“Okay, it’s like this…” Mollie explained gently, feeling extra pressure now that not only was the girl she had been hired to cook questioning the necessity of one of the most important aspect of the process but every single one of the party guests was listening, intrigued to see how she was going to turn this situation around. “You’ve seen a roast chicken, right? Or even a girl? Oh!” Inspiration hit her. “You remember when we roasted Timothy for your Sidney party?”

“I’m hardly likely to forget!” Megan reminded her with a little giggle.

“Well you remember how crispy his skin was when he carved him?”

“Definitely! Mmm!” Megan closed her eyes for a moment and licked her lips, savouring the memory. “His crackling was so good! And I know Daddy’s looking forward to some of mine!”

“Precisely!” Mollie nodded, glad that Megan was at least attempting to follow her thought-process. “Now imagine you’re turning on the spit with these tugging and flopping around as you put it.” Now she did reach forward and take hold of Megan’s breasts but instead of squeezing or pretending to milk them, she cupped them underneath and lifted them up and down a few times to remind her of their not inconsiderable weight. “All well and good until your skin starts to crisp up and lose its elasticity! What do you suppose happens then?”

“Yikes!” Megan gasped then sucked in through her teeth. “You mean they could actually tear off? I don’t like the sound of that at all!”

“Precisely!” Mollie nodded. “For us spit-roasters, big books are both a blessing and a curse, huh?” Megan giggled. Of course she had heard from her friend Courtney that Mollie had taken her up on her offer and would be roasting for her the weekend after next. “But if you really hate the idea of the skewers,” Mollie continued kindly in a gentle tone, still cupping the teen’s lovely breasts in her hands, “then the alternative is we cut them off first, wrap them in foil and bake them in the coals like potatoes. It’s up to you,” she reiterated, “but we really do have to do one or the other.” Megan seemed to consider this for a moment, putting her own hands on her boobs almost protectively as Mollie slid hers away and looking down at them.

“I guess we should do the skewers.” she said after a distinctly pregnant pause. “Will you do them now or once I’m spitted?”

“Once you’re spitted is easier.” Mollie explained, standing up then offering her hand to help Megan to her feet. “Speaking of which, looks like everyone’s getting hungry!” Megan looked out at the small crowd of guests who were eager to see her cooking and even more so to feasting on her roasted meat and grinned proudly. “Let’s not keep them waiting, eh?”


To be continued...