The Face-Painter Ch. 13

"What are you talking about?" I asked quizzically.

"Well, you know what we say about the size of the tips and the size of the..."

"Yeah..."

"We're not the only ones that feel that way; all guys do. Eventually, small-breasted waitresses will just be phased out. At the end of their shifts, these girls compare tips with each other, and how do you think those small-breasted waitresses feel when that happens?"

I looked at Andy and shook my head, a twisted grin spreading over my face. "I'm sure you're about to tell me."

"They'll feel like shit. They won't be making anywhere near what the girls with big tits are making. They'll end up having to give up the waitressing life and get jobs at call centers or something. Somewhere it doesn't matter how small their tits are."

"I can see you've spent a lot of time thinking about this."

"At some point, it's going to end up being like in the movie 'Children of Men', where there was only one little kid left on earth. There'll be a news story, 'Small-Breasted Waitress Spotted at Sid's Diner in Kalamazoo, Michigan', or somewhere like that. People will come from all over to see this final member of a dying species. But do you know what's gonna happen?"

"Uh...no."

"Those people will come to that diner, stare and take pictures to show their grandchildren, but they're still gonna want to be served by the chick with the D-cups. 'Hey you with the nice rack, bring me a corned beef on rye and a Budweiser'. And she's the one who's gonna get the big tips!"

"Oh, of course. How silly of me not to see it."

"And not only small-breasted waitresses, that's the way our whole society is going," Andy said confidently as he looked at me across the table.

"Okay," I said with a smirk on my face, "I've got to ask...what the fuck are you talking about now?"

"I'm talking about the gradual demise of small-breasted women from the face of the earth."

"Oh, this is gonna be good," I replied, suppressing the laughter I felt building inside me.

"I'm telling you, it's like what Darwin found in the Galapagos, but it's happening in our society today."

"Darwin?"

"Yeah, I call it 'Andy Adelson's Theory: Survival of the Bustiest'."

"Survival of the Bustiest?"

"I'm serious," he said calmly as he continued slowly, making sure I took in every word. "Just think about it. You know how advertising today is promoting the way we all look as being so important?" he paused, waiting for me to respond.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You guess so? You know so! You're about the most superficial shallow person I know. Do you deny that?"

I simply smirked and looked at him, knowing my track record in being anything but a practicing swordsman was pretty hard to deny. "Okay, I won't deny it. You got me there."

"Hey, I'm not saying that's a bad thing...although some people I'm sure would say you're just a piece of shit." We both laughed at that. "But that's the way all of society is going. Now, let's just take an average guy, someone kind of like me."

"Okay, an average guy."

"So this guy, like me, goes through life and starts dating girls. Which ones is he going to be attracted to? The ones that look like the girls in the advertisements, of course. Beautiful girls, with gorgeous hair, perfect make-up...and..." he let that one hang out there, like a softball lobbed over the plate. I had to hit it out of the park.

"Big tits?"

"Exactly, big tits. Now, eventually this average guy settles down and, of course, he marries the girl he loves, the pretty one with big tits. Let's say they have two kids, one boy and one girl. Now, genetically speaking, how do you think that girl is going to look when she grows up?"

"Big tits?"

"Now you're starting to understand my theory. And all this time, what has happened to all our small-breasted women?"

"I'm not sure, but I think you're gonna tell me," I said, a big grin on my face.

"They've become elderly spinsters, never knowing the thrill of having a man tit-fuck them and blow a load all over their faces. Eventually, they pass away, ending their sad and deprived existence on this planet, with no children to carry on their legacy of A-cups."

"Hmmmm, interesting."

"So you see, as time marches on, more and more people are going to be producing female offspring with generous physical endowments in the chest area while the small-breasted women continue to flounder and wither away until their futile existence ceases to exist in its entirety. Now, this isn't going to happen overnight, but in the next few generations, I see it coming to fruition." He paused and looked at me across the table as he held his hands up in a gesture of finality. "Thus, Andy Adelson's 'Survival of the Bustiest'."

"You know, you are a perverted genius, I'll have to give you that," I said as he nodded in agreement, clearly being of the same tit-loving mindset as yours truly.

"Hey, I've gotta go," Andy said, checking his watch. We paid our bill and left, saying our goodbyes and agreeing to keep in touch. As Andy pulled out in his Fusion, I pulled out my CD case and started flipping through possible selections. When I was debating between something by Ultravox or Simple Minds, my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Connor, it's me, Emma."

