The guides were praying the next morning when a series of low moans could be heard coming from Dr Amy West's tent. To men who were simple they were shocked to see their boss come out of her tent wearing a skin tight bright pink nightie that clung to her body like a second skin showing the impression of her nipples, the swell of her breasts and the toned shape of her buttocks and legs.
Swearing only as an American could she ran to a wooden camping card table and poured a pitched of water into a basin before vomiting into it. Her vagina was sore and she had a vague dream of someone grouping her, was it one of the guides? No they had a moral code, her father had told her as much, they had wives and children. Good men. None of them locked eyes with her, they were as distressed as she was.
Then she realized by their standards she might as well parade nude in front of them.
She stayed in bed until noon when she started to feel better. She then got to work. For office work Amy was fond of Chinese blouses. Made of silk they had buttons, it fitted her well showing the swell of her breasts without needing the support of a bra. She pulled on a pair of jeans and started to button the blouse from the bottom up.
However her breasts didn't want to fit into the fabric. The fabric between her breasts and her neck was done up but no matter how hard she tried to pull the fabric together her breasts sloshed with what struck her as some kind of fluid, like water...or milk. After struggling for several minutes wet spots appeared in the fabric where her nipples threatened to pierce the fine silk.
She was forced to tie a khaki shirt loosely around her engorged breasts. Padding her tingling nipples with several handkerchiefs to absorb the fluid and stop them from chaffing.