]Temari walked out of the operating room with satisfaction, feeling pleased that her implants had settled in. The surgical marks had healed well, and with the stitches removed, they were almost invisible. Soon they would be gone completely, and Temari would be left with just this beautiful pair of enhanced knockers. Now that they were mostly healed up, she could stand to look at the babies without pangs of worry and regret, and she was able to more thoroughly appreciate just what a good job Sakura had done. It wasn't too substantial an enlargement, but she could definitely tell that they were bigger, and she knew her old bras were too small to hold them. She'd already ordered some pairs in her new size, but for now, she was making do.
The blonde couldn't help gazing just a tad narcissistically down into her cleavage, looking at what her stylishly low-cut top revealed of her big, beautiful breasts. At first glance, without context, a person might not notice that Temari had gotten any work done. They were bigger, but in a way that could still look natural, and touching them, one would hardly suspect that they had been artificially enlarged. Sakura used cutting-edge techniques and materials, and she was renowned for being able to make tits that looked and felt just like natural ones, except only a bit more perfect than most women were fortunate enough to grow. But they didn't have the stiffness or lack of jiggle that would betray older, less sophisticated breast enhancements. They moved and felt like fully organic mammaries, except that they were a size or so bigger than Temari had been blessed with by her natural development—not a trade-off at all but an unqualified improvement.
Temari couldn't help but grin at this. Sakura really was good at what she did, and she could now see why Sarada had recommended the woman so highly. It was the best kind of work: the work you wouldn't realize had even been done without some direct frame of reference for comparison. Temari had been relatively cautious with the enhancement, going for an F-cup, which wasn't too noticeable an improvement over her natural double-D's. It would stand out when she stripped down into something more revealing, but while she was wearing normal clothes in day-to-day interactions, only a person very intimately familiar with her body would immediately notice the change. She would need to update her modeling portfolio to reflect her newly enhanced bust, but that was it. Anyway, her breasts had already been a good size to start with, and she didn't want to overreach and make them grotesquely large. This was what Sakura had advised, and she had agreed with it.
Well, anyway, Temari was pleased, but she wasn't so absorbed in appraising her rack that she didn't notice the man sitting down in the waiting room. He was a handsome man, tall and blonde with short-cropped hair and a fairly strong jaw. He was visibly fit, too, but not in an obsessive gym rat kind of way—he had a reasonable amount of muscle, and he looked strong rather than weak, but he also looked like he was the kind of guy who still had interests outside of exercise, who could talk about things other than how much he could bench press—the kind of guy who worked out while not revolving his life around the gym. That was the kind Temari liked. She didn't care for thin, scrawny guys, or for pudgy dad bods, and while big beefy muscles could be nice to look at, their owners tended to be rather boring and one-note conversationalists. Give her a guy who was fit without being fitness-obsessed, because it was already exhausting enough to put all the time and mental energy into her own diet and exercise without having to hear her partner drone on about bulking and cutting and low carbs and high protein and blah blah blah…
Anyway, the point was that this guy fell right in the sweet spot for Temari. He was handsome, with a good face and a visibly decent body, and looking at the camera in his lap, she saw also that he was a man with interests tangential to her chosen profession. Judging by the quality of the camera (it was a brand she recognized from past photo shoots, high-tech and in good condition without being pristine) and the comfortable, familiar way he cradled and examined it, this guy was clearly a photographer. Possibly a hobbyist, but Temari got the impression of a professional. There was a hint of the artist's pride in his tools and almost something of a rifleman's attachment to his gun. The camera belonged in this man's hands, and he inspected it with the confidence and discernment of one who staked his life on this object and won his bread by its use, employing it in his life's chosen craft. He had at once an artistic sensibility and a virile physicality, a man strong and vigorous yet capable of sensitivity. He was manly but not brutish and artistic but not effete. And glancing to his groin for a moment, as if to seal her conviction, Temari saw the hints of a meaningful bulge—to top it all off, it looked like he had a big dick.
She smiled, zeroing in, and changed course to approach the man.
"Oh, excuse me," she said. "Are you a photographer?"
