Storm in a B Cup - a Breast Cancer Tale

Cover Storm in a B Cup - a Breast Cancer Tale
Hanson’s rooms for the first time.  This is a bit swanky.
I’ve never had to press a button to enter an office before. I feel like I should have more money or be wearing a classy pair of jeans and heels, not my Levis with the faded knees and my favourite boots.
The waiting room has leather armchairs with poufy cushions that coordinate with the obviously expensive carpet. The walls and reception desk are chocolate timber-panelled and in the thirty seconds since I’ve entered, one man has arrived w
...ith a fresh flower delivery for the console and another with take away coffees for the staff, including what looks to be homemade biscuits. Fancy having your afternoon tea delivered every day. Fancy having the money to be able afford it.
Clearly, being a plastic surgeon is a lucrative business.
After announcing myself to the receptionist, who by the way looks like she’s never had a lick of cosmetic surgery, I find a chair opposite a corridor that leads to a series of doors. I put my purse on the empty seat next to me.
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