The Gypsy's Grandaughter

"Let me see one of those tits."

Tanya bit her lip, and pulled her top open with one hand and scooped her left breast out with the other. She looked away as the leering clerk chuckled to himself. "So, you are one of Madame Vemanova's girls, eh? Its been a while since one of youz has come around." The clerk got up.

    "Can I get some whiskey, sir?" she asked, aware of the bums at her back, and her hardening, puffy nipple.  Two of the other customers were wandering her way, a man and a woman.  The woman was dark skinned with black, straight hair.  She was stunningly beautiful, buxom and exotic.  She wore a flowing skirt over her round thighs and tight midriff.  Tanya's shoulders slumped.  

   She was a Gypsy, too.  "So, my grandmother has cursed you, eh?"  the woman said in a thick Eastern European accent.  Tanya's eyes lit up as she turned to her.  The woman was walking toward her like an insinuation:  subtle, small movements, until she was right up on Tanya, their breasts touching, their breath mixing... The mysterious woman whispered:

   "I can lift this curse..."  as she staired into Tanya's eyes.  Tanya whimpered as she felt the gypsy woman's hand snake around her neck and her fingers slide under her hair until they made a fist.  She pulled Tanya's head back violently eliciting a gasp.  She slowly lowered her head and took Tanya's puffy nipple into her mouth, tasting her sweat.  Tanya held her breathe.  "...but you must still pay for your Whiskey."  she said with a smile.  "Do what he tells you."