A week had passed since her breast augmentation and the pain was finally starting to subside. Mr Gartside had told her it would take months for the implants to 'drop and fluff'. Currently, it made it look like her boobs were half way up to her neck.
She had struggled mentally during the time alone. She couldn't help but think she had turned herself into a freak and the lumps of plastic in her felt alien. "How on earth have I reached this point?" she asked herself.
After all the daytime TV, Helena was ready to return to work and today was the day. There was only so much 'Homes Under The Hammer' one girl could watch without thoughts of murder creeping in.
There was one issue she hadn't tackled yet - clothes. Helena walked to the bedroom and stripped off the pyjamas she had worn for a week. She caught sight of her new silhouette in the mirror, complete with two obvious mounds under the surgical bra. "Not sure I'll ever get used to these," she thought, opening the wardrobe and collecting her usual work scrubs. She pulled her loose fitting scrubs over her breasts and examined herself in the mirror. The lumps were still clearly visible but the scrubs did a good job of hiding just how big they now were. It would have to do.
The drive to her first appointment was interesting in that she discovered why seatbelts were designed for men, not large breasted women. Despite the bra, she could feel every jolt result in a jiggle of her new assets. They felt very vulnerable and she prayed it wasn't the day a horse decided to kick her in the chest.
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It was a quiet week. Appointments went as planned and nobody in the office mentioned or even seemed to notice her 450cc enhancements. She started to think she had gotten away with it. That is, until Henry, her boss, called her into the office on Friday afternoon.
"Helena, we need a chat in my office. Now, please," he said. Helena looked up from the case she was writing up. Whatever it was, he didn't sound happy. It was probably that dickhead with the old Cob she had put down yesterday. She stood and followed him into his office.
"Look, Henry, if it's about that put to sleep I did on Wednesday I can assure you I followed every...," she began.
"Stop. No, Helena, it's nothing like that. I had a call from Mr Gartside this afternoon about booking his next appointment."
Her heart started to sink. She could see where this was going.
"Now imagine my surprise when he asked how you were getting on after your SURGERY last week." He paced across the room. "What the fuck, Helena? You haven't just put on weight in a week have you? You went and had your boobs done. Didn't clear the time off with me, failed multiple clients, and then lied about it directly to me. That is totally unacceptable!"
She felt dread rising. "Henry, I meant to book it properly but I just, I don't know, forgot. It was all such a rush. I..."
"'Sorry' doesn't do it, Helena. You've cost me a fortune in lost bookings. I can't trust you anymore." He pulled open his desk drawer and picked up an envelope. "You're fired. Here's your P45. Don't bother asking for references. Now get out."
And with that, Helena was unemployed.
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Helena drove home shell-shocked. Unemployed. It was never a thing she expected to be. She certainly didn't think she'd ever be fired. And it was all her own stupid fault. She hurried up the path to her door, past the dying and shrivelled flowers of the daffodils, and fumbled with the keys as tears began to cloud her vision. Finally finding the right key, she ran inside and collapsed in tears on the sofa.
It all seemed so hopeless. She'd be out of a job for months and even then, without references she'd struggle. They'd wonder why she left a perfect job and the vet rumour mill would probably tell them why anyway - 'The vet fired for a boob job', she could imagine the gossip.
There was only one person she could call. She picked up the phone.
"Sarah. Hi, it's Helena. I...I got sacked...Yeah...look could you...could you come over please? I need someone to talk to."
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An hour later, Sarah arrived to find Helena still in tears, her face red and blotchy.
"Oh my dear what happened?" she asked, taking Helena into a deep hug.
Helena cried into her shoulder. "The surgeon happened to speak to my boss today. He fucking asked about how I was recovering." she sobbed.
"Oh God. I can see what happened next. What an idiot."
"Henry sacked me on the spot. I've just spent all my savings on these stupid boobs and I need to pay the rent in two weeks. I'm fucked! No job, no money, nothing."
"No, don't say that," said Sarah. She stroked Helena's hair and soothed her. "You'll find another job easily. And if you need money, I'm sure your parents could help you out for a couple of months, right?"
"NO!" shouted Helena. "There's no way I'm telling my parents. Absolutely not. They'd disown me if they found out what happened. And how am I going to earn the money in another job in time? Even if I get a job in a pub it won't pay enough for the rent on this place and livery for Bilbo."
"We'll find a way. Now, sit down, let me get you a cup of tea." Sarah disappeared into the kitchen and after a few minutes returned with two steaming mugs. They sat in silence, contemplating the situation for a while.
Sarah turned to Helena. "Helena, there is one thing you could try, but you aren't going to like the idea," said Sarah, cautiously.
"I'm open to anything right now. What is it?" replied Helena.
Sarah rubbed the lip of her mug with a finger. "Well, a few years ago when I was a student I tried escorting for a few months...", she began.
Helena's face showed her shock. "There is no way..."
Sarah interrupted. "Just listen. Look, I did it for a few months whilst in a tricky patch and it paid off my student loan in the space of four months."
She could see Helena was listening now and continued. "It was easy money and, to be honest, it was quite fun. Honestly, don't just write it off if you're in dire need for cash - you either swallow your pride and ask your parents, or you get swallowing something else. And just look at you - you're a young, attractive woman, well-educated, no weird problems, and you've got a body to die for. You could make a fortune!"
Helena couldn't believe it had reached this point. From a secure job and stable upbringing to considering prostitution in the space of a day. But Sarah did have a point - she did need cash, fast, and she would still rather die than tell her parents.
