Chapter 2

"Sarah, can you remember when your breasts started to grow?"

Sarah whirled round from the coffee pot, startled. Yet not half as startled as Loretta had been when her assistant had come in this morning. No baggy grey sweater, no blue work shirt. Today, she was wearing a frighteningly low-cut tanktop and a skirt no more than nine inches from top to bottom.

"My breasts? I didn't think you'd noticed them."

Loretta's jaw sagged open.

Sarah giggled, and the edge of an areola crept into view. "Oh, so you did!" She was wearing a bra, all too obviously. The narrow straps of the white tanktop weren't nearly wide enough to conceal the bra's shoulder straps, even if you allowed for the fact that the bra was shiny black satin. She handed a cup to Loretta and wiggled across to the other chair. "You really ought to find a bigger office," she said again as she sat down, this time bending forward to reveal still more of her dark pink haloes. Another centimetre and her nipples would surely pop out.

"I suppose you weren't very old when it happened?" Loretta persisted with Dutch doggedness.

"Me? I was the last in my class to get tits. I'd given up! Listen; fifteen, skinny as a rake, glasses like the bottoms of milk bottles, and this Bugs Bunny face. The girl who had everything! Daddy had loads of money, I had all the allowance a girl could want, and nothing to spend it on. What was the point of dressing up, looking like that? I didn't even like pop music."

"You were fifteen? So what happened?"

"I grew. Just like that." She snapped her fingers. "Literally in a matter of months. Three months!"

"Three months! What did the other girls say?"

"Nothing. Luckily, it just so happened that we had to move house for Daddy to get a better job. We got this huge place with a swimming pool and stables and a tennis court and whatever else. It was, like, coming up to Christmas-time, so it was too cold to use the pool and that, but it was all there at the house. Anyway, that's when my boobs started growing. I'd had nothing at all up top, then one morning, they'd just sort of arrived. A week later, I had my first bra. A whole week after that, I had my second, a C cup. After that, Mummy just used to buy me bras and throw them away when they got dirty, 'cos it wasn't worth washing them. I just grew out of them one after the other. Mum didn't know what was happening; she's flat as a pancake herself. And the girls at school didn't notice, I suppose, because I was a new girl, and it was cold and we were all wearing our woolly sweaters. But by the time the Christmas party season came round, I was ... like ... developed."

"Developed?"

"Not quite this size. I've grown a few more sizes since then, but I had easily the biggest pair in the school. I wore a 32N, and that meant it had to be specially made for me. And of course, come the summer, I was instantly Miss Popularity! I had a swimming pool and tennis court, and bloody great big tits. Something for everybody. Boys had never even looked at me before, but now they were like wasps round a pot of marmalade. I suppose they could always close their eyes, or throw a bag over my head..."

"You shouldn't talk about yourself like that," said Loretta. "You're quite attractive, and..."

"And anyway, nobody looks at my face, you mean? Not with a pair of fifty-threes!"

"Is that how big you are?"

"36Q, my bra-maker tells me. 53-23-36 isn't a bad figure. A bit too top-heavy for hockey, though. Which reminds me, the girls have got a game this afternoon, so if you don't need me for anything... ?"

"Sure. There's not much doing. You're not playing?"

Sarah laughed heartily enough for one nipple to find its way to freedom. "I've still got my injury," she said, holding up one finger. "Oops, they're escaping," she squeaked, and tucked her nipples away. "This bra was probably a mistake, especially for a respectable working girl!"

"Maybe we ought to find a bigger office, like you say. We could get one round the corner across the other side of the Rokin, somewhere, with a big shop window, and a red light."

"Sheesh! What if the rest of the team saw me?"

A pleasant enough fantasy, thought Loretta. In fact, enough pleasant fantasies to keep her going for quite a while. She imagined her own bust growing at the rate of a cup size a week for three months. She buried her burning face in her coffee cup and tried not to think of that incredible throbbing tingle in her nipples.

"Hello," said Sarah. "Someone coming up the stairs. You know, you ought to get an entry-phone down there. Anyone could walk right in off the street..."

"We've got one but it doesn't work most of the time. The landlord's saving up to have it mended. Anyway, it's probably not anyone for me. There's an insurance broker, an office equipment supplier and a dating agency before you get right up here. Nobody comes up this far unless they're really desperate."

