EXTRACT FOR
Sitting for Cynthia
(Giselle Renarde)

"Lin!" she said.  "You're not wearing a bra?"



"I don't need a bra," I said, bashfully.  "My boobs are, like... non-existent."



"They're beautiful."



Cynthia reached out to run her thumb over my tightening nipple, and that's what made me look down. That's what ultimately drew my gaze to her impressive cleavage and her shiny cream-coloured bra. Her panties matched, but they were high-waisted??"not the kind I was used to seeing. They reminded me of the kind of underwear you'd see in vintage pin-up photos.



That's when Cynthia became surreal, for me. That's when she moved from being this woman who worked with my mom and whose daughter I babysat to this... this goddess. I mean, what else would you call a woman like that? So voluptuous her breasts spilled out the top of her bra with every breath.



"Wow," I said, barely more than a breath.



Cynthia smiled gently as she traced her thumbs over my sweet pink nipples.



What would hers look like?



I needed to know.