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Ugh, damn it, looks like I have to get up. The fucking sun—shining right into my eyes!
Wait… What damn sun?
I sat up abruptly… and immediately felt something unpleasantly shift on my chest. In my chest. A heavy, unfamiliar sensation. My head felt foggy, thoughts scattered. I raised my hand to my face to rub my eyes… and froze.
Thin, well-manicured fingers. French nails, almond shape, perfect white tips, cuticles smoothed. Definitely the work of an expensive salon. Babyboomer style… What the fuck? Why do I even know that?!
— What the hell?! — the words escaped hoarsely… No, not hoarsely. The voice was high, with some kind of sultry undertone.
I jumped out of bed, feeling something… jiggle on me. Jiggle! My eyes darted downward—black lace lingerie, thin straps, a sheer bra barely containing…
— Oh, for fuck's sake! — I reflexively grabbed my chest. Soft, firm… Damn it, is it real? No.
A burst of information flared in my mind, sharp and clear, like I’d known it forever: silicone, 350 cc, teardrop implants, done by some famous surgeon in Los Angeles, price—fifty grand.
— What the fuck is going on in my head?!
I rushed...