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The giantess held the tiny man between her finger and thumb.  The immense digits pinched around his upper body, leaving his legs to dangle and kick freely and his arms to beat futilely against her fingers.  There was fear in his eyes, but a certain other part of his anatomy made plain another, contradictory emotion.

Her huge brown eyes squinted to see the miniscule erection protruding from the tiny man’s crotch.  It might have been impressive by normal standards, but she was clearly not ‘normal’ by any means; a huge woman, more than a hundred feet tall or thereabouts, who towered over her surroundings.  She smiled, full red lips parting to reveal white teeth as large as tombstones, and her hot breath washed over him.  The man shivered in fright, but his cock seemed to grow even harder at the sight, visibly throbbing even to the sight of his woman many times his size.

Her red lips pursed- 

Red?  Her lipstick grew with her but her clothes didn’t? 

Her lips pursed as if to kiss as she brought him closer.  The puckered flesh was surprisingly soft as they enveloped his relatively miniscule erection, like sucking off a grain of rice- 

Wait, how could she even feel… nevermind. 

A little taste of salt and a muffled, quiet moan told the giantess that he had climaxed.

With that done she pushed him into her mouth, hearing only a pathetic yelp before her lips closed around him.  She swished him around her mouth, savouring the taste and the feel of a living, breathing, writhing human being, and then swallowed him whole.  With a self-satisfied moan, she cast her lascivious, domineering gaze at the frightened mass of humanity pushing and pulling to get away from her at her feet, and said in a voice like thunder: “Who’s next?”

Or at least, that was the scene that played vividly in Gilly’s mind as she sucked off her boyfriend, Pat, in the dingy hotel room.  Her peculiar fetish was not unknown to him, but he was reluctant to indulge in it, finding it odd at best and off-putting and troubling at worse.  Aside from a single experiment in the bedroom that merely resulted in lacklustre sex and a whole lot of embarrassment for both involved, she never thought to push the subject.  The two had seemed to come to a mutual accord that it was just not to be broached.  It was her personal, private thing, and when the pleasure was a little one-sided, as was the case with her on her knees and her mouth full of cock, she would allow her mind to wander to such indulgences, and use them.

Now, in her mind the fantasy had changed to suit her whims.  

The woman, now somehow even bigger so as to loom over even skyscrapers, had torn one such tower from its foundations, lifted it to her mouth, and wrapped her full red lips around it.  She sucked on it as, well, one would an erect penis.  It was packed with hundreds of doomed people, trapped in offices and corridors and store rooms, engulfed utterly by this giantess’s cavernous maw.  

Whatever this was doing for her personally, it seemed to work wonders for her motivation, which in turn served to push her boyfriend over the edge.  He moaned, never one for making much noise during sex, and climaxed in Gilly’s mouth.

As much as she liked cock, blowjobs did little for her and she’d much rather be riding it herself, but he had to go and attend a business meeting in the city very shortly and he’d managed to talk her into a quick good-luck blowie before he went.  She made a mental note to remind him to return the favour when he got back.

Gilly pulled her head back, releasing his spent cock with an audible ‘pop’.  Settling back to sit on the floor, she gulped down his seed and wiped away the excess on her lips.  Pat, apparently going somewhat limp with pleasure, sat on the edge of the bed and gripped the bed with his hands.

“That was great,” he said, gasping for breath.  His muscular, bare chest heaved as he came down from the climax.

“Then you definitely owe me for later,” said Gilly as she rose to her feet.

Pat looked up at her, cast in the lurid red light that suffused the room.  Gilly was a tall woman, standing six foot three from head to toe, though as long as she didn’t wear her heels Pat was still the taller of the two.  She was practically naked, wearing only her panties and a pair of striped socks, and as he sat on the bed her large bare breasts were at almost the right height for him to lean forward and bury his face between them.  Her figure was what one might call ‘voluptuous’ or ‘generously-proportioned’, and just about hinted at a lifestyle that involved a few too many chocolates and not enough exercise.  It was clear that she had somehow lucked out in the great genetic lottery, as most of her body fat had collected in her bust and backside to form an alluring hourglass figure that was perfectly accentuated by her height.