"Hi Sis. Are you at work? It didn't come up with your name on my phone."

"Yeah, I'm calling from work, not from my cell. Listen, I need a favor. I've been doing most of the work over the last couple of months on a big account we have here. The client unexpectedly decided to come into town today. My boss wants a few of us that have been working on this project to go out to dinner with the client while he's in town."

She'd been speaking rapidly, and kind of paused to take a breath, as if she was a little frazzled, which seemed to be happening with her a lot lately. "Uh, okay. What do you need from me?"

"I need a date. Everybody else who's going is married, and I'll look like an idiot if I show up by myself. I called Mom, and she said she had a really nice time when you took her out the other night. Anyways, Mom said I should give you a call."

"She did, eh?" I smiled, remembering what an amazing time we'd both had that night, and most of the weekend. Over and over, load upon load.

"Yes. Connor, I don't ask you for much. Would you do this for me, please?"

"Sure, of course I will. What time and what should I wear?"

"The thing starts at 7:00 and it's at The Wynn."

"The Wynn. That should be nice. So, do I need a tie or will a nice suit be enough."

"Ah, you're young. No tie. Some of the lawyers will be buttoned-up to the max, but I think a suit and nice shirt will be fine."

"Okay, sounds good. So, I'll pick you up at your place shortly before 6:30?"

"Great, and make sure you have the top up on your car. I don't want to wreck my hair."

I laughed out loud. "Mom said the same thing when I took her out the other night."

"Great minds think alike, I guess. Okay, I'll see you later. And thanks, Connor, I do appreciate it. I'll make it up to you somehow."

"That's fine, Emm," I said, using the slightly-shortened pet name I had for her. We said our goodbyes and I sat thinking. I wondered what my mother had said to her. She wouldn't have told her about what had happened, would she? No! But then again, she seemed to have no problem discussing those things with her sister, which I found somewhat strange as well. My curiosity got the better of me and I called my mother.

"Mom," I said, once she'd answered the phone.

"Hello dear. How's my big boy," her lusty purr went straight to my groin as I listened to her speak.

"I'm great. Hey, I just got a call from Emma."

"Oh good. I was hoping she'd call you. Did she ask you to be her date for that dinner she has to go to tonight?"

"Yeah. That's fine. I told her I'd do it. She said that she'd called you and you suggested it."

"That's right."

"Uh, Mom, did you say anything to her about the other night?"

"Just that you were a perfect date and I had a wonderful time."

"Nothing about...?"

"Of course not, dear," she said, not waiting for me to finish. "But I'll tell you right now, if something happens and you get any kind of opportunity like that with your sister, go for it."

Did she really just say what I thought she said? "Mom, did I hear you right? You can't be serious?"

"Honey, listen to me. There's nobody more frustrated and stressed out these days than your sister. To put it bluntly, she needs to get laid. There's nobody in her life right now to take care of her that way, and I think if she spent one night with you, she'd be good for the next year."

My head was just spinning as I listened to her—my own mother was suggesting I fuck my sister! "But what would she think if I tried something?"

My mother gave a small chuckle on the other end of the phone. "So, it sounds like you aren't against the idea. Honestly, don't you think your sister's attractive?"

"She's very attractive."

"And don't tell me you've never jerked off thinking about her, or Zoey."

Now that one really floored me—she'd brought my youngest sister into the conversation too. Little did she know I'd already fed curvy little Zoey a number of loads. I was too stunned to even answer.

"I take it by your lack of response that I'm not wrong?"

"Well...I...uh..."

"Exactly. They are both beautiful young girls, and I know what boys are like. I know how you used to check out the laundry hamper. There were many loads of your cum I had to wash out of the girl's underwear as well as mine." She paused and I felt myself flushing—guilty as charged. "And Emma needs to get laid badly. After what you did for me this weekend, I can't think of anybody better to give her what she needs."

"But I..."

"Connor, sweetie. You wouldn't believe how I've felt since you left here yesterday. I haven't felt this calm and relaxed in years. I feel like I'm absolutely glowing. If Emma can get just a little bit of that, you won't believe how much better she'll feel, and how much better she'll be to be around."

"She has been kind of bitchy lately."

