Elisa Adams - Midnight.pdf

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Elisa Adams
Midnight
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Elisa Adams
Midnight
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Elisa Adams
Midnight
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MIDNIGHT
An Ellora’s Cave publication in association with author:
ELISA ADAMS
MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-403-5
Mobipocket (PRC) ISBN # 1-84360-404-3
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), & HTML
(c) Copyright ELISA ADAMS, 2003.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave.
Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. USA
Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK
This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without author and publisher
permission.
Edited by
MARTHA PUNCHES
Cover Art by
KATHY LAFOLLETT
Elisa Adams
Midnight
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Warning:
The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers.
MIDNIGHT has been rated NC 17, erotic, by three independent reviewers. We strongly
suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this e-
book are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy...
Elisa Adams
Midnight
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Chapter 1
Amara walked out of wardrobe, her thigh-high, four-inch-heeled, artificial leather
boots making a horrible rustling sound with every step she took. She might as well have
wrapped her legs in trash bags. It would have had the same effect.
She tugged at the top of the black vinyl bustier, trying in vain to contain her breasts.
When were these people going to learn that there was a huge difference between a B
cup and a D cup?
Whoever designed this costume ought to be shot.
They seemed to get
skimpier and skimpier with every film.
She’d thought it was bad enough when she’d had to stuff herself into those leather
pants for the first film. By the second, the pants had been changed to a mini skirt, which
was later changed to a micro-mini and a halter top. It amazed her that, as the films
gained popularity and the budget skyrocketed, the material used in each costume got
smaller and smaller. You’d think they could at least afford something that would cover
her ass.
“You doing okay, Amara?”
She turned, her hands on her hips, ready to take out her frustrations. As it just so
happened, the director, Robby Baker, appeared in the hall. “No, Robby, I’m not. I can’t
even move in this getup. I don’t understand how you expect me to run around like this.
I can barely walk without some part of my body popping out.”
“Come on, Amara. For your age, you have a terrific body.”
Her age? She didn’t realize that thirty-three had suddenly become over-the-hill.
“A lot of woman have to pay to get tits like yours. They’re not naturally blessed
like you, honey.”
The last time she considered herself “blessed” in the breast department was in
eighth grade. Then she learned how much
fun
it was to walk around all day with two
mounds the size of grapefruits hanging from her chest.
“I’m not going to flash my breasts for the camera. If you want that, you can find
someone else.”

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