Gilly grinned, her teeth glinting in the dim light like the smile of a predatory cat.  She had a soft, round face, with an abundance of freckles on her cheeks, and framed with a tangled mess of ginger hair that consistently failed to obey comb, brush, and hairspray.  Her hands reached out to rest on Pat’s slim shoulders, bringing her bust closer to his face, and brought her legs around his.  The smell of her seemed stronger than the odour of the hotel room.

“Or now, pet,” she whispered huskily.

He was tempted.  Dear god, he was tempted.

“James will be here soon to pick me up,” he said, swallowing hard.

“Then he can join in!” exclaimed Gilly.  “That uptight little guy really needs to get laid.”

Pat chuckled.  “No argument there,” he said.  “But I think he’s scared of you.”

“Aw, of little me?”  She shook her shoulders from side to side, and her breasts jiggled.  Staring at them swaying and bouncing with her every movement, Pat felt himself getting hard again.  Perhaps there was enough time for a quickie…

The doorbell rang.  Shrill, sharp, and annoying, it banished the horny thoughts from Pat’s mind instantly.  Almost pushing his girlfriend aside, he jumped to his feet, tried to gather up the trousers that had fallen to his shoes, and started to hobble towards the bathroom.

“Let him in, Gilly,” he said in a hushed voice.  “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Pat stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, turning the lock, presumably to clean himself up.  Sighing, Gilly grabbed her blouse from the bed and pulled it on, not bothering to button it up, and strode to the front door.  Her own gratification would simply have to wait, yet again, and this was supposed to be a holiday for her.  She was rather slow in turning the lock, and even slower in removing the chain from the door, and then pulled it open.

Behind it stood a man wearing a navy suit and holding a briefcase.  At a mere five foot and six inches tall Gilly positively towered over him, and it was not unnoticed by her that when she opened the door his eyes first drifted down to her almost-bare breasts before snapping up, deliberately so, to her grinning face.

“James!” she exclaimed, and pulled him into a tight bear hug.

The shorter man emitted a high-pitched yelp of surprise as he was pulled in, his smaller frame pressed against her’s.  Gilly’s chin rested easily atop his head, and her prodigious breasts were pressed tightly against his upper torso.  In fact, he likely felt her firm nipples protruding through the thin, flimsy cotton of her blouse on his chest.  James, however, did not reciprocate the gesture and merely stood there, all but enveloped by the taller woman, with his cheeks blushing a deep shade of crimson.

Gilly held the hug for just longer than is usually considered socially acceptable, then broke it.  Her hand seized the one not holding the briefcase - his left - and tugged him inside.  James simply stumbled inside, still blushing a deep shade of crimson.

“G-Gilly!” he stammered out, his voice a clipped and refined received pronunciation, which contrasted with her Yorkshire accent.  He smoothed down the front of his suit and straightened out his tie.  “Lovely to see you again.”  His tone of voice implied otherwise.

She shut the door behind them, and the expression of subtle dread and anxiety on James’ face was not completely lost on her.  In fact she grinned as she moved closer, with millimetres between his upper chest and her barely-concealed bust he could almost feel the body heat radiating off her, and try as he might that posh stiff-upper lip demeanour he used as a shield was all but useless against the raw, sexual energy Gilly projected.  She liked battering against it; sooner or later men caved in, especially the short ones.

“Where’s Pat?” he asked.  His fingers still fiddled with his tie anxiously and his eyes strayed to the door.

“In the toilet,” she said, leaning against the shut door and cutting off his only avenue of escape.  “Cleaning himself up.  We’ve been busy.”

James arched an eyebrow, casting his gaze up and down her practically nude body.  She giggled, and shook her shoulders to allow her unbuttoned shirt to slip just enough to allow him to see a glimpse of her perky nipples.

“Clearly,” James said wryly, at length.  He checked his wristwatch.  “He needs to bloody hurry up if we’re going to get to the office on time.”

As though answering James’ prayers, the door to the bathroom opened.  Pat, apparently coming to his rescue, had hastily pulled up and buttoned his skinny khaki chinos and put on a grey polo shirt before stepping out into the room.  Gilly, upon seeing her boyfriend return, draped herself against him with an arm over his broad shoulders, and flashed one of her playful, predatory grins at the shorter man who, in his state of embarrassment, was doing his damnedest to look as professional as he possibly could.  It only had the opposite effect.

