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From: SirRender <"i_am_sirrender [at] yahoo [dot] com"@giganews.com>
User-Agent: Xnews/2006.08.24
Subject: {ASSM} What Some People Will Do - Chapters 64-65 (doctor exhib F-solo) {Sir Render}
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Date: Thu, 10 Jan 2008 23:10:03 -0500
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Chapters 1-63 can be downloaded free at http://www.asstr-mirror.org or my own 
site at http://sirrender.syntheticdimension.net.

*****
This is a work of fiction.  All characters are of no age because they 
are not real people.  This story is intended to be read and enjoyed 
by consenting adults only.  Do not read this story if it is illegal 
for you to do so.  The author will not be responsible for your 
actions.  Do not allow anyone under the age of consent to read this 
story.  Again the author will not be responsible for your actions.  
Please do not treat this as a guide for real life; it is only a work 
of fiction.  Do not read this story if descriptions of nudity, sex 
and sexual situations offend you.  Do not repost this story in any 
way which requires payment for access and please do not remove the 
copyright notice when reposting this story.  Thank you.
*****

What Some People Will Do
(C)2000, 2007 by Sir Render (i_am_sirrender@yahoo.com as of November
2007)

Part 23

Chapter 64

"Brenda, we've come up with the best show idea ever!" exclaimed Thomas 
Hardcastle excitedly through the phone.  "We can have a terrific, sexy 
episode and shoot down the complaints that your breasts are fake at the 
same time!  They are real, aren't they?"

Brenda stammered for a moment, not quite sure how to start her reply.  
Finally she said, "I didn't know anyone had claimed my boobs are fake."

"We've been getting letters for a few weeks; people saying they must be 
fake.  I shouldn't say they complained but they sure don't think they're 
real.  Don't you read your fan mail we leave at the studio for you?"

"I don't have time to read it all.  There's so much and most of it's 
junk; marriage proposals -- like I'm not already married! -- requests to 
let them screw me, asking me to say their names on the show."

"I know, I know.  But believe me, you're not the only star who gets that 
kind of mail.  It's much more common that you'd think.  Anyway, I just 
need you to tell me in all sincerity that your breasts are natural."

Brenda, who had just finished toweling off after her morning shower, sat 
at the edge of her king size canopy bed in her bathrobe.  The robe hung 
open at the chest as she crossed her legs knee over knee.  Holding the 
cordless telephone against her ear with her left hand, she absentmindedly 
rubbed her right hand down her chest and into the gaping opening of her 
robe.  As her producer continued talking, Brenda cupped her left breast, 
feeling the weight of it.  She continued running her hand around its 
surface until her index finger and thumb encircled her nipple and began 
to thoughtlessly toy with it.

"They're 100% real," she said after several seconds.

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief on the other end of the phone.  "Phew!  
That's perfect, then.  We'd like to have you meet with a doctor, a couple 
of doctors actually, next week.  We're going to derail this breast 
implants idea by having you get a full breast exam by a certified OBGYN 
and a plastic surgeon.  Now we're going to do it in two steps.  First 
we'll have you go and see the surgeon just to verify -- it's not that we 
don't trust you, but in order not to invalidate the claim we want there 
to be no cameras there when you get checked out.  Then we'll have you 
meet both the surgeon and the gynecologist on another day to do the 
filming and they'll both examine you thoroughly and announce publicly 
that you're all natural."

Brenda by this time was mindlessly squeezing and pulling on her nipple.  
Her mind had wandered and she was barely aware that she was on the phone 
with Thomas.  She was thinking about the events at the fitness spa a few 
nights earlier.  In fact all the events of the past week were blurring 
through her increasingly aroused mind; the night she'd worn a sheer baby-
doll to dinner with her husband's second cousin or grand nephew or 
whatever; the party over the weekend where she'd been encouraged to have 
sex with a fat business man whose sponsorship of the studio was very 
important to her career; how she had encouraged her best friend and 
partner in crime Wynona to make out with her husband Jim while watching 
Brenda get plowed by that business man.  Then there was her secret 
infidelity with Jim's relative, screwing madly on this very bed while 
Brenda talked to her husband on the phone and tried to keep her 
composure.  It all culminated in a night of wild abandon at the fitness 
spa where she'd been naked in front of dozens of her fans, let them grope 
her, eat her out, fuck her tits, cum on her face and chest and then to 
top it all off had been fist fucked by a butch female fan for what seemed 
like half an hour while the camera rolled.

Just vaguely cognizant of Thomas' banter about her doctor appointments in 
the coming week, Brenda began to whimper as her manipulation of her 
breast and sensitive nipple began to get the better of her.

"I-- I  have to go.  I'm not feeling well," she lied and put down the 
phone on the bed beside her.

Brenda pulled her bathrobe wide open and lay back over her bed in all her 
naked glory and immediately buried three fingers of her right hand deep 
into her moist slit.  Her left hand took its place at her breasts, 
alternating from left to right and tugging mercilessly on her stiff 
nipples.  She was already highly aroused and reached orgasm quickly -- 
too quickly.  She increased the speed of her fingers thrusting in and out 
of her pussy while bucking her hips up off the bed and crying out loud 
from the very depths of her belly.

