"What are you doing with the rock?" Jon asked. "Did you make any wishes? And why are you covering up?" He ventured to add, "I thought you liked your breasts."
"Of course I do," Karyn quickly admitted, "but --"
Jon's mother poked her head in the door. "Jon, Karyn, would you like some French toast?"
"That'd be great," said Jon with a smile.
Karyn could only nod. Jane Gibson was wearing only a flowered miniskirt and a pair of stripper-style clear plastic platform heels. Her breasts looked surprisingly perky for a 40-something woman with 3 kids.
"Great," said Jane. "It'll be ready in about 10 minutes."
Jon turned back to Karyn, who was still torn between her love of her boobs and the fact that she knew women were supposed to wear tops except for certain special occasions -- it was one thing to have dreams and fantasies about showing off your breasts, but it was something else to have apparently changed the world so that everyone did it without thinking twice about it.
"So what's the problem?" asked Jon. He encircled Karyn's wrists with his hands, and she let him pull her arms down, exposing herself. He then gently took the rock out of her hand.
Looking down at the flesh that was revealed, Jon said, "Wow, those look amazing." The words gave Karyn a thrill. Maybe it was for the best that she'd changed the world. Her perfect breasts would enthrall guys even more without being partially covered by fabric. She could have anything, and maybe anyone, she wanted.
And then Jon blurted, "I wish..."
