Bee Goes About Her Life

Bee admired the new labret piercing in the mirror. Gia was right, strangely the healing seemed to almost be done, in mere hours. Which baffled Bee as the equipment at Robby’s didn’t look any different, nor did the method.

Still, Bee was enjoying the feel of the labret with her tongue, her perfectly puffy lips smacking beautifully in the mirror coated in satin red. The silver stud was a nice touch Bee considered, she’d have to remember to thank Gia for the good recommendations .

Stretching her shoulders Bee strained in the increased tightness of her shirt, debating switching to a tank or something lower cut. The form fitting graphic tee was stretched even tighter over the recently swollen bare breasts it had never been made to fit over. Still, Bee loved how it flaunted her dome like breasts, their nipples flanked by the metal beads of the barbells through the shirt. The tented fabric then sloped down, no longer reaching her belly uniformly were it exposed her flat untoned stomach.

Glancing at the watch Bee started to head out.

The night’s plans were pretty basic. Go to the Village People Players Playhouse for the final night of whatever show they’d been doing. Lend a small hand with tear down, then join in for a late night party of snacks and booze to celebrate its wrap.

The amateur volunteer theater group wasn’t really Bee’s scene, sure she’d been raised helping and being in various productions, but the stage was more a passion of her parents and a few of the friends who strangely managed to become lifers.

The play seemed drab, the sets easily identifiable to Bee from various other similar shows over the years. As the applause ended, the curtains lifted and the audience split two ways. Those who had come just for the show filed out, as others sprung into action. Stacking chairs, carefully lowering still burning hot stage lights from the ceiling, folding temporary walls as if collapsing the pop up book on the stage back into the closed pages of the story now fully told.

There was little in banter amongst this group, their focus purely on the task of restoring the playhouse to a state of vacant limbo, idling away until the next story opened and its world was assembled restoring life to the stage.

As the last bit of floor was swept, the props stored, and the final costume hung, its occupant plainly exposed upon the stage as they dressed. The crowd began to chat, talk of who was riding with who, idle banter, and the party organizer voluntelling their pick of people to hurry on ahead and get the party fully prepared.

Rolling her eyes Bee side stepped getting a lift in the car she arrived in, relieved to hop into Julian’s old camry as it puttered out of the lot.

The booze and revelry had been going on for maybe an hour before Bee shook her head and smirked at the first topless woman at the party. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, there was frequently at least two or three, although Bee had never strayed beyond a couple flashes.

Mostly due to the fact her parents were often at these things.

Finding herself strangely admiring Rianne’s chest Bee averted her eyes as the woman basked in the sensation of some guy easily ten years older biting into her shoulder blade. Rianne was a well known masochist, and openly enjoyed imbibing in the assorted attentions she often drew. The first bite had barely finished when Rianne invited two others to have a go if they so desired.

“Having fun?” The familiar voice emerged from the crowd seemingly right where Bee turned before she recognized the raven-haired punk.