As Brenda brought herself to three porn star style screaming orgasms in 
just a few minutes, Thomas sat transfixed at his desk with the phone 
pressed against his ear.  He was amazed that Brenda had apparently 
forgotten to turn her phone off before setting it down and deathly afraid 
to make any noise which might alert her to the fact he was still on the 
line.  He cupped his crotch through his slacks for several minutes before 
cumming in his shorts.  He hung up the phone quietly as he heard Brenda's 
panting and moaning subside.

In what had started as a gimmick reality TV show to get ratings for his 
fledgling station, he had created a slut.

Brenda arrived at the plastic surgeon's private practice early on Tuesday 
morning the following week.  The office was located on the second floor 
of a three floor office building.  The doctor greeted her himself, having 
been well informed by the television studio of what was expected.  He was 
a tall, skinny man with a receding line of short, black hair.

"Good morning Miss Young.  I'm Doctor Conditt."

"Actually it's Mrs. Young," Brenda corrected him with a smile.

"Oh, well then let me say congratulations to the lucky man.  Please, come 
on back to my office and have a seat."  He led Brenda down a short hall 
past two open and empty examination rooms and a closed door bearing an 
engraved plastic sign reading "RESTROOM".  The last door was his private 
office and he motioned for Brenda to take a seat in front of his 
cluttered metal desk.

"This is just a consultation Mrs. Young so there's no charge to you for 
this visit.  As I understand your employer wants me to determine whether 
and to what extent you  may have had any augmentation performed.  Is that 
correct?"

"Yes, that's right.  Apparently my word isn't good enough for them," 
Brenda laughed.

"Well let me just say I've seen your show and nothing I've seen so far 
would lead me to believe you're anything but natural."

"They think my boobs are too firm to be real," Brenda laughed again as 
she cupped and jiggled her braless breasts through her thick wool top.

"I guess that all depends on your age and athletic condition.  Do you 
work out regularly?"

Brenda nodded, trying not to think of the previous week's adventure.

"That's good.  And how old are you, Mrs. Young?  And please," he said 
with one hand out as if to stop her, "understand that to a plastic 
surgeon age is all about how you want to feel."

"Ha!  In that case I'm nineteen," Brenda giggled.

"Well then, there's nothing unusual about a physically fit nineteen year 
old being firm," he smiled back.

Brenda hesitated a moment before saying, "I'm almost thirty."

"And still as firm as you were at nineteen?"  That is quite impressive 
but not unheard of.  Do you wear an appropriately fitted bra or just 
something off the shelf?"

"I almost never even wear a bra."

The Doctor's eyebrows rose.  "Mrs. Young -- may I call you Brenda?  
Brenda, almost all of my clients would kill to be as firm as you without 
wearing a bra.  I will recommend, though, for the future that if you want 
to stay as firm ten and fifteen years from now that you should be wearing 
a custom fitted bra every day.  Otherwise you'll be back in my office in 
a few years and that won't be a free consultation."  He smiled again, 
trying to give his words a lighter touch.

"I know, I know.  Everyone tells me I'll be sorry if I don't start 
wearing one now."

"They really are correct.  The best thing a woman can do for her breasts 
is to give them proper support.  But now then, let's have a look at you.  
Go ahead and just stand right there."

Brenda rose from her chair and stood where indicated by the blank white 
wall beside the office door.  She noted Doctor Conditt retrieved a very 
expensive looking SLR camera from his desk drawer.  Noting her stare he 
said, "For the record I need to get just a few shots from various 
angles."

"Just don't expect me to pose."

"No, nothing like that.  Please remove your top and stand straight and 
tall facing me, please."  When Brenda had removed her wool top over her 
head and deposited it on the chair to her right, she stood with her back 
flat against the white wall.  Doctor Conditt took one photo then turned 
his camera ninety degrees counter-clockwise and took another.  "Now 
please turn to your left," he instructed.  She did and he took another 
pair of photos before asking her to turn to her right where he took two 
more.

"This is good, but to really prove the case I'll need to see your breasts 
in a couple of other situations.  Stand with your butt against the wall 
and bend at the waist with your hands on your knees."

Brenda raised an eyebrow skeptically but complied with the order.  She 
let her breasts hang free as the doctor snapped a couple more pics.  "And 
now the same thing but turn to your left and then to your right."

After getting all the pics he needed of her breasts hanging straight 
down, he asked her to lift both breasts by the nipples and took a few 
quick shots of her like that.  He explained this was to prove she had no 
telltale scars underneath.

With the photos done, he asked for her permission to perform a manual 
examination.  Brenda complied -- that was why she was there, after all -- 
and Doctor Conditt spend a few minutes pressing all sides of each of her 
breasts with two fingers.  He then held his hand out flat and used all 
his fingertips to rub in circles around her areolas.  Brenda had to admit 
that he was being very polite and professional but that didn't stop her 
nipples from crinkling into hard points at his touch.

