He Took Two For The Team free porn video

A wife sets out to teach her husband a lesson and they both learn something about themselves. He Took Two For The Team By Monica Rose and Marina Kelly Samantha stood impatiently at the checkout station tapping her toe, as the pimple-faced young checker robotically scanned her basket's contents. Once her cart was empty Sam, as she preferred to be called, opened her faux Gucci purse - the real thing would have to wait - and dug out her debit card. Just as she punched in her last digit of her pin, she heard. "Sam is that you?" Turning her head, Sam was delighted to see an old sorority sister, Betty. Abandoning her cart with a shove to allow for the next customer, Sam pushed past several perturbed shoppers to join Betty at the end of the line where they hugged like long lost cousins. As they hugged a tiny toddler terrorist tried to escape from his mother's shopping cart. An instant before he did a swan dive to the floor, Betty seized her child by the arm reminiscent of the way birds of prey often seize small mammals. "Well I'll be, Samantha Turner, how have you been? This is my oldest. Meet Tony the terrible. It's been what 5 years since graduation? I almost didn't recognize you in a dress and heels. In school the only time I saw you in skirts were for parties." Sam held out her left hand displaying her engagement and wedding ring. "Actually it's Samantha Johansson now. As to the outfit that is for my husband, he prefers I be more June Cleaver, than my preferable tomboy self." "Johansson, what happened to that Neanderthal of a football player you were dating?" "Ah, Billy I haven't thought of him in a long time. He was a legend in his own mind. He was great in bed but dumber than a sack of rocks. I dumped him after homecoming." "So how did you meet Mr. Right, and are there any little Beavers running around at home? More importantly do you have any pictures?" Sam retrieved her wallet and slid out her favorite picture. Sam proudly handed over a worn snapshot depicting a couple, both sweaty and exhausted, standing by a palm tree. "That's my husband. No kids, but we're currently trying. It was taken at the finish line of the Hawaiian Triathlon. We met when I 'accidently' tripped him at the change over from swimming to bikes." Betty looked in awe at the chiseled forms of the two athletes. "Wow, I'm impressed. You both look to be in fantastic shape. I bet there isn't five pounds of fat between you. In fact you two are almost the same size." "Actually he is almost a full inch taller than me. I'm ashamed to admit we weigh the same. We both kept in shape and were into completive triathlons until we opened our own marketing business six months ago - Johansson Marketing Inc." "Sorry, never heard of it. But I'm really impressed." "Don't be too impressed. We're on the verge of going bankrupt, which means we will lose everything, our house, savings, and even our cars. I can't tell you the kind of pressure we're under. I'm desperate and ready to do almost anything to get us out from under this thing." "I'm still awed that in this economy you guys had the guts to tackle something like that. I'm nothing but a housewife and mother. My hubby believes in the adage; 'Keep 'Em Barefoot and Pregnant.' I have three rug rats, my little man here and twin two year old girls at home with their grandmother. They just contracted chicken pox." Sam reached for her picture but Betty wouldn't give it back, as she continued to study it. "He is almost too pretty to be a man. Isn't his hair a bit long for a business executive?" "At my request, he's been growing his hair since college and keeps it pulled back in a ponytail. He's our CPA and chief accountant. I am the one who interacts with the clients. Nobody at work even notices it anymore." "In fact, you two have an uncanny resemblance. I'm not sure if that says more about you or him." Sam gave a hearty laugh. "You ain't seen nothin' yet," and dug deeper into her wallet and produced a second picture. She traded with Betty. "I don't normally show people this but take a look." Betty examined it closely. "I didn't know you had a sister." Sam laughed. "I don't. That's me and my husband at our company's New Year Eve's costume party." "No way that is a guy, what's the gag?" "It's not a gag. It took me six weeks to talk him into it. His name is Samuel. The running joke at work is two Sam's running the place. I thought it would be good for company morale for us to dress alike and see if our employees could tell us apart." Betty shrugged not totally convinced. "Does he cross-dress often?" "Oh, heavens no! He's all man, even a bit chauvinistic? The only way I could get him into a skirt and to the party was to promise that next year I would dress as a man, well that and a valium I secretly dissolved in his pre party glass of tequila." "If you don't mind me asking, how's he in bed?" "Betty, we always shared that kind of info about our boyfriends; but this is my husband. I'll say upstairs he has it all. He has a brilliant mind, a heart the size of Texas, but downstairs he is how do I delicately put this? He's small in stature." "OMG Sam, I'm so sorry. Why did you marry him? Didn't you take him out for a test drive before closing the deal?" "Don't get me wrong Betty. That man totally satisfies me. Right from the beginning he let me know that his bedroom philosophy is women come first. Maybe he's overcompensating; but in bed he's like an Energizer Bunny, my needs are paramount and drive him to unbelievable efforts. Why some nights when I'm sated and too exhausted to continue, Sam never concerns himself about his pleasure; he will just climb into bed and cuddle me until morning." "Sam, this guy sounds more like a saint then a man." "True there are times he raises me to heavenly delights; but trust me; he has his flaws." "Sam I've got to run, how about dinner at my house tomorrow?" "Sorry can't make it. Hope you understand we have reservations at the steakhouse out on the strand. It took weeks to get the reservations." "Alright, if you prefer stake tartar, over hamburger helper I'll understand this one time. How about we meet for lunch the day after tomorrow?" "Fine Betty, but no place fancy I don't have a lot of discretionary funds right now, this night out will wipe me until payday." Betty smiled and said, "Okay, we'll meet in my favorite resonant, Burger King. The kids like the crowns. Say 12:30? I want to hear all about this business of yours. I guess you knew what you were doing majoring in marketing at school." @ @ @ @ That day Betty found a rather subdued Samantha sitting at a table staring out the window. Betty hugged her old friend. "I'm the last of the big spenders. It's my treat today. What would you like?" Betty returned with their order, two cheeseburgers and a large fry. They ate in relative silence as they picked at the fries. "Sam, what's happened? You were so alive and vivacious the other day. Now you act like your dog just died." Sam sobbed softly, dabbed her runny nose with a napkin. "Betty, I don't know how to say this." "Come on girl, in school we never held anything back. Remember those all nighters where we went through boxes of Kleenex?" "It's my husband!" Betty clapped in glee. "Man trouble! That was my major in college. Remember what we did to Jimmy Hollingsworth when he stood up Veronica for the prom? She spent all that money on a new dress and waited all night. He never even called." That brought a smile as Sam replied, "Yea that SOB never stood another girl up." Betty giggled. "It was entirely my plan I'm proud to say. I heard after we finished with him he needed six months of therapy." Sam brightened considerably recalling that night. "We found Jimmy at the Frat pool party. After three hours of drinking beer, it was easy for Holly to slip him a glass of her special punch. Can you imagine his surprise, the last thing he remembered with drinking and chasing coeds; then