong and threadbare shorts! It was scandalous! No wonder people walking past had looked away bearing expressions of slack-jawed shock! Realising that her prospective client was a woman, Karolin swiftly poked her sex back into the pouch of the lewd panties and closed her legs. She then issued a beaming smile that revealed badly stained veneers a world away from the dazzling white of a year prior. Poppy was immediately knocked off balance by first the tramp stamp and then the vag flash.

'Is that how she'd been attracting male custom?!', she speculated in horror, before focusing once again on how exquisite it was to see such a titan fall from grace. Flustered and flushed Poppy buckled awkwardly on her impractical heels, which then prompted the destitute Karolin to eagerly rush forward. Poppy found herself being whisked up the two steps and then deposited into the central right shoeshine chair. Her bag was placed on the seat alongside her.

Karolin crouched at Poppy's booted feet and swiftly cast her cold blue eyes over the 'mark'. After having only seen the suited fat girl in silhouette, this was her first good look at the client's face. Poppy looked down at the shoeshine 'girl's' submissively smiling mug. For the most part Karolin was careful to keep her eyes respectfully averted, but when she did make eye contact, Poppy felt increasingly unsettled. There was something disturbingly predatory about the way her old rival looked at her. But up close, Poppy was definitively convinced that the out of shape skank was her former high-flying rival. The seated woman relaxed slightly and dripped a lingering grin down at Karolin.

'I wonder, does she remember me?' Poppy asked herself, while studying Karolin's bare face with its idiot grin that seemed so unlike the austere expressions worn by the former executive.

"Shoeshine Madame? A little spare change and I'll shine these fine red boots up real good." Spieled Karolin in a grating cutesy girly voice, as she hungrily gazed at the expensive stub toed platform boots. It was a world away from Karolin Hawksmoor's all-business monotone.

"What's your name, girl?" Poppy purposely enquired in a quite petulant manner.

"You can call me K, Madame."

"Very well...K...do a good job and I might tip you enough for a sensible pair of clean panties." Poppy cattily remarked and watched closely for a reaction. A piercing glare was indeed launched Poppy's way. K was then swiftly back to business, but it was enough. At that moment it was clear to both women that they were each aware of the other's identity.

"Before we begin, would you like me to fetch you a beverage Madame?"

"No, I haven't got all day. Get shining."

K quickly set about rifling in her shine box, presumably to find a relatively unstained cloth for the red boots. Poppy regarded her defeated foe down below. Part of her wanted to obnoxiously enquire about Karolin Hawksmoor's fall from grace. Confront the bitch, cruelly mock her and then saunter back into her own life of comfortable affluence to spread word of what had become of Karolin Hawksmoor. But there was a part of Poppy that was spitefully intent on stringing out the humiliation of her former rival. Poppy wanted the pussy flashing slut to kneel before her and shine her expensive boots, before finally obnoxiously revealing that she knew exactly who 'K' really was. The very notion was intoxicating...

"Madame, I just need to roll up your trouser cuffs to give you a proper shine."

"Very well." Poppy irritably replied. For the first time during their exchange, Poppy looked down at the street from her dusty, over-stuffed throne. People were looking. Gazing. Embarrassed for the shoeshine girl, embarrassed for the chubby woman getting the shine and visibly grossed out at the whole demeaning transaction occurring on the street. Poppy knew that the abhorrent 'SHINE SLUT' tattoo was on show to the world and she felt a sense of shame by mere association. That feeling of exposed discomfort increased for Poppy when she looked down at K neatly folding up the cuffs of her tailored pin-stripe trousers. The bright red platform boots stretched up an inch north of her ankles and K had folded the cuffs a good inch above the inner zips of the ostentatious boots. This meant that Poppy's quite unsightly sock choice was suddenly on show to the whole street!

Poppy could've sworn that K rattled out a snide giggle as she traced an impetuous finger across the exposed portion of a previously hidden shiny nylon knee high. The right sock vanished beneath the trouser cuff, whereas the left had drooped down and bunched up baggy over the top of the red boot. The embarrassed executive looked at a grinning female passer-by and then looked down at her booted feet in embarrassment.

Indeed, Poppy had been in such a rush to get to work that she'd fished the thin knee socks out of a pair of knee boots that she'd worn a few days prior. Bright neon green and a little crispy at the toe, Poppy had given them a quick sniff and decided that they passed muster. They were the brightest pair in a pack of knee highs that Poppy had purchased specifically to wear with boots. Of course, the notion of anybody seeing the garish and somewhat juvenile nylon knee socks had seemed unthinkable given the flared suit trousers and mid-calf high boots. But there she sat, with her ludicrous neon green (ordinarily hidden) knee socks exposed and clashing absurdly with her shiny red platform boots and dark suit. It was barely a flash of each sock on display, but Poppy still balked at the fact that her chubby lower legs were on display clad in bright nylon. If only Poppy had known, she'd worn dark hose or even a pair of black knee highs that matched her suit, or maybe even a pair of invisible socks much like the once white pair her fallen nemesis still stupidly had on. Returning her focus to K lessened the burn in her cheeks. After all, a few strangers could see her socks, so what? It would surely be worth it to see Karolin Hawksmoor debased at her feet.