RR Lori Warren - Chapter 61

PREVIOUS CHAPTER    |   START FROM THE BEGINNING

It's been a long time coming, but here we finally are: at the very scene that introduced Lori and her own RR Labs journey, which has always been a spin-off of Becca's.

And now we get to see it from Lori's point of view :)

Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren

Chapter 61 - Meeting Becca Young

September 29th, 2006

Lori’s gaze drifted to the door as it opened, and in walked Becca Young.

She appeared young, barely older than Lori’s eldest daughter Gina, but Becca carried herself with the unmistakable uncertainty of someone constantly asking themself if they were making a big mistake.  She made Blazer Girl look like a seasoned veteran of rear-housing! 

Lori knew that look of uncertainty and self-consciousness all too well. 

Becca was undeniably pretty, though in a very understated, unassuming girl-next-door kind of way.  Her chestnut-brown hair was long, thick, and beautiful, as if she spent far more time taking care of it in the shower than she did actually styling before going out. She radiated the kind of nervous-but-excited, optimistic-but-mortified energy that made her seem even younger. Her face had a cherubic softness to it–with cheeks that flushed easily, especially now as she stepped across the waiting room. 

Her choice of clothing was what Lori’s daughters might have endearingly called ‘bummish’. She’d been taught that it wasn’t always a bad thing as long as you looked cute doing it, which Lori had come to understand was half the point.  From a distance, Becca’s jeans seemed thin and soft, not like the loose, stiff denim covering Lori–and definitely snug for anyone’s standards. Simple but fashionable.  At least they looked that way, from Lori’s very limited experience out shopping with her girls.  On top, Becca wore one of those fitted hoodies with thumb holes deliberately cut into the sleeve cuffs.. She recognized the style immediately; she had bought nearly the same one for Victoria just last week. They somehow cost more than the thicker, functional hoodies, thin and cropped just enough to hint at the subtle curve of her belly as she moved. 

Thick eyebrows arched under hesitant, scanning brown eyes as Becca’s meandering gaze locked onto Lori.  The poor girl looked like a deer in headlights. And then her skittish stare aligned with Laura’s check-in counter. The distinct, rhythmic slap of polka-dotted flip flops against soft heels sounded like a metronome of indecision. 

It was a good thing she arrived now and not sooner. Back when the audience overseeing her time on the RR Labs Waiting Room Catwalk would have been much larger.  An audience of just two–Lori and the receptionist–seemed more than enough for the young woman.

"Hi, I’m Becca." the girl murmured, her voice soft. The apprehension was practically oozing from her body, palpable and thick as her thighs.

“Yes, I know.” Laura said with a warm, inviting smile–not completely absent of condescension but it went clear over the flustered brunette’s head.  “Dr. Walker is expecting you. I hope your trip was pleasant.” As Laura ran her purple pencil over the sign-in sheet, Lori studied Becca.

If this girl were standing behind the counter of a fast-food restaurant or convenience store, an onlooker might have mistaken her for a small-framed, petite young woman. She had a narrow waist, compact shoulders, and an unassuming presence that made her seem even shorter than she really was. But Lori had been at RR Labs long enough to recognize exactly why Becca was here—and a single glance at her tight, light-wash jeans made it abundantly clear.

Becca was short, but by no means was she small—she had a dense, sturdy sort of softness, one that suggested strength but still held onto a plushness that Dr. Walker and the rear housing program valued. The soft, thin denim hugged Becca’s broad hips and thighs with a snugness that caused Lori to uncomfortably tug at her own comparatively loose mom jeans. 

Becca’s orb-like cheeks were full, round, and naturally bouncy. And the small back pockets stitched into the seat of her jeans made those cheeks look that much bigger. Lori was no RR scientist, but it didn’t take one to recognize that Becca’s bottom would easily meet the requirements for rear-housing. Even with her jeans applying noticeable compression, her glutes still shifted with a gentle bounce perfect for protecting a tiny man. Lori found herself nodding internally. Dr. Walker must have been thrilled. Becca was a natural fit, even if she didn’t realize it.