hours later he woke up tethered to the flag pool wearing only a diaper and his hair decorated in dozens of small pigtails tied up with pretty pink bows." "Don't forget about the shave and bath we gave him. The schmuck didn't have a hair left below his hairline. I still think shaving his eyebrows was a bit much. But he was baby bottom smooth. And then Sally sacrificed her entire bottle of expensive French perfume to anoint our baby girl. He smelled like the preverbal French Whore house. Betty laughed so hard soft drink came out her nose. "I can still see him struggling to get that harness off. As hard as he fought; with the baby bottle superglued to one hand and a doll glued to the other he couldn't use his hands." Sam I have a confession to make. "I peed my pants when the campus cops took him off to the clinic to have the pacifier we superglued in his mouth removed. Do you think he actually used the diaper?" Sam thought briefly, "Well let's figure this out, he drank beer for three hours and then took a five hour nap. I strongly suspect his diapers were filled with more than baby powder. Then Monica who worked on the yearbook staff snuck his picture in the yearbook under Prom activities. I'll never forget the caption under his picture, 'Momma's little girl needs a hug. I asked him to autograph my book but he stormed off." "Some people have no sense of humor." The two women faced each other and executed a perfect high five. "Alright sister that's enough reminiscing about the good old days. Let's hear about your problem. Taking a deep breath Samantha said, "My husband is so exasperating. He's fixated on my lack of curves. He wants me to get my breasts enlarged. Sometimes it seems that is all he cares about. I know my AA is below the norm; but I have always been a runner and their lack of bulk is ideal for jogging." Betty interrupted. "Sam, that's not the kind of exercise most men are interested in. You really can't blame him for that." "Betty you don't understand. This is my body, why should I have to undergo major surgery just to satisfy my husband's fantasies?" Betty was bemused by the observation. "I am astounded at your husband's audacity, critiquing your body, considering his own inadequacies. Of course, medical science can easily correct your shortfall, his not so much. Does he harp on this all the time?" "Not much, he brings it up frequently and asks me to reconsider. Once I say no, he drops it until next time. The thing that really irritates me is the way he ogles other woman. Whenever we are out and a voluptuous woman is within 100 yards his eyes are drawn to her just as surely as a compass needle is drawn to magnetic north. Betty it is so tiresome, always feeling inadequate in my husband's eyes." With a massive sigh, Sam went on. "So this morning when I put on my brassier it hit me, I am still wearing a training bra; I barely fill an A cup. Is that sad or what? I made a decision I am going to give my husband what he wants. Valentine's day is coming up that is going to be my gift to him." Betty chimed in. "In that case you should give yourself a present as well. I know this really well stocked adult novelty items store that sells the best vibrating dildos." Samantha blushed bright red as Betty went on. "Use it to teach your husband a lesson." Samantha gasped in astonishment. "You can't be implying I use it on him?" Betty chuckled. "Oh, heavens no, not even I'm that kinky. Just leave it out on your nightstand. Periodically pick it up and fondle it when he's looking. He'll get the message." "Betty, you are one devious woman." "Thanks I try." @ @ @ @ That evening Samuel arrived home, pulling his car into the quaint cul- de-sac after he stayed late to participate in a teleconference with the agent of a prospective new client. The client was interviewing likely new marketing companies and the agent said his boss was dissatisfied with their current representation. Various possible dates were discussed; the only one open corresponded with the weekend of the Johansson's annual Valentines' Day Dance. Sam extended an invitation to the CEO to attend the company's party where, hopefully, they could pitch their business plan. Sam sat anxiously at the dining room table and waited to tell Samuel her decision. She was into her second glass of wine and absentmindedly toyed with the rectangular box that rested on the table. Samuel passed through the room on the way to the kitchen to get himself a beer. He was in a celebrating mood. He only caught a glance at the box on the table and while he stood at the fridge he yelled, "Whatcha got in the box?" As she slid the box into her lap she remarked, "Oh, this little old thing it's nothing." Sitting down across from his wife he responded, "Okay, if you say so, I didn't get a real good look at it but the box didn't look all that small to me." Samantha giggled and decided to change the subject. "We need to talk. I've some good news." Samuel took a sip of his beer and said, "That's a coincidence, so do I! I got confirmation today that a new client is seriously considering switching his business over to us. Maximilian Wolfgang von Goethe, the owner of Von Goethe Holdings. He has interests in shipping, transportation, and energy production. His shipping involves ocean, air, and land transport of goods. Energy involves oil and green energy sources. I have a telephone call scheduled for tomorrow with his right hand man. With the proper presentation, I think we've a great chance of landing their account." Samantha couldn't hold it in any longer and said, "Wow, that's great! Now it's my turn. You know how you're always pestering me about my inadequate bosom?" "I wouldn't use the word pester, but go on." "I've given the issue a great deal of thought. Can you explain to me one more time why this is so important to you?" Samuel, felt a trap here and knew he needed to tread very lightly. "It's hard to put into words. I guess I'm just a product of the sex generation." "Sam there is no such thing! There is an X generation but not a sex one." "Alright, maybe it's the sexual revolution I'm talking about. My point is aside from the sensual nature of a woman's breast; their visual appeal defines an individual as a woman. To me the larger the breast, the more womanly the person and the greater the sex appeal, Res ipsa loquitur ??" the matter's self evident." Realizing the conversation wasn't going the way she wanted, Samantha interrupted. "Stop showing off! In plain English, you think big boobs are sexy, yes or no!" Knowing a lose-lose situation when he saw it, Samuel responded, "Honey, be honest. You have to agree that men are visual animals. We fall in love with an entire person; but we're initially attracted to their looks. Obviously breasts are a large piece of a woman's aura, just as is her face, hair and figure. Curves on a woman are attractive. Yes, boobs form an important part of the overall picture, just as a slim waist and rounded bottom are. If a woman has a figure, she should display it. If you got it, flaunt it." "So, you're saying that you want me to have more of a figure, that I would be more attractive with 10 pounds of jiggling fat on my chest and ass?" Samuel continued without thinking. "You know I think you are beautiful, it's just that I believe that adding to your figure would make you better looking." Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew that they didn't sound right; but it was too late to backtrack before Samantha continued. "Is that why you've been hounding me to have my breasts done? Saying that with tits I'll look like a woman instead of prepubescent girl?" Samuel should have shut up and apologized right there, but. "No…no honey. I love you regardless of what you look like." Now he really should have kept quiet. Instead he dug his hole deeper. "I was thinking you would have greater self-confidence projecting a more womanly image for our clients. That's all." "You're saying that my having a pair of prominent breasts would improve our chances of closing deals with clients?" "Well, yes. When we're dealing with some of the corporate execs we have seen, they look at the whole package, first impressions are lasting ones. In this economic environment we need every advantage we can get. Let's be honest, everyone does it, sex sells. It'll never hurt our chances of getting business if you occasionally flash some old geezer a little thigh and tit. If they are concentrating on your chest instead of the contract, they are more likely to sign on the dotted line." Samantha glared at Samuel, her eyes narrowed as she was obviously thinking. Samuel tried to redirect her attention. "You said you had some news?" His wife blinked a couple of times. "Sorry. I zoned out for a minute there. I guess I've forgotten what I wanted to say. I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me." She set the box she had been holding in her lap casually on the table and left the room, one hand brushing at her face like she was moving a lock of hair. Samuel looked after her for a moment, confused. Then he turned his attention to the box. It was a little over a foot long and 3 or 4 inches wide. Curious, he lifted the top of the box off to reveal what he first thought was an obelisk; except on closer scrutiny was obviously a reproduction of a man's penis. He dropped the lid like it was a hot potato. He stared transfixed; Samuel felt totally inadequate. He could see that this monster made his own equipment look as if it belonged to a child. Hearing the bathroom door re-open, he quickly put the lid back on the box. He stood just as Samantha returned. Seeing the box had been moved she smiled a wicked smile, she handed her husband a piece of paper. "What's this?" "Here's a novel idea, read it. It's my pre-surgery schedule and procedures." Sam's heart briefly stopped. "Surgery? Is everything alright?" Samantha made a major production of picking up the box as she responded, "Yes, everything's fine. I'm having my breasts augmented, my gift to you for Valentine's Day." She cradled the box to her chest as she walked off and mumbled the quip, "Soon you'll have something new to play with as do I. That should make both of us happy. Come to bed, you can thank me in advance for your present." Sam tore a button off his dress shirt as he got undressed in route to his bedroom. He paused in the doorway and marveled at how lucky he was to have married Samantha; her naked form was laying on the bed waiting for him. He kicked off his jockey shorts on the way to the bed he almost stumbled in route when he noticed the monstrous vibrator laying on the nightstand. Totally intimidated by the massive phallic device, Sam made sure he brought his 'A game' to the night's activities. Getting dressed in the morning and headed for the door, Samuel just couldn't keep his mouth shut; he pointed to the vibrator and asked, "Am I as good as your friend over there?" "Of course dear; but then again I haven't bought batteries yet." Samuel's happy expression turned into a dour pout. He quickly headed for his car before his traitorous misty eyes betrayed him. During the day, it appeared to Samuel that his wife was avoiding him. Around 4 PM he got off the phone having talked with the prospective client, Maximilian Wolfgang von Goethe's executive assistant, having coordinated the man's visit. The assistant was a fountain of information; he told Sam that Max was a bit of an eccentric. He related that his likes and dislikes tended to drive his professional decisions. He provided Max's preferred hotel chain, his choice of meals, his favorite brand of whiskey, and then the big bomb. Max biggest idiosyncrasy was he only dated busty blond women. The better endowed, the more he enjoyed himself. Sam, after a thorough search of his address book, spent most of the afternoon in personnel going through the files of every woman who worked for them. With a heavy heart he headed to his wife's office. This was one conversation he was not looking forward to having. He sat down across from her and reviewed their current financial situation and emphasized the company's truly desperate straits. Maximilian was the only thing that could keep the wolves at bay. Then he related Max's preferences as he had been told. When he got to the dating part he paused and stared at his hands. Finally Samantha prompted, "Go on, I know you. There's something more." "I wouldn't ask this but there are no other alternative. I have been through every one of our acquaintances and employees. The only option I can see is if you agree to be Max's date." "Samuel Patrick Johansson, are you out of your mind? There must be other alternatives!" "I have been over this a hundred times, there are only two; we can rescind our invitation and lose the company or hire a working girl that meets his specifications." "Sam, I know what I am asking, putting aside the emotions for a minute. After your surgery, you'll ideally match the type of woman he prefers to escort to social functions. Being a co-owner you'll be in perfect position to persuade him to come with us." Samantha gave her husband a stare that sent chills down his spine. She finally broke the silence with, "If I'm to be his escort, just what would be expected of me?" "Not much, just treat it like any single girl on a date with a rich millionaire." "Single girl? You aren't implying I should do anything physical are you?" "Only what you are comfortable with, hold his hand, flirt a bit, and maybe a quick goodnight kiss that sort of thing. It is just imperative that he have a good time. Honey, whatever you do, just know I will still respect and love you in the morning." Samantha thought, 'Yes but; will I respect you?' Then she said, "Get the hell out of here Samuel, and shut the door behind you! I'll let you know my decision tonight. I need time to evaluate your proposition." Once the door was closed, Sam put a call through to Betty. "Can I stop by for a cup of coffee and a quick chat on my way home tonight? I won't take up much of your time." "This sounds serious, would you like something stronger than coffee? I have all the time in the world, my hubby is working late." @ @ @ @ Sam arrived on Betty's doorstep, still steaming mad. After one look at her friend, she sent the girls back to the den to watch television. She pulled Sam into the living room and sat her down on the sofa. "Girl…If you get any more pissed, your look will qualify as a death- ray. What's the matter?" "Betty…Remember when I told you that the company was in trouble?" Betty nodded. "I remember. Are things getting worse?" "It depends upon how you look at it," Sam said in frustration. "I told Samuel last night that I was going in for breast augmentation and he was very happy. Then I took out that new best friend we bought together and he about lost it." She smiled lopsidedly at Betty and giggled. "This afternoon he came to tell me that he had a big fish on the line and that the only way we could get him to sign on with us was to put him together with a big-breasted blonde." Sam made sure to tone down her language. Regardless of how angry she was, she knew that her language could fry little shell-like ears. Eyes widened in realization, Betty said. "You mean that he expects you to…" Tears formed at the edges of Sam's eyes as she nodded. "What makes me so angry is that my own husband is so clueless he doesn't even realize that he sounds like he's pimping me out like a common whore." "That ass!" Betty clapped her hand over her mouth at her outburst, afraid that the little ones might have heard her. "I wonder how he would feel if we put him out on display for some random old maid cougar and let her think that he was available for whatever she had in mind. What are you going to do? Do you know yet? He deserves a good slap upside the head!" "I'm not sure yet. Samuel is really a great guy. I love him to pieces I just don't think