"It's desperate, then! He's still coming. And he sounds as big as a bear. I'll try and divert him with my tits while you get out the window and shin down the drainpipe."

"You live in a fantasy world, you know that? Who can it be? I'm not expecting anyone..." An enormous shadow filled the doorway. "Joop!"

"Hi, babe!" Joop De Groot leaned over the computer monitor to peck Loretta on the cheek. He was sweating and panting with the effort of the climb. He straightened up and looked again at Sarah, who was staring at him open-mouthed and trying to hide her cleavage and her face behind a single sheet of A4-size paper. "Who's dis?" he asked.

"We've met, Yope," said Sarah. "I came into your office on Tuesday."

"Tuesday? Dinsdag... ? You sure... ? My God!" He pointed a thick finger at her.

"Joop remembers you, Sarah. He's a bit slow-witted at times. See if you can jog his memory by standing up."

"There isn't room..." Nevertheless, Sarah stood up, but she was so close to Joop that he towered above her and her bosom was squeezed against the overhang of his belly. She had to lean back to see his face, but sadly she realised his twinkling blue eyes weren't meeting hers.

"You're dat English girl... ?"

Sarah nodded, uncomfortably aware that both her nipples had made their way out into the open air and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. At this rate, her entire bust could fall out of her top and unless Joop backed out of the doorway she'd never have room to tuck herself away again.

"Look at the tits on her!" Joop observed happily. "With tits like that, who cares about her face!"

"Wow, thanks!" said Sarah gloomily.

"Joop sometimes says things he doesn't really mean, dear. Especially when he's talking in English. Say sorry, Joop."

"Sorry? What for?" said Joop, mystified.

"Never mind. Just stand back a bit, outside the door. Poor Sarah might like to put her breasts away."

"It's okay," said Joop. "I wanna look at them. You wanna be in a movie, Sarah?"

"Why should she want to be in one of your filthy vids, De Groot? Sarah's a nice girl."

"I can pay her well."

"She's got plenty of money, too. She's got a rich daddy. She doesn't need to flash her tits for your bunch of wankers of a film crew."

"Wankers, is it? Okay, I shoot this girl myself, no problem. Tomorrow!"

"Hey, hold your horses, sunshine! Who says I want to be a film star?"

The big man looked puzzled. He was finally getting his breath back. "Course you want to be a film star. You work for Blue Blackbird, the biggest name in big tits. And you've got huge tits yourself. Bigger than any of the girls in Loretta's stories."

"Not quite," said Loretta, as an image of Juno sprang into her mind.

"Yeah, but this one's for real," Joop laughed. Loretta decided it would be safer not to pursue that line.

"I'm not that kind of girl," said Sarah. Somehow she had wriggled clear and perched her bottom on the edge of the desk. She had succeeded in hiding her rude nipples and much of her areolae, but seemed to be regretting her choice of wardrobe. Just in case Joop ever decided not to be a tit-hound any more, Sarah was now unavoidably flashing her thighs all the way up to her panties. At least, she was wearing some, although she had an unnerving suspicion that her bikini line could perhaps do with a little tidying up with the razor. Then to her profound disbelief she heard herself say, "What kind of videos do you make, Yope?"

Loretta groaned. "Filthy ones. Nasty ones. Pissy ones..."

"I thought he called himself Busty Films."

Joop laughed. "I do. But that other stuff's easier to do. Any girl can do water sports and glass-topped tables..."

"What he means is he can't find enough big-titted girls who'll let him do rude things to them. I don't blame them. He must weigh a hundred and fifteen kilos."

"What's that in stones?"

"Heavy."

"I prefer it on top anyway," Sarah laughed daringly.

"Okay! Tomorrow, then. You know my studio? Half-negen! What's dat in English, Loretta?"

"Half-nine is eight-thirty; don't ask me why. Don't do it, girl!"

Joop shrugged and spread his hands. "You're in safe hands, Sarah. And we don't sell our stuff in England, so your daddy will never see the video. Besides, you're old enough to make your own mind up. Not as old as Loretta, but not many people are."

Loretta thumped his arm with a fist. Joop didn't seem to feel it at all.

"How old are you, anyway?" he asked Sarah.

"Twenty. Nearly."