Becca was thick in all the places young girls today tended to obsess over but despite how striking her figure was, she didn’t carry herself like a girl who knew it. At least not here in the alien world of this barely-believable but 100% real experiment. Lori couldn’t say for sure who she was out in the real world but here, she was just a nervous young woman clutching the countertop, waiting for instructions.

Becca fidgeted at the reception counter, shifting her weight from one flip flop-clad foot to the other, rocking one hip out as Laura drilled through her routine sign-in questions. From her seat, Lori watched the younger woman’s posture—stiff and polite, her hands resting lightly on the countertop.  She’d occasionally nod her head to Laura’s hushed line of questions, sometimes offering back a hushed response designed to be so quiet that Lori couldn’t hear. 

And Lori couldn’t help but wonder the obvious. The same thing she’d wondered about Blazer Girl, the Silver-Haired Woman, the VIP woman with her baby, the Goth Girl, and the Gym Queen:

Was there already a tiny little boy buried somewhere deep in all that bottom?

With as much discretion as needed, Lori leaned forward and squinted toward Becca’s jean-clad bottom, looking for any signs. In Lori’s own experiences, her little Michael would sometimes find inspiration to really put forth an intense struggle and squirm–and when he did, he could manage to create a short burst of visible waves throughout the flesh of Lori’s cheeks.  It never lasted long, of course. Moving so much flesh and fat was an energy intensive activity for something so small.  And he’d tucker himself out after just a few seconds.  

But Lori was paying very close attention and she wasn’t seeing any of that going on with Becca’s bottom. As closely as Lori squinted, she saw no trace of jiggle…aside from what the rhythmic, nerve-stricken bouncing of Becca’s foot was creating.  But then again, all that compression…the denim hugged Becca’s buns so tight that it’d be a challenge to pinch a fingertip’s worth of fabric without including skin.  Would a tiny subject be able to make a ripple in that tightly compacted flesh?  

Probably not. 

The idea of Becca as a Participant struck Lori as oddly fascinating. It was almost like picturing one of her own daughters taking part in the experiment. There was something sweet about it, yes—but also silly and absurd. Becca couldn’t have been older than twenty. Still so unsure of herself. Still growing into her own body, her own mind. Lori, on the other hand, was well past her reckless years. She’d raised three girls. She knew what real responsibility looked like.

Taking care of a subject wasn’t just a novelty or a science project. It wasn’t just a paycheck (but she had to admit the money didn’t hurt!). No–rear housing was a commitment. It was something between raising a child and caring for a deeply dependent pet.  Admittedly closer to the latter–but still, it required vigilance, patience, and no small amount of womanly instinct.

Lori had those instincts. She’d earned them. Being a Participant didn’t feel strange or unnatural to her anymore; not once she let those instincts govern. And once Lori let that quiet confidence take over, Michael had never needed to explain what he needed from her. Lori just knew.

In many ways, she was like a mother to him now.

Well—almost. Because sometimes, late at night in her bed, under the covers with the bedroom door locked and the lights turned out, the things that she and Michael would do during his evening breaks from her rear…goodness. Comparing that part of their relationship to a mother-son would be highly inappropriate.  

So no, what Lori was to him now… it was beyond a mother. It was beyond a partner. It was beyond even an owner.  It was complicated and wonderful. Rewarding and confidence-building. She protected him. From the cold world. From the eyes and smiles of her curious daughters. From himself. She kept him grounded and quiet, warm and still, just by letting her instinct take over. And by letting her curves do what they did best.

But Becca? How would she relate to her subject?

As a pet? A boyfriend? A little brother?

Or maybe even more interesting: What if the subject assigned to Becca wasn’t some soft-spoken college boy, or an awkward high school sweetheart, or even someone her own age? What if he was older?

Lori let out a quiet laugh through her nose, imagining that wide-eyed girl giving commands to some poor, middle-aged man buried under her rear end like she owned him.

The visual wouldn’t leave her.

It was ridiculous. But in a strange way, adorable. Thinking about an older man put under Becca’s care.