he is cognizant of how degrading and objectifying his actions are to woman. He's a great boss, but even the girls at work are starting to grumble about his persistent ogling." Sam said. Slowly an idea began to germinate until the solution sprouted full grown in her psyche. "Something you said has given me an idea." A slightly evil smile spread across her face. "Do you remember the picture I showed you of the two of us at the New Year's Eve party?" "Yes," answered Betty. Then she caught up with her friend and a very broad smile grew on her face as well. "Yes!" "I've already scheduled my breast surgery for the middle of the month and scheduled the time off from work. It would only be four days," Sam said. "The timing would be just about right for everything to continue normally. Then, if things happen right, I break the news to Samuel and put him right in the crosshairs." She grinned as she contemplated the possible result to her plan. "Wait a minute!" Betty said. "I missed something. How are you going to get Sam to go through the surgery instead of you?" Samantha winked at Betty and stood up. Turning toward the rec room, she called, "Caroline! Elizabeth! Come here and give Auntie Samantha a kiss and hug!" Betty stood her eyes wide. "Oh no! You can't do that! It's too risky!" Samantha nodded and said, "Yes, there are some risks. What I'll do is go see the doctor in a few days and tell him that I've been exposed. I'll make sure that I explain what is going on, and tell him to keep the time open on his schedule for surgery. The doctor should be able to make sure that I come through it okay. If things go the way I hope, Samuel will learn a couple of big lessons from this." Betty smiled ear to ear. "Just how big are we talking here, DD's, E's or something even larger? That would show the chauvinist, both sides of the coin! Let me help, please. I have to be part of this Machiavellian plan." Betty's expression turned to one of concern as the two little girls ran in from watching television, leaving their brother playing with his trucks. It was obvious that they were both in middle of their chicken pox infection, even though they only had a few blisters between them. The ever-present pink Calamine lotion dotted their faces. Smiling, Samantha knelt down and held her arms out to the girls. Who promptly stood back from this stranger and looked up at their mother. Betty nodded unhappily and said, "Go ahead girls. This is Samantha, a good friend of mine from when Mommy was in school." She put on a happy smile to hide her thoughts from her daughters. The girls came over to Samantha and allowed themselves to be wrapped into a big hug. "What are you watching on television?" she asked. Both girls started chattering excitedly about the princess and the frog, trying to pull her into the rec room with them. Samantha allowed herself to be towed into the family room where the girls had been ensconced in pillows and blankets to recover from their illness. "It looks like you're having a party in here," she said to the girls. Elizabeth, the taller of the two by an inch, nodded. "Mommy promised if we were good and didn't scratch we could have a chicken pox party this weekend. I don't know what that is though. Mommy said we have to invite our yucky brother Tony to our party." Samantha laughed and looked back at Betty, who hung her head. "Well…I'm sorry I can't come to the party this weekend. Is it okay if I just share a drink with you girls before I go home?" Elizabeth nodded and Samantha took a drink from one of the glasses on the table in front of the couch. Then she crouched down again and hugged the girls tightly again. She held them out in front of her and looked them both in the eye and said, "Thank you very much for all of your help." Of course, the girls were confused but smiled prettily at Samantha and told her that she was welcome. Samantha helped each girl up onto the sofa and wrapped them comfortably in their blankets. The girls snuggled down into the warmth and smiled up at Samantha happily. She kissed each child gently on the forehead. Betty walked Samantha to the door. "I know that Samuel needs to be taught a lesson, but I really want you to see a doctor when the fever starts. Chicken pox can be a problem for adults." "Luckily Samuel had Chicken pox as a child. So I don't have to be concerned with him being infected." Betty switched back to the project at hand. "This will be poetic justice at its height. I would love to be there for the grand unveiling…Please? What are you going to christen her?" "I am not sure; but I would like to break a bottle of champagne over his opinionated chauvinistic hardhead. Let's keep it simple and stick with Sammie, that's what I called him on New Year's Eve ??" he hated it." Betty clapped her hands in glee, which brought the munchkins running back to the kitchen to see the cause of their mother's celebration. "Is the party starting already Mommy?" "No dear it's not a party; it is more like your Aunt Samantha is opening a school. She is going to teach a personal development class." The word school had the kids fleeing back to the safety of their blankets and cartoons. "I have to be there for graduation. What can I bring balloons, cake, or flowers?" Sam laughed at the thought of having a birthday party for Sammie, but thought better of it. Eventually she came up with a valid justification for Betty to show up for Sammie's grand unveiling. "Maybe you have some jewelry; Sammie can wear to her cotillion." "I do have a set of long pearls. Your girlfriend can borrow them for the night; pearls go with almost any formal attire. They will be perfect." "Great, I will call and give you a time. Just remember to bring your camera. I am going to make Samuel a photo album to commemorate Sammie's busting out party." @ @ @ @ On the short drive to their quaint split level home, Sam prepared for her performance. A talent she had since childhood was her ability to cry on demand. Sitting in her driveway, Samantha took her mascara out and applied an extra heavy coat, knowing the visual effects would be dramatic. 'This must be convincing, if I want to trap the fly in my web,' thought Samantha. She walked to the front door, as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders ??" getting into character. She paused as she held the doorknob, took a deep breath and prepared for her dramatic entrance. Samuel was waiting for her with a highball. Samantha snatched the drink out of his hand and spilled some on the rug. She took a large gulp of the drink and ordered her husband, "Clean that up before it stains the carpet." She headed for the couch, slumped down into the cushions as if exhausted and right on cue turned on the water works. Samantha thought, 'and the game is afoot.' She wiped the tears from her cheeks intentionally creating sizeable dark smudges under her eyes. She looked at her husband with large puppy dog eyes and asked him "Let me make sure what you are asking of me, you want me to pretend to be a single, unattached woman, use my womanly charms, and act as a courtesan for our potential client?" "For the last time Samantha, that is not what I am asking. Yes, I would love for you to charm him. But only as his companion." Samantha snorted at the remark. "Companion, consort, courtesan, or concubine...A rose by any other name. Your implied mission for me is the same. Just admit it. What you want is a big-booby, blonde floozy to show this guy a good time." By this time, Samuel was emotionally spent. He questioned if he was ready to trade his marriage for the company. He knew he had to do something to show how contrite he was. "Sam, I am so sorry. Let's forget the whole thing, the implants and the blind date. I will call Mr. Wolfgang von Goethe and cancel his invitation. I will call our lawyer in the morning about declaring bankruptcy." Hearing Samuel make that statement touched her deeply and she loved him for it. But her husband