“About time,” snapped James.

“There’s still a few hours to t’ meeting,” said Pat.  He fiddled with the buttons on his polo shirt momentarily, before Gilly leaned over, swatted his fingers away, and did them up for him.

“Yes, but I want us to go over our files in the office before we start.”  James shook his briefcase, and its contents made a hefty thudding sound as they rattled around inside.  “You know how important this meeting is.  The two of you can do…”  He waved that hand in the direction of the bed.  “...whatever as much as you please after.”

“Oh fine,” said Pat.  He squeezed Gilly’s shoulder and kissed her on the cheek, but she was glaring at James.  “I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner.  T’ hotel pamphlet recommended a nice seafood place on the seafront called The Morning Catch.  Then we can go for an evening walk down the beach.”

“I could kill for proper fish and chips,” she said.  Her voice was cheerful but she still fixed James with a glare, who did not even attempt to meet it, and instead suddenly found the walls of the room marginally more interesting.

“Great!”  Pat slipped his hand down Gilly’s back, following the way that it sloped inwards to the small of her back and then swelled out to a curvy rear that balanced out the two mounds upon her chest.  He gave her arse an affectionate pat, and she yelped and giggled.  “I’ll see you later, pet.  Meet me at the Drapers Building downtown.  I’ll text you when I’m ready.”

James slipped through the door, giving Gilly little more than a terse nod by way of a goodbye, followed by Pat.  The door slammed shut, and she was completely alone, and would be for much of the day until the two of them returned from whatever it was they did.  She breathed out a sigh and threw herself on the bed, the battered and abused mattress groaning in complaint as she landed upon it.  Her fingers dug into the sheets like claws as she squirmed atop the too-firm bed, the springs creaking beneath her, and then she fell limp, staring up at the stucco ceiling.

It wasn’t fair.  When Pat had told her that he had to go to America for a business trip Gilly had envisaged something rather more glamorous and fun than this, the grim environs of the cheapest hotel that her boyfriend’s company’s finance department would pay for were furthest from her expectations.  Of course he had to work, but if she had known that she would have to spend upwards of ten hours a day on her own in a strange foreign city then she might have just stayed in Sheffield instead.  It had been interesting for perhaps the first day, but the sights and attractions of the metropolis beyond the walls of this tiny, confining hotel room had lost their appeal without someone to share them with.  Pat himself was often too tired after his work, especially with the jet lag, to do much else but lie there on the bed and rest.

Still, she had a whole day to fill, and a nice meal to look forward to later, though she had no idea where the Drapers Building was or even how to get to downtown, wherever that was.  Gilly stretched out on the bed, feeling a certain heat inside her that was not to do with the warm and muggy climate here.  Sucking Pat’s cock did at least stir her hair-trigger libido.  The sexy images she conjured of giant women playing with tiny men only added fuel to that fire, and teasing the uptight little James and watching his squirming embarrassment was at least enough to push her slowly growing arousal past the momentary disappointment she felt.  

Alone on the bed in the hotel room, she reached her right hand down to her crotch and found her panties slightly damp.  On the bedside table were a few of those tourist pamphlets Pat had picked up from the hotel concierge, and one of which had a stunning photograph of the inner city’s skyline.  Tall, glittering skyscrapers were silhouetted against a crisp blue sky.  Gilly imagined a colossal woman with tanned skin, brown hair, and a playful grin on her full, red lips, striding gracefully in between them.  

Gilly giggled -- a short, sharp titter that she made when she was aroused, followed by a snort.  Her fingers slipped under her panties.


“I’m thinking of taking a break from Gilly,” said Pat.  It had taken him and James fifteen minutes in the rental car for the two of them to fully exhaust the reservoir of small talk, having already commented upon the sunny, warm weather and whether or not they slept well the previous night.

James, who was driving, didn’t appear to have heard him at first, as he carried on with the business of paying attention to the road.  At length, and without taking his eyes off the stretch of tarmac receding into the city beyond, he said simply: “Oh?”

