Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 16

"Rex Iron," Sharon hoped it did not sound like she was fixating on the big porn star.

"Right. And had you cleaned up this morning?"

"I showered," she said defensively. Dave just stared at her. "No, I didn't really scrub," she admitted.

"I knew you two weren't really soaping up," he said with a grin, not bothering to mention the cameras that had caught all of the action. "So when you were letting Jess eat you out..."

"She was also eating Rex," Sharon finished, nearly laughing.

"That's right... they may not want to, but we brothers always win in the end," Dave smiled, and Sharon dropped the subject.

Late in the show, Sharon had barely been paying attention, pestering Dave about what they were going to do when the awards were done. She had long since stopped watching the screen, telling herself that if she saw another woman throw her head back and moan in orgasm she was going to hike her dress and climb on Dave there in the auditorium, even if they both got arrested.

Abruptly bright lights hit her. She blinked in surprise, looking to the stage to see her image behind the night's presenters, Riley Style and Jessica Dragon. The women were looking out to her, and she heard Riley's too high little girl voice, '... won last night for the best new amateur. She may give our established MILF's a run for their money... Sharon Synn.' Sharon waved, in part to block the bright lights blinding her. She shifted in her seat nervously, watching the scene on stage as she welcomed a young TA into her condo, opening the door naked, and obviously surprising him. She grabbed at the flute of champagne she had taken some minutes before, draining it and grabbing Dave's

"How do you have that footage?" she whispered to Dave, who shrugged.

"That must be while one of us is there."

"Bullshit," she blinked, then stared at him hard, "You have my condo on camera?" Dave smiled.

"Little Bitch, we have you on camera wherever you go." While she knew she should believe he meant that, Sharon could not believe that the frat... even a nationwide fraternity, had such pervasive power. She was distracted from the conversation as Riley opened the envelope.

"This year's winner for the best MILF/ Cougar is... Betty Beam." The applause was not as spontaneous or affectionate as it had been for other awards. The bottle blonde strutted onto the stage, grabbed the award almost violently, and thanked her husband and sons and friends and co workers and the AVN board. She thanked the other stars who worked for her studio... and never once mentioned the other nominees or the fans.

"Another politically expedient vote," someone said nearby, loudly enough to ruffle the feathers of those in her entourage who were nearby. By then, though, Betty had exited just as Sharon had the night before.. Except without so much as a hug from Riley or Jessica.

When the show wound up a few awards later, Jessica reminded everyone that they were invited to go to the nearby club Sapphire, which had been rented out for the evening. Sharon looked at Dave, who just shrugged.

"We can't very well ditch the party when they even nominated you for a main award, right?" Sharon did not argue. She was not shy about emptying the rest of Dave's champagne and grabbing another as they stood up and began to file out with the rest of the crowd.

The club she admitted to herself within the next thirty minutes had been incredibly fun. It had to help that almost everyone was involved the industry, so there were not stingy lechers lining the stage, looking for a chance to cop a feel for a lousy buck. And while not all porn stars dance, there were dancers in the audience, and enough had come up through the clubs that a steady series of impressive performances went on on the clubs seven separate stages. Sharon was impressed that the club's DJ's were able to play radically different music for stages in direct sight without the sound getting muddled.

She was not surprised when Dave 'volunteered her' to dance, and tried to get away with doing a brief spin while wearing her dress, but of course the crowd started to chant, and the married co-ed found herself in a dressing room disturbingly similar to Go's, pawing through the 'community' bin for an outfit that would do the job. She settled on an elf outfit that looked like it had only recently been tossed for anyone to use, hoping the crowd would be able to groove with the just finished holiday theme.

To 'Baby It's Cold Outside' Sharon spun and turned and gave it her all, which the crowd obviously appreciated. The song was nearly over when Sharon realized that one of the other dancers who had been working the stage to her right was Betty Beam... and that most of the crowd was watching Sharon or the other girls. To her horror as she strutted along the narrow stage where she was dancing, she realized that one of the men staring up at her was Betty's husband. Her eyes snapped up to find the blonde superstar glaring her way. She mouthed 'sorry' and dutifully avoided even glancing at the idiot during the rest of her song. He had tossed a twenty onto the glossy black runner, but she did not bother with it-- to her relief no one else was throwing bills onto the stage. The night was about performing for fun, not about profit.