needed to be taught this lesson. She knew that what she had planned for him would do him no harm. Hell, it might even open his eyes to new horizons. "Samuel, you'll do no such thing! This impacts me more than you. It's my company too and more importantly it's my body and virtue that are at stake. I'm going through with the breast augmentation and the date. I am going to be so sweet to Mr. Wolfgang he will leave here with diabetes. "Now get your coat and wallet! After I repair my face, you are taking me shopping. I'm going to buy an outfit that will make his eyes pop out of his sexist skull." @ @ @ @ Thirty minutes later, Sam and Sam were browsing the local mall. They hit every upscale dress shop in the place. Samantha knew exactly what she wanted, a pink, girlie-girl party dress with tons of fluffy lace. It had to be skintight with a front that dipped to the navel. Samantha was about to give up when she saw an advertisement for a shop called the 'Courtesan Boutique.' Sam felt it was divine intervention. Samantha was determined to find something there. She searched every aisle, until she found a cocktail dress; it wasn't perfect; but it was close enough. It was a real showstopper, fit for a fairy Princess. The gown was bubblegum pink, had a sweetheart neckline, and was knee length with a soft nude fabric and lace overlay. It had a silk slip lining and sheer lace cap sleeves. The intricate and beautiful lace covered bodice had a pattern of small hearts interwoven throughout. Samantha knew the dress was made for Valentine's Day. She took the dress into a changing room to try on. She stepped out to model it for her husband. Even Samuel could tell it was too tight. "Honey, I think you need a bigger size." "This is the largest they have in stock. At home, I have a good steel boned corset; that's guaranteed to squeeze the wearer into a perfect hourglass figure. Sam thought, 'That's strange, I've never seen my wife in a girdle, more or less a corset. Oh well, she's the expert, she knows what she's doing.' Having redressed Samantha stepped out and remarked, "We'll need a new bra. My old ones will never be able to contain the massive tits you envision for this outing." Samantha spent some time searching for just the right foundation garment. Eventually she found what she wanted, a padded underwire pushup bra covered in delicate lace. The cups were stiff and firm. Knowing her husband had a 40 inch chest she purchased a 38; figuring it would add to her husband's discomfort and increase the effectiveness of the pushup function. Samantha mused, 'I would never wear anything like that. It will be massively uncomfortable, tantamount to torture after a few hours; by the end of the evening Sammie is going to be begging to take it off. The question is will I be the one to help or will his date?' Showing the garment to her husband Samantha bragged, "This will add the appearance of at least two cup sizes. The tag says wearing this you'll have the tits of a Los Vegas showgirl. I am sure the resulting display of flesh will appeal to our client's macho side. It will be like offering him a set of boobs on a velvet table. I know it's outrageously expensive; but I think it'll pay huge dividends. What do you think honey?" Samuel pictured his wife as a centerfold in his head and graciously replied, "Samantha you are the expert, if you need it, by all means then get it." "Oh, yes dear, we'll definitely need it. You'll see." Delighted with her purchases so far, Samantha moved on to search for appropriate accouterments. She found crystal earrings that would dangle gracefully from ears and were heavy and long enough where the wearer would be conscious of their presence at all times. Their next stop was a perfumery to select a scent. Samuel recommended several choices. Samantha rejected each until she found an extremely heavy flowery scent. It was over the top. No normal woman would wear it. But Sam wasn't buying it for a 'normal' woman. The last stop was a self serve shoe store. Finding the section with just the right color, Sam turned to her husband and asked his advice on the heel length. Samuel shrugged his shoulders and picked up a pair of shoes with blocky three inch heels. "These are like the ones I wore for the company party." Samantha scoffed at his suggestion and replied, "That dress calls for something more glamorous, and, dare I say, elegant. She held up a shoe with a five and half inch needle heel that was identical in color to the dress. Samuel had never seen anything so feminine in his life. His wife's normal footwear selections for work were flats, on fancy occasions she would wear at most two inch heels. "Honey, those are the most beautiful footwear I have ever seen; but how in the world will you be able to walk in them. They are more like stilts than shoes." Sam gave her husband a wicked little smile and replied, "Samuel, the night of the dance I assure you I'll have absolutely no problem getting around." Sam brought her hand to her face to cover her giggles as see pictured her husband trying to dance backwards in those shoes. 'Ginger Rogers he's not.' She mused. After a meal from a fast food restaurant, Samantha drove them home. She left Samuel to unload the car. Sam carried everything into their bedroom and thought how happy his wife seemed. Seeing Samantha get into selecting her trousseau for the big dance was a joy. He didn't remember her spending that much energy for their wedding. The next few days were close to normal. If it wasn't for that damn vibrator on Samantha's night stand, life would have been perfect. Saturday, Samuel was tasked with stripping the bed and putting on fresh bedding. As he finished the last hospital corner he checked to make sure the coast was clear. Then he casually tiptoed to the nightstand. He opened the drawer and somehow that spiteful vibrator accidently fell into the opening. Sam was felling very self-satisfied until he was brushing his teeth that night when his wife yelled, "Darling, have you been playing with my new toy? I can't find it." 'Shit' thought Samuel. "No dear I have no idea where the dildo is. I'll be right in and help you look." While he gargled Samantha called, "Never mind I found it. Take your time; there is no reason to hurry, and it's not called a dildo. It's a waterproof personal massager. At least that is what the salesman told me." At that, Samuel swallowed a mouthful of Listerine. He came in still coughing and Samantha said sympathetically, "Oh dear. I hope you aren't coming down with a bug." "No, something just went down the wrong way." @ @ @ @ Sunday was a time to relax. Samuel slept in. He got up to find Samantha reading the newspaper. Samuel was about to sit and join her, when Samantha reminded him it was his turn to grocery shop, mentioning the list was on the kitchen table. Sam picked up the small paper, one glance at the list and Sam broke out in a cold sweat. Number one on the list was a 'Six pack' of C batteries. Several hours later, Sam lugged the bags of groceries into the kitchen and unloaded them into the pantry. Suddenly Samantha was there; she pushed her husband aside and reached around him and snatched the batteries that had been strategically placed on the top shelf. Without saying a word she disappeared into the bedroom and pointedly closed the door. @ @ @ @ The day for Samantha's appointment with the surgeon finally arrived. She pretended to be nervous about the prospect of the surgery and insisted she needed Samuel to accompany her for the consult. Sitting there with the cosmetic surgeon, she answered all of the questions he asked about her medical history. Unlikely as it seems both and their medical histories were unremarkable and with the exception of the Chicken Pox, were identical. When the time came to discuss what work was to be done, Dr. Smith asked Samantha to remove her top so that he could examine her torso to determine what options were available. Samuel got