Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Just an idea. Feel free to pitch something else if it inspires you to think of something related.
TLDR - rich doctor turns bimbo into (as much as she's capable) smart, charming politically conservative informed socialite by day and whore for use to American political celebrities by night. Passing familiarity with American politics is necessary but you don't need to be a junkie. There's also the potential for sex with his interesting set of variously deranged (because raised rich without trust funds) sons. I'd play the doctor, his sons, the politicians, and anyone else you want her to fuck.
Dr. Reginald Shapiro needs a wife. The mother of his sons passed away two years ago now. While gayness was becoming more acceptable in the conservative social circles he traveled in, it still made for awkward dinners and cocktail parties to not have a woman at his side like all of the other men did. Really the Log Cabin Republicans hitting on him was the least annoying part. Delightful people, but if he was going to obtain the political power he wanted, deserved, and could now afford, he needed at least a wife. But if he could obtain a wife whore - well then the possibilities really opened didn't they. Hey Mr. Jordan - not only can I be a megadonor but you can fuck this hot ass bimbo wife of mine. That'd bring some priority to the doctor's political agenda, wouldn't it now? That is, if he wasn't a child molester, err, molester of college athletes in their prime who apparently couldn't fend off an aging team doctor and "reluctantly ejaculated" or whatever bs the accusers were spewing to tarnish the conservative leader.
It wasn't just more convenient conversation at cocktail parties he was after. He wanted mind-blowing, porn-like sex. But the thing about the escorts and strippers he'd hired was that they were a box of chocolates - you never knew what you were going to get. He needed someone whose behavior and views he could mold, but came as a more or less finished sexual product.
Finding the right someone was a challenge. He was worth close to a hundred million dollars. Plenty of gold diggers abounded. He wouldn't make that mistake as some friends had. He would move first. He ignored anyone he didn't actively seek out.
It turned out the perfect woman worked for him. Not directly, but the surgeon had learned to keep a close eye on the paper-pushers throughout his operation. The truth was almost every doctor he knew had been stolen from. But when you're worth tens of millions, do you care that much about an accountant who skimmed off 800 grand that should have come to you?
He had more than enough to ignore such shenanigans, but he'd seen it could be far worse than that. If they're stealing from you AND the government - as they often were - you as the overall name on the door could end up nearly impoverished or even in jail. This very thing happened or almost happened to several other prolific colleagues who also had surgeries named after them.
So it was on a visit keeping close tabs of his billing department that he met her. "I'm so dumb at math!" He'd overhead her say. Not a good thing to hear in your billing department, so he observed more. She was gorgeous, so she became his obsession.
It turned out she thankfully had no math responsibilities. She was a "scheduler." Essentially all she did - though she apparently did it well - was schedule staff meetings and conference calls. It seemed to Reg the staff could schedule their own meetings, but they explained she was very low-paid yet seemingly happy and, really, actually good at scheduling, so she created efficiencies. The incompetence of being unable to efficiently schedule their own meetings was incredible, he thought, but hey, that's why you people do the bitch work and I'm the surgeon. He'd suspect they just wanted the eye candy the bimbo provided, and maybe that was part of it, but like most billing departments his staff was far more female than male, especially at the more junior levels.
Her t-shirt dress (not a faceclaim - we'd pick the bimbo face and body together this is just the outfit) at first screamed "slut" but as he reflected he realized it wasn't that so much as she just wore it better. The top was not low cut at all, not compared to many in this office, but her glorious breasts practically poured out. The skirt was short, but not any shorter on the front of the thigh than the girls near her cubicle who looked young and flirtatious but perfectly professional. The shortened hem on the side was a little suggestive but could only be seen at limited angles.
The other parts of the outfit were a bit much though. A choker? A chain bracelet? Thigh highs? Individually none was inappropriate office attire, but together they seemed to be. But who was going to tell her to change?
Asking around some more, it turned out she was hired by the number two in the office, a man of somewhat unkempt appearance who was the apparent star protégé of the nearly elderly woman who ran the office. Dr. Shapiro once tried to fire the man when he came up for early review, but Mrs. Nelson said he was indispensable so he stayed. He'd apparently been "friends" with the bimbo since childhood. They both came from some obscure small town the name of which he could never remember in some flyover state - he could never remember which one. Being indispensable to Mrs. Nelson, she apparently allowed his longtime friend eye candy to stay on staff so long as there was a modicum of economic justification which her scheduling work apparently satisfied.
He took her to lunch once, to get to know her better. The time she was in that dress. He decided then and there she could be the one. She had dreams. She wanted to travel the world. She didn't seem fixated on expensive clothes or purses. She'd never had the money for them. But she desperately wanted to see the world, and he could sure provide that.
For months he merely monitored, asked questions. Who were her boyfriends? Was she reliable?
He was now ready to pounce. He'd win her heart and take her to his marital bed. He dutifully scheduled another "checkup" on the billers and started planning his next move.
((your PM To me would include more details of what he learned of her background during the lunch and his interrogation of her colleagues, and picture suggestions of someone with multiple online pictures like a porn star or Instagram model, my next pm back would initiate their interaction at his next audit and perhaps elaborate more on details of the surgeon's life office employees like her would be likely to know or falsely believe)).