She had been prepared to strip bare, but froze as the last chorus started, uncertain what was legal in Vegas. Bounding to the nearby she breathlessly asked the DJ if that was allowed, and laughing, the man hit the pause and whispered, 'Tonight you can do what you want... it's a private party, baby... but thanks for looking out for me.' She smiled, leaping back to the pole and stripped off the thong and bra as she spun, arching her back so her nude body led into the spin as the song ran out. The crowd, most of whom had figured why she had paused, went wild.

The crowd demanded another number from her later, during which she found that the men and women lining the stage had decided to 'raise the bar' by making the dancers down shots as they worked the number. She lost count of the number of shots she downed in the three minute version of the Black Eyed Peas 'Rock That Body.'

Her name was shouted when the call went out for a 'wet T-shirt contest,' which she had only ever seen in bad teen movies. The cold water spraying from the seltzer bottles guaranteed that her already aroused nipples were rock hard before her third dance, which she did to Pitbull's 'I Like It.'

By then the crowd had dwindled... many were still there and partying, but had retired to sit in groups throughout the club. Only three stages were still working. Sharon nearly gasped as she spun through and let go, catching the pole with the back of her leg and finding herself looking into Korfa's focused gaze. She smiled broadly, pleased that the cabbie had come along to the after party, and asked if he was having a good time as she went on dancing, giving him almost all of her attention. He smiled, nodding, and stammered that it was the best evening he had ever had.

While she agreed it had been a fun evening, and could understand that someone with little contact with women might be overwhelmed by all of the casual sexuality, the idea that he had never had a better night was almost sad. She told him he should drive cabs near where she worked at Snake Eyes so she could give him lap dances. She had not seen anyone taking part in that particular activity, guessing it was too commercial and impersonal for the party goers to really want to do that.

The cabbie told her he would have to imagine it, because he was saving all of his fares to go to school. She nodded that she remembered, reminding him to be sure to pledge ZB when he did. Though she felt bad for teasing him, having such rapt attention was a definite ego stroke for Sharon, who had realized as she eyed the younger thinner women dancing in the club that despite her efforts things were starting to sag. Not for the first time she wondered whether she could get more of the testosterone cream.

She knew her third dance was not her best, but by then she had had so many shots the room threatened to start spinning if she paused. And the men and women still lining the rail at the stage did not seem to mind. Giggling drunkenly, Sharon had slipped down off of the stage, stark naked, after the song ended, and hugged the surprised cabbie, telling the others who were watching that he had saved her when she had arrived in Vegas. She kissed his cheek, thanking her knight in shining armor, then stuck her tongue out at Dave, who had sauntered up at the end of the song.

To her surprise, Dave waved a finger for the nearest waitress, and a moment later three highball glasses had appeared. The ZB brother had given a glass to Korfa and another to Sharon, taking the third for himself. He toasted to Sharon's guardian angel, knocking back the drink, which of course the others had tried to imitate. When Sharon had stopped at the halfway point, he had checked his watch, telling her she should finish it, since she was not supposed to drink anymore after that. Sharon giggled, asking if he would tell her the secret, since she was sure she would not remember, but Dave had merely smiled, clinking his empty glass against theirs.

Both she and Korfa had managed to empty the glass on the second try, and after that things were more than a little hazy. She had a clear memory of looking down to see Korfa under her, eyes wide, hands raised, cupping her bare breasts as she rode him, enjoying the feel of his condom clad cock in her sex. They were doing it on one of the stages, and she knew that there had been people wandering by, cheering them on and making suggestions. At least they had not been the only ones putting on such a show.

She remembered the pretty boy... Betty's hubbie, climbing up on stage and feeding her his average cock, cumming quickly, and demanding she 'swallow it all' even though Chris had managed larger loads. She was glad Korfa had held out until after the dumb brute was done. She remembered Betty demanding Sharon eat her after she climbed down off of Korfa, and how the blonde shivering through an enormous orgasm... as if she had not climaxed in weeks, the queen of porn had offered Sharon a clinging hug and a quiet thanks before she stumbled away from the stage where Dave had somehow arranged for Sharon to put on a sex show for people who did it for a living. She had a blurred memory of blowing Rick, the asshole from the night before, and of Jessca Dragon and she dancing and enjoying a sixty-nine session, as well.