And not just by a few years—but significantly older.

Lori stifled a grin.

A man in his thirties, maybe. Or forties. A man who once held a job, maybe even a high-powered one. Someone who used to command rooms, sign contracts, raise his voice at waitstaff if his food came out wrong. A man with chest hair, a receding hairline, and probably very strong opinions about the economy. He’d likely tower over a girl like Becca, maybe even pat her head in a condescending, toxic sort of way. Maybe tell her that she needs to smile more instead of looking so nervous. And then maybe even check out her ass as she walked away.

But then he’d find himself smaller than the palm of Becca’s hand—and then promptly trapped in a world made entirely of thick denim, soft cotton, and thighs thicker than his entire body. Maybe he’d even be as small as the subject under Brandi’s big bottom. And Becca, bless her heart, with her nervous laughter and blushy cheeks, would be the one who got to decide when he saw the sun again.

Lori’s smile widened, a mini revelation of sorts scrolling rapidly across the marque of her mind.

That’s what was so remarkable about this experiment. It was something always on the tip of Lori’s tongue but she couldn’t find the words. Not until now. It wasn’t just the shrinking. Not just the science.

It was about the shift of power.

In this world, here in this waiting room, power didn’t belong to the loudest voice anymore. Or the biggest paycheck. Power accompanied softness. Warmth. It belonged to girls like Becca, who might’ve spent her whole life feeling talked over and overlooked—until RR Labs handed her someone who couldn’t even peek out from between her cheeks without her say-so.

But Lori would have bet money that Becca wasn’t there yet.  It’d take her time to realize, Lori knew.  Just as it took Lori time to realize.

One of Becca’s flip-flops had slipped from her heel, the thin foam sole dangling just beneath her foot. Instead of adjusting it back on, she was unconsciously bouncing her curled toes against the sole. Occasionally she’d press her plush little toes against the flip flop until they turned white and then she’d relax her foot. And she continued this in a nervous, rhythmic motion–probably meant to self-soothe in what had to be a stressful moment for her. 

Lori smirked, not in a mean-spirited amusement sort of way.  Instead, it was in quiet understanding. She remembered that feeling. That first time talking to Dr. Walker on the phone. Opening the box in her lap that would change a big part of her life.  And of course stepping into RR Labs, heart pounding, mind full of questions too bizarre to ask out loud. Wondering if the handsome but obnoxious boy from That 70’s Show was going to jump out of a closet with a big microphone and announce that she’d just been pranked.  That uncertain mix of excitement and fear. 

“Okay, we’ve got you all checked in.” Laura said with a polite nod. “You can take a seat. Dr. Walker will be with you shortly,” 

Becca hesitated before moving toward an empty chair near Lori. She sat carefully as if she was trying to minimize the space that thighs and bottom took up. It was clear she wasn’t used to the idea of someone paying so much attention to that part of her body. 

She settled into the seat, and as she scooted into the cushion. As she did, the legs of Becca’s chair scraped noisily against the linoleum floor. Lori felt a slight, familiar shift beneath her. Little Michael must have heard the scrape–maybe even felt the vibrations, and reacted on instinct.

And…yup, he’s afraid.

Lori knew, because she could feel him trying to burrow deeper between her buns. But he was already as deep as he could go! Poor, simple little thing he was. Didn’t he realize that he was never safer than when he was wedged in her bottom? And to be afraid of such an assuming young woman? Who looked skittish enough to fear her own shadow?

He was so lucky to have Lori.

Despite her timid demeanor, Lori admitted that it’d be more than fair for someone as small as Michael to be afraid of thighs that thick. And just one of those toes she was pressing into her flip flop sole earlier was easily as big as Michael. 

‘No need to be afraid of her, sweetheart.’ Lori thought with an internal chuckle, shifting to part her glutes just enough to wedge Michael into a new depth. ‘She’s probably more afraid of you than you are of her.’