"Bitchy? That's an understatement. Anyways, it's great that you're going to go with her. If nothing happens, well, so be it. But if you see some kind of opportunity, I think you should go for it—for her sake, if not yours."

Mom had no idea how much I had dreamed about fucking Emma, she of the perfect heart-shaped ass. If we did end up doing it, it would definitely be for my own sake as well as hers. "Well, I guess we'll see how it goes."

"Oh Connor, that's so sweet of you. But listen, don't use yourself all up. I'm okay right now, but Mommy's gonna need another one of those stress relief sessions herself pretty soon."

For some reason, I found it incredibly erotic that she'd referred to herself as 'Mommy'. "Okay. But don't worry, Mom, where you're concerned, I have plenty of time to help you with stress relief. I have just what you need for a deep internal massage to hit those stress points."

"Mmmmm, I can't wait." That sultry purr was back in her voice again. I pictured her slipping her own hand up her front and cupping one of those beautiful Wifey-like tits of hers.

"Okay, Mom. I better go. I've got some work to do before I pick up Emma tonight."

"After thinking about what you just said, I think I'm gonna let my fingers do a little walking before Zoey gets home from school. Just thinking about that beautiful hard cock of yours has me all gooey already. Good luck tonight, sweetie."

I ended the call and sat back in the Mustang, amazed at what I'd just heard from my mother. Fuck, it was incredible—listening to her suggest that I fuck Emma. She was right though, if there was some sort of opportunity, I knew I was too much of a cad to just let it go by. I'd grab that opportunity with both hands and give it everything I had.

"Fuck it," I said to myself, slipping some Ultavox into the CD player and putting on my sunglasses. As I pulled back onto the street and headed for home in the convertible, Midge Ure's voice belting out the beautiful 'Vienna' accompanied me. Yes, life for Connor Young was pretty fucking good right now.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Emma, it's me," I said through the door after I knocked.

"C'mon in. I just unlocked the door," I heard her reply from inside. I let myself into her apartment condo. She hadn't had it too long, but the place was pretty nice. A nice feather in the cap for a young attorney. I'd done some research work on the new assignment for the rest of the afternoon, and then got ready in plenty of time to be here to pick up my sister. I checked my watch: 6:25. We'd make it to The Wynn by 7:00 with no problem.

"Connor, you look great," Emma said as she came into the living room, her hands busy attaching an earring. I had to admit, I did look pretty good, once you got me cleaned up and threw some decent clothes on me. I had on a navy blue Italian-cut slim-fitting suit that even made me smile when I looked in the mirror. I chose a simple white dress shirt that I wore with the collar open. The Steve Madden black dress shoes completed the whole look. Stylish and sophisticated, but not presumptuous. I could tell by the pleased look on Emma's face that she approved of what I was wearing. Now it was my turn to look at her. Oh fuck...

"If you think I look great, then you look incredible. Emma, you're simply stunning."

"Oh Connor, thank you. I didn't have a thing to wear so I went out at lunch time and got this dress. You really like it?" she asked as she did a little pirouette to let me see it from all sides. Man, it almost took my breath away. I realized it had been awhile since I'd seen my sister fully dressed up like this. It was a relatively simple sleeveless black dress—I'm sure what those in the fashion trade refer to as a 'little black dress', something every woman should have in her closet. This dress fit my sister perfectly. It hugged every delicious curve of her athletic body, forming to her exquisite figure like it was made only for her, and her alone. It accentuated her spectacular figure wonderfully, without being overly tight or trampy.

The sleeveless dress had two straps a couple of inches wide over each shoulder, with a scooped neck that showed off a tantalizing glimpse of alluring cleavage formed by Emma's nicely-shaped 36Ds. Again, glamorous and sexy, but not blatantly obscene. The soft black fabric flowed smoothly around her full breasts and then hugged in nicely at her slim waist, before once more following the sensual contours of her hourglass figure as it covered her full hips. The hem ended high on her gorgeous thighs, again, not too high, not too low, but as Baby Bear would say, "Just right."

Her long toned legs were bare, the warm honeyed tone of her tan accentuated by some form of cream or oil that had those gorgeous columns glistening sensually. Her feet were encased in a sexy pair of high-heeled black slingbacks, with a wickedly pointy toe and slim strap that kept it on at the back of her heel. With the 4" heel, those shoes alone had me salivating. She turned around again, making sure I had a glimpse of her outfit from all sides.

