Cruel Infidelity

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CH. 3: HEATHER

Large, extra large, extra-extra large. At which point did large cease to be large and become monstrous? Grotesque? Inhuman.

The tip of Heather’s tongue delicately and discreetly snakes its way to the parting line of her lips. She slides it across slowly, savoring the bitter saltiness still clinging to them.

“Did you know you’re hanging medium on the XL side of the rack?”

Heather jumps, her tongue disappearing quickly back inside of her mouth.

“What?” she asks, squinting. “What did you say?”

The young, petite redhead points to the rack. “The sizes, you’re putting them on the wrong end.”

She stares blankly at the freckles peppered along her forehead. Without saying anything in response, she hastily pulls the hangers from the rack and shoves them back into the cart. Aware of the lingering presence, she lets out a quick, “Thanks you, Dana.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she squeaks before turning on her heel.

Heather pushes the cart to the opposite end of the clearance rack and starts again. Her tongue pushes out once more, taking another run along her inner lips.

Relax your throat and let the tip hit the back.” Her panties moisten as she reflects on her lunch break. She breathes in through her nose, closing her eyes. “I’m going to blow and I need you to swallow.

She opens her eyes again to find a customer standing a rack over. She eyes her as she holds a black dress to her bosom. Heather often plays a game to pass the time where she tries to imagine the occasion the clothing is being bought for.

She pulls her phone from her pocket and steals a glance at the lit up home screen. Why hasn’t he texted yet?

“No cell phones out on the floor!” her supervisor scolds. She quickly slips her phone back into her pocket. She’d been checking her texts since the late afternoon after taking a fresh, hot load of Andrew’s cum down her throat. He showed up as she was standing out back with a cigarette in her hand.

I thought I’d find you here,” he’d said coolly.

How did you know that?” she’d asked, her brows furrowing.

Chris told me you worked the morning shift.

She’d lifted her cigarette to her mouth and sucked nicotine into her lungs. “Right down to the hours?

He’d thrown his head back. “Come hang out with me for a few.

She’d looked behind her before throwing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. The details of his appearance didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he showed up at all.

It’s time for your first lesson.” His cock stood erect and exposed. Before she’d registered what was happening, a hand gripped the back of her neck and she was on her way down.

Wrap your lips around my shaft and massage it with that wet tongue.” His moans still echoed in her mind.

“Heather, this is the second time I’ve told you this week, large shirts don’t go on this end!” Her boss quickly removes the merchandise she’d just racked and throws them back into the cart. She puts her hands on her hips. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this today, is it?”

Of course Dana would run to Marie about this, the little suck ass. “Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping that great,” she confesses. Together, they hang the clothing on the proper end of the rack as her boss scolds her on the importance to a good night’s rest.


Her restless, racing mind follows her from work to clinicals. She can’t shake the nagging feeling that she’s supposed to have done something, but what, she isn’t sure. She itches her head, grimacing.

He should text me to let me know how I did. Isn’t that the point of being my teacher? To give me feedback? She bites her lip, glancing at the clock, uninterested in watching the head nurse administer a catheter to an eighty-year-old urethra.

“Ow you dumb bitch, that hurts!”

“Now now, Miss May, you know better than to use that language with me.” The nurse raises an eyebrow at the old, disgruntled sack of bones laying before her.

“Rap it up your ass, bitch,” she grumbles, dismissing her with her hand.

Is this what Rachel puts up with all day? Taking blood and abuse from the incapacitated while the lowly CNAs wipe the shit from the walls? She stares at the grizzled, balding woman. Was there a time in her life when she was happy? A time when people were happy to see her? She frowns. It didn’t seem likely.

“What’re you looking at, piggy?” the old woman hisses. Heather snaps out of her stupor, averting her gaze. “Sorry,” she murmurs. She turns away and follows the group of CNAs in training out of the room.

Andrew is working toward a lucrative career, she reminds herself. She imagines the two of them sailing the Baltic Sea. She’s standing with her arms sprawled open like the statue of Jesus in Río de Janeiro. He’s right behind her, his hands clasped firmly on her soft, round hips just like a scene straight out of Titanic, but without the sinking ship and frozen children.

She pictures herself topless in Rostock, her bare breasts glistening in olive oil under the sun. German and Turkish men gawking at their unbelievable, large size, and all the while, Andrew basking in the aura of their pining.

“Heather, hey?” the nurse says, waving a hand in front of her face. “Can you do that for me, please?”

Heather stares at her, blinking. “What was it you needed? Sorry, my head is someplace else today.”

“Okay, well you need to pay attention, this is important,” she scolds. “You want to pass your competency exam, don’t you? Now stop your daydreaming and clean this woman up, please.”

Heather focuses on the woman who glares at her with a spiteful grin. She exhales, retrieving a pair of latex gloves and a fresh diaper.



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