Clean

Mai knew she could do better. Puberty had gifted her short frame with a fertile figure, which she had parlayed into a successful modeling career. Unfortunately, in Japan, that only made her an expensive piece of meat as far as most men were concerned. Every guy she dealt with felt it was his prerogative to cop a boob, grab her ass, and make the most disgusting propositions. There was nothing she could do about this except deal with it on a case-by-case basis.

Some people pilot racing blimps. Some people are racing blimps.

Carry awoke with a strong groggy feeling overwhelming her. She couldn't remember exactly what had happened before she passed out. She was at a frat party with the rest of her sorority, and she recalls her leader being the first to follow one of the frat boys into the basement. They closed the doors and then...Then... From then its all just a haze. Carry got herself up on her feet and looked around. The room was medium large, with a small bed behind her, and an entertainment center in front of her. To her left was a doorway and a closed door.

I strolled down the row of racers, the sponsors and the sponsors’ painters, already hard at work on the costumes. I nodded casual greetings to the other racers. Jenny, a longtime friend and former lover, was already getting her logo painted on her belly--a large AT&T logo, plus several other smaller sponsors’ logos.

“You’re lucky to snag them,” I said. “How much for?”

“Three million plus endorsements and commercials. Who’d you get?”

I told her. She laughed.