"Good. That's settled, then. You're legal. See you tomorrow!" He turned and lumbered away to the top of the stairs. The heavy steps began descending.

Sarah stared at Loretta then bounced to her feet, her nipples springing out of her bra again. "Wait a minute! Yope! What should I wear?"

The phone tinkled. "Hello?"

"It's Sarah."

"Hi, Sarah! How did the game go?"

"I'm glad I wasn't playing. We got slaughtered by a bunch of schoolgirls. Nineteen-nil."

"Wow, that's bad!"

"That was only the score when I left, ten minutes before half-time. It could have been far worse, they missed four open goals. We were total and utter pants! It was so embarrassing I couldn't watch any more. What 'cha doing?"

"Reading in bed."

"Oh."

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a bit lonely. And worried about tomorrow. Whatever made me say I'd do it?"

"You can still change your mind."

"I don't want to let Yope down. He's nice. How old is he?"

"Joop? Hard to say. 'Bout my age, thirty-five or so. He seems older, being so big."

"And having that little beard, an' all. He's got hair in all the wrong places. A beard and a ponytail, but he's got a bald patch, too! I noticed when he bent over so he didn't bump his head going down the stairs. I hope I haven't got hair in the wrong places, too, Loretta!"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't shave my pubes."

"Joop's European, Sarah. He's not squeamish about pubic hair."

"Just as well, I've still got my winter coat on down there! He's funny, for a Dutchman."

"He likes you, too. For an English girl. But he wouldn't really worry too much if you changed your mind about doing a video. Don't you want to?"

"I really don't know. It's not anything I've ever really thought of doing before now. You couldn't come with me, could you? For moral support, kind of thing?"

"If you like, but you'll be okay with Joop. The lamb wouldn't do anything to you."

Sarah giggled nervously. "Pity! Hey, he's not gay or anything, is he?"

"Not unless he's a very good actor. No, he's just shy, that's all. He wouldn't say boo to a duck."

"Or a goose?"

"Duck, goose, whatever."

"You'd come, though?"

"Okay, but I couldn't stay all day. Just for a while in the morning, all right?"

"All right. Thanks, Loretta."

"My pleasure." It would be, too, seeing Sarah without her clothes on.

"Thanks." A long silence. "What are you reading?"

"Just a smutty story."

"Oh, you're working, then?"

"Oh, yes. Working."

"Is it garbage?"

"No, it's pretty good, actually."

"Is it in Dutch, or English?"

"English. Most smut is in English."

"Good, you can read me a bit of it!"

"I can't! I'm no good at reading English aloud. I say the words the way they're spelled."

"Doesn't matter. Just read some. Make me feel horny. What's it called?"

"Milkmaiden."

"Wow! Go on. Just read a bit for me at random."

"Okay." Loretta felt unaccountably turned on. She thought about her assistant sprawled on her bed in her tiny hotel room. Naked? Probably. Naked and hairy. She cleared her throat and heard the giggle from the other end of the line.

"Go on, Mummy! Tell me a story. Once upon a time..."

"I won't tell you if you're going to fuck about. You've got to be quiet."

"Okay. Quiet. I'm sucking my thumb."

Loretta swallowed the lump in her throat and opened the tattered pages at random.

"I didn't ask how old it was. I don't want to buy your brassiere a birthday present, Juno. I asked what size it was."

"Thirty-two, Miss."

"What are you talking about, girl? Thirty-two?"

"Thirty-two G cup, Miss."

"It's too small!"

"I know, Miss. It's miles too small. I need a P cup when the milk comes in, Miss. Like now."

"Milk?"

"I give milk, Miss. Loads and loads and loads of it. I always have done."

"Always?"

"Ever since I got my tits, anyway. A year or so ago..."

"Hang on a minute."

"What?"

"What's happening? What's the story about?"

"A Milkmaiden. A girl who gives milk."

"Milk? But you started in the middle. I don't know anything about her. How old is she? What's her name?"

"I told you. Her name was in the second sentence. Juno."

"No I don't."

"Okay, Miss Clever-dick. Djoo-no!"

"Oh, Juno! That's a weird name. I've never heard of anyone called Juno before." Sarah thought for a moment. "Well, maybe I have, but it's an unusual name. How old is she?"

"What, now? Or during the story?"