up to leave, but Samantha requested that he remain. "You’re an extremely healthy woman with good musculature tone, which gives us a wide option. Just how large dto you want your breasts to be Mrs. Johansson?" "Why…I don't really know, I'm undecided at the moment." she replied as she looked at Samuel. "Honey, this is your fantasy. What size should we get?" Samuel looked like a deer-in-the-headlights for a moment. The last thing he'd expected to be asked by his wife was what size her breasts were to be. He had visions of a well-endowed wife, but deciding for her was not something he was prepared to do. He stammered, "I…I don't know, something large, maybe a C cup?" Samantha giggled at her husband. "Silly! C cups are mundane and average, think more grandiose." "I guess D then?" he said tentatively. Like every other husband on the planet, he had no idea what the differences were between a C or D cup. All he cared about is how they would feel in his hands while he made love to his wife. Samantha nodded thoughtfully for a moment and said, "Well…As long as we are doing this, let's do it right and go all out and get DD's. Is that workable doctor?" She looked at the surgeon for his opinion. After a few moments study, he looked up into her eyes and said, "Yes, your frame can easily support a double-D cup. I wouldn't recommend it; but your body could handle a double-E cup if you wanted to go that extreme." Samantha smiled at the doctor and thought, 'This couldn't have been any better if she had planned it.' "Doctor I don't know about double-E cups, why don't we keep that as an option for now, I will get back to you on it." The doctor handed the consent forms to Samantha. "Write the size you finally decide on, initial next to the box and bring them the day of the surgery. My nurse will provide you with a schedule of my availability." All smiles Samantha redressed in her bra and blouse. She looked over at Samuel, he smiled broadly. It was obvious to Samantha that Samuel thought his fondest fantasies were about to be fulfilled. @ @ @ @ The next couple of weeks were filled with the normal business problems of solving various marketing issues, redirecting staff as priorities changed, and making sure that everything was on track for the Valentine's party. Of course, the party was still three weeks away; but there were hundreds of small details that Samantha needed to attend to. Were the caterers were on track, was the hall available and the band was prepared to show up. Samantha had been paying attention to her health and had been feeling progressively worse as the week had gone on. As bad as she was starting to feel, she mentally rubbed her hands together. Knowing what was wrong with her, it only required a doctor's confirmation of her own diagnosis. Right before lunch, Samantha called Samuel to tell him that she was not feeling well and that she was going off to see the doctor. Samuel was concerned for her, but he was stuck in preparations for a client presentation and could not break away and go with her. She was not so ill yet that she could not drive herself to her appointment and she really did not want Samuel to be there for this particular meeting anyway. The doctor's visit had gone pretty much the way Samantha expected. He checked her temperature, blood pressure, and she was sure that when the doctor was done looking at her throat that he could tell her the color of her panties. He had scolded her for allowing herself to be exposed, knowing that she had no immunity. But he had reassured her that the medications he had prescribed would help her with her fever and the blisters. He also instructed her to take pains to use lotion on the blisters and not to scratch. Properly chastened, Samantha could only agree quietly. She took the materials the doctor gave her and drove home. The first thing she did was call Betty for help. Her school friend laughed good-naturedly when Samantha gave her the news. "I was waiting for your call, girlfriend! I've lined up my mother to take the kids for the next few days, so I'll set up camp in your spare bedroom as your private nurse." Relieved that her plan had not been derailed, Samantha answered, "Thank you for being willing to help me. I'm starting to have second thoughts. This may not have been one of my better plans." Her tone of voice carried a fair amount of anxiety. "Hey! Things are going to be fine. We just have to watch over your fever and keep you from scratching. This will all be over in less than a week. I'll dump the kids at my mother's, throw my bags in the car and be there as quick as I can." Betty rang off and rounded up her gang of manikins to march to the neighbor's house. Meanwhile, Samantha called Samuel on his cell phone to break the news to him. Interestingly, she sounded sooo much worse on the phone with him than with Betty, almost as if she had no strength left at all. Samuel and Betty arrived at the house in a dead heat. Betty introduced herself to Samuel and announced she was here to nurse Samantha back to health. Glad for the help, Samuel carried her things to the spare bedroom. Inside, they found a pale, pathetic-looking Samantha sprawled on the couch under a pile of blankets, a stack of used tissues balanced on her chest. She had made sure to clean off of her makeup and she had then added just a dusting of white foundation. The result was a Samantha that looked like she had been suffering for days. "Sam! Are you okay?" The concern for his wife was apparent in his voice as he rushed to her side. "Yes, honey," she said, her voice sounding weak. "The doctor gave me some prescriptions, but I didn't get them filled before I came home. They're supposed to help me. Could you go to the pharmacy for me?" She looked up at Samuel, turning on the sad, puppy-dog look. "Of course, dear," he said, hugging her gently. He looked over at Betty and said, "I'll go get her prescriptions filled and pick up some lotion. Can you watch her until I get back?" Betty smiled. "Sure, Would you also pick up a case of water and some Gatorade? Samantha is going need a lot of fluids in the next few days." Samuel nodded and was out the door with the prescriptions in minutes. Once his car was down the drive, Samantha sat up on the couch and grinned playfully at Betty. "Well, we're off!" Betty returned her smile and she sat down to finish their preparations. @ @ @ @ Samuel found Betty fussing around Samantha, trying to make her more comfortable on the couch. He brought her the medicine bottles and shook out the pills for her. While she swallowed them all and he put the bottles away in the bath, Betty made herself scarce by establishing herself in the extra bedroom as Samantha's nurse for the next week. When he returned, Samantha continued her routine of appearing oh-so pathetic. "Honey, I'm sorry I'm so sick." "It's okay, Sam," he said, kneeling next to her. "I'll call the doctor and call off the surgery. We can't delay it and have you healed up in time for the party now." Samantha was prepared for this turn of events and appeared to regain some of her strength, her eyes danced with mischief as she said, "But honey, we need Mr. von Goethe as a client! Without that account as you pointed out we will lose everything. What are we going to do?" "I don't know," Samuel admitted. "I couldn't find a good date for him before and I'm sure that will be the case again. It's also too late to call and cancel his invitation. I guess that we will just have to deal with him without finding him a companion." Sam recognized she was going to have to rely on her skills acquired in two years of drama club. Sam's eyes narrowed as Samuel cavalierly said 'companion'. It just seemed to sound like so much more than just a dancing partner. It let her harden her heart somewhat to what she needed to do next. "But, we need him to sign the contract Samuel! We have to find him a date! His man made that very clear." "But you can't go through with the