Pat nodded.  “Yeah.”

Another moment of silence passed.  James grumbled something as he navigated the small hatchback the company’s finance department had allowed him to rent around a large pick-up.  The driver of that vehicle apparently took exception to that, and made a rude gesture out of his window before accelerating away from them.

“I can’t get the hang of driving on the wrong side of the road,” said James, shaking his head.

Pat reached up and grabbed the handle by his head, the skin around his knuckles turning white as he held on for dear life.  He had noticed James had the tendency to drift into the other lane, as though he still thought he was sitting on the right hand side of the vehicle.  “We should have gotten a taxi.”

“Do you want to pay for it?”

“I could put in an expenses claim,” said Pat.  “But it would leave me out of pocket until Finance cleared it.”

James swallowed hard, fingers clenched tightly around the wheel.  Their hotel was some distance away from the city’s business district where the central office of the multinational corporation their tiny little start-up was due to meet to discuss an exciting new venture, just down the main road and over a bridge across a river that fed into the Atlantic.  The highway that ran practically straight through the city, almost bisecting it, however, should have made this a relatively short journey of thirty minutes, but this being rush hour, the sheer mass of traffic had made what would otherwise have been an easy journey straight down into a frustrating series of stops and starts.

The glittering skyscrapers in this distance seemed to taunt them as the traffic slowed once again for seemingly no reason at all.  James applied the brakes, a little too harshly, sending him and his passenger rocking forward as the car stopped just short of rear-ending the one in front.  He let out a frustrated sigh and slumped in his seat, crumpling his suit jacket a little -- there was a lot riding on this meeting, as the success of their little start-up tech company hinged entirely on impressing this much larger corporation of the efficacy and profitability of their product, and having invested much of his own time, effort, and money into this it was as much a judgement on his personal future as his professional.

“Why do you want to break up with Gilly?” asked James suddenly.


“You said you wanted to break up with your girlfriend.”

Pat shook his head.  “A break, not a break-up.  Just until she gets her life sorted.”

“Does it need to be sorted?  She seems pretty happy where she is.”

By now the traffic had crawled on forwards for another few yards, before halting again.  This time, James was a little more prepared and careful with the brakes and the car came gracefully to a halt.

“That’s the problem,” said Pat.  He let go of the handle and rested his arm on the bottom of the open passenger window.  Beyond the confines of the car, the ordinary life of the city carried on; the streets filled with people going about their daily business, and despite being thousands of miles away from home it was quite reassuring at just how normal the scene felt.


“She’s too comfortable where she is,” Pat continued.  “No ambition and no drive.  Doesn’t even have a job.  I don’t want to stay in bloody Sheffield for the rest of my life, but we’ll never be able to afford a place in London with just my salary even if we pull off this thing.”

“When we pull it off,” insisted James.  The flow of traffic had started again, but this time at a mere crawl.  The city slipped past them slowly.  

“And then there’s that weird fetish thing she’s into,” said Pat.  “The giant woman thing.  She keeps it to herself, most of the time, but she once mentioned making effects clips for fans of this sort of thing and I…”  He shuddered, bringing his fist up to his lips as though to suppress the urge to vomit.  “I can’t get involved in something that weird.”

James turned his head and shot Pat a disapproving look, before apparently remembering he was in control of a vehicle and snapped his attention back onto the road, just before he could accidentally drift into the wrong lane.

“I thought she had a job,” said James, ignoring the uncomfortable topic.

Pat snorted, apparently trying to stifle a laugh.  “Selling homemade soap on Etsy?  That’s not a real job, and she’s behind on her orders anyway.  Gilly’ll get bored of that and give up, like she’s always done.”  He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.  “She’s not as thick as people think, she’s just lazy.  She went to uni, after all, but just… I dunno, can’t be arsed to do anything with it.  She has no ambition, no drive, and I need someone who shares mine.”

There was a pause.  James stared at the traffic ahead as he nervously guided the car onwards, while Pat stared out of the window at the streets.

“So, you think taking a break will encourage her to find a ‘real’ job?” said James once the traffic had settled into a consistent flow forwards.