"In the story, of course. In this scene you're reading."

"Twelve."

"Wow, Loretta! She's just a kid. And she gives milk. Is that legal?"

"Legal, how do you mean? She can't help giving milk. And it's not against the law to be a young girl with big breasts."

"I know, but surely you're not allowed to write about it!"

"Why not?" said Loretta. "Anyway, she hasn't done anything illegal in the parts I've read. She's just kind of... there."

"Where is she in this scene? Who's she with? Who's this woman?"

Loretta sighed in exasperation. "It's her teacher. Miss Potter-Brahms."

"Oh, okay, then. Carry on."

"You sure it's all right to carry on? You're not going to ask any more questions?"

"No. Go on. Start again where she talks about her milk."

Loretta had to find her place. She took a deep breath.

"What was that teacher's name again?"

"Miss Potter-Brahms. Can I carry on now... ?"

"That's another unusual name. Do you know, we had a Miss Potter-List at our school. What did yours teach?"

"In the story? Games and stuff I think. What did they call it? PE?"

"So did ours! That's amazing! Anyway, carry on reading."

"I don't think I want to read any more. You keep interrupting me."

"Oh, okay. Can I borrow it tomorrow, this book?"

Loretta sighed again. "Okay."

"See you tomorrow, then. Don't be late!"

As she put the phone down, Loretta tried picking up the story again, but the moment had passed. There was something strange here. This teacher's name. What was it again, Potter-List? Was it such a common name as that in England? Could there really be two Miss Potter-Lists teaching PE in English schools? It wasn't that big a country! Sarah Simpson. What was that other girl's name, the one Juno had mentioned who had the bottle of milk every day? It wasn't in the book, unfortunately. What was it, Sally Simpson? Simpkins? That was it. She'd moved away to live in a big house with a swimming pool, somewhere with a silly name, like Maiden's Water, or Virgin Juice...

Loretta's eyes closed. She didn't even have one hand on her breast.

"Oh, shit!" Loretta stared in the mirror. No doubt about it this time. Maybe yesterday morning she could just have had a little extra puffiness. Water retention or something. This morning there was no doubt at all. She had Breasts. Her logical, editorial, Dutch mind told her that it wasn't possible to grow significant breasts in such a short time. Her eyes disagreed. So did her fingers. "Oh, wow!" she gasped as she cupped the mounds, stroked the taut skin, squeezed gently, felt them carry on tingling infuriatingly no matter what she did to them. She turned sideways and they were still there; in fact, they were even more there sideways than from in front. She leaned forwards and imagined she could feel the weight of them resting in her hands. No, that was her imagination, although ... yes ... they did hang away from her chest very slightly in that position, returning with the natural springiness of adolescent flesh when she straightened and stood upright. Who was she kidding, adolescent? And yet, that was the nearest thing she could think of to compare it with. She was growing tits like a young girl. Only twenty years late, that's all! No, it was more than twenty years: more like a quarter of a century.

Why was it so difficult to decide what to wear this morning? It was just an ordinary early spring day and she was going to the office. Correction, she was going to Joop's studio, where with all the lights on it would be like an oven. She tossed the sweater back in the drawer and chose an austere and virginal white T-shirt, then thought 'oh shit' and dragged the sweater on over the top of it. She was halfway out of the front door when she remembered her promise to let Sarah borrow the Milkmaiden story. She went back indoors, stuffed it into a folder and let herself out of the apartment, only ten minutes late.

It was a funny feeling, hurrying along in the watery sunshine. It was cold enough to make her glad she was wearing the sweater; man, she could feel her nipples sticking out into the middle of the next street. They were tingling worse than ever, and she could almost swear she could feel her little titties bouncing as she broke into a trot to avoid a clanging tram. Now that was nonsense; she had tits, okay, but no way were they big enough to bounce. Not yet, anyway, she thought, smiling to herself then blushing furiously as a bunch of workmen whistled and grinned up at her from a hole in the road. Why had she worn a mini-skirt today?

"Hi, Joyce! Is the boss in?"

Joop's secretary looked up and her enormous dark eyes flickered noticeably across Loretta's chest for no more than half a second. She didn't even pause in her rapid typing, her green-painted nails clicking on the keys. "He's in the studio. He's got that English girl with him. The one with the big ... I mean, the huge..."

