That's a Job for a MILF 40.2

A week later…

Suzanne wasn't sure what she was feeling as she looked at that building again. Everything looked exactly the same. The well-kept garden that led to a fountain in front of the main entrance; the white walls, and the long, wide windows; the towering towers… Nothing seemed to change there – ever – as if the mansion were immune to time.

However, Suzanne knew it wasn't exactly true. Big changes could happen inside that place, as she had learned in the most dramatic way possible. After all, when Suzanne crossed the clinic's front door for the first time, she was still a young, fool man called Patrick Donovan. 

Things couldn’t be more different now, she thought, as her high heels clicked the paved trail that led to the building, and she felt her large breasts swaying at every step. That place had turned her into a middle-aged woman, as absurd as that sounded. Suzanne had already accepted such fact. There was nothing she could do to change it now. However, she could – and actually needed to – regain control of her life, once and for all. That was what she was doing back at the clinic. She thought it was an almost poetic irony. All that had begun in that place, and everything would come to an end there. 

Checking her phone one last time, she saw that the way was clear for her to act. It's time to show those people that I know a trick or two, too, she smiled, approaching the front door. 

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"Oh, Suzanne, what an amazing surprise! It's so great to have you back here!" said Samara, the clinic employee who in the past had become Suzanne's friend. "As you can see, the room where you stayed last time is already ready for you, almost as if I were anticipating that you would come. It's funny, but at this point I even think of this place as your room."

"Thank you, my darling. I'm very, very glad to see you again, as well."

"So, for how long do you intend to stay with us? I hope you're not planning to leave so soon."

"Oh, I'm still not sure about that. All I know is that I need to address some issues, and I know that there is no place like this clinic in order to do so."

"I'm glad you held us in such high regard. I also hope we’ll have time to do some catching up. I want to know everything about your married life!"

"Of course, my dear. It sounds marvelous."

"Then this is decided! Oh, before I forget, I need you to fill out a new admission form. Just formality, you know..."

"No problem, Samara. Let me see it. Oh, but why do you guys use such small print on these forms? This is not suitable for an old lady like me… Not at all. Where are my reading glasses again? It must be buried somewhere in my luggage. Why don't I say the information you need and you fill out the form for me, my dear?"

"As you wish, Suzanne. I'm here to help. Let's start then. I think I have a pen right here…"

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"Is that all?" Suzanne asked, many questions later. "Good... Let me take a look at this. Umm... That's curious, my dear... As I told you, my eyes are no longer the same, but your handwriting… Well, this looks peculiarly familiar" the woman finished, looking at Samara. Suzanne’s expression was kind and relaxed, but her eyes were ablaze. 

Slowly, Samara realized the implications of such words and gestures, and her jaw fell open in a mute cry of surprise. "For how long you know?" she merely asked, with a sense of urgency. 

"For longer than you'd guess."

"What you want to do now?"

"First, we're going to have a long conversation, like good old friends... Is not that what you wanted so badly? After that, it'll be time to pay a visit to the lovely Mrs. Larsen. I'm sure she will be thrilled to see me again..."