surgery Sam. There is no way the doctor would okay you for it now." Samantha appeared to think for a moment and then her expression brightened. "I know!" Then she slumped down again and said, "No. That wouldn't work. That's just too crazy to even imagine." Samuel, like the desperate man that he was, took the bait and said, "What is it? At this point, I'm willing to try anything to save our company." Samantha lied outrageously as she said, "Samuel, I want you to know this gives me no pleasure. The only possible solution is for you to have the surgery and take my place at the party." Samantha braced herself for the possible repercussions from her appeal, the air charged with anticipation. Her husband was in was in a state of shock, kneeling with his mouth hanging open, his eyes open but not seeing.. After several minutes with no response, Samantha had to act. With an eerie calmness to her voice Samantha repeated herself, changing it to a 'demand' this time. The fuse was lit; the expected explosion of opposition erupted. "Do you have a screw loose? You have to be kidding! There's no way I could do that! I'd be a laughingstock!" Playing the scene to the fullest, Samantha slunk down into the couch and pulled the bedding up to her chin. "Your right dear, you couldn't possibly pass as my twin. It must be the fever speaking. Unlike you, I'm just trying to find a solution, not whining about how it can't be done." Pausing for effect, she then smirked and pleaded with her eyes as her tears broke free and flowed down her cheeks like hot lava. She coughed, once and then used a tissue to wipe her runny nose. She pleaded with her husband as if she were talking to a confused toddler, pulling his attention from contemplating his potential humiliation. "Samuel, that's not true and you know it! We're the same height and build, with identical coloring. You did it before. Remember the New Year's Eve party? You fooled everyone, the people we work with on a daily bases couldn't tell us apart. "We would need to pluck your eyebrows and do a good job on your makeup. This time it would be even easier. Mr. von Goethe does not know you. You would go as me; I would be there as your business partner to help with our sales pitch. I'll make myself look different, less feminine. You could talk to him about the company and if your theory about men and tits are correct, all you will have to do is show him a good time and you'll have his signature on a contract by the end of the night." "I don't know Samantha, giving me boobs sounds rather drastic." "Nonsense, they come out as easy as they go in. You could have them removed as soon as the contract is signed." Then to dangle a carrot for her husband Samantha added, "I could get mine done to whatever size you want at the same time you have yours undone. Max would never be the wiser." Then to seal the deal Samantha gave her husband those puppy dog eyes, she reserved only for special occasions. Samantha could see that Samuel was contemplating her plan; however he had become morose and glum, apprehension was written all over his face. Although the walls were still very much intact, she could see the cracks beginning to spider at a hurried pace. Slowly but surely, brick by brick, the barriers were beginning to show wear. She thought he was wavering so she needed to press her attack. With a coy smile Samantha said, "Remember what you said. 'If he's concentrating on your boobs, it will be easier to get him to sign on the dotted line.' Getting him to sign with us is the only way to save our company and the jobs of all of our friends and employees. Its two out, bottom of the ninth, the scores tied, the basses are loaded and you're at bat. The only one, who can bring the runner home, is you." Samuel knelt at his wife's side for the longest time just staring off into space. Finally, Samuel's resistance to undergoing his wife's cosmetic surgery evaporated faster than a snowflake landing on a hot stone. With a fatalistic shrug of his shoulders he said, "Okay, I'll do it. But will you still respect me?" Samantha smiled at him, letting herself surrender to the fatigue of fighting her illness. "I'm proud of you dear. Not many guys would take one for the team, like this." Samuel smiled for the first time and said, "That's strange I always thought they came in pairs." Samantha laughed and pulled her husband in for a hug as she replied, "You're right. We should say you're taking two for the team." Sam relaxed against her pillows, pulled the blankets up. Just before drifting off to sleep, she said, "Remember what you said to me! It's imperative that he has a good time. I expect you to do only what you are comfortable with. You know, flirt, laugh at his jokes, dance with him, and hold his hand; of course there will be the obligatory goodnight kiss or two." Then unable to resist twisting the knife just a little she added, "Tongue is optional. Just don't come home pregnant. How we would explain that to our parents?" As she fell into a fever induced slumber, Samuel sat back on his haunches and watched his wife sleep with the chill of foreknowledge there would be hell to pay. He squirmed at being hoist on his own petard. @ @ @ @ Betty woke Samantha up the next morning with a breakfast of tea and toast. With Samuel at work they were free to talk. "Tell me, is he going to do it? This is going to be so much fun. I have a million ideas of how we can make him look like a big-boobed transvestite hooker." "Whoa there cowgirl, reign in that kind of talk. We seem to have a misunderstanding. This little drama is being played out, first and foremost to save our company. If I can teach my husband a valuable lesson in the process so much the better. I will not do anything to intentionally humiliate him. Now along the way if he gets himself into an embarrassing situation I won't complain. He is misguided; but not a bad person. In fact, he has a heart of gold. You are not going to tease him about this. If you do I will have to ask you to leave." "We have a day and a half before he goes under the knife. I need your help in bolstering his self-confidence, so he doesn't get cold feet and back out." Betty knew what she had to do. "Do you have any more of those New Year Eve party pictures in digital form?" "Yes, there is a folder on my laptop." "Give me thirty minutes and I'll create something we can use. I'm a wizard with Photoshop; remove imperfections and blemishes, change skin tones, enhance colors. I can takes inches off here, add them there. Not to brag, I can make Phyllis Diller look like a playboy bunny, if that's what you want." By three o'clock, Betty had her slide show completed and the computer hooked up to the TV in the den. Samuel dragged in several hours later. His body language told Samantha he was having serious doubts. "Sam, you're not still worried about pulling off our trading places are you?" "I've thought this through. There's no way; up close I can convince anyone I'm a woman." "You've seen magic acts. The secret is misdirection. A good magician fools his audience. A great one makes them believe. You keep his attention focused on your massive hooters and not only will you fool Max, by night's end he will believe you are and have always been Samantha. I have already talked to the girls at the office; they will get everyone to play along. With their help, and lots of makeup it'll be easypeasy!" "Wait not so fast. You told the girls at the office I was getting a boob job? How could you? They will never respect me again!" "Relax, you are still the owner, they will respect your position, even if there is an occasional snicker behind your back. There was some discussion of the motivation behind your behavior, whether it was caused by lust or envy. "They won't give you away; I explained why you are doing this. After a few perfunctory giggles, they settled down. I don’t think they understand how close they are to losing their jobs. Your personal