The examination lasted another four or five minutes with the doctor 
visually inspecting Brenda's breasts up close, his rhythmic warm 
breathing over her globes making her nipples stiffen even more.  She also 
noted her pussy was getting damp and was glad this wasn't a gynecological 
exam.

"Well Mrs. Young," the doctor announced at long last as he returned to 
his seat across the desk from her, "I can't see anything that would lead 
me to believe you have ever had breast augmentation.  You look as natural 
as they come."

"Can I put my top back on now?" she asked with a sudden shiver as the 
heat of his breath left her bare chest.

"By all means.  I'll have these pictures developed and be ready with my 
report on Thursday afternoon as requested by your employer."  He rose, 
holding a file folder over the front of his pants, and showed Brenda out.  
"Mrs. Young, if more women had as perfect breasts as you have I'd be out 
of a job.  Seriously!  But if you ever do decide you'd like to just add a 
cup size or tuck your tummy, please give me a call.  I'll make a special 
deal for you."

By the time Brenda got back to her car, the excitement she'd felt during 
her intimate examination had faded.  She was glad for that as she didn't 
really feel like getting herself off in a parked car in a public lot; not 
today, anyway.

But the whole inspection was repeated on Thursday afternoon in front of a 
pair of TV cameras, lights and her whole film crew.  She spent twenty 
minutes that day lying back on a raised OBGYN table, feet up in the 
stirrups, having her breasts manually and visually examined first by 
Doctor Conditt and then by the gynecologist, a stunning East Indian woman 
with a clearly British accent.  It was again all done very tastefully and 
since it was all about her breasts there was no need for a vaginal 
examination, for which Brenda was again thoroughly thankful as her pussy 
began leaking lubricant about halfway through and didn't stop until the 
woman's hands were off her yearning breasts.

After the examination Brenda excused herself to the restroom where she 
sat on the toilet furiously rubbing in a circular motion around her clit 
until an uncontrollable eruption of pussy juice flooded the bowl.  She 
flushed and sat panting for a few minutes before rising to arrange her 
hair and face in the mirror over the small sink.


Chapter 65

The Channel 69 van pulled into a space in a large downtown parking 
structure.  Brenda had been briefed on this week's big show and thought 
it rather tame compared to some of what she'd been doing recently.  She 
had to admit, though, that it was sexy and potentially a bit dangerous.

The studio had paid the owners of a high rise office building for the 
right to use one of their elevators for filming and had sent a crew over 
on the weekend to get everything set up.  Hidden cameras had been 
installed in place of two light fixtures in the roof of the elevator car, 
giving a combined view of the entire interior.  Brenda's job was easy.  
She was to ride in the elevator, acting as attendant pushing buttons for 
people going to other floors, for as long as it took to get completely 
naked by removing one item of clothing each time someone got in and asked 
for a certain floor.  The building in question had parking facilities on 
the ground through third floors and another twelve floors of offices 
above that.  The magic floor for Brenda was the seventh.  Once completely 
naked, Brenda was to make her way back to the ground floor and out into 
the parking structure with a camera man following.  The TV van would be 
moved to another, undisclosed parking space once Brenda was inside the 
building and she would have to wander around the three levels of parking, 
naked, until she found it.

The original plan had been for one of the crew to ride in the elevator 
with her as security, but after talking it through Brenda felt it would 
be too crowded and not really necessary.  She did ask that a crew member 
be ready on a couple of different floors in case she did need to get to 
them; she would just hit the button for that floor and be there in under 
a minute no matter which floor she was coming from.

Brenda had gotten dressed up at the studio in a bellhop costume complete 
with cap and all the frills common for a mid-twentieth century high class 
hotel.  On the drive into the big city she decided that she liked the red 
and gold colored costume so much that she changed the parameters of the 
game.  She would remove an item of clothing as before but once she let 
the person off at the seventh floor she would put the coat back on so as 
to appear totally normal for the next rider.  Then when the seventh floor 
was requested again the coat would come off, exposing what had been 
previously removed, and a new item would fall to the floor.  In this way 
people wouldn't be too terribly suspicious when they got onto the 
elevator and saw a half naked woman standing there.

Ivan and Roger went up ahead of Brenda.  One of them would wait on the 
fourth floor and the other on the eleventh.  The layout of the building 
had been gone over carefully with building management so the crew knew 
that on these floors there were waiting areas near the elevators where 
the men could sit and wait until needed.  Also building security had a 
station right in the middle of the ground floor where the four elevators 
for the building let out.

After Ivan and Roger had been gone for two minutes, Brenda swallowed the 
lump of anticipation which had risen in her throat and made her way from 
the van toward the back entrance of the attached office spaces.  The 
parking lot was relatively full, as was common in the big city.  The lots 
were open to anyone who paid for parking so people going into half a 
dozen buildings in the area probably used the same lot.

She passed through the back entrance and around a corner to the security 
desk.  The lanky black man sitting with feet up on the desk watched her 
quietly as she made her way to the designated elevator.  For today's 
purposes one of them had been blocked off with an Out Of Order sign.  
This was to drive more business through Brenda's car.  Brenda nodded 
slightly toward the security guard as she stood waiting for her elevator 
to arrive.  By the time it did, two more people had come to wait beside 
her; a young man and a middle aged woman.

