Full Body Inflation

Jenny slammed the door of her apartment shut as she stumbled in a drunken stupor into the hallway. Her long blonde wavy locks were slightly damp from sweat, the result of an evening full of dancing and maybe a few drinks too many. A few loose strands draped over her face, clinging slightly to her sticky cheek.

The petrol station rested atop Huntington Hill, known by the locals as “Suicide Hill” for its ridiculously precipitous slope, one that tempted many a youth in wintertime to slide down its icy surface. While achieving near-freefall speeds, the ride had an unfortunate penchant of ending with the sled skidding straight into the busy Lavinia Lane, where traffic was unimpeded by stop signs or any attention given to pesky speed limits.

It was getting late, she could tell. She glanced over at the smartphone dangling on the corner of her side table, and checked the time: 10:45 PM, just about right for her new nocturnal schedule, the one that had formed since she had started using her fake ID and bombshell body to get as many drinks as she wanted. She groaned, rolling out of bed, as she reran her evening ritual; she stared at her gorgeous body, from her curly black locks that flowed just past her shoulders, to her large but not slutty breasts.