Sharon shivered, trying to pull more blankets higher on her body, but was frustrated by the bandages... BANDAGES? She sat half way up before complaining muscles and something sharper brought her to a stop. She opened her eyes, recognizing that the room was not her suite at the casino... It was a small stark white room with the matching blinds pulled down at the paired narrow rectangular windows in the corner of the room. There was a second bed in the room, but it was empty.

Sharon looked around, finding a clear plastic bag with graceful lavender writing that she could not focus to read. Bandages? She lifted her head, ignoring the low grade protest from her chest, and saw the heavy wrap around her chest. She whimpered, wishing she could remember what had happened... She set her head back, struggling to recall... The sex show at Sapphire had gone on... She had fucked Korfa... blown Betty Beam's husband... ate Betty out. Endured Rick. Reveled in Jessica Dragon. Dave and another ZB who had attended the awards had double teamed her, then took turns thrusting into her and her new sister, Mary Gardner as the too thin brunette lay draped over Sharon on the stage. She remembered cheers-- the hangers on from the party urging them on.

She remembered dancing nude on stage with Mary, trying to help the younger married woman to learn how to turn on the pole, and complaining when Mary said that she would never get it that at least she had perky attractive breasts. She remembered Marry laughing and stepping close, telling Sharon to look... that there was a tiny scar at the lower edge of her areola. 'I had help' the foolish new ZB toy slurred.

Sharon glanced down at her bandaged chest, trying to shake the cobwebs out... 'Focus, you bitch,' she growled at herself. She concentrated on slowing her breathing, and glanced at the bag again.

Dr... Dr. P something.

Sharon flashed on a handsome man of Indian or Pakistani descent... seated at his desk speaking to she and Dave... 'We can do whatever you want,' he said, 'Though I cannot recommend the axillary or abdominal approach. The placement is too uncertain.' Sharon nodded as she had at the time, drunkenly, letting Dave steer the conversation.

"What are her options, then, doc?" The man rubbed his hands together and touched the glass surface of his desk. A screen lit behind him.

"We do mostly sub pectoral," he started, showing a woman with widely spaced bullet shaped breasts, the undersurface of the side nearest the camera showing an obvious ripple, "It lets the breasts form a more natural cleavage, and hides the surface of the implant so these wrinkles aren't as common," Sharon whimpered, but becoming emotional threatened to mask what she was remembering.

"It also leaves a more natural contour as the breast slopes to the nipple."

"You said you can take care of the... sag?"

"Saggy," Sharon remembered repeating morosely.

"Of course," the man... Dr. P? Agreed, "I'll cover that in a minute. Now some women go for size alone, and for them we do the sub glandular approach," another picture showed a woman with simply enormous breasts, "If Mrs. Sobel wanted to stand out..."

"No!" she remembered saying, and Dave shrugging.

"Guess not, doc," he said, "Guess it is possible to be too big isn't it?" The doctor nodded.

"Oh definitely... we do nearly as many reductions as augmentations." He crossed through the display of varying enormous sacs of water or silicone. "These 700 cc and larger implants were all the rage a decade ago, but the women knew they would fail and so they would have to have new implants placed." He switched to a new image, "Today we hope to have our implants last at least twenty years... Many women have had even the last generation of implants for thirty years without a problem."

"And they can stand up to... well, to use?" Dave asked. The doctor laughed.

"Unless you are really abusing your chest, Mrs. Sobel, it will be no problem... we encourage physical activity to reduce the risk of capsular contraction."

"So it's silicone or saline now?" Dave asked. The doctor selected another image.

"We can do either," he started, "But most of our patients now choose silicone... the past concerns... well, they were mostly just a scare brought about by the media," he frowned, "But it did lead to better implants... the silicone in today's implants is not as liquid. So it stays nearby even if the sac ruptures," he showed some photos of MRI examinations and mammograms, "But this rarely happens. And in fact," he switched to another image, "I can offer what we call cohesive silicone now," the photo showed an implant with a chuck cut out and set to the side, "It still feels more natural than saline. We call them gummy bears."

