Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 16

"Don't!" she gasped, "Give it to me, baby... Fill me up!"

"But," he panted, "I'm not... wearing a... condom." She shook her head, reaching back as if she could hold him inside of her.

"It's OK," she gasped, "I'm safe." She giggled, then, "Didn't you... read the forms?... I have... an IUD." The surgeon gave a choked laugh, catching hold of Sharon's trim waist as he thrust into her harder than before, losing the tempo he had been maintaining. Sharon came in a rush, trembling visibly as he cut loose, as well. He pulled away when they had both quieted, and Sharon turned, lounging against the bed, one leg bent, her hand cupping her sex as he hurriedly zipped up, checking to see if he had left any sign of their coupling on his slacks. Sharon considered pointing out she had left them visibly damp, but he expertly closed his coat, hiding the evidence, and she guessed it would dry quickly enough in the dessert's arid climate.

"Mmmm, thank you, doctor," she smiled broadly, lifting her hand and licking their mixed fluids off, reluctantly pressing her thighs together, which ruined the sexy image she had been offering, but kept her from dripping onto the tile, "That's the best medicine." Dr. Panchonin managed a smile.

"You must be very good at your job," he wiped at his brow, "And I hope that what we did for you helps."

"Oh, it will," Sharon was certain that was true, "But between you and me, thank you for not letting Dave insist on the largest possible implants." The physician laughed.

"He did seem to take 'going big' too literally." They laughed, the surgeon becoming more cocky as he decided he was going to get away with his little ethics violation. "But your new breasts are beautiful. And thank you for..." He stopped and grinned like a little boy sharing a dirty secret. "I'll let the nurse know you're ready to leave, so whenever... Dave gets back."

"He didn't wait?" Sharon was not really surprised, and she was glad Dr. Panchonin was not asking about their arrangement. The surgeon laughed.

"You're a naughty temptress, but I would not have gotten close to letting that happen if he was here," the surgeon said, and Sharon recognized the lie before he had finished speaking. "They'll have a list of precautions for you. No bath or shower for another day," Sharon arched a brow and looked down at her neatly trimmed sex, prompting a nervous laugh, "Well, nothing that gets your breasts wet," he compromised, "No strenuous exercise for a week. Keep the ointment the nurses will give you on the incision lines... That will help reduce any scarring. And put some on before your doctor takes them out so that they come out more easily." Sharon nodded, "Our number is there, so you can call if there are any questions or if you are ever back in town." Sharon smiled and thanked him again, and then Dr. Panchonin was backing toward the door. "Uhm... you might at least take the robe," he pointed to where it was hanging by the head of the bed. Sharon giggled but reached for it. She paused, though.

"Dr. Panchonin?" He stopped,

"Yes?"

"I have another little problem," she frowned pulling the dress out of the plastic sack. "I seem to have lost my panties." The doctor blinked, as if wondering why that would matter, since she had had breast implants. Then he realized. He waved a dismissive hand.

"Here," he moved to a bank of drawers, opening one, then another, a stopped at the third, "I guess it's a good thing we like to advertise." He withdrew a small cellophane pouch and leaned close enough to hand it off to Sharon. She smiled, seeing his signature in the same lilac across the front of a pair of cotton boyfriend underwear.

"I'm glad it's not a thong," Sharon quipped. Without thinking, the surgeon grabbed another package, tossing it onto the bed.

"Oh, we have those, too," he smiled, "I'm sure you'll look amazing in them. But no," he remembered again why a thong might be less than ideal, "I think those will suit you best for now." Then he had moved to the door.

"Thank you again, Mrs. Sobel. Lets us know if ever we can... help you again." Sharon slipped into the panties, after wiping up what she could with Kleenex that were beside the bed. She slipped into the dress, noticing that with her new bustline the fabric was noticeably tighter over her chest. She had just gotten into her heels and was considering going to the door when a harried but beautiful nurse burst in.

"Dr. P said," she paused, staring openly at Sharon's revealing dress, "Wow," she said, then smiled at Sharon, "That' s beautiful." She seemed to realize she was not behaving very professionally, "Uhm, most women leave here in sweat suits," she smiled, "Even the show girls... You'd make them all feel so frumpy." Sharon beamed at her new friend. "I have your papers and the ointment..." she glanced at Sharon's top, "It should probably go on again now... they put some on in the OR, but it usually comes off with the gauze." Sharon nodded, and let the nurse help her to uncover one breast and then the other, dabbing the ointment around the edge of each areola. "Wow," the nurse smiled as she finished up, "This is easier than with a sweatshirt too." Sharon resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss the beautiful woman.

"Does everyone who works here have to be gorgeous?" she asked in stead. The woman dimpled.