"I know the one you mean. It's okay, I'll go straight through, they're expecting me."

Joop waved a hand as Loretta came in. The studio was as hot as it ever was. He always claimed the heat helped to encourage the models to take their clothes off — as if they didn't already know that's why they were there! Sarah was clutching a mug of coffee, still cocooned in her jeans and sweater. She greeted Loretta like a saviour.

"Here's that story you asked for," Loretta wagged the folder at her. "Put it in your bag for later."

"Thanks. I'm still not sure about this video idea!"

"Don't do it, then. Tell him you've changed your mind."

"But look at him! He's so sweet. He looks as if I were to tell him I didn't want to do it, he'd burst into tears." They looked across at Joop, who was busy with a serious-looking camera on a tripod. He inserted a cassette and the mechanism swallowed it up eagerly. Then he ejected it again.

"Okay, then, do it! Just make your mind up. You wearing a bra this morning?"

"Of course! Girls with fifty-three inch busts don't walk around without bras."

"You'd better get it off, then. There'll be all kinds of horrible marks from the straps."

"Oh. I kind of thought he'd want to film me actually taking it off."

"Has he said so? Did you ask him?"

"No, we didn't discuss what we're going to do. He only asked if I wanted coffee."

"Jeez! Even Joop's not usually as bad as this!"

Sarah looked puzzled. "How do you mean?"

"He usually has a camera crew, two guys who operate the camera? And another guy who looks after the lights. He's on his own this morning."

"Maybe he's hard up and can't afford to pay them."

"Pay them? I reckon they pay him! I'd better ask him what he's playing at. Meanwhile, you might as well get your clothes off. You'll probably find a robe over there in the dressing room, if you're cold. Or ask Joyce..." She stalked over to Joop, picking her way through a tangle of electrical bric-a-brac and an insecure-looking stack of cartons of Johnson's Baby Oil. "What's the plan, Joop?"

"Plan?"

"You've lured little Sarah to your den, but you haven't got your bunch of reprobates hanging around this morning."

Joop inserted the cassette again and watched it disappear into the bowels of the camera. "It was very short notice and it's just a short scene. I thought I'd kinda shoot it on my own."

"Oh, so you do intend shooting something, then?"

"Just a little scene. She walks in, sits on the bed, takes her clothes off..."

"Then she rolls on her back and plays with herself? Hey, pretty original stuff, baby! And afterwards, she covers herself with baby oil, then she has to take a shower, then get dressed ready to go out on a date? Then she could get excited and play with herself again, then a whole bottle of Johnson's later she'll need another shower, then of course she'll be late..."

"We haven't got time to shoot all that," Joop said in a hurt little voice, recognising that Loretta had just recited the entire shooting script for Busty Films' three most successful productions. He stabbed a finger at a blue button and waited for the cassette to reappear.

"You do know how to work that thing, don't you?"

"Of course!"

"You've switched the power off. The cassette won't come out until you turn it back on."

"You're confusing me!" He fumbled with the camera again, then peered through the viewfinder. An expression of relief spread over his face. Obviously the mysterious apparatus had started working.

"Shit, Joop! If you wanted to see the girl, why didn't you just take her out for dinner? She'd have gone with you like a shot."

"She would?"

"Why not? She likes you!"

"She does?" Then his sudden beaming smile faded. "We've still got to film something today. That's why she's here."

"She's only here because she didn't want to let you down. Quick, she's coming!" They both looked at Sarah, who was picking her tentative way across the studio floor to where an absurdly over-dressed bed was routinely encircled by lights. Her borrowed bathrobe was making a heroic but hopeless attempt at containing her bosom. "Now that is one very big girl, Mister De Groot! Busty Films really ought to get hold of some bigger bathrobes. But meanwhile..." Loretta reached across and unplugged one of the leads from the camera body. "There! Now the camera's fucked. You'd better apologise to Sarah and explain to her that the shoot's off. Whatever you do, don't make it too technical, she's only a girl!"

"But what are we going to do this morning?"

"Well, Sarah's already seen the red light district. How about taking her on a boat ride round Amsterdam?"

"A boat ride? Shit, man, I live here! I'm not a tourist."

