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Subject: New TG: Girlfriends by Vickie Tern 3/6
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Girlfriends by Vickie Tern  3/6

She tried to raise her head to kiss me, and couldn't reach quite
that far.  "For a pretty lady you're much too concerned to measure
your prick against all others.  A pretty lady can have all the
pricks she wants if she plays her cards right.  Bend toward me!" 
She strained her head up toward mine and kissed me, and yet again. 
"Now you can straighten up.  I'm done with you for the moment.  I
just mussed your lipstick, incidentally."

I looked down on her, absolutely in her thrall!  I was the luckiest
man in the world, and probably the luckiest woman too.

"Well," she went on, snuggling into my crotch, and pretending not
to notice the growing bulge there.  "Well, it was then that you had
that orgasm just from what I was doing with your breasts, remember,
and you nearly passed out from it, and I told you then that
something was happening, and more was going to happen.  I am here
to report now that it did."

"Am I supposed to understand what you've just said?"

She turned sideways to inspect my bulge.  Suddenly she lifted her
shoulders, swept my dress up past my crotch, said "Lift up!" and
when I raised my rear end, tugged my panties down until my cock
sprang free.  Then she settled back down again with her cheek on my
bare thighs, my penis alongside, my slip and shirred blue chiffon
hemline just above.  "There!" she said definitively.  Then she
kissed the tip of my exposed penis a few times, tentatively took
the whole head into her mouth, and then pushed it out again with
her tongue.  "You like the way that feels?" she asked.

I thanked God it wasn't rigid, so that even though lying in my lap,
she could bend it and take it altogether into her mouth.  But not
just yet.  "Tracy, you are the worst cock tease in prick history! 
What in the world are you talking about?  What was happening?"

"Sweetheart, enjoy your erections while you've got them.  There'll
be fewer,  You're already softening, see?  Isn't it lovely? --
already I can hold all of you in my mouth without even lifting my
head from your lap, the same way you can lick and suck on my clit. 
Soon the only way you'll be able to penetrate me at all will be
with a dildo, and then you'll see how right I was to give you lots
of practice satisfying me with them."

I was a little alarmed,  Had I heard her right?  "Tracy!?" I said,
and she heard the anxiety in my voice.

She settled back from the teasing tone she'd adopted, and her voice
became more serious.  She spoke comfortably, but her eyes never
left mine. "It's like this, love.  I wanted to help you fill out
the creases in those brassieres of yours.  I knew you were wearing
them only because I asked you to.  But I wanted you to wear them
because you wanted to, because it would make you more like me,
because it would satisfy you to wear them, because it turned you on
to wear them.  Because breasts feel wonderful and do wonderful
things.  Like that new kind of orgasm you had that night, with your
whole body instead of just your limp dick.  The best you've ever
had, you told me."

"I remember.  It was unforgettable.  And you've given me more of
them since then."  "

"That was a genuine woman's orgasm, my sweet new club member. 
Authentic.  Because for some months before then, and ever since
then, even tonight during dinner, I've been feeding you hormones to
enhance your pleasure and your figure.  Women's hormones.  Heavy
doses of them.  So you could feel what a woman feels in your body
and your mind.  What I feel. To make your moods softer, happier,
nicer.  You've been swallowing girly pills with your coffee, with
your vitamins, with your beef wellington, lots of ways.  Several
kinds.  Some kinds to counteract your male hormones so you'd be
less aggressive in your lovemaking, more considerate, and they've
been working just fine."  She smiled to herself.  "You're a gentle
lover now, darling."  She paused, while I thought about how
wonderful it felt to be her beloved, loved, the passive recipient
of her passion, making "loving friends" with her, feeling her
longest dildo take excruciatingly forever to swoop into my bowels
and then back out again, my anus quivering in anticipation of the
next swoop.  She kissed the tip of my penis again and then looked
back up at me.  "I can read your eyes perfectly," she said.  "You
like those hormones, don't you?  You like the way they make you
feel."

Reluctantly, I had to nod. 
    
"But some of them are to speed you through the process that made me
what I am.  So you'd do what I did when I was a teenager.  Become
more of a woman.  Smooth out your skin.  Giggle more, and have fun
more, and talk about how attracted you are to boys, in your case
dildoes, and giving pleasure to boys, in your case giving hand jobs
to dildoes and thinking about giving blow jobs, and taking an
interest in looking beautiful, and in makeup.  And to wonder how
pretty or elegant you might look in a really nice dress.  Like
tonight.  To feel pleased that you can attract a man's attentions. 
Like tonight.  You liked getting dressed up tonight, and going out,
and being admired.  You were afraid to be thought a woman, but now
that you think you are one, at least partly, you like the idea,
don't you?"

