Yes, I'm curious. It's not like I have anywhere else I need to be.

You get in the sedan with the nice, young driver (who is not at all like a mafia thug about to kidnap you and sink your body in the river).

"Hey there, my name's Marty."

"MARTY??" You ask, shocked. "You're the one who drove me.... oh god, was it {if chose_trophy_wife == true}a whole year{else}seven years{endif} ago?"

"Oh! Miss Jennifer! I remember you! How have you been?"

"Uh... it's been an interesting {if chose_trophy_wife == true}year.{else}seven years. Listen, can you take me to my apartment first? I need to change before I go to visit Mr. Cairforu."

"Sure thing, Miss Jennifer."{endif}

Back at the Hewitt estate, you get out of the car and wave to Marty. {if chose_trophy_wife == true}You are back in your bright, neon-pink thong, neon-pink stretch-lace bra, shiny-pink stretch satin dress, and pink-tweed jacket, all of which (after your surgeries) fit even better than they did a year ago.{else}You are back in your nylon, rose-colored panties, old-fashioned girdle, stockings, pencil skirt and gauzy blouse, which fits even better now than it did seven years ago.{endif}

Because you actually have tits now. And you no longer need the corset or waist cinch.

And here you are, again. Back at the house. You are feeling a weird mixture of horniness and goosebump-anxiety-creepiness.

You go to press the doorbell.

Password

Oh god, no! you look around. Marty has already pulled away.

Shit. What am I going to do? You fidget. Desperately, you press the doorbell again.

Password

You can almost hear the smirk of mocking in the house computer's voice.