"Okay, so forget the boat ride. Take the kid to bed and fuck her luscious hairy ass off. I just thought maybe you'd want to talk to each other for an hour or two first." She reached up and punched him on the shoulder, then aimed a little finger wave at the suddenly apprehensive Sarah. "You're on your own, Joop, babe! I've just remembered I've got to get back to the office. Now, just one thing..."

"What's that?"

"An hour or two is quite long enough for the chat. I doubt if young Sarah can wait all day for her fuck. See ya later!"

Joop's mouth gaped open. "See ya, Loretta." Suddenly, he grabbed her arm, then leaned forward and whispered urgently. "Has she really got a luscious hairy ass?"

Loretta raised an eyebrow. "How would I know? You can tell me tomorrow!"

Adolescent girls always have lots of exciting secrets to keep from each other. Loretta's was literally an adolescent secret. This was the third nipple-tingling morning in succession she had stood in front of the mirror and observed that her breasts were growing. It always seemed to happen to her overnight, and this morning it had happened in spades.

"I need a bra," she told herself at last. She probably had enough cash in her purse, she guessed. Just an ordinary bra would do. It shouldn't cost too much. She realised only too well that although she had a more-than-working knowledge of bras in sizes from D upwards - way upwards - she'd never in her life walked into a store and bought one. "Part of my education: a rite of passage," she told herself cheerfully, then found herself wishing that this particular part of her education had taken place when she went through the rest of it, twenty-something years ago.

It was only when she was climbing the last flight of stairs, feeling a little like a trussed chicken with her stiff new 34B cup - it had come as a shock to her to discover that an A cup had been too small - creaking beneath her crisp new white blouse - she had treated herself to a blouse; what the hell, a girl doesn't grow brand new tits every week - that she remembered that she ought to have warned Sarah not to come in until ten.

But the problem turned out not to be a problem; Sarah wasn't there.

"She must have gone for a walk," Loretta thought as she let herself into the office just in time to grab a collapsing pile of books. She hugged them to her chest for a few seconds then let go and watched with a certain satisfaction as the whole lot slithered to the floor. "Oh, fuck!" A splodge of black dust all down the front of her new blouse. A great start to the day...

Thus it was that while she was sitting at her desk with the blouse off, attacking the mark with a wad of tissue paper, Sarah crept silently up the last few stairs and tentatively shoved her head round the door.

"Sorry I'm late! I overslept... Oops!"

Taken by surprise, Loretta snatched up the blouse and tried to hide behind it, before realising foolishly that girls in their underwear don't really need to hide from one another. Not that Sarah was in her underwear. Sarah, in fact, was wearing exactly what she had been wearing the morning before - over-filled jeans and a sweater that would have been loose on just about anyone else - and it was looking decidedly second-hand. Loretta put the blouse down on the desk and tried her best to look businesslike, as if she always attended the office in miniskirt and bra. "I got a shitty mark on my new blouse," she explained.

"Nice bra, Loretta! Is that new, too?"

"What, this old thing?" Her voice was unnaturally shrill. "Yes, I got it this morning."

"You look like you could do with a coffee," said Sarah, beating Loretta to the draw by a split second. She prepared the coffee maker then sat on the edge of the desk, a girl with an adolescent secret, which was more than Loretta now had.

The mark on the blouse seemed to be responding to treatment; it was now much fainter while covering a considerably greater area. "Did you have a nice day?"

Sarah seemed to melt. She squirmed her (luscious? hairy?) bottom on the desk and crossed her legs. "Ooh, yes!" she sighed dreamily. "Yope took me on a boat ride."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. We had lunch. Pea soup with bits of bacon and sausage, and a kind of fried egg sandwich thingie with slices of beef. And beer."

"Oh, my!"

"Then we went on a tram!"

"Sarah! I don't believe it!"

"And then we went to an art gallery. I was never any good at drawing at school."

"You couldn't draw for chocolate?"

"I doubt it," said Sarah, looking puzzled.

"How did you enjoy the story?"

"What story? Oh, that one. I was coming to that. Don't rush me."

"Certainly not! I wouldn't dream of it. What else did you do? Go to the zoo? A movie? More pea soup?"

"No, pancakes. We might go to the zoo next time. We went to the pictures, though. I'd seen it before. It had subtitles, but it was in English, so I was laughing before everyone else. Nearly. Then he took me home."