The party started late, so Jim and Sharon decided to stop for a bite of food and a drink. Jim settled his Noir self into the back of a Naugahide booth in one of their favorite bar/restaurants, where he had a view of the television.
Sharon wasn't much in the mood for talking, still brooding over the mysterious hallucinatory groping she'd experienced in her doorway, and Jim's attention wandered to the TV. It was tuned to news, and Jim couldn't help but notice the anchor-babe.
The sound was off, which accentuated the impression of her as a rather puppet-like piece of news-candy. She was overtly sexy in a more European than American style: tight-fitting tailored blouse unbuttoned just one more button than would pass on network news; a hint of cleavage; quite emphatically busty; glamorous makeup; hairstyle that seemed more in place at a beauty pageant than on a news anchor. She was also quite young -- not much more than 25 -- for an anchor, and very pretty.
Jim stared at her more and more distractedly, especially at the tantalizing bit of cleavage at the top of her neckline. He wondered what her bra looked like. He felt the smooth silky fabric of her blouse in his fingers, and the pearly top button rising and falling erratically as she noiselessly read the teleprompter. He concentrated a little harder, and was able to keep fingers on buttons without jerking or fumbling as the woman prattled on about the day's events.
One button. The blouse parted a few inches and the hint of cleavage became a blatant statement. Deep enough even to have a bit of shadow, and just begin to suggest the lower, curving separation of the two splendid globes. Another button. There it was! The lacy edges of bra cups slipped out from under the separating halves of the blouse. It was a sexy, low-cut number that dove down to a single fine band of elastic near the bottom of her breasts. The camera shook a little and pointed downward a bit, focus wavering for an instant. If the volume had been up on the TV set, Jim would have heard murmuring voices in the news studio.
Third button. The blouse parted all the way to the navel, revealing more than half of each round breast in its lacy satin bra cup. The anchorwoman finally gave up her attempts at professionalism and looked down at herself, gasping. Jim couldn't be sure, but it looked like she mouthed an expletive, then looked back at the camera with a desperate expression. She reached for her shirt, but Jim batted away her hands and in one last effort of concentration ripped the bra violently open, spilling the woman's bare breasts out into full view. To the viewers, it looked for all the world as though the anchor's blouse and bra had simply exploded open of their own accord. She shrieked, clutched her arms across her ample chest, stood up and ran for the edge of the news set. Jim couldn't resist grabbing a flap of her trim black skirt as she ran, and her sheer force tore the side seam clear up to the hip and spun her halfway around. She lurched into the desk, releasing her boobs to control her fall. Recovering, the anchorwoman shot one last, lingering, horrified stare at the camera -- bare breasts swelling out of her torn shirt, bra hanging uselessly down their sides; the elastic top of one stocking showing around the creamy thigh revealed in the torn skirt -- then ran off the set.
Most of the bar patrons were raising a ruckus over the silent spectacle they'd just seen on the TV, and even Sharon had turned around in her seat to see what everyone was hooting about.
Sat Oct 04 23:22:34 2008