“I mean, we aren’t serious in our relationship, yet,” said Pat with a shrug.  “She’s fun, bloody hell she’s a lot of fun, but if we’re going to take it to the next level, as in, move in together, I want to make sure she can keep up with me.  I don’t want her to just coast along.”

“How do you reckon she’ll take it?”

“I haven’t made up my mind just yet.”  Pat paused, scratching at his half-grown beard and wishing that he had the time to trim it before leaving the hotel.  “I told her I want us to move to London, but she doesn’t like London.  Gilly doesn’t like big cities.  We won’t be able to afford a place unless she starts earning too.  Hopefully that’ll nudge her in the right direction.”

“Are you sure you want to do that now?” said James.  As he spoke he didn’t take his eyes off the road ahead, but he arched an eyebrow.  “I’m no expert on these things, but on a business trip in a foreign country away isn’t the best place to tell her to get a job or you’re leaving.”

Pat snorted, shaking his head.  “I’m not putting it like that, exactly.  Just... you know, we’ll have dinner tonight and I’ll tell her that I want to take things to the next level, and hopefully she’ll put two-and-two together and realise that she’ll need to keep up with me.”

James was quiet for a few moments, as the traffic picked up more speed and the city rushed past.  A riot of colour - houses, peoples, offices, shops, and streets - rushed past the windows.  The bridge that would take them across the shallow river that sliced through the metropolis and separated the financial and business districts from the urban and suburban sprawl was visible in the distance, past the department stores and fast food places.

“Have you got that out of your system now?” said James.


“I need you to focus here, Pat.”  James tapped his hand on the steering wheel for emphasis.  “If we pull this off, and pull it off well, then you won’t need to worry about Gilly having to get a ‘proper’ job ever again.”


Gilly was bored.  She lay on the bed, still wearing only her panties still moist from her earlier masturbation and the unbuttoned blouse, uncaring that anyone might be able to look through the ground floor window and see her with her tits out.  It was shaping up to be a warm day, and she, a northern lass with pale, freckled skin, struggled with the heat and bright sunlight of this place.  The air-conditioning seemed to be wholly inadequate, even though it was seemingly on full-blast judging by that harsh humming noise, punctuated by ominous coughs and gurgles that meant she could never get used to it.  The TV mounted on the wall opposite was on, showing some daytime chat show but she wasn’t really watching it; a shrill American woman was screaming at some man while security guards in black held them back, but what they were all upset about she had lost all interest in.  The other channels weren’t much better.

She reached over to the bedside table and picked up her phone for the umpteenth time.  The wifi was slow and choppy here, and she wasn’t about to waste what little personal money she still had on using data.  Checking social media was out of the question then, not unless she wanted to wait ten minutes for the page to load, only for it to cut out again.  There was nothing to do, except venture outside into the strange, vast city where she knew no one except the boyfriend who had abandoned her to this fate of boredom.

Her stomach gurgled noisily, and Gilly was suddenly aware that she was very hungry, having skipped breakfast (Pat’s climax notwithstanding).  She rubbed her stomach, her slender fingers sinking into the small amount of soft pudge that formed around her belly, and turned her head to look out of the window; there was a fast food restaurant just opposite the hotel, and the garish sign, atop a pole like some sort of primitive totem, was just visible from her position on the bed.  The bright red and yellow beckoned to her, promising the sort of greasy, unhealthy food that she loved but had been trying to avoid for the sake of her diet.  

Gilly insisted that she was the right weight for her prodigious height, if erring a little on the heavier side, but even with her modest amount of pudge accentuating the curves of her body, it was hard not to feel a little subconscious about it.  Her stomach growled again, and she could feel it this time.  Sighing, she decided that as she was on ‘holiday’, if it could be called that, on her own, and thoroughly bored and homesick, she might as well just indulge herself and deal with the consequences later.

She was about to get up and find some clothes, and perhaps air out her cum-stained panties for a bit, when her phone blared its obnoxious ringtone.  The screen flashed the dreaded three letter word ‘Mum’.  It had just gone nine o’clock, and Gilly remembered Pat saying that England was six hours ahead, or something like that, which made it… after a few seconds of trying to do the maths in her head, she gave up and answered the phone.


“Gilly!”  The shrill voice practically screamed down the phone.  “How is my little angel?”

