Her ass must have been the juiciest piece of meat I had ever seen. At another point, she leaned back, puffing out her chest. When we finished studying, she surprised me."Now, for your payment..." Wait, I thought this was a friend thing! I have to pay you for it?" I asked, semi jokingly."Well, I don't need money. I need you to escort me to Target, and go clothes shopping. And you know my public rule, right?" I have to pretend to be your boyfriend?" You got it! Are you good with that?" It's only fair. Let's head out." The two of us left my place. I drove her to the nearby Target. It was so hot that she was all about me like this. We talked all the way over about our new classes and just school in general. I loved talking to her, she had such a fantastic personality. Every time I made her laugh, her chest bobbed up and down, which was distracting to the point I thought I may have hit a pedestrian or two.When we reached Target, we walked around the women's section for clothes. I normally. You're both a couple of fucking immigrants, ain't you? Well, you'd better pull your fucking socks up, Buttercup sweetie, (if you were ever allowed to wear the fuckers) or you're out. There're lotsa other women out there who'd do your job if they got the fucking chance."With that, he left them with a sniff. Buttercup stared at Tracey plaintively, her cheeks reddened with humiliation and shame, tears of frustration etched onto her cheeks.Eventually, after how many hours Tracey didn't know, there came a rest break. The conveyor belt stopped and the pieces of chicken stopped passing by. The girls sat down cross-legged on the hard concrete floor, while other women came by with polystyrene cups of insipid tea and limp slices of white bread covered with a sliver of tasteless margarine. Tracey put an arm around her lover, who continued to weep, while Zeta looked on at the two with sympathy."Oi! Buttercup!" yelled a man's voice. Tracey's lover looked up startled. The man who'd spoken to them.
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