Brenda kept her breathing under control as she stood quickly before the 
elevator buttons and awaited orders on what to push.  The man asked for 
the fifth floor and the woman called for nine.  Brenda breathed a sigh of 
relief that she would not need to start stripping right away.  As much as 
she had flaunted her fabulous body over the past several months, she was 
still nervous about new situations in strange new places with no 
immediate backup.

After letting the man off on the fifth floor the two women rode to the 
eighth where another passenger got on.  He asked for the twelfth floor 
which Brenda dutifully pressed on the panel before her.  She let the 
woman off at the next floor and then rode with this sharply dressed 
business man to the twelfth.  As he stepped out of the car he turned and 
commented, "I wasn't aware the building had hired elevator men... or 
women."  Brenda lied, averting her gaze, and said it was on a trial 
basis.  "Well then, keep up the good work," the man said as he stepped 
out and down the corridor.

The elevator sat still for about a minute before it began to descend 
apparently of its own accord.  When it reached the ground floor, despite 
no one waiting to get in, the doors opened and stayed that way.  Brenda 
peaked out and noted the other two operating lifts across from her were 
similarly standing open.  She surmised that when not in use they 
automatically returned to the ground and sat ready for passengers.  She 
was glad that she had chosen to keep the red jacket on between clothing 
removals, otherwise she'd be left standing bare for many minutes.

The wait became almost unbearable as Brenda stood shifting her weight 
from one foot to the other with no passengers.  She glanced at her 
wristwatch and frowned.  "Twenty minutes and nothing," she muttered.  She 
stepped out and asked the security guard just a few steps away if he had 
a stool she could use while waiting.  He motioned for her to wait right 
there and left his station to go into the back of the building toward the 
parking structure.  When he returned he carried before him a sturdy metal 
stool with four legs and rubber feet.  Explaining he had gotten it out of 
the store room, he politely carried it into the elevator car and set it 
down in front of the button panel.

Brenda sat for another seven or eight minutes before she saw a potential 
passenger, and he was a good candidate; a man probably in his early 
thirties with a neatly trimmed mustache and beard, white polo shirt 
tucked into tan slacks and carrying a portfolio in his left hand.  She 
found him quite attractive.  Quickly standing and leaning part way out 
the elevator door, Brenda called, "Going up?"

The man looked surprised but smiled and came to stand beside her in the 
car.  "What floor, sir?" Brenda asked, shivering with anticipation.

"Six."

"You're not making this easy on me," Brenda thought as she pressed the 
button.

It took Brenda an hour from the time she stepped into the elevator before 
she had someone ask for the seventh floor.  Since there were three people 
getting on together, all going to the seventh, Brenda decided to go ahead 
and treat that as three requests and once the button had been pressed she 
shrugged off her bellhop jacket, laid it over the stool and quickly 
unbuttoned her blouse.

No one made a noise but Brenda was aware of the two men and one woman's 
eyes on her as she fumbled with the buttons.  The light garment was 
dropped into the corner as the elevator dinged past the third floor.  
Plopping her ass down on the stool, Brenda pulled one side of the lace to 
her right shoe to loosen the knot and slid her foot out.  Quickly doing 
the same with the left, she stood in stockinged feet and unbuttoned her 
uniform's matching gold-trimmed red slacks.  As the sixth floor dinged 
she bent forward and pulled the slacks to her knees.  Her ass was just 
resting on the edge of the stool as she worked to pull one leg out of the 
slacks, and then she felt someone's hand very gently cup the curve of her 
buttocks.  Rather than stand up, spin around or lose her balance trying 
to fend them off with one foot off the floor, Brenda let them cop their 
feel, but she couldn't be absolutely certain whether it was one of the 
men or the woman who was having their way with her.

The elevator bounced slightly as it stopped on the seventh floor and the 
door slid open before Brenda had fully removed her left leg from the 
uniform slacks.  One by one her passengers slipped past her, all of them 
snickering and whispering to each other about her odd behavior.

As the door slid closed, Brenda folded her discarded slacks with her 
white blouse and laid them over top her shoes in the corner nearest her.  
On the way down she got back into the jacket to hide the fact she was now 
wearing only a light pink satin bra with matching panties, garter belt 
and pink stockings.  Though the jacket only came down to about mid-thigh 
she thought she looked decent enough in the semi-reflective metal trim 
around the elevator button panel.

Brenda's second trip began on reaching the ground floor when two women, 
older than Brenda and heavily made-up in a vain attempt to appear 
younger, got on.  One asked Brenda to press the button for the eleventh 
floor.  Brenda hesitated, waiting for the second woman's order.  The 
woman motioned vaguely toward the buttons and simply said, "Same."

They rode to the eighth floor before the elevator stopped.  There a man 
got on.  He reached for the buttons before noting Brenda standing before 
them.  "Oh, 'scuse me," he offered.  "Can you... can you push seven for 
me?"

"We're on the way up," the one speaking female passenger said.

The man began to step back out but Brenda caught his arm and said, "But 
the other elevator's out of service."

