Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“Dr. Bannon is ready to see you now.” Honey uncrossed her legs, grabbed her oversized, purple and pink bedazzled, gaudy purse, and smiled as the nurse approached her in the waiting area. After tugging on her pushup bra to adjust it, she made her way down the hall.
“So how long have you been in Denver? I saw you’re new here on your paperwork,” the nurse asked.
“Yeah, I just moved here, about two months ago. I love it!” she said cheerfully, chewing extra hard on her gum. She’d shown a fake I.D. with the name Toya Cathdale, and had already secured a cheap apartment in town, in her name. She’d covered all the bases.
“Oh, wow. You’re very new. Well, welcome!” the woman chirped as she led her into an examination room.
“Thank you.”
“All righty… so, have a seat. Thank you for filling out your forms in advance. Dr. Bannon likes us to ask this question again, just to make sure. I wanted to double check, have you ever had any prior plastic surgery?”
“Dental.” She pointed to her pearly whites.
“Okay, awesome.” The nurse made notes on her tablet. “And you stated you’d be paying in cash?”
“Yes, I’ve been savin’ up for this for a long time.”
“Okay, got it. So Toya, undress from the waist up, make yourself comfortable, and Dr. Bannon will be in to see you shortly, okay?”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Of course.” The nurse exited the room, leaving her to wait alone. The room was cold in temperature, but warm and inviting on the décor front. Nice, peaceful colors of sage and yellow. Two plants. Artwork of beautiful female silhouettes. It was immaculately clean, and one poster on the wall detailed the various insurances they accepted. She removed her shirt, then her bra, and hung the articles of clothing over the side of a nearby chair. Then, she placed the paper vest she’d been offered over her shoulders and sat on the table, rocking quietly to the beat of the instrumental music. She glanced down at her breasts. Goosebumps covered her arms, and her nipples hardened from the crisp bite in the air.
Taking several deep breaths, she ran various scenarios around in her mind, then she remembered the big, warm hug Irish had given her before she headed to the garage with Archer. This was her future sister-in-law’s way of getting vindication, too. Irish had tearfully confessed the night prior, while heavily intoxicated, that her lawyer had said her ability to get shared custody of her son would be difficult because of her recent imprisonment. The woman was losing hope. Honey assured her that where there’s a will, there’s a way. Be patient with yourself, Irish. You will get your son back…
All three of them wanted more. Wanted something. Needed something. A precious, invisible, yet oh so real outcome they could hold and be proud of. All of them, in one way or another, had been searching for love in some way. Irish had tried to find it in a casino. Archer, by working under the table, feeling useful and needed by the downtrodden—boys and men just like him. She’d tried to find it by immersing herself in her work, and pursuing precarious sagas. She’d run from love, but chased danger. Maybe to her, they were one and the same—only in truth love was far more perilous.
A knock at the door forced her out of her deliberations.
“Ms. Cathdale, it’s Dr. Bannon,” came a masculine voice. “May I come in?’
“Yes, please.” She started to smack her gum again and crossed her long legs.
The door opened wide and there stood a tall, wide man wearing a white doctor’s coat. He grinned from ear to ear when their eyes met. Lust clouded his eyes like a billowing dark curtain. Closing the door behind himself, he entered the room, a tablet in hand. No nurse with him. Interesting. He shook her hand, then took a seat right in front of her, on a low brown stool with wheels. The doctor looked down at the tablet now parked on his knee, adjusted his glasses as he read, and looked back up at her. His gaze trailed from her lips, down her neck, and stopped on her breasts.
“So, you want to go from a C cup to a DD, correct?”
“Yes… I’d feel more comfortable. I’ve always hated my breasts,” she lied. She loved her tits, even with their imperfections.
He nodded, got to his feet, and parted her vest like Moses did the Red Sea to reveal her nakedness. She gritted her teeth, then quickly composed herself, putting a smile on her face as he explored along the sides of her breasts with cold, icy hands. The big, freckled fingers pushed and prodded her tits. The entire time, he said little.
“…You have nice breasts.”
“Thank you.”
“One of them, your left one, is smaller than the right, but that’s not uncommon, and you could also use a lift, but that would be taken care of during the surgery.”