Naked Sushi Read Online Free PDF Page B

Cindy.
    Still, it was Cindy who came to my rescue when the foster family I was living with tossed me out after I checked their computer and found out they were bilking the system. Her parents were squeamish about having a high school tech whiz with a questionable past under their roof until I showed her dad how to use his new computer software to maximize his tax deductions. Without their support, I would have fallen through the cracks and ended up on the streets. Instead, I went to college and dragged Cindy along with me, much to her family’s relief. We were best pals, though we had different goals. I wanted to be a spy, which made Cindy roll her eyes. She wanted to be a reality TV star. I put up with her dreams and she put up with mine. No questions asked. It was an unbreakable bond between us.
    “You wouldn’t have passed his class without me, would you?” I shot back.
    “No, but—”
    “I so need this favor, Cindy.” I said, poking around her cramped bedroom. Her Barbie doll collection with their sparkly gowns and tiaras grinned at me from every corner. As if they knew my ass was on the line.
    “The restaurant owner has strict rules about anyone taking my place at the table,” she insisted. She bit down on her lip anxious-like when she heard a text come in.
    “Just this once,” I begged. As long as I didn’t spill sake all over Mr. Briggs, I didn’t see what the big deal was. “I’ll give you the tips, too.”
    Cindy looked at me funny, which I didn’t understand. Last I heard she was a waitress at The Mermaid’s Tale in between acting gigs. If you could call being a pair of dancing legs in a commercial an acting job.
    “I’m not allowed to accept tips,” she said, reading the text.
    “Why not? The Mermaid’s Tale is a hot spot for business luncheons. Are these guys that tight with their money?” I asked. When the one-percenters stopped tipping the pretty waitresses, you knew the economy was bad.
    She blushed. “I got promoted at the restaurant.”
    “Are you a cook?” I asked, imagining myself chopping up raw fish and cutting off a finger.
    “I’m a sushi model.”
    “A what?”
    “Men eat raw sushi off my naked body.”
    “Jesus fricking Christ.” I flipped out at the thought of having to take off my clothes to get my job back.
    “You may be in luck after all, Pepper,” Cindy said, tapping a message on her phone. “I just got word the hair show audition is next Thursday.”
    “So?” Why did I ever come up with this dumb idea?
    “The manager is cool about letting me go on auditions since he’s an actor, too. He won’t say anything.” Her face lit up. “I’ll do it.”
    “Hold on, Cindy, I wouldn’t want you to lose your job,” I said, stalling. Suddenly my bright idea didn’t seem so bright. This was so not in my line of work. I was a programmer, not a supermodel.
    “Where’s your James Bond spirit, Pepper?”
    “You don’t wear anything? ” I had to ask. The idea of my body as the sushi blue-plate special of the day made me cringe. I got goose bumps thinking about the icy cold fish wiggling between my thighs, even if they were dead fish.
    “A banana leaf covers me here .” She pointed to her crotch. “And big chrysanthemums cover my breasts.”
    “ How big?”
    “Big enough. Since I got my implants, we’re about the same size.”
    I still wasn’t convinced. I’d been hiding my body under red flannel tent city so long, I wasn’t sure I’d pass the hot bod test. Sure, I was thin because I often forgot to eat when I was working, but I didn’t have a tan. Cindy assured me I could wear body makeup. It was like having a thin sheet over your bare skin, she said.
    A sheet over my face was a better idea.
    I’d die of embarrassment if anyone I knew saw me lying spread-eagled with raw fish all over me.
    Then I recalled Ms. Sims snarling at me to pack up and leave, waving her broomstick if she’d had one. A surge of daring rose up in me. This was my only chance to