She bent forward so that her eyes were level with the seated man so that her breasts, recently enhanced and now free of stitches, dangled down temptingly. She felt the weight of them with a new awareness, and when she caught the man's eye flitting toward her cleavage before rising to her face, she was filled with a redoubled satisfaction with the procedure.
"A freelancer. But yeah," the man said, looking up from Temari's tits to her face. "Naruto Uzumaki. Have you heard of me?"
The name didn't ring a bell, so Temari shook her head. Naruto's face fell just the slightest bit before brightening back up. He was disappointed not to be recognized, but optimistic enough not to let that get him down for long, and he was grinning when he again looked her in the eye. Temari smiled a little more warmly, liking the man's expression. And his voice wasn't as low as she would prefer, but it wasn't distractingly high-pitched either—it was a voice that could manage a respectable enough growling and huskiness.
"I don't know the names of many photographers," she said. "But maybe we've worked together before and I don't remember."
"Worked together?" Naruto gave her an interested look, his eyes falling again into the precipitous depths of her cleavage for just a moment. "What, are you a model or something?"
"I don't know. Do you think I'm a model?" Temari puffed out her chest slightly. "Do I look good enough to be one?"
Naruto chuckled.
"Is that a trick question? Yeah, you do." He looked her up and down personably, feigning deep thought. "Yeah, I bet you are a model. You have the looks for it, and you walk like it too. Like someone who's gotten it drilled into their heads how a model is supposed to walk."
"You have a good eye, then. I am a model," Temari said. She giggled, giving Naruto a not-too-mildly flirtatious look. He was being friendly and freely complimenting her, but she could tell that there wasn't anything especially untoward in his eyes. He looked at her with a purely aesthetic appreciation as one who had been trained to recognize beauty, and she didn't get the feeling that he was ogling her even though he had taken his fair share of peeks at her chest. "Not a professional yet, but I've been trying to break out into the modeling world."
Naruto hummed, nodding with a touch of sympathy.
"It's a rough business. Not many people are cut out for it. I don't even mean as a matter of looks, you know? It's just really cutthroat. I think most girls are too nice for it."
"You don't know very many girls if you think that's the case," Temari replied half humorously. "Deep down we're all bitches."
"Well, you're a very pretty bitch, in that case," Naruto said without missing a beat.
Temari laughed.
"I like you," she said, smiling widely. "You're a photographer, you say? Maybe I could do some modelling for you. I just got some work done, and I should update my portfolio."
She moved her hands, gesturing half to accompany her words and half to draw Naruto's eyes toward her bosom. It was done in a way to make it clear that this outcome was intentional on her part, and she smiled proudly as Naruto appraised her recently enlarged breasts.
"They look good," he said mildly, speaking purely as the husband of a plastic surgeon who had learned to appreciate his wife's craft and personal handiwork. "Sakura did them for you? This is some of her best work yet… But your portfolio, huh? I'd been thinking I should expand my own a bit too. Been a while since I've added any new material."
"How convenient," said Temari. "We can help each other, then. I can model for you, and you can shoot some pictures of me. I scratch your back… and you scratch mine." She gave him a sly look, placing a hand over one of his. "How does that sound to you, handsome?"
Naruto hummed, recalling the exchange with his wife a little earlier. Sakura was self-conscious about a lot of things, but she was an adult, and she didn't have any particular problem with her husband working with beautiful models for his photo shoots. It might occasionally make her a little jealous, but she understood that this was part of his job, and she mostly trusted in his fidelity. He'd proven himself to be faithful and trustworthy over the years that they'd been married, and she wouldn't raise a stink about him spending time with a model on strictly professional terms. And she had pretty obviously been hinting that her latest patient might be a good subject for some new shoots.
"Sounds good," he said. "I'll give you my number and studio address. I'm free for most of the rest of this week and the next, so you can call me up whenever you have the time. We can figure out the details there."
Temari nodded. She cast her eyes over Naruto again, assessing him more discreetly than before. Yes, he was very handsome, and he seemed nice too. Cheerful and sociable, confident yet easy-going.
He was exactly her type.