I had a feeling there was alot more to come and, boy, was I right.When we got back to the bedroom she opened my robe and had me lay back onthe bed. She took a box out of the closet, opened it up, and pulled outtwo very realistic looking breast forms. "My mother used these after herdouble mastectomy and before her reconstructive surgery and," she saidsmiling, "you know Mom; these are the best that money can buy. Once weget them attached with the surgical adhesive it will be almost impossibleto tell that they aren't really yours!" Before we put them on, though, there's something I want to try," shesaid as she headed back to the closet. When she returned she was holdinga strange looking machine. As she plugged it in beside the bed I notedthat it was some kind of motor with two long, flexible hoses attached.At the end of the hoses were glass cylinders about two inches long and asbig around as my thumb. Wrapped around the end of the cylinders werewhat looked like two fat. He opened the door, and through the stained shower glass, Frankie stood in one spot, sniffling.“Bill,” she said barely above a whisper, “could you come in here with me, please?” Her blurred image repositioned itself.“Frankie… I.”“Please, Bill. I’m really freaking out and… and I want someone to hold me.” She sniffled again, and her voice cracked. “Please?”Bill pulled the sliding door aside and stared at Frankie, standing still like a statue in a downpour – hugging herself and shuddering with small bumps along the skin. He removed his towel, placed it on the rack and stepped in.“You even lathered your skin yet?” He held her shoulders and tipped her chin.“No. Just… just standing in here.”“I’ve got you.”Bill took up her soap bar, wet it and lathered her skin – shoulders first and making his way down. Humps and contours lined the way in a fashion unexpected for a woman of her stature. More goosebumps arose from her skin as his palms – rough yet softer than any man she encountered –.
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