Isadora was a 23 year old waiter at Lucia’s Restaurant. She was always friendly and helpful to her customers and they rewarded her with good tips. The waiters liked her too because she traded shifts and work days with them whenever they asked.
Isadora was a large woman. Her complexion was fair and her black and curly hair was cut short, framing the attractive features of her face. She had a crush on Tom, a night shift bartender at Ronnie’s Tap a few blocks away from Lucia’s Restaurant. Tom was around forty, but he was still slim and athletic. He often flirted with the women customers and they showered generous gratuities upon him.
One summer night after work Isadora mentioned to Jeremy and Craig, two other waiters in their early twenties who worked at Lucia’s, that she might go to Ronnie’s for a beer before going home.
“You are going there because Tom is working tonight,” Jeremy said.
Isadora wished she had not talked so openly and freely about her crush on Tom. It had led to all kinds of teasing.
“You know what you ought to do to get his attention? You ought to flash your boobs at him. How can he resist boobs as big as yours?” Jeremy said.
The idea grew on Isadora as she walked down the street to Ronnie’s with Jeremy and Craig. After she had had a few beers with them, she reached inside her t-shirt and removed her bra. When Tom came to serve them another round, she stood up with her bra in her hand.
“I have something to show you,” Isadora said.
She raised her shirt and showed Tom her boobs. She handed her bra to Tom after she pulled down her shirt.
“I wear a size F and sometimes a size G,” she said.
Tom placed the bra underneath the bar and walked away to serve his other customers without saying anything.
Quentin, a man much older than Tom, sat on the barstool next to Isadora while she was putting on her show. He wanted her to pull up her shirt again.
Jeremy and Craig left, but Isadora stayed at the bar hoping Tom would talk to her. When he did not, she turned her attention to Quentin.
“I hope I did not gross you out,” she said.
“No, you have spectacular breasts. I was quite impressed.”
Isadora liked his answer. She also liked the way he looked into her eyes and the way he smiled.
Tom turned up the bar lights.
“Last call,” Tom said.
The beer was beginning to lower Isadora’s inhibitions even more.
“Would you like to go to my place for another drink?” she said.
“Sure, one more,” he said.
It was raining hard when they left the bar and the rain soaked them before they could hail a cab. When they got to Isadora’s apartment, her shirt was still wet.
“Do you mind if I take a picture of you?” Quentin said.
“I don’t mind.”
Quentin took a small camera from the cargo pocket of his shorts and snapped her picture.
When she woke the next morning, Quentin was gone. While eating her breakfast of toast, Corn Flakes and milk, and coffee Isadora reconstructed what happened the previous night. Quentin took many pictures of her. In fact, he took pornographic pictures of her most private parts. Then he performed oral sex on her until she pulled away. He did not crawl into bed with her. Instead, he got dressed, pulled the sheet over her, and kissed her goodnight. Before leaving, he said he would like to see her again.
She worried about what Quentin would do with the pictures. She hoped they would not be on the Internet or making the rounds at Ronnie’s. She thought of various ways she could get the pictures back. She could think of no easy way. What did she expect after what she had done?
But most of all, she wished it had been Tom who had come home with her last night and that she had given herself to him.