"That's alright, I can catch one of those," the man said, pointing across 
the hall as he backed out.

When the two women got off at floor eleven, Brenda held the door open and 
poked her head out to see if she could find either Ivan or Roger.  She 
saw Roger reading a magazine while sitting in a comfortable looking arm 
chair a dozen feet or so to her right.  She hissed at him as if they were 
in a public library, not wanting to talk too loudly.  He made no move so 
she hissed again and waved her free arm in the air.  Eventually he took 
notice and came to see what was up.

"A few floors down a man asked for the seventh floor, but we were going 
up and he said he'd wait for one of the other elevators.  I didn't take 
anything off since he didn't ride up with me.  Do you think that's 
alright?"

Roger nodded his agreement.  "Makes no sense to take something off with 
no one in the car to see.  By the way, how are you faring?"  He waved his 
cell phone.  "The last news I had from Thomas was fifteen minutes ago 
saying you still hadn't had a single rider."

Brenda stood just within the elevator doors and pulled open her red and 
gold uniform jacket.  "I had three customers at once.  Just have a few 
more to go but so few people asking for number seven."

Roger nodded again.  Scratching his head he then said, "Well, one floor 
out of fifteen.  I guess the odds are against you.  I think that's why 
they wanted you to lose the jacket as one of your things, so you'd stay 
kind of, you know, half naked for more people to see."

"I know, it just seems so seedy to be standing around in an open elevator 
in my underwear inviting people for a ride.  Makes me seem like a whore."

"I guess so.  Maybe we should alter the plan again.  Say, like, on the 
way down anyone asking for the third floor you strip -- doubles your 
chances of someone asking."

"The elevator doesn't go to the third floor, silly.  Parking garage only 
enters the building on the ground."

"Well then four... or five.  Just something that's not seven but more 
likely to be asked for by someone taking the elevator down."

Brenda asked, "Do we need to clear that with anyone?"

"You're the star of the show," Roger smiled back at her.  "I don't think 
anyone will complain if you want to take off more clothes."

As they were talking, a man in a tailored suit came out of an office to 
her right, passed by the small sitting area where Roger had been reading 
and stepped past him into the elevator.  "Four please," he said in a 
charming, well educated tone.  Brenda winked at Roger and took a step 
back into the car, pushed the button marked four and tried to decide 
which undergarment would come off first.  As the doors slid closed, she 
slid out of the jacket.  She heard the man apparently reel back against 
the wall of the car in surprise.  "Wh--what is this?  Am I on Candid 
Camera or something?"

Reaching behind herself with both hands, Brenda turned to face the man.  
"It's my pleasure to make your trip down enjoyable, sir."  She pulled 
open the hooks of her light pink bra and shrugged the straps down over 
her shoulders, pulling it down and away from her magnificent breasts 
before carelessly tossing it on the pile of clothes in the corner behind 
her.  She then stood smiling at him while clasping her hands behind her 
back.  Her breasts jutted forward proudly and she twisted slowly as the 
waist to let them sway a little.  As the elevator dinged past the fifth 
floor and began to slow she added, "We hope your trip with us was a 
pleasant one and hope you'll be riding with us again soon."  As the man 
side-stepped past her and out the door, trying to make believe that his 
arm running across the full breadth of her chest on the way was an 
accident, Brenda turned to remain facing toward him.

A raspy voice broke in on Brenda's harmless fun.  "Nice.  We didn't have 
attendants half as cute as you when I was in the business."  Brenda 
instinctively reached to cover her tits and crossed her legs.  The voice 
had come from an older man with thin, slicked-back salt and pepper hair.  
He wore a delivery driver uniform and was pulling behind him an empty 
dolly.

Brenda cringed in the corner, ashamed at having been caught being so 
blatant, and hurriedly put on her jacket.

"No need sweetheart, you haven't got anything I haven't seen.  Mind you, 
when I worked as a bell boy in the early sixties we had some real 
characters who'd do whatever they could to make you crack up.  I've seen 
it all but, uh, I never participated."

"It isn't what you think," Brenda babbled.  "It's for television!"

"What if that's what I thought it was?"  He winked at her.

The delivery guy got off on the ground floor and Brenda spent ten or 
fifteen minutes contemplating how to go about her final two clothing 
removals.

While she waited, the security guard came and stood beside the elevator 
door chatting her up.  She hadn't really noticed before but his accent 
was clearly Jamaican.  He asked about all the obvious things, like why 
she was standing in an elevator with less and less clothing each time she 
came down, whether she enjoyed her job performing in front of cameras and 
how much money it made her.  When she mentioned that they'd recently 
docked her pay for not going far enough, he said that was a shame and 
that he wouldn't let his wife do what she did no matter how much they 
offered.  Brenda admitted that her husband had been unsure of her career 
move but became very supportive when he saw it was something she really 
wanted to try.

"Oh so you're married then?"

"Yes, happily."  Brenda lifted her hand to waist level to show off her 
glittering if thin gold and diamond wedding ring.

He then asked if they had children.  She said no which led to him 
remarking that having children is one of life's most precious joys.  He 
took his wallet from his back pocket and showed her pictures of his two 
boys and girl.  "She's the youngest; only four.  She takes after her 
dad."

