tough chica -- II

         Rebecca, an early riser, had left.  Marisol was in her bathrobe and combing her hair, sitting at the kitchen table.  “We’ve got to wait until Muffy gets here,” she said, which only increased the mystery.  As Marisol’s hands went up to comb out a kink, her bathrobe separated, giving Tami a view of her cleavage, her breasts hanging down without the support of a bra.

         Marisol smiled shyly, then while still combing out the kink, scrunched her shoulders together in a vain attempt to bring her bathrobe back together.  “Sorry, amiga,” she said.

         “That’s O.K.,” her naked friend said, sipping the hot tea, one knee up on the chair supporting her face, the other bare foot swinging gently as it glanced against the floor.  “I like it when someone else is naked, it gives me some company, so I’m like not so alone.”

         Marisol, still combing, gave her a little look and then said, “O.K.,” and shrugged totally out of her bathrobe.  It fell  down around her hips as she kept combing.  Tami tried not to stare but it was hard not to.  The girl’s breasts were even bigger than she thought.  Without a bra, they hung down almost to her waist, wobbling with the motions of Marisol’s combing, the areolas oval and four inches across, the huge dark brown nipples pointing cockeyed to each side.

         Tami realized she was staring and felt like she should explain her attention.  “Those look heavy.”

         “Si, muy heavy, muy pesado,” Marisol said.  She put down her comb and reached over to where the salt and pepper were and for the first time Tami noticed a bottle of acetaminophen there.  Marisol popped out three tablets and slurped them down with a gulp of tea.

         Seeing Tami’s puzzled look, Marisol said, “They hurt all the time, and my back too.  I have to take three in the morning, three at night.  The only thing that really takes the pain away is codeine, and I got a prescription, but I don’t want to be drugged all the time.  I’d rather hurt, but be awake.”

         Tami really had no idea.  “Why don’t you get them -- you know, have -- surgery?”

         “I want to have kids, and breast feed them,” Marisol said.  “I can’t do that after the operation.  And it would be risky for me, because I bleed, my whole family does.”

         Tami watched with hurt, knitted eyebrows as Marisol took something else that Tami hadn’t noticed next to the salt and pepper, namely a bottle of rubbing alcohol.  She got a cotton swab out of one of the bathrobe pockets and wetted it.  “Now my other routine.  If I don’t do this I get a rash, or fungus.”

         She hefted one breast up and rubbed underneath.  She had to grunt to do it.  Tami felt so sorry for her good friend who had to go through so much.  It was weird, part of her couldn’t believe she was saying it, but it seemed so right.  “Let me help you,” she said, and Marisol, just as unbelievably, said, “O.K.”

         Tami found herself standing over her friend, lifting up one breast with both hands so that her friend could thoroughly rub underneath.  The breast felt like a warm water balloon and must have weighed five pounds or more.  Not being pressed in by a bra, it stood so far out that the nipple seemed a foot away from her chest.  To carry these things around every day!  And to have all the guys staring at them!  Tami had always felt a kinship with Marisol, they were both always being stared at, but whereas being naked had its good moments, moments when she was alone and could enjoy feelings on her skin, for Marisol having big breasts was not any fun at all.  “Ahh, that feels good,” Marisol said, leaning back for a moment.  Then Tami carefully laid the breast down again.

         “Well -- ”  Marisol gathered her bathrobe around herself and excused herself.  In a minute she was back, in her jeans and one of her specially fitted bras.  Clearly she felt better with a bra on.  Or maybe it was just her “game face”.  She was hunting around for a shirt.