"Gummy bears," Sharon repeated in a low giggle.

"Well, I guess she likes that," Dave said and Dr. P smiled and made a selection.

"How big does she want to go," he said, the new image showing three basic curves of the implants, called the profile, and then several sizes of each profile.

"Big," Sharon heard herself repeat, and the doctor nodded again.

"Well, I always recommend a woman go larger than she thinks she will want," he showed photos of women with the implants in place, "There is always some settling and the muscle hides some of the size.

"Will there be a loss of sensation?" Dave asked.

"That's usually a question we hear from the women," Dr. P teased, then looked at Sharon pointedly.

"Oh, she was nervous, so she had a little too much to drink before midnight last night," Dave said smoothly, whipping out the sheet Sharon had signed for him days before, "I'm her durable medical power of attorney... I know what she wants." The doctor was a little hesitant, but after reading the form he reached across, patting Sharon's shoulder.

"We'll do everything we can to prevent any problems," he said, and then selected another image... It showed a line at the bottom of a woman's areola. "This is my usual approach... the scar hides in that crease very well, and we can get even an big gummy bear in without having to cut too much. And most patients have no problems with nipple sensation afterwards. Sometimes, they complain they are more sensitive." He switched images, "But for Mrs. Sobel we want to address the droop, too," the photo showed a before and after of a woman whose breast sag was noticeably decreased, "We used to do what is called a keyhole... that's around the nipple and down to the bottom of the breast... But that downward scar never completely fades." Sharon whimpered at her memory of the obvious scar. "Today I do a 'donut' incision," the picture showed an intra-operative image, with a gap all around the areola, which looked nearly as hideous, "It has the benefit of good lift, and because there is a uniform scar it hides the scar sometimes better than an augmentation only." The photo changed, and the breasts in the photos, shown before and after, did look amazingly improved.

Sharon considered sitting up, not sure she wanted to remember more. She wanted to stop the somehow vivid moment by moment of the visit she had no conscious memory of... but she told herself she had to know. She calmed herself, wondering why the pleasure of the earlier evening was only fragmentary, whereas she could remember the doctor's cologne. For a moment she was in the body of the woman in the consultation room. She looked down and gasped, realizing that throughout the interview she had been sitting in the office topless, across from the physician at his desk and with Dave beside her!

"... software now," Dr. P was continuing, rising and stepping around his desk, "That lets us show you what to expect. He had a black sharpie marker and made deft circular marks around each of Sharon's nipples, "The ring will have to come out for the procedure," he said, But we put in monofilament line and you can put it back as soon as the bandages come off." he added marks at the upper outer aspect of each of Sharon's breasts, and a small V at the top of her cleavage. He reached across the table and touched a key. The screen showed an array of breast implants... opaque white jelly fish sitting before a blue background. The doctor used the mouse to select one, and the image changed, showing Sharon sitting topless. With another keystroke, the image froze, and then changed. Sharon gasped, watching her breasts rise and swell ever so slightly.

"I've never used these smaller options," the doctor explained, "They just show what could happen if essentially all we did was the lift." He selected a much larger implant near the right side of the screen half way down, "These are the moderate profile," on screen, Sharon's breasts grew noticeably, and the doctor looked at she and Dave expectantly. He frowned slightly, "We can always go bigger," he selected the option in the bottom right, and the Sharon on screen came to look like some cartoon character. "As an expert," he continued, "I would recommend the MF," he pointed to the next to last in the middle row, "or the MX style," the far right option in the middle.

He stood, leaning over the desk to type for a moment, "Actually, they are doing most of these from four basic choices," The screen showed four implant graphics, the upper left FM, the upper right MM, the lower left FF, and the lower right MF. These refer to the height... moderate or full, and the profile or the bustiness, moderate of full," the doctor continued. "Based on what you've told me... and the size of your breasts already," he paused, and Sharon sat passively as he eyed her bare breasts, "I would recommend you go with the FF or the MF style.