Lori wondered if Becca had even considered how it would feel to have someone tucked so intimately against her—how it would change the way she sat, the way she moved. And how hopefully she’d come around to realize that none of that needed to change at all.  Hopefully she’d get that faster than Lori did.

Becca fidget with the drawstrings of her hoodie, her thumb curling the soft end around and around but never actually tying it. She was clearly nervous, eyes ping-ponging toward the closed doors of the patient rooms, as if at any moment someone might burst out and hand her a shrunken man she wasn’t ready for.

"First time?" Lori asked, breaking the silence.

Becca turned, her brown eyes meeting Lori’s. There was a flicker of relief in them, like she had been hoping for someone to acknowledge her, and yet her delightfully full cheeks blushed.

“Is it that obvious?” Becca chuckled, rubbing her shoulder.

“Oh, you just look exactly like I did my first time here.” Lori said with a reassuring smile. “That ‘deer in headlights’ look. Do you have one yet?”

Becca fidgeted with the hem of her hoodie and her cheeks turned even more red.

“One what?”

Oh, this girl was too cute.

“One what.” Lori repeated with a breathy sigh, trying on the adorable absurdity of the question. “Where do you think you are, sweetheart?” Lori chuckled. She spared Becca from answering her question and extended a hand.  

“I’m Lori.”

There was just a beat of silence before Becca accepted Lori’s shake, and smilingly introduced herself. 

“I’m Becca.  And no, I don’t have…one…”

Another beat of silence.

“...not yet, anyway.”

Lori smiled. “Oh, that’s so cute. Listen, I know it feels strange, but don’t worry about it. I remember like it was yesterday…being in your shoes.  It was such a new concept that I honestly thought was a joke up until I laid eyes on him. And even then I wasn’t sure he was real!”  

She gently patted a few inches above Becca’s knee.  Firm and yet plenty of give. 

“Of course I don’t claim to be any kind of expert.  I don’t imagine any of us could be with something so…niche.  But I’m learning every day.” Lori looked over her shoulder and wiggled her hips.  “And so is he, of course.”

For the first time, Becca’s concerned and skittish eyes transformed.  They didn’t quite relax, but instead turned to a combination of fascination and intrigue as she leaned in toward Lori.  She whispered, “So you have one…like, right now?”

Lori tilted her head.  What a silly question. Of course she had one, why else would she be here? But Becca was new.  She didn’t understand yet.  

“Well, of course I have one, dear.” Lori chuckled.  Would the sweet girl’s next question be about his whereabouts? She didn’t get how fragile these little subjects were.  How dependent on their Participants they were.  How much they needed softness, and warmth, and protection.  The silly thing would have been to assume that he was anywhere but tucked away safely in her bottom!

“And if your next question is about where he is, I’m afraid I’ll have to remind you once more to look around where you are!”

Becca’s eyes wandered down to Lori’s wide hips and rested on the splayed curvature of her compressed glute.  Lori might have been self-conscious had she thought this young, relatively fit girl was actually judging Lori’s more-to-love figure.  But it didn’t bother her; not here in the RR Labs Waiting Room.  Lori knew the only thing Becca was doing was picturing the nude little man that lived deep between those splayed cheeks.

“How long have you had him?” Becca asked. Her eyes remained fixed on Lori’s wide bottom.

‘Oh, this is fun!’ Lori thought, almost in disbelief at her own feeling of comfort and breeziness.  ‘She’s getting more comfortable.  She’s letting her curiosity out to play. ‘And I get to be the one helping her along.’

It wasn’t a dramatic shift, but Lori could see the way that Becca’s shoulders had slowly dropped a few inches from their hunched perch. Lori had seen this dissolvement of anxiety and shame before, etched across the face of her daughter Gina all those months ago. 

Gina’s fluster had more fire than Becca’s, but it was just armor.  Becca, by contrast, wore her nerves right on the surface, like her heart and vibrating mind were wrapped in nothing but saran wrap for anyone to see.  But on that night in Gina’s bedroom, and on this day now in the RR Labs Waiting Room, both girls needed someone steady. Someone who’d already walked through the uncertainty and come out the other side.  

