Jonny likes the idea

He looked back up at Selina. "I like the way you think," he began, "let's do it." Selina smiled that the master had accepted her plan. Jonny removed his feet from Selina's desk and stood up. "If we're going to do this, I'll need a body . . . somebody other than the barely pubescent kid I'm in now. Find me somebody who should be at the gala, somebody who would be expected to be there. The thing is tomorrow at 6. I'll be here at 4, and I expect you to have my body ready for me to jump into at that time. Understood?" he said. "Yes, Master," Selina said obediently. "Very good," Jonny said as he looked approvingly at his clone, "you look good in there," he said with a smile. Selina smiled. "How could I not?" she said as she reached up and grabbed the mounds protruding from her chest. With that, Jonny disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Selina stood in the office for a moment and pondered the assignment she'd just been given. She had to find the master a body. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly midnight--the master would have gone home to bed now. She had to find somebody he would like . . . this assignment was a preliminary one, the prefatory one before the big day tomorrow evening, but she couldn't fuck it up, or the master would never trust her or give her anything big again. One never gets a second chance to make a first impression, after all. She walked to the door of her stately office and opened it. "Martinez! Get your ass in here!" she yelled out into the busy hustle and bustle of the station, a chaotic hum that continued despite the late hour.

Within a couple minutes, a face appeared at Selina's door, the face of a man of about 30 and clean-shaven, dripping with sweat but eager to please his curvy boss. "Yes Chief?" he said. "Martinez," Selina began, "I'm about to head out for the night--gotta be in tip top shape for the thing tomorrow, but I need to talk with some people. Get me a copy of the guest list for tomorrow, will you?" Martinez nodded dutifully and jetted off to places unknown to procure a copy of the list. Selina marigold at the respect her voluptuous, middle-aged body commanded. "The master is a fine judge of meat suits," she marveled. Within a couple minutes, Martinez returned with a piece of paper in his hand, which he gave to Selina. "Will there be anything else, Chief?" he asked. "No, just make sure you're well-rested for the thing tomorrow. I'm headed out," Selina said as she stepped through the door. She made her way through the station and out to the car, which she drove home.

As Selina walked up the stairs to her apartment, she felt the persistent jiggle of her chest with every step. She quite liked it. After fumbling with the keys for a minute, she had entered the apartment, finding it to be well-furnished but kind of messy. "Justice never sleeps . . . apparently it also rarely cleans," Selina said with a chuckle as she found a couple empty pizza boxes and dirty clothes strewn about an apartment that was large and open with walls of exposed brick and hardwood floors. Selina made good money--not as much as Lisa, but plenty. That said, she was so devoted to her work, though, that she only sometimes found time to clean, and she didn't make it a priority. That was likely to continue despite the fact that Selina's body was now under new management.

Selina tossed her keys on the counter and slowly unbuttoned her tight-fitting top, tossing it aside where it landed on the back of a chair in the dining area. Selina's boobs jiggled a bit more as the lacy black bra struggled to contain them. She kept her pants on, and they continued to accentuate her meaty thighs and curvy ass. She ambled into her bedroom where she plopped her curvy form upon the bed, where there was an open Mac laptop. Lying on her belly, Selina pulled the list out of her pocket and woke the computer up. "Let's see what Martinez got for me," she said as her eyes scanned the list. The names of the city's elite filled the list and Selina's mind. Glancing over the paper, Selina saw some names she recognized and others she did not. Either way, research never hurt, hence the computer at the ready.

Two names jumped out as Selina scanned the names of heavy-hitters in the city. The first was that of Amy Wilkins. This young woman was 18 years old and known in the city's social circles for 2 things--the size of her bank account and the size of her chest, each one being the result of somebody else's generosity. See, Amy was not the brightest bulb in the proverbial box. She had been in trouble in school but managed to stay in, one assumed, because the men in the school's administration enjoyed having a body like that strutting through the halls. Her blonde hair, blue eyes, and beautiful smile purchased her just enough favor with the right people. A toned belly and beautiful ass did not hurt either. She had hoped to attend college and began stripping to fund her attendance. She'd been sexily dancing one evening at an upper-class strip club (or gentlemen's club, as was the politically correct term assigned by the well-paid patrons) at the age of 17 when she caught the eye of one Conrad Goldworth, a casino magnate, aged 78 years. Three months, a boob job, and two parental consent forms later, the two were married, and a trust fund was soon established with young, ditzy Amy as its beneficiary. Selina scrolled through Amy's Facebook profile and found strewn about it pictures of expensive cars, a palatial house, and gaudy jewelry. Along with these images were posts with more stupid questions and misspelled words than she cared to count. "You've certainly found yourself a dumb bitch, Conrad. Enjoy her before she forgets to breathe you old fuck," Selina said to the young woman's absent rich husband.

The second name that jumped out was Yana Stukovic--a Ukranian-born bombshell. She had jet black hair and a beautiful face with a smile that would (and did) light up a room. Yana had been in the US for only about four months, and every sighting of her involved her on the arm of a different rich man several decades her senior. She herself was only 25. Her breasts jutted out beautifully from her chest, and her belly was toned due to her constant exercise. Selina's informants had told her that she was a very high-end escort, hence the revolving cast of older men she had been seen with. She was probably hoarding money some place to try to get out of her present profession.

Selina mulled these two over in her mind. Both of these bodies--these woman--were exactly the sort of people from whom one would expect nothing special. They would attend tomorrow night's ball as arm candy for rich men who expected them to shut up, look pretty, and bounce their boobs at the proper time. The master could blend in if he wore one of them; women like them would be all over a ball like this. The master often went for older women--ones with the class, sophistication, and accomplishment that attended age. A couple lines around the eyes could be sexy. Women with a bit of meat on their bones could be sexy. Still, Selina thought, perhaps the master would applaud her for picking something a bit different this time.