Brenda noted while they chatted that the elevators across the way seemed 
to have been called up to a higher floor as people alternately got out of 
one and then the other before making their ways to the outer doors of the 
building.  Before long the doors to her car began to close, met 
resistance against the security guard's body and pulled open again.  "Oh, 
it looks like I'm being summoned," Brenda said.  The said goodbye and 
stepped toward his desk as the door's closed again.

Brenda rode alone to the seventh floor where the car stopped.  She 
wondered whether this counted toward her stripping requirement since she 
had not been asked to push the button.  When the doors opened and two 
handsome men got on -- one with a goatee and stud earring, the other 
showing a bit of stubble, both wearing black slacks, white dress shirts 
and striped neck ties -- she decided the seventh floor stripping rule 
applied.

"What floor can I take you gentlemen to?" she asked with one hand 
hovering before the buttons and the other already undoing the big buttons 
at the front of her costume jacket.

"We're going down to lunch," said Mr. Goatee.

"One," said his companion at the same time.

With the button pressed, Brenda used both hands to finish opening her 
jacket but left it hanging on her shoulders.  She turned toward the men 
and sat on the stool so generously provided earlier by the Jamaican 
security guard.  With her bra and panties on display, Brenda lifted her 
left leg, quickly unhooked the garter belt from her stockings and rolled 
them down her leg.   She dropped the ball of sheer nylon to the floor and 
followed the same process with her right leg.  She then coyly crossed her 
legs with hands on the edges of the stool.

"What are you boys having to eat?"  She glanced sideways to the button 
panel and noted they were down to the third floor.

"We're-- we're open to suggestions," said the stubbled man.

"Well do you want to eat in or... eat out?" she asked as she separated 
her slender legs and pulled aside the crotch of her light pink panties.  
She revealed to their wonderment that she had recently waxed her bikini 
line and wore a neat triangle of brown pussy hair above her slit.  She 
lifted her left hand to her face and began to suck noisily on her index 
finger.

As the elevator bounced gently to a stop at the ground floor, Brenda 
pulled her panties back over her muff and said, "Bring me back something 
hot and juicy to and maybe we can eat together."  She hadn't had any 
intention of having sex today, but her naughty behavior was increasing 
her arousal as quickly as a late fee accrues interest.  She was turning 
herself on and didn't know how much longer she'd be working before she'd 
be completely naked.

With the doors now open, the guys chose to play it cool and not be seen 
potentially by coworkers or bosses groping and kissing a nearly naked 
woman making advances on them.  Brenda was pleased with the knowledge, 
noting the bulges in the fronts of their slacks, that she'd had the 
intended effect on them.  This only further increased her arousal as he 
slipped back into her costume gold trimmed red jacket.

The next three trips up were uneventful.  One man going to the fourth 
floor, a man and two women going to the tenth and one woman going to the 
sixth.  Brenda began to shiver in her drastically reduced clothing.  It 
was curious that no one riding with her mentioned anything about her bare 
legs or the small pile of clothes bundled in the corner.  Most pretended 
they didn't notice; trying to remain polite and professionally detached.  
But then her two lunch guys came back.

"It's about time you got here," said goatee man.  "We've been waiting 
forever for this elevator to get here."

"Yeah, both the others have come and gone.  We waited just for you."

Brenda clapped her hands together beside her right cheek.  "Aww, that's 
sweet.  But a little sad.  You're like two lost puppy dogs."

"I'm always up for a little doggy action," said the stubbled one.  "So 
what's the deal here?  You just ride up and down all day," he smirked, 
"getting naked in the elevator?"

"It's just a little game for TV.  Smile, you're on camera!"  Brenda 
pointed toward the two small cameras fixed into light sockets in the 
ceiling of the car.

"Oh shit!" grumbled the same guy.  "This isn't live, is it?"

"No, but it is being watched by a film crew outside."

Mr. goatee stepped to the center of the car and, looking up into one of 
the cameras while pointing over his shoulder, said, "I had nothing to do 
with this.  It was all his idea.  I'm completely innocent here."

Continuing to play hardball with them, Brenda asked, "So where are you 
boys getting off?"  She flashed them her teeth in a wide smile.

"Seventh floor."

For a moment Brenda hesitated.  She wasn't sure if she wanted to go ahead 
and take off another piece of clothing for the same guys coming back from 
lunch.  She ultimately decided to compromise and shrugged off the jacket 
but didn't remove either her bra or panties.  The elevator stopped on the 
fifth floor, though, and a man who looked Indian started to step in, 
stopped and said, "I see you're busy.  I'll take the next one."

"It's not what it looks like.  It's a game!" Brenda called as the 
elevator doors came together.  Then determining that she didn't want to 
keep up this game for potentially another couple of hours, she turned to 
face her two riders, reached behind her back and unhooked her bra.  "You 
know what, you guys have been so nice, I'm gonna go ahead and take this 
off."

As her bra fluttered to the floor, Mr. Goatee reached out and snatched it 
from the air.  "Mind if I keep this to remember you by?"