Lori was that someone. 

It wasn’t pride that Lori felt–at least not the selfish kind. It was a quiet kind of fulfillment, like watching a seed you’d planted finally break through the soil. 

“Well, this is our annual checkup so it’s been…” Lori squinted and pursed her lips, doing some quick mental math in her head.  She honestly could not believe that this much time had passed.  “Wow, you know what?  It’s been over a year now.  About one year, one week.”

“Holy cow!” Becca blurted, and Lori had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling too loud.  She beamed with a degree of pride, and Lori easily allowed herself to believe that this was an accomplishment really worth celebrating.   “Can I see him?” Becca asked.

“What a curious one you are, huh?” Lori chuckled.  “I’m sorry dear, but no can do. I don’t think they allow that sort of thing out here in the waiting room.”  Lori and Becca both looked toward Laura, who had been keeping enough of an ear on the conversation to nod her head politely.  “And although I’m sure that he’d love the opportunity to see and talk to a pretty girl like you, he’s already been out for far too long this week anyway.

Becca tilted her head in confusion.  

“We’ve experimented with a lot of different systems over the past year, trying to find something that works for us.” Lori said, crossing one thigh over the other. “As of late, we’ve returned to an arrangement that really works well for the both of us.  I only remove him when I have to…powder my nose.” Lori said with a smirk.  “And he goes right back after I’ve finished.”

“Back in your butt?” Becca blurted.

Lori cleared her throat, grinning at the young woman’s endearing lack of couth . “Yes, dear.  Back there.”

“Wow. Do you…like…have to do that? For that long? Like, is it required?” Becca’s fascination only grew, but mixed in her chocolate brown eyes was a quickly growing concern.  “Will I have to do that with mine?”

“No, no. It’s not required, per se.” Lori said. “The great thing about this experiment is that you get to set the rules. And a higher DDM…well, it just works for us.”

“DDM?”

“The Dynamic Daily Minimum.” Lori replied. “Surely Dr. Walker has at least told you about that by now!”

Becca’s adorable face scrunched up in embarrassment. “Ooh, the Dynamic Daily Minimum. I do know what that is.  That’s…umm…the minimum amount of time that the little boy needs to be between your butt cheeks each day…right?”

“Well put, and 100% correct!” Lori offered another encouraging pat upon Becca’s knee.  “Don’t feel bad dear.  It’s a lot to remember.  I still consult the handbook and paperwork I received last year so don’t worry. It’s not a test! Not a ‘closed-book’ test, anyway!”

Lori enjoyed watching even more relief wash over Becca.

“But anyway, to answer your question.” Lori started. “The reason why we increased the DDM is…hmm…a long story.” Lori shared a soft pat against the outboard curve of her compressed glute. She rarely talked about him out loud this much these days, and she wondered if he was enjoying the attention.  “Every Participant and subject has a unique relationship and story, I’m sure.  But the short version of ours is that…well…he made it very clear to me that he needs all the protection I can offer him. Back when I was in your position, I thought it was crazy, too. But I’m a believer now.”  Lori looked down and wiggled her hips. “And so is he.”

“Wow, that’s great. You two sound like such a good team.” Becca said.

“Do you have the Internet on your cell phone?”

“No, I don’t think so.”Becca removed a sturdy brick of Nokia from her purse and frowned down at the non-backlit screen.  “It’s got Snake on it, though, if you’re bored.”

Lori chuckled, pulling out her blackberry cellular phone. “No worries, dear.  You can access this from your home computer. RR Labs recently released something on their website that helps keep track of our DDM goals.” She began tapping her miniature stylus over the screen.  “I’ve got mine set up to show his non-rear time per week. See? This was last week’s readout”

Becca leaned in closer to Lori and her eyes widened when she read the display.

38:48:008

“Whoa…” Becca said, her hand clasping over her chest.  “That’s all he gets??”

“He doesn’t need much.” Lori said, putting her phone away.

“But like…what if he gets, I dunno, scared?”