"Oh Jesus," I almost moaned out loud as her ass came into view. Talk about spectacular. I have never seen anyone with such a perfect rear end as my sister; full, round and the absolute most superb shape imaginable. An ass that you wanted to dive into and bounce on all night long. And in this dress, it was absolutely breathtaking. At most, she must have had a thong on, because there was not one panty line visible, and with the way that dress hugged those delectable cheeks of hers, there was no way her panties wouldn't have shown if there'd been anything there.

"Emma, that dress, those shoes, you...you look fantastic." She smiled, and I finally tore my gaze away from her amazing figure to look at her face. It was beautifully made up, her eye shadow in smoky exotic tones that accentuated the black dress and her lustrous brunette hair. Her lips were a brilliant red gash, her lipstick a vivid dash of color setting off the whole outfit. She wore a necklace and earrings of glittering black stones, perfect with everything else she was wearing. Man, she looked absolutely breathtaking.

"Thanks so much. I wanted to look my best for tonight. This is a big client, and I want to make a good impression. I've been so busy at work, I need a night like this." She reached for a wine glass I hadn't noticed earlier on the end table beside her. She drained about half the glass right there on the spot.

"Whoa, slow down there, Emm, take your time. We've got a few minutes."

"I'm okay," she said, putting down the empty glass. "I'm just a little nervous. That was just a little liquid courage to help me relax."

"Uh okay. Are you ready then?"

"Let me just grab my purse...ah...there it is. Okay, let's go. Is the top up on the car?"

"Yes...yes," I replied, holding the apartment door open for her. "The top's up."

"You're not going to make me listen to more of that 80's crap, are you?"

"Do you want me to take you or not?"

"Okay, but U2 only, okay?"

"Alright...alright."

"Emma, I think you've had enough wine for tonight," I whispered to her about two hours later. The evening had gone pretty well, everyone meeting in a reserved area of one of The Wynn's restaurants for cocktails before the meal. I'd nursed a scotch while Emma had another glass of red wine. I was introduced to her boss, Blair Thompson, and his wife, Annika. The senior partner then introduced us to the client who this whole thing was for, Dominic Dellacourt. You could tell just by the way this middle-aged man carried himself that he was important. He was confident and personable, without being pretentious. He spoke genuinely to both Emma and I, and I liked him, although as Emma asked for another glass of wine, I could see she was nervous in his presence.

I noticed Mr. Dellacourt, and Emma's boss, Mr. Thompson, checking her out admiringly, like every other red-blooded male in the place had done as well. And the way she looked, I didn't blame any of them, taking a number of surreptitious glances myself at her spectacular chest and alluring figure. Man, that little black dress she was wearing was a gift to all of us. Her long muscular legs and that ass of hers looked incredible in it.

The meal was fantastic, the reserved room holding about twenty people. Emma barely picked at her food, but I noticed she did finish another glass of wine. As the meal finished and we retired to the adjacent room for further conversation, Emma had stumbled, nearly knocking over a beautiful vase full of flowers sitting on a sideboard. It was at that moment when I mentioned to her that I thought she'd had enough to drink. I didn't want her to embarrass herself in front of her colleagues, and especially this client, Mr. Dellacourt.

"I'm fine," she replied, almost slurring her words in response to my observation about the amount she'd had to drink. "Just one more." She grabbed another glass off a tray from a waitress who was walking past, and then walked away from me and started talking to one of her co-workers.

"Oh shit," I thought to myself as I watched her, wishing I'd forced her to eat more of her food, rather than just let her pick at it. This had all the makings of a disaster.

"Mr. Young." I turned to see Mr. Thompson's wife, Annika, standing next to me.

"Mrs. Thompson," I replied, acknowledging her with a polite nod.

"Please, call me Annika." She was a beautiful mature woman, probably in her mid-50s. She looked like she took care of herself, with a good figure, her ample chest displayed nicely by the deeply scooped neckline of the royal blue dress she was wearing. Unlike some of the older women there, Annika's dress was molded nicely to her curvy figure, showing off a very nice body beneath. Besides her impressive rack, I had noticed her shapely legs, sensually clad in sheer black stockings, their muscular definition nicely accentuated by her black high-heeled pumps. Her blonde hair framed her pretty, yet mature, features flatteringly. She was slightly older than I was used to, but I was quickly learning there was a lot to be said for experienced women.