assistant, Mary even asked if she should get your office repainted in pink and asked now that you have your own set of bazookas will you stop staring at all the girls." "No offense, having a bunch of employees calling me Samantha hardly will be convincing." "You're right; but having the girls fawn over your hair and makeup, gossip with you and ask where you got the dress - that kind of stuff will help. They will even include you in their conversations and other girlie activities such as inviting you to the powder room. We have this all worked out. It will support the illusion we are creating." Samantha still sensed doubt. "Let's not skirt the issue, Betty and I will teach you everything you need to know, after all we have almost a week." Samuel sighed. "A whole week to pickup what has taken you a lifetime to learn. That shouldn't be a problem." "Oh ye of little faith, we have a plan. Come Friday, the new and improved Samantha will not only be ready, but eager for her first date." Not giving Samuel a chance to digest what she said, Sam continued, "Using our pictures from New Year's Eve, Betty has worked up a little show to build your confidence." Betty went over and turned on the computer and television. "Samuel I went through your photos, I cropped out a dozen pictures of you and Samantha. I have talked it over with Samantha and if you can tell me which ones are you and which ones are Samantha she will call the whole thing off. Deal?" Betty quickly ran through the slide show, not allowing him time to closely examine any of them. Samuel felt he was twisting in the wind and realized he was going to need a new antiperspirant. "Do it again, please." The second time through, Betty allowed Samuel all the time he wanted to make his selections. Some he was sure of; but most he reluctantly admitted to himself he had to guess. "Well how'd I do?" Samantha doubled over laughing. "Sweetheart, we tricked you. Every one of those is you. If you can't tell it's not me, then no one else will." "I don't think it's that funny; but your point is well taken. However there is a huge difference from posing for still photographs and convincingly portraying a woman in a face to face situation." "Betty hand him my computer. Honey we have spent most of the day bookmarking female impersonator sites. They are full of advice on 'passing'. Betty and I will tutor you in feminine mannerisms. From now until Valentine's Day, you lose your man card. You are hereby officially enrolled in Betty and Sam's finishing school for young ladies. By the way, this is strictly a pass-fail course." @ @ @ @ The time had come to leave for the hospital. Sam's head was overwhelmed with the requirements of mastering all these new procedures and skill sets, there was so much to remember; he was drilled endlessly in the nuances of how to stand, walk, sit, and talk. It was not easy to unlearn a life time of habits and mannerisms. Samuel put everything he had into it. Their financial future depended on him. At night, he fell into bed totally exhausted. Samantha was so understanding and considerate. Despite her lingering illness she was still there advising and correcting his every failing, never harshly, always with a smile and cheerful suggestion. Betty was a stern taskmaster; but also a caring mentor, never satisfied until each task was completed flawlessly. As a team the two ladies nicely complimented each other. After just one day, Samuel began to feel he might be able to carry off the charade. Samantha ran a hot shower for her husband, got the temperature just right. They stepped in together; Samantha took the shaving cream and a razor and helped remove the few sparse hairs on his back and shoulders. Kissed him on the neck, handed the cream and razor to Samuel and backed out of the shower saying, "I'll leave the rest to you. Call when you are dressed, we don't have a lot of time." He stood in their bedroom having just gotten out of the shower, where he had shaved all over as Samantha required. Even his underarms, which Samuel thought was overkill but he did as he was told just hoping this, would be over soon. He sat and combed his damp hair and put it in a feminine ponytail as he had been practicing. Standing, he wondered who the androgynous creature was that he saw in the mirror. He shivered and felt emasculated when he realized it was only his reflection. Proceeding to the bed, he packed the overnight bag Samantha had left out for him. He threw in a change of clothes, underwear, and white tube socks. He was ready to close it when Samantha walked in, took one look at it contents and dumped them on the bed. "Sammie! What are you doing? These are totally inappropriate. There is no way you can come home wearing a man's flannel shirt and cutoff Levi shorts. What would the orderlies think of a person who has just undergone massive breast augmentation surgery wanting to appear in public dressed as a man?" She filled the bag up with her toiletries and makeup and added a gorgeous floor length ivory dressing gown and matching panties, explaining they were a gift from Betty. Samuel whined, "I can't wear that home from the hospital!" "Don't be silly! The doctors won't release you the same day of surgery. Without complications, you will be spending at least one night there. You'll need something other than those horrid bottom-flashing hospital gowns to wear. When I come to pick you up, I'll bring a clean change of underwear, a nice dress and some comfortable shoes for you to wear coming home." His voice quivered. "You're not staying with me?" The thought of being abandoned at the hospital apparently terrified Samuel. Samantha reached out and held Sam's hand and soothingly replied, "No silly. You're a big girl now; you can stay by yourself for one night. Betty and I will be there first thing in the morning. We'll do your makeup and hair and help you get dressed. Everything will be fine, don't freak out on me now!" @ @ @ @ Four hours later, Samuel was ensconced in his private room, the nurses having finished taking his pre-surgery vitals. He was instructed to relax; the doctor would be in shortly to talk with him. The medical profession's idea of time was remarkably different from the rest of mankind. Samuel sat for almost an hour. He tired of the uncomfortable visitor's chair, and he climbed into bed and tried to relax. He was having problems as he had moved beyond nervous and into panic mode. Eventually, an elderly gentleman stopped to explain that Samuel's regular doctor had been called away on an emergency. He would be performing the procedure. He did the normal pre-checks in record time. It didn't take a trained detective to recognize he was uncomfortable with the idea of giving a man breast implants. He nervously waved a handful of papers around. Eventually, he flipped to the last page showing the signature page to Samuel. "Mr. Johansson, your wife dropped off the consent forms. Is that your signature?" "Yes, doctor is there a problem?" "No, this is just a most unusual case. Do these forms accurately depict your desires? My usual patient is a young woman whose personality profile indicates psychological distress about her personal appearance and her body self image. Obviously, your case falls outside the bell curve of normalcy. I need you to confirm that you want female breast implants and not male pectoral augmentation, like most normal men ask for. "Sorry, that sounded judgmental, I didn't intend it that way. I just want to make sure, as your doctor, that I am performing the service you want and are paying for." Samuel nodded his assent assuming they were the forms he and Samantha had filled out the night before. "I'm sorry Mr. Johansson; I need you to actually say the words. Then initial next to today's date. I will not ask your motivation; it is none of my business. I will tell you I am the finest breast man in the state. I guarantee you will be happy with my work. I know you will be anxious to