“Oh sweetheart. That’s the thing.  He’s not scared. Not anymore.  He knows he’s safest with me, and that’s what matters the most.”  She tilted her head with sympathy, watching Becca’s worry war with her curiosity.  “And trust me, it’s hard to explain but it’s even harder to understand–until you’ve experienced it.  But it’s…” Lori looked up at the ceiling and sighed.  “...it’s a comfort.  Knowing that he’s exactly where he belongs.  No worries, no dangers.  He needs it, and to be honest. I think I need it, too!”

Becca’s cheeks reddened.  “And, he’s okay with that?”

Lori chuckled.  “Oh, he’s better than okay.  After all this time, I really do think he prefers it. And I do, too. You’ll see, Becca.  Once you have yours for awhile, the instinct just kicks in.  You’ll want to keep him safe.  You’ll want to protect him. And these adorable little things have an instinct to be protected…you’ll just have to help yours find it.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Becca said, looking down at her feet.  

Lori’s eyes wandered downward as Becca shifted in her seat, the hem of her hoodie slipping up just slightly as she crossed one leg over the other. The movement drew Lori’s gaze to the girl’s feet—her toes playfully dangling one of her flip-flops. The rubber straps were a soft ivory white, dotted playfully with tiny sky-blue polka dots. They were the kind you could pick up at a gas station or a clearance bin in July. Cheap, but practical; Lori had several.  They were worn, a little too thin in the sole, but loved.

Becca’s feet matched the rest of her—short and soft-looking, a little boxy in shape, with the kind of toes that looked like they had trouble staying straight in sandals. Not narrow or elegant like Isabella’s dancer feet. No polished gel tips or glittery toe rings like Gina would have insisted on. They reminded Lori more of Victoria’s feet.  Chubby, but in an endearing way. The kind of feet that, aside from the nail polish, didn’t try to make any statements, and hadn’t been dressed up to impress anyone.

Becca’s toes were painted a beautiful, complex blue–but the edges were beginning to chip on her larger nails. It clearly wasn’t done professionally. Probably something she and a friend had done together on the dorm room floor. Lori got along great with her roommate and regularly did each other’s nails and makeup. Girls still did that sort of thing, right? Lori smiled at the thought, but her eyes lingered. 

Lori suddenly thought of Gina, and her babysitting sessions with Michael and a humorous thought played across Lori’s mind.

Would Becca put her little subject in her sock?

The memory played—Michael, wide-eyed and silent, tucked securely between Gina’s thick toes. She’d never forget the look on his face. Or Gina’s. That was the first time Lori had really stepped into the role of an RR mentor—not just as a mother, but as someone who had learned what this responsibility meant. 

That talk with Gina had been firm, even a little emotional. She’d had to make a point. She’d had to draw the line.

But Becca would be a different story.  Unlike Gina, Becca would have full discretionary power over her subject.

“But…like, it sounds impossible.  Being fully on board with all this. You must be a really good team, you and your boy–if he can spend all but thirty-eight hours a week in your butt. I mean, that’s barely a day and a half of free time.”

Lori arched her brow. Thirty-eight hours of free time? Where was she getting that? 

There was a disconnect, but it only took a moment for Lori to decode the misunderstanding, and then she smiled.

Oh, bless her heart.

Becca thought Michael totaled thirty-eight hours of non-rear time last week? Ha! Imagine him being away from her bottom for that long!

It wasn’t thirty-eight hours. 

It was thirty-eight minutes.  

Thirty-eight minutes over the course of last week, which Lori admitted was a little more strict than usual–but not for any particular reason.  She wasn’t correcting bad behavior. He didn’t act up or do anything wrong. She just had more important things occupying her mind. He came out for a few quick showers, restroom breaks, and the super-rare moment to let him squirm under the cool air before he was right back to where he belonged.  

And honestly, even those minutes felt unnecessary. If she could somehow use the restroom and shower while leaving him installed, Lori might never have removed Michael from between her buttocks. Except for his occasional ‘rear recess’ before bed and under her bedsheets, when they both deserved a little reward for good behavior. Those were the nights when he slept the most peacefully and still, tuckered out from their hour (sometimes longer) of steamy, carnal intimacy.

