Chapter One

The warm and salty wind was coming up from the coast to the foothills: it passed among the tamarisks and maritime pine forests, bringing to the edge of the pool the scent of resinous trees. It was a beautiful sunny day in the early summer of Ibiza.
Lisa was lying on a sunbed, with her legs bent and her thin arms abandoned above the head. He was 24 years old, green eyes, full lips and soft features, almost like a baby, honey-colored hair on a tanned complexion, so unusually for a woman born in Denmark: nature had endowed her with a slim body that any man would have called perfect, if not for a little anomaly.
Lisa had enormous breasts. And huge not by the meaning of the term we use everyday: not a fifth or a sixth size that would have caused embarrassment to many other girls. Lisa had a breast that was huge even according to the canons of a lap dancer of a topless bar in Las Vegas, absolutely disproportioned and, even more incredible, completely natural. As she lay half asleep under the rays of the sun, her breasts gently settled down on the side of his defined chest, slightly sustained by the laces of her big black bikini.
Lisa had been universally known, for many years, as the model with the largest natural breasts in the world. A marvel not only for its size, but because, unlike many of her colleagues, Lisa performed her dowries with an unique easiness. It was just the innate naturalness with which she moved, walked and made every daily action that hitted whoever was watching her: her big breasts, whose weight could be guessed from the smooth curve formed by them resting on the chest, however, seemed to ignore the power of gravity, almost in an impertinent way.
The skin still wet, a pleasant chill caused by the light breeze: Lisa was lying down, her eyes closed fixed to the sun. She was following the scrawls of his thoughts unconsciously, in a kind of pleasant numbness.
She thought, perhaps because of that warm wind that touched her gently, about the day her life changed.
Had left the previous night from her small village in Denmark, a few days after the death of his mother. The only given decision at the time was that she would not be turning back; she had left behind the technical institutel, some boy that was drooling behind her and an adolescence full of humiliation.
She had stopped all physical activity at the age of fifteen, not because of the weight of her breasts but of the continual mockery of the classmates and lustful stares of peers: she spent years wrapped up in large sweaters to hide, even to herself , how much she was different from the others. When her mother died she realized that could not sustain all that by herself. She also realized that, if she had to wear the eyes of all people she met, she might as well do it for money.
So that morning, after she arrived in Hamburg and ate a sandwich at the station bar, she walked in the snow toward the red light district. She walked up and down the main street maybe for an hour. She was looking for a different place, that amid the squalor of the cold winter light could, somehow, instill to her courage and confidence.
Eventually he stopped in front of a strip club, not because it was better or worse than the others, but because an old lady, the only living being in the neighborhood, was cleaning the entrance.
"Excuse me, there's the boss?" – she asked.
The woman stared, leaning with both hands on the broom.
"Up the stairs here at your side, right door.
Lisa thanked her and began to climb the stairs, pulling the heavy trolley after her. On the landing he stopped to take a breath, composed herself and knocked at a door covered with layer upon layer of black paint.
"Come in" - said the voice from the inside. Lisa opened the door and entered.
It was not the office that she would have expected to find above a night club. It was primarily warm and welcoming, with carpets on the floor and wood paneled walls: she noticed immediately that there wasn’t even a picture of a naked woman, which she was naturally expected to find; the furnishing consisted of an old leather sofa, a dark wooden desk, a filing cabinet in metal and hundreds, perhaps thousands of bottles of whiskey. There were wooden boxes and loose bottles everywhere, on shelves, on the cupboard beside the front door, on the bookshelf. Noticed that none of these seemed to have been used, no empty glasses around.
The man sitting behind the desk, who was looking over his glasses, was a dumpy gentleman, with a sharp beard and watchful eyes. All square in him, apart from the glasses that seemed, somehow, out of place.
Gunther, that was his name, in his life had drink too much to be a connoisseur and too little to be an alcoholic. He had found, unlike many, his balance, even leading such a particular life as that of the owner of a night club. The practice and experience over the years had moved him away by the other vices that certain circles will forcibly lead and so, at the age of sixty, he was living his profession with the practice of any other employee.
The big girl who stood in front of him had her hair wet: she wearing a heavy parka and a thick scarf around the neck, dripping docker boots that the man looked at with disapproval. As a whole she might seem a young teenager at the limit of obesity, with this coat overly prominent on the front.
"I wondered if, by chance, you were looking for some girl for the club ..." - Lisa began.
"First, would you mind to close the door?"
Lisa looked back, embarrassed, and executed.
"Your name?"
"Lisa" - she said.
Gunther longly stared into her eyes. Lisa looked down.
"Maybe You could try to remove something off."
The girl approached the sofa, unrolled the scarf and took off the parka, leaning everything on the armrest.
The coat had revealed a rough wool Norwegian sweater, under which you could have guessed an unnaturally bulge. The man fell off the back and rested his forearms on the desk, leaning forward, then after a minute of silence, made a gesture with his hand as if to invite her to continue.
Lisa took off her sweater, threw it on the couch and stood there, with a t-shirt so tight that it seemed on the verge of strap. Not now, she no longer seemed obese: the thin arms, the slim waist, the tall figure.
And that full and overflowing breasts, which curves were completely covering the arms hanging at sides, the largest breasts he had ever seen in his personal experience, were watching him. Or so it had seemed at that moment. To complete the moment, maybe for the embarrassment of the situation, the cotton fabric revealed the bulge of her large nipples.
She had a bra, a big old lady's bra whose lines were glimpsing beneath the shirt. Gunther could continue or stop, it would have sufficed another gesture with his hand. But he did not want to embarrass the girl longer than what was strictly necessary: he decided to reserve the surprise for that very night.
Lisa realized in that moment of silence, and smiled slightly.
"Are you major?" - Asked Gunther.
"Eighteen years had just taken place."
There followed another pause that seemed to be very long to Lisa.
"Here we do three shows per night, at 22.00, 24.00 and 2.00: the wage is 30 euros per show, plus tips, of course. If you want you can start tonight. "
"That will be fine, but ..." - she said.
"But ..?"
"You know mister, I've never done anything like that, I do not know if I will be able ..."
"Girl, we're not the Crazy Horse, here: what you have is Just enough."
Lisa took her things from the sofa, dressed and, going out from the office, said, in a deliberately baby voice: "If you say so ..."