A New Paige pt2

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Paige tried repressing her anger by taking a few deep breaths through her nostrils and peeling her gaze away from the busty hipster girl outside the shop's plate glass window. Then she returned her attention to the task at hand: shelving these newly-acquired used books.

The one on the top of the cart was an impressive specimen: large, bound in peeling green leather, its cover warped by age and possibly water. The book's strong musk of yellowed folios and its shabby appearance gave it a sort of professorial charm. Now, where to put it? There was no title to give her a clue, no price tag even. Just fucking great. What was she supposed to do with the thing? Paige turned it over in her hands, was about to open it to find out more, when the door chime rang.

Like a prairie dog peeking its head out of its burrow, Paige snuck a look at the new customer and immediately regretted it. The new girl was a student in a red Woot University sweatshirt stretched like onionskin over two very generously sized breasts. She had a chubby build, with a convex middle and wide hips that rolled with each step. She ambled around the front of the store, briefly bent at the waist to examine the selection of pastries in the display case by the coffee bar, allowing Paige to fume at the size and shapeliness of her ass.

It wasn't fair. All that girl probably had to do was think of eating and the pounds would fly on. Paige imagined her in her underwear in front of a mirror, gripping her stomach and worrying that it was getting too large. She imagined the girl later in the semester after dorm food and late night pizzas added unwanted inches to her measurements, struggling in vain to zip her sweater up over her fat, full tits. Eventually she'd give up and stare in wonder at her wide, dark brown areolae, then slowly trace her fingers along the skin of the sides of her breasts, squeezing the huge mounds together while simultaneously clamping down on her nipples. A moan would escape her lips, not loud enough to wake her sleeping roommate, and she would continue to-

"Uh, hi there. I was wonderin' if you had a section for used textbooks?" To a lost-in-fantasy Paige, the black girl's sleepy southern accent was as startling as a bullhorn.

"Yeah, oh yeah... For sure. If you keep going down this aisle and take a right turn at the potted plant, there'll be a stairs to the basement. That's where they are," Paige squeaked around a mouthful of her own hair. Chewing on it was a bad habit unbroken since kindergarten. Oh Christ, she must have looked like a total psychopath.

The girl thanked her and continued down the aisle, leaving Paige to stew in a neck-deep, boiling broth of jealousy, anger, and self-loathing.