“Oh, you know…”  Gilly sucked in a deep breath of air and slowly exhaled.  “Stuck in the hotel again.”

“Aw, has Pat left you on your own again?”  Her mother giggled, and Gilly winced.  “I’m sure he’s working hard and when he gets that job you’ll appreciate it.  Oh, and while I’m at it, pet, I found some more job adverts you should apply for, while you’re not doing anything…”

Her mother droned on about jobs that she was in no way qualified for - management positions that required ten years of experience, technical jobs that required specialist knowledge of things she had never heard of, graduate schemes for fast tracking into management that required the sort of ambitious personality that she simply did not possess.  It was the same talk she had heard a dozen times over, so much so that she zoned out, stopped listening, and looked out of the window and briefly fantasised about a giantess’s foot coming down on the street outside and crushing all beneath it.  The fun image disappeared when her mother abruptly snapped:

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, I am,” said Gilly.  “But I’m on holiday.  I can do all of that when I get home.”

“Oh, Silly-Gilly, it’s a competitive market out there.  Me and your dad didn’t support you through uni just so you could waste your time partying.  Of course, if you’d gone for something useful like Law instead of Art then you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

As she listened to more-or-less the same speech she had heard time and time again, Gilly wanted to snap back - it was her life, after all, and if she wanted to ‘waste’ it partying and having fun instead of working then that was her decision.  Pat would support her, as he always did; he was the ambitious one and she was the fun, creative one, and they’ll find ways to make it work, somehow.  But she held back, and merely said quietly, “Okay, message me the job applications you found and I’ll apply.”

“That’s great!” her mother exclaimed.  “Though you really ought to have found these yourself without me finding them for you.  Now, I best let you get to it, and-  Oh dear, your father’s been trying to get rid of t’ wasps’ nest by kicking it again.  I’ll talk to you soon, Gilly!”

The line went dead and Gilly dropped the phone on the bed, where it bounced a little off the too-firm surface.  It wasn’t fair, she thought, staring at it, but she would lie and say that she applied for those jobs only to be rejected, as she had done before.  It was impossible to escape these ridiculous demands even when on ‘holiday’, such as it was.  The gurgle in her stomach was accompanied by a pang of hunger, and looking out at the fast food place across the road she made up her mind.


Gilly stepped out onto the street and immediately felt rather exposed.  Then again, being a woman over six feet tall with an attractive, curvy figure that was just the right sort of ‘slightly plump’ meant that she was often the centre of attention without meaning to.  That the heat here meant she needed to expose a fair bit of pale, freckled skin didn’t help; she didn’t consider herself particularly fashionable, but a short skirt designed for a lady two-thirds her height accentuated her long, shapely legs and even the relatively loose-fitting blouse showed off her impressive bust by virtue of her having to unbutton the top few buttons in order to allow what little breeze there was to cool her chest.  The most expensive item she wore was a wide-brimmed straw hat.  Owing to her Gaelic heritage, she singed easily in the sun.  That’s why the sunscreen she’d applied before heading out was positively caked on her skin.

It felt worse this time, being in a foreign country and one where the people were not quite so reserved.  They were staring at her.  Someone went ‘mm-hmm’ in approval as she passed him.  Such attention might have been welcomed at a club while she danced, but here, when she just wanted to go and eat something, it made her feel self-conscious.

It also didn’t help that her clothes felt tighter than usual.  Her skirt pinched in around her waist, such that she kept tugging at the waistband when she walked, and it might have been her imagination but it seemed shorter than usual.  The buttons on her blouse seemed to be under more strain from her bust than usual.  The hat pinched around her head and she could feel a headache coming on.  Only her flip-flops, slapping against her heels with each step, still seemed to fit, though only by virtue of not being all that constraining in the first place.

She found she was looking down at other people more than usual.  Perhaps Americans were just shorter on average, she thought, not being in much of a position to argue otherwise.  Or it could have all been the stress of the so-called ‘holiday’ and her mother’s absurd expectations.  Something loaded with grease and carbs would help her feel better.

The morning rush hour had passed, so there wasn’t much of a queue at least.  Though the air-conditioning provided a respite from the warmth outside, Gilly still felt quite hot despite the cold air blowing on her skin.  Her stomach gurgled again as she looked up at the menu above the counter.