"Thanks. But no... I mean, I guess we're all right, but most women ask if Dr. P has 'fixed us' all." Sharon feigned shock, glad she had not asked that. "We say no, and it's not like it's a requirement, but if you can get tightened here and tucked there for just the cost of the materials," she winked at Sharon, "If anyone ever asks you if these are real, honey, you just answer, 'they are now'." Sharon laughed and nodded. The woman gave her the papers, which repeated what Dr. Panchonin had already advised. She signed herself out, seeing the 'paid in full- cash' notation on her chart, and let the staff show her to the main entrance.

It was late afternoon, she guessed. The towering hotels of the strip were visible to the northwest, she guessed from the angle of the sun and shadows. It would be too far to walk. She was surprised and more than a little frustrated that Dave was not there. She looked at her clutch purse, wondering if she had Korfa's card. She wondered what her fan would say about the 'New Sharon,' as she started to look, taking her cell phone out to make the call.

"Sharon!" She looked up as Dave got out of a cab to the left where it had just pulled in under the center's awning. She breathed a sigh of relief and hurried over, letting Dave hug her as if they were a married couple.

"Where were you?" she asked, "I thought I was going to have to get a cab back to the casino."

"We're not going back to the casino," Dave shook his head, "It's cheaper to fly back tonight, and you can't be... well, you can't be entertaining for awhile, so there's no point in spending more time paying for the suite."

"Where were you?" He shrugged.

"I went back to the tables." Dave frowned, "I should've known better... Without my lucky charm I wasn't winning a thing." She frowned.

"Your lucky charm?"

"You, my beautiful ZB Bitch," Dave laughed, and Sharon blushed, realizing the cabbie was listening in. "Wait here," Dave warned unnecessarily, "I think you left something."

"I what?"

"I got something for you, but you didn't know it was there," Dave had stepped away from the cab, "I'll be right back, just wait..." And then he was gone. Sharon sat in the cab, ignoring the open stare of the swarthy Turkish cabbie, wondering why she had not told Dave she was not entirely out of commission. She decided that she had been busy enough since New Year's that a few days without might be just what the doctor ordered.

Having asked what room Sharon had been in, Dave repeated the story about his gift to the nurse, assuring her he could find it without help. He paused inside the room Sharon had recovered in, making sure the nurse did not follow him in . On the counter by the sink he had set one of the little Go Pro style cameras that they used. He slipped it into his pocket, recovering the second that had been set on the window sill, and the last camera, which he had stuck to the wall beside the closet. Opening the closet door, he took out the blinged tie dyed shirt he had purchased for his ZB Bitch, oversized as a sleep shirt, and emblazoned 'what happens in Vegas,' on the front, and 'Stays in Vegas' on the back, which was surrounded by a brightly colored mosaic of the various things people did 'only' when visiting the city of sin.

"It doesn't all stay in Vegas," Dave murmured to himself, unaware at the time that it had been genius that he had insisted Dr. Panchonin sign a waiver under the guise of 'protecting Sharon's name' if anyone came asking if the surgeon had done work on her. It had been a gambit he had expected to lose, and had been amazed when the harried surgeon had scribbled his name on the sheet even as he had crossly insisted to Dave that patient physician confidentiality was more than enough protection. He guessed seeing the entire payment up front and in cash had helped with that. And the good doctor had even given them a discount, which had provided Dave the money he had squandered at the casino while awaiting Sharon's recovery.

He had worried that they should have gone bigger, but the Indian or Pakistani surgeon had been spot on, he could admit to himself: Sharon looked amazing. She had nearly been glowing, and Dave wondered how long he would have to wait until he could play with their toy's new additions. Making a final survey of the room, Dave stepped out, thanked the nurse who was coming out of another patient's room, and headed for the exit. The plastic surgeon appeared at the far end of the corridor, and Dave waved his thanks, amused when the smaller man returned the wave hurriedly and ducked into the next room. He guessed keeping the ritzy place running would mean hustling as many patients through as possible.

A moment later he was seated beside Sharon as the cab rolled toward McCarran. And not ninety minutes later, they were airborne, the ZB Bitch asleep, so that she missed the probing gaze of every man walking by their seats, enjoying the revealing dress's plentiful cleavage and bare skin, and the acrimonious looks from the women aboard, who were all a frumpy collection of left overs, including the co-eds who on boarding had seemed ready to do a 'Girls Gone Wild' Mild High edition, and the exhausted housewife who one of Dave's frat brethren had delivered to the airport, after her 'audition weekend.'

Mrs. Mary Gardner had provided some first class footage, Dave knew form the intermittent messages and e-mails he had been getting. She wasn't a pole dancer, yet, but had taken it as well as Sharon at Sapphire the night before. He would have to wait to see if she really had that 'it' factor that was almost oozing from Sharon's pores. He knew the adventurous wife had had a cock in her mouth and cunt or ass almost non-stop until seconds before they had dropped her at the curb, and he could only guess that she had not gotten much sleep during her trip to Vegas, so it was no surprise that she was, like Sharon, sleeping through the flight. He leaned back, enjoying the envious looks of the other male passengers, and wondered how Sharon would enjoy what else they had planned for their pet housewife.

Next: Sgt. Pepper's Band.