"Yes, that's mine!"  Brenda reached for her bra with one outstretched 
hand and the man held it back and above his head.  "Hey, that's not nice.  
Give it back."  Brenda hopped to give herself some lift to reach it, 
which only resulted in her now bare breasts bouncing untamed for the 
man's pleasure.

The elevator stopped at the seventh floor and as the doors opened Mr. 
Goatee pushed past her and out into the corridor.  He looked quickly up 
and down the hallway before turning to face her with her pink bra still 
held high in the air.  "You'll have to come and get it."  He took a few 
quick steps to the left and then slowed to a normal walking pace.

Brenda, bare except for her pink panties, stood in the doorway of the 
elevator.  If she followed him, the elevator would leave without her and 
she would be stranded until the next one came along.  By that time 
someone else might make off with the rest of her clothes piled in the 
corner.  If she didn't follow him, she'd lose a good bra and some 
stranger would have fun sniffing it or rubbing it against his cheek or 
something and probably jack off over it.

She gave chase, crossing both arms over her tits, crouching down and 
walking hurriedly in a classic Groucho Marx fashion with long strides.  
Up ahead, from around a corner, her bra was being shaken in the air to 
attract her attention.  She reached for it when she was within two steps 
but the guy pulled away and continued down the hall a few more steps 
before disappearing through a door to the right.

Brenda reached the door and noted with a snort that it was the men's 
room.  Not pretending to be shy, she pushed down on the handle, one arm 
still covering her breasts, and pushed on the door which swung in quite 
easily.  She looked about and found her bra hanging one cup over the top 
of a toilet stall.  Reaching up, she took hold with both hands, fully 
expecting a tug-of-war with the delicate yet strong garment.  She got the 
resistance she was expecting and pulled until her face was flushed red.  
But when Mr. Goatee stepped fully out of the stall and laid both hands on 
Brenda's now fully bare tits, she had to wonder who or what was pulling 
the bra from the other side.

"Damn these feel as nice as they look.  How do they taste?"

Brenda stood in exasperation, no longer tugging on her half of the bra 
but still clutching it with both hands and staring slack-jawed as the man 
bent forward to suck her left nipple between his lips.

It took her a few seconds to recover, but Brenda managed to push the man 
out of the way and put her head around through the door to the stall.  
The straps of her bra had been looped around a coat peg fastened on the 
upper inside of the wall.  She'd been wrestling with an inanimate object 
and given him the perfect access to her chest.  Brenda suddenly felt 
pretty stupid.

Laughing, Mr. Goatee said, "You can have your bra back.  No hard 
feelings?  I was just playing.  I won't make you do anything weird or 
gross to get it back."

"I'm standing in my bare feet in the men's room.  This is gross enough," 
Brenda said as her face scrunched up in sudden disgust.  "And thanks to 
you, now I have to hope I can get back in the same elevator and get my 
other clothes before someone steals them.  Thanks a lot!"

The man looked like he'd been slapped.  He reeled back a step.  "Sorry.  
It was all in fun.  I mean... I mean you just don't go around in an 
office building taking off your clothes, you know, unless... unless 
you're willing to take the risk."

Brenda's mood changed for the fourth time in under a minute -- from 
stupidity to disgust, then to being bitchy and finally she stopped on 
urgent dread of being caught running around on unfamiliar floors in 
nothing but her underwear.  She raced from the men's room.  Mr. Goatee 
called, "Don't you want your bra?"  Halfway out the door already, Brenda 
spun on her heel and bounded back in, reached for her bra but remembered 
it was still looped over the peg and would take too long to get undone, 
turned on her heel again and headed for the door.  Her unrestrained 
breasts reacted to her sudden movements as one would expect of big tits; 
they slapped loudly against one another, to one side, to both sides, 
together and up under her chin and straight down against her chest wall 
with another slap.  She got out the door and hurried down the hall, 
around the corner and down the next hall to the elevators.  As she feared 
the car was back down on the first floor.

Brenda squatted low and pressed her body against the drab oatmeal colored 
wall while repeatedly pushing the button to call the elevator.  She 
craned her neck to watch the indicator lights over the door and listened 
to the whine of the cables and pneumatic equipment working in the shaft.  
The elevator seemed to stop on the fourth floor.  It felt like minutes 
passed as Brenda nervously huddled in the corridor.  At long last the 
door opened and Brenda, trying to scoot while staying low, butted her 
head against someone's legs.

Both arms crossed over her chest as she shot her head back to stare up 
at...

"Thank god it's you!" Brenda blurted as she looked on Ivan from her 
camera crew.

"Thomas said it looked like you might be in trouble.  I got up here as 
quick as I could.  What's the problem?"

"It's nothing," Brenda said, waving him off as she stood and slipped in 
between the elevator doors.

"Tell me what happened.  Do I need to go raise hell with someone?"

"No, really.  It's fine.  It was just some jerk playing keep away with my 
bra.  It's fine.  He just wanted a feel and a suck."

"You didn't!" Ivan exclaimed loudly.   He looked down the hall and pulled 
Brenda fully into the car and let the doors close.  "You didn't blow him 
to get your bra back, did you?"

