There once was a very prolific prostitute. She serviced many a John and a Jane over her career.
Her biggest insecurity was always the way her vagina looked. She had rather large pussy lips (labia minora). Occasionally, she would be rejected by a client because of the way her lady bits looked, and she sought the advice of a surgeon.
“Sure, we can reduce the amount of external flesh and create a more aesthetically appealing area in the process. Just know that the procedure will result in a lengthy healing process,” the doctor said after a thorough examination.
“Please, doctor. I need this,” the woman said.
The procedure went very successfully. No complications, sutures in the right places, everything was shaping up to heal quicker than expected.
When the woman woke up, she had three bouquets next to her bed. The first was a modest six roses and a card. The card read, “To my daughter, I hope your recovery is swift. We may have our differences, but I will always love you. – Mum.”
The second bouquet was two dozen beautiful roses and also had a card. This card read, “I can’t wait to see that delicious slot when it’s healed. I’ll triple the usual rate to have first crack at it! – #1 John.”
There was a third bouquet that had a dozen roses, a dozen daffodils, a dozen sunflowers, two dozen lilies, and countless protea blooms. But there was no card accompanying it.
Her doctor came in to follow up on the surgery and after examining her, she said, “Excuse me, doc? I know who these two gifts came from, but there wasn’t a card for the third. I don’t know who to thank for the gesture. Would you happen to know who sent these?”
The doctor smiled and looked at his feet, as if slightly embarrassed. “Well, ma’am. When we copied your ID for record keeping, we saw you were an organ donor. Those flowers are from someone on the fourth floor burn ward. They wanted to thank you for their new ears.”
