Stephanie Dean, a selfish brat

It was a breezy summer afternoon, and Stephanie had spent it shopping for a new wardrobe. Heavy bags hung from her slender, tanned arms in the crooks of her elbows, her haul bouncing off her hips like a Newton's Cradle. She felt the tickling swing of her tennis skirt beneath her petite rear, confident that she wasn't flashing anyone unintentionally. She had chosen it specifically for that purpose as she did with all her clothes; the more she could tease and tantalize, the better. She loved playing with the boy's hearts, though a blessed few have ever gotten farther than mere eyeballs could allow. Her midriff bearing top was of a similar nature, giving her modest B cups the extra support needed to create enticing cleavage while still allowing for maximum bounce. Her black ponytail swung rhythmically as she daydreamed about her new outfits and where she planned to debut them.

Her joyful ruminations were interrupted when she collided with what must have been a brick wall, knocking her off balance and onto her ass as various articles of clothing flew out of their containers. She sat, dazed among her new clothes, looking up at the hunched figure she had collided with. At a glance it looked like a bundle of coarse fabric piled into the shape of a human, but the subtle movements of life broke the illusion. A whispery voice emanated from the hunched woman, who extended a frail hand to the fallen girl. "Oh, dear! Are you alright? You must pay more attention to where you are walking." The raspy voice shook out a chuckle, while Stephanie got angry at the old crone's mocking.

"Maybe you shouldn't just stand in the middle of the sidewalk, Ma'am." The shopper shot back as she returned to her heeled feet, ignoring the offered help with a shoving hand. "Maybe help me clean up the mess you made instead of making jokes." Stephanie looked down in dismay at the mess of fabric around her and thought this old woman could be a little more sympathetic. She looked at the hooded figure who was less intimidating hunched before the leggy girl. "I just bought these, too. I was going to turn so many heads at the party this weekend..." Stephanie waited for the old woman to start picking up the spilled clothes, but she was waiting as patiently.

"I'm sorry your clothes are a little dirty, but it's nothing that can't be cleaned." The old woman assured Stephanie, who didn't notice the harder edge the wrinkled woman's words now had. She gestured to the street sign above them both. "This is also a bus stop, so I can stand here without worrying about people bumping into me. At least I thought I could." Stephanie stomped her narrow heel in frustration. How dare this old bat insult her like this? People are supposed to step out of her way!

"Sorry, you old bitch, but I couldn't be bothered to care. Pick up my clothes now! Before I get mad and tell my daddy." The threat sounded childish as her voice became angrily shrill, but it still held weight, as her father was the DA, giving him a lot of legal influence in this city, something Stephanie loved to exploit against people who did her wrong, usually boys who tried to take things to where she was cruelly leading them. She was smiling too smugly to notice her words didn't faze the woman, or that she was now eye level to the towering beauty.

"You mean the lawyer, Robert Dean? I'm afraid I lay outside his jurisdiction." At the mention of her father's name, Stephanie was the woman starting to get scared. Who was this grandma who knew her family? "I hoped you would show a little sympathy to an old woman, but I realize you are as heartless as him." Stephanie finally noticed the figure beneath the layers of cloth shrouding her and saw piercing, yellow eyes dancing like liquid gold in a pool of oil. The bratty girl cowered, feeling the granny tower over her without having moved an inch. She wished to run home, but could only cower under the glare of the woman as she continued. "You are as dishonest as your father, using your looks to hang men on your every word and throwing them away like a worn out toy. No longer." Her final words reverberated through the clear air like a gunshot, though her voice never rose: "May the clothes you use to trick men help you keep your word."

Stephanie blinked as the world around her seemed to shimmer. Rubbing her eyes, she suddenly found herself alone at the bus stop, the hag was nowhere to be found. All that remained was her and her purchases all neatly packed back in her bags.