Brenda laughed nervously.  "No no.  He wanted to suck my boobs.  It's 
okay.  He got what he wanted.  He's happy and there's no problem.  
Absolutely no problem."

"You're sure now?  If he got out of hand, I'll deal with him.  You know I 
will."

"God, you men!  It's always about beating someone up."

Ivan shrugged.  "Sometimes a stern talking to and a threat to take it to 
the police works."

"Let's just drop it, okay?"

Ivan shrugged again, faced the cameras in the ceiling and gave a thumbs-
up.  Brenda meanwhile squatted in the corner and went through her 
discarded clothes.  Surprisingly everything was still there.  As the 
elevator descended to the ground floor, Brenda got back into the red 
jacket and fixed her hair in the semi-reflective panel next to the door.

"Since you're almost done, I'll wait for you in the lobby.  Go up and get 
Roger when you've taken off your last."  Ivan stepped out on the ground 
floor and went over to chat with the security guard while Brenda remained 
standing alone in the elevator.

To pass the time, she turned toward the hidden cameras and pulled the 
jacket open to flash her tits, hopped up and down to make them bounce and 
pinched her nipples between her fingers and thumbs.

After what must have been twenty minutes she got her next passenger, but 
he wanted to go to the fourteenth floor.  On the way down, however, a 
young woman with thin-rimmed eyeglasses and her sandy hair in a bun at 
the back of her head got on at the tenth floor.  She asked Brenda to push 
four.  The loud gasp she let out when Brenda dropped her jacket to the 
floor was nothing compared to the cry of despair she gave when Brenda 
began to slide her pink panties down her long, slender legs.  Brenda 
glanced her way as she stepped out of her intimates; she thought the 
young woman was going to faint the way she was swooning and holding a 
hand before her eyes.

"It's okay, sweetie, you can look.  I haven't got anything you don't 
have."

"But-- you're naked!" the girl wailed.

"If it makes you feel better, you can get naked too," Brenda said with a 
wicked grin twisting up the corners of her mouth.

"No!  No, that's okay.  J-- just let me off here."

Brenda shrugged.  "We're already on the sixth floor.  You might as well 
stay with me."

When the doors opened on the fourth floor, the girl nearly tripped over 
herself getting out of the car as she rushed past Brenda with a hand 
still shielding her eyes.  Two men in the elevator directly across from 
Brenda looked out to see what was going on as Brenda's doors slid shut.  
She saw one of the guys mouthing "FUCK!" with all the facial expression 
he could put on.

Meanwhile, Brenda pushed the button marked 11 and rode the lift up to 
meet Roger.  She didn't bother to put her jacket back on and stepped 
brazenly out into the corridor when she arrived.  With just one hand 
still holding the doors open, Brenda shouted, "Roger!  It's time to go."  
He favorite bald-headed cameraman jumped to his feet and shuffled toward 
her, holding a magazine in front of his crotch.  They rode together all 
the way back to the ground where Roger dutifully gathered up her clothes 
and motioned for her to go out first.

Ivan met Brenda as she stepped out.  He carried a camcorder over one 
shoulder and followed Brenda's every movement as she strode confidently 
past the smiling guard and out through the back door of the building.  
The general background roar of midday city life greeted her.  The air was 
noticeably warmer than it had been when she's arrived that morning and, 
being barefoot, she was thankful for the enclosed garage so she wouldn't 
burn her feet walking around trying to find the TV van.

She made her way up the middle of three aisles through the structure, 
looking all about.  There were walls between each aisle of cars but each 
wall had a number of gaps a few feet wide.  She did not see the van 
through any of them.  Over her shoulder she noted that Roger and Ivan had 
traded loads and the skilled cameraman now trotted up alongside Brenda 
but several paces to her left to get an all-around shot.

She moved to stand between two cars and called back, "Can I at least have 
my shoes?" she asked.  "There's all kinds of stuff on the ground.  I keep 
stepping on pebbles and god knows what else."  Ivan brought her clothes 
and gave her time to put on her shoes before getting out of her way and 
motioning for her to pass.

"This brings back some memories," Brenda remarked as she and Roger came 
close together near the wide stairway leading up.  "Trying to find you in 
the mall parking lot."

"But as I recall you were a lot more shy back then."

"Hmm, maybe I should be.  Who knows who I might run into out here."  
Brenda started up the stairs with Roger positioning the camera for a 
clear view of her ass as he followed half a flight behind.

To Brenda's great surprise, she found the Channel 69 van parked only a 
dozen or so spaces from the stairs on the second level.  She'd fully 
expected to be made to meander through all three levels.  "We're not 
always bad guys," Thomas smiled as she mentioned this to him on climbing 
into the van.

End of part 23

NOTE:  If you've missed the story so far, you can download it free of 
charge at my website at http://sirrender.syntheticdimension.net/.  As of 
January 2008 I am still adding new chapters to "What Some People Will 
Do" and looking for new ideas and directions for the story.  I have put a 
feedback form on my website if you would like to make suggestions.    
Thank you!  Sir Render

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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