A chilly, but not cold fall day in central park and a strolling lawyer rubbed his stinging cheek as he stammered an apology to the fiancé he was taking the walk with. An apology that would likely go over better if he wasn't occasionally glancing behind
them to the hips of the young woman he'd been ogling to spur the slap in the first place. It would also likely help if he could get the notion out of his head that real girls wiggled and shimmied like her, not lumbering like his wife-to-be. Part of him knew
this wasn't how he'd viewed her before, that he liked her specifically because she was classy, refined... prudish... He shook a head filled, all of a sudden, with the scent of sex and cheap perfume and resumed his contrition, wondering if he could talk her
into a thong for the wedding night...
Meanwhile, the minx that had caused the argument shook her ass for Mr 'Classy Chicks 4 Me' with a smirk and a giggle. She could've had him dump that frigid cow right there in the park and fuck her over a park bench right in front of her, or had the ice queen
beg her for tips to make a real man want her... but she'd done that last week and this couple weren't nearly sickeningly sweet enough to need that. Still, she tugged her ragged denim-cut-offs up a little higher, baring most of her artificially tanned asscheeks,
making a visible cameltoe in the front, and adjusted the tear in her far-too-small wifebeater, letting a little more cleavage and surgically enhanced tit-flesh spill out. The sight would be striking in it's sluttishness anywhere, but it was more notable here
for what the response was. Even without using her gifts, Sindy had most eyes gravitate to her. A few, the younger or sleazier men, ogled openly. Others snuck a glance before looking away, not wishing to seem interested. And more sneered or whispered snide
remarks to the person beside them, or simply shook their head in disdain.
Or that was the initial reaction. As she passed, the surreptitious glances turned more open, and the men and women behind them started to glance to others, almost as if comparing. And the stuck-up, jeering eyes became shamed, curious. A particularly aghast
female cop became transfixed by Sindy's swinging hips and almost despite herself, found herself wanting to mimic that sashay and shivering when she got a few stares of her own.
That was Sindy's power. No matter how much they looked down on Sindy the Skank, she could make them crave trash, need sleaze. She could make a nun into a street whore with enough of her power, and make the most 'family value's city councilman jizz himself for
the sluttiest stripper in town. But after a while, those games got dull. When you've made the preacher's daughter into the wet-cunnied toy for the dykes at the Leather Kitty, you're running out of challenges...
And that led her to NYC. Home of the Avengers. The X-Men. The Fantastic Four. The Thunderbolts. And any other tights or armour wearing guardian of moral superiority. Sindy wasn't sure what got her juices flowing more. The heroes who looked down at her for not
being all sweet and innocent. Or the heroines that dressed like BDSM bitches and had the nerve to act like she was the nasty one.
"Now, where kin little ol' Sindy find a super motor ta give some revvin'?" she pondered
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