“Hi, what can I get ya?” the chirpy teenaged girl at the counter exclaimed as Gilly approached.  Behind her, the madness and chaos of a fast food restaurant kitchen proceeded unabated.  Liveried men and women on an assembly-line of mass-produced food; it reminded her of her one and only ‘real’ job cooking fries at a similar establishment back home, where she lasted a mere two weeks before quitting.

“Chicken burger, large fries, and a coke, please love,” said Gilly.

The girl entered in the order on the till.  “I love your accent!  Australian?”

Gilly squinted down at the too-cheerful worker.  “No, Yorkshire,” she said.  

The fast-food worker blinked vacantly up at her.


“Oh.”  She sounded almost disappointed.  “Do you have chicken burgers over there?”

“Only fish and chips,” said Gilly.  The customer service over here would take some getting used to, she thought as she found an empty table and sat there, and it made her miss the comparative apathy with which she was treated back at home.  She paid, collected her order, and sat at table and chair by the vast window that afforded a view of both the street beyond and the hotel building directly opposite.

She was hungrier than she first thought, and tore open the paper wrapping with relish.  The burger contained therein was big, dripping with grease, and could probably only be referred to as being made of ‘chicken’ if one applied a very liberal definition of the term.  It was perfect.  Forgetting table manners, Gilly grabbed it with both hands and took a huge bite out of it.  It tasted almost entirely of salt and grease, but it’s just what she needed.  With the first mouthful she could not help but moan with the pure, simple pleasure of it.

It did not take Gilly long to demolish the burger, and even less time to finish off the fries.  The ‘regular’-sized coke was more of a bucket, and she soon gave up on trying to drink it all; it was mostly full of ice, anyway.  Now satisfied and pleasantly full, she felt instantly happier, and more so than she had been on her own since this trip started.  One of those job-talks with her mother would have put her in a funk for hours, but now, more than ever, she felt motivated to do something more with the rest of the day than waste it all feeling sorry for herself in the hotel room.  There were still those leaflets and brochures in the hotel lobby, advertising such sights as the beach, the stadium, the mall, and so on.  If she felt guilty about indulging, then all that walking around from tourist spot to tourist spot would help relieve some of those extra pounds.

Gilly got up, disposed of her rubbish, and stepped out again into the warm, sunlit street.  The hot sun, starting to beat down in earnest on the city, seemed to tingle on her exposed skin, and the warm breeze stirred her loose blouse.  The street itself seemed a little busier than before, and she weaved her way around and between the locals hurrying on their way to work and the tourists standing around and gawking at the skyline beyond.  Coming to the edge of the pavement she looked to the right, saw that the road was clear, and stepped out to cross it.

The blare of the horn and the scream of rubber on tarmac came from her left.  Gilly had a brief snapshot glimpse of the terrified expression of the driver of the white van bearing down on her before it connected, her entire left side seemed to explode in pain, and she was launched airborne.  Her shriek was cut short when she landed half a dozen yards away in a bloodied, broken heap.

There was a second of shocked, stunned silence, as though time itself had briefly stopped, before bystanders reacted.  One rushed forward, followed by another, and another to Gilly’s side, forming a small crowd around her prone form.  The people there jostled, some pushing their way forward to try and render assistance or simply get a closer look.  Entreaties to clear some space for her fell on deaf ears.  Phones were whipped out, calling for the ambulance and the police, with some merely posting what they had just seen on social media.  Someone rushed back into the restaurant to get water and inquire after a first aid kit.

The driver remained in his van, hands wrapped tightly around the wheel with his knuckles white, his body frozen and his mouth gaping in mortal shock at having struck her.  Someone beat the window to his left, but he didn’t hear it, for he was fixated upon the sight before him.  A shudder seemed to go through the crowd, like a ripple through the pond.  Those closest to the stricken woman seemed to recoil, and there was some sort of commotion taking place closer to her, but the driver couldn’t quite make out what was going on.  He leaned forward, bobbing his head to get a better look, until he froze once more as he witnessed a miracle.

Gilly stood up.  And up.

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