But Becca didn’t need to know all that.  Not yet.  She was overwhelmed enough at the thought of a 38-hours of non-rear time per week.  Knowing the truth right now–that her little Michael could have just barely watched a full episode of Friends with his time away from Lori’s crack that week–might send the sweet innocent Becca into a tailspin.

“Does 38 hours away from my rear sound like a long time to you? Oh, you are just precious.” Lori said.  “When you feel like you’ve got the hang of rear-housing, ask the doctors here about The 99% Club.  It’s not something they talk about in the handbook, but very interesting.”

“I’ll ask my subject about it when we get home.” Becca said.

Adorable. Not even worth acknowledging.  Let’s move on from that!

“I know this all sounds like a lot,” Lori said. “but you’ll be surprised to see how well they adjust.  And really, it’s great when the two of you can work as a team. But at the end of the day, you’re the one in charge. You’re the one doing the work.  So it’s really about what works best for you. And after enough time, you won’t even notice him!”

Becca nodded silently.  

Lori continued, “In fact, one of the reasons for my visit today is to extend my rear-housing commitment.  I had originally opted in for a 3-month stint.  Can you imagine?  Hard to picture going in for such a small amount of time!  I've been doing gradual on-the-spot extensions for awhile now…but I’ve already decided...for the both of us…that this is for the best." Lori looked down at her waist and smiled. "I'm going to be extending my commitment.  For…much longer."  

The young brunette was taking it all in. Lori could see the wheels turning.

“What about you?” Lori asked, changing the subject. “Are you just here to talk about participating? See if it’s a good fit?”

Lori sighed and then rolled her eyes. “No pun intended.” She said with a smirk.

Becca giggled, but continued to fidget, playing with the thong of her flip-flops with her toes.  “No, no. If you can believe it, I’m a little past that. I’m actually…ummm…getting my subject today.”

“Oh, they’re doing the install then?  That’s wonderful, good for you!” Lori said with a smile and another pat on Becca’s knee.  “Don’t worry, dear.” Lori assured Becca.  “They are INCREDIBLY professional here.  They’ll take great care of you, I’m sure of it.”

“They do seem really nice. And patient.” Becca admitted. “So, just curious…what do you do if your boy wants more time?”

“More time?” Lori repeated.

“Time out from your butt, I mean. Doesn’t he ever ask for longer breaks?”

Lori narrowed her eyes.  “Now, why would he want to be anywhere else?” Had she not been so understanding, she might have been offended by the implication.  But Lori knew that Becca didn’t mean it that way.  

Becca blinked rapidly, her cheeks flushing. The muscles in Becca’s throat flexed as she swallowed. She slowly nodded and her lips parted.

“Miss Young?”

It was Laura from the reception desk. She’d just set down the phone, hands now folded neatly on the white laminate countertop as she leaned forward.

“Dr. Walker will see you now.”

Becca took a sharp breath that only Lori could hear, like she hadn’t expected to be called so soon. She smiled nervously at Lori, then curled her toes against the soles of her flip-flops, wedging the thongs into place before rising to her feet.

“It was really nice meeting you, Lori.” Becca said.  “Thanks for making me feel a little less weird about all this.”

“You as well, sweetheart,” Lori said with a reassuring smile. “You’re going to be just fine. Just trust yourself.”

Becca nodded, then turned—and her hoodie had ridden up just enough to reveal more of her ample, denim-clad backside. The soft, hefty weight of Becca’s rear settled and reshaped as she walked, full and unhurried, sending gentle jiggles from side to side.

Lori let an amused exhale out of her nose. Of all the unexpected little detours her life had taken lately, she hadn’t anticipated sitting in a waiting room, watching the thick, swaying backside of a shy college girl disappear through a set of double doors.

Life will always finds new ways to surprise you, she thought. Lori was alone now in the waiting room–not for much longer, she hoped. But her smile lingered after Becca had gone.

~