((By the way, I'm open to doing this in a kind of Fandom where the surgeon is pretty much Dr. House with modest amendments))
((Adding some buzzwords that may attract interested persons - secretary, intern, wealthy, pre-nup, married, cruise, politics, Trump))
TLDR - rich doctor turns bimbo into (as much as she's capable) smart, charming politically conservative informed socialite by day and whore for use to American political celebrities by night. Passing familiarity with American politics is necessary but you don't need to be a junkie. There's also the potential for sex with his interesting set of variously deranged (because raised rich without trust funds) sons. I'd play the doctor, his sons, the politicians, and anyone else you want her to fuck.
Dr. Reginald Shapiro needs a wife. The mother of his sons passed away two years ago now. While gayness was becoming more acceptable in the conservative social circles he traveled in, it still made for awkward dinners and cocktail parties to not have a woman at his side like all of the other men did. Really the Log Cabin Republicans hitting on him was the least annoying part. Delightful people, but if he was going to obtain the political power he wanted, deserved, and could now afford, he needed at least a wife. But if he could obtain a wife whore - well then the possibilities really opened didn't they. Hey Mr. Jordan - not only can I be a megadonor but you can fuck this hot ass bimbo wife of mine. That'd bring some priority to the doctor's political agenda, wouldn't it now? That is, if he wasn't a child molester, err, molester of college athletes in their prime who apparently couldn't fend off an aging team doctor and "reluctantly ejaculated" or whatever bs the accusers were spewing to tarnish the conservative leader.
It wasn't just more convenient conversation at cocktail parties he was after. He wanted mind-blowing, porn-like sex. But the thing about the escorts and strippers he'd hired was that they were a box of chocolates - you never knew what you were going to get. He needed someone whose behavior and views he could mold, but came as a more or less finished sexual product.
Finding the right someone was a challenge. He was worth close to a hundred million dollars. Plenty of gold diggers abounded. He wouldn't make that mistake as some friends had. He would move first. He ignored anyone he didn't actively seek out.
It turned out the perfect woman worked for him. Not directly, but the surgeon had learned to keep a close eye on the paper-pushers throughout his operation. The truth was almost every doctor he knew had been stolen from. But when you're worth tens of millions, do you care that much about an accountant who skimmed off 800 grand that should have come to you?
He had more than enough to ignore such shenanigans, but he'd seen it could be far worse than that. If they're stealing from you AND the government - as they often were - you as the overall name on the door could end up nearly impoverished or even in jail. This very thing happened or almost happened to several other prolific colleagues who also had surgeries named after them.
So it was on a visit keeping close tabs of his billing department that he met her. "I'm so dumb at math!" He'd overhead her say. Not a good thing to hear in your billing department, so he observed more. She was gorgeous, so she became his obsession.
It turned out she thankfully had no math responsibilities. She was a "scheduler." Essentially all she did - though she apparently did it well - was schedule staff meetings and conference calls. It seemed to Reg the staff could schedule their own meetings, but they explained she was very low-paid yet seemingly happy and, really, actually good at scheduling, so she created efficiencies. The incompetence of being unable to efficiently schedule their own meetings was incredible, he thought, but hey, that's why you people do the bitch work and I'm the surgeon. He'd suspect they just wanted the eye candy the bimbo provided, and maybe that was part of it, but like most billing departments his staff was far more female than male, especially at the more junior levels.
Her t-shirt dress (not a faceclaim - we'd pick the bimbo face and body together this is just the outfit) at first screamed "slut" but as he reflected he realized it wasn't that so much as she just wore it better. The top was not low cut at all, not compared to many in this office, but her glorious breasts practically poured out. The skirt was short, but not any shorter on the front of the thigh than the girls near her cubicle who looked young and flirtatious but perfectly professional. The shortened hem on the side was a little suggestive but could only be seen at limited angles.
The other parts of the outfit were a bit much though. A choker? A chain bracelet? Thigh highs? Individually none was inappropriate office attire, but together they seemed to be. But who was going to tell her to change?
Asking around some more, it turned out she was hired by the number two in the office, a man of somewhat unkempt appearance who was the apparent star protégé of the nearly elderly woman who ran the office. Dr. Shapiro once tried to fire the man when he came up for early review, but Mrs. Nelson said he was indispensable so he stayed. He'd apparently been "friends" with the bimbo since childhood. They both came from some obscure small town the name of which he could never remember in some flyover state - he could never remember which one. Being indispensable to Mrs. Nelson, she apparently allowed his longtime friend eye candy to stay on staff so long as there was a modicum of economic justification which her scheduling work apparently satisfied.
He took her to lunch once, to get to know her better. The time she was in that dress. He decided then and there she could be the one. She had dreams. She wanted to travel the world. She didn't seem fixated on expensive clothes or purses. She'd never had the money for them. But she desperately wanted to see the world, and he could sure provide that.
For months he merely monitored, asked questions. Who were her boyfriends? Was she reliable?
He was now ready to pounce. He'd win her heart and take her to his marital bed. He dutifully scheduled another "checkup" on the billers and started planning his next move.
((your PM To me would include more details of what he learned of her background during the lunch and his interrogation of her colleagues, and picture suggestions of someone with multiple online pictures like a porn star or Instagram model, my next pm back would initiate their interaction at his next audit and perhaps elaborate more on details of the surgeon's life office employees like her would be likely to know or falsely believe)).
((By the way, I'm open to doing this in a kind of Fandom where the surgeon is pretty much Dr. House with modest amendments))
((Adding some buzzwords that may attract interested persons - secretary, intern, wealthy, pre-nup, married, cruise, politics, Trump))