I nodded.

"And darling, some your teenage girlhood is just like mine in
another way.  You're growing tits, and they're increasing in erotic
sensitivity, and youre getting more of a really feminine figure. 
The hormones are changing your whole body.  You think it's your new
bras, but the fact is, you're a full cup size larger than you were,
B now I think, and you're likely to be a C cup before we're
through.  I've seen pictures of your mother, and she's huge, and
the way it goes is, like mother like son."

She pursed her lips and blew me a reassuring kiss, and then added
quickly, "Just one little thing though.  Your penis.  Your clit. 
That's what it's getting to be.  Very soon it'll stop getting hard
altogether, and you won't be able to fuck me with it any more. 
You'll have to use your dildoes on me instead.  See how silly you
were, resenting them?  But the less you think about what you've
lost, the more you'll appreciate what you've gained."  

I stared at her and felt a touch of indignation begin to rise in my
innards!  Tracy had been changing my body without telling me? 
Giving me tits?  Breasts?  Changing me from a man into a dickless
giggling schoolgirl?  Then into an elegant lady?  And I loved it? 
I did love it!  What had she done to me?!  I'm a man!

"Yes, you're a man my darling."  How did she know that's what I was
thinking?  "You're my man.  And I love you.  I'd never harm you,
never!  But just remember again that orgasm just from my kissing
your nipples, and the others, the way they aren't centered in your
cock but begin far back inside you, and grow until finally they
take over your whole body?  And overwhelm you?  And only then begin
to subside."

"Yes."

'Well, wasn't that better than any of those wham, bam, thank ye
ma'am squirt climaxes you've had as a man?  More utterly
fulfilling?  That's what those hormones do for you.  Your tits feel
good, and look good.  They're going to get bigger, sweetheart, and
feel better!  There's no stopping them now.  You'll have a really
luscious figure before too much longer, and you'll love it the way
I do.  You're still a man, sweetheart, my man, but you're my sweet
sissy girl man now.  My darling sissy.  My dearest girlfriend. 
Part of your body is already a woman's, and the nicest part of your
mind too, I think.  Welcome to the club, sweetheart, really.  I
know you'll love it.  Not just for my sake, but for your own as
well!  And there's more coming too!  Lots more!  I want to share
everything with you!  Everything!  You are loved by a very
determined woman.  You'll see!"

I started to question her about this last, but she suddenly turned
and began to suck on my cock like a starved baby on a mother's
breast, and my brain went blank.  This time nothing tentative, the
way she had nibbled and tongued my "clit."  This wasn't "loving
friends"!  This was full scale girl meets boy cock sucking!  She
lifted herself and turned to face my lap fully.  Finally my prick
rose fully to her impassioned sucking, her lips sliding over the
head and down the shank greedily.  It was iron hard this time, and
full length as not for many weeks!  Then to my amazement she deep
throated me in a single thrust.  My whole cock, gone down her
throat!  She then swallowed, and the most incredible sensation rose
out of my loins.  She swallowed again, and I groaned aloud as
another wave of joyous sensation overtook the first!  A third time,
and I realized that with each swallow an undulation was moving
along her throat and milking me so deliciously that I was near
cumming!  Then she pulled back and my wet cock re-emerged, slick
and shiny.  

She then took my pink cock head in her mouth again, but this time
sipped it gently, as if it were the tip of a straw.  I almost died. 
She licked me along the underside some more, and finally, wrapped
her throat around my cock again, and swallowed again.  This time I
came, throbbing, in buckets.  Like never before!  I saw the outside
of her throat stretch and throb with each spurt as my cum went
directly into her stomach -- she didn't even need to swallow!  I
was transported into paradise, so overwhelmed that I could only
make small mewing sounds, over and over.  When my pulsating died
down and with great gasps I began to breathe again, she disgorged
me.

I couldn't even speak.  Tracy had never sucked my cock that way,
not even early in our engagement when I had asked her to.  "No,
there has to be a special reason," she'd said then, leaving me to
wonder what reason would ever be special enough.  Now there was
one.  Two, really.  One was to distract me from anger that she had
grown tits on me without even asking if I wanted them.  I tried
again to feel injured, and I was, a little, but I still felt that
wonderful afterglow in my crotch.  Of course I wanted breasts, I
guess, now that I had them!  As beautiful as hers!  The other
special reason I guess was, it was a kind of farewell to my cock. 
Any further deep-throated blow jobs weren't going to happen,
because I wasn't going to be long or hard enough to be swallowed
like that, not for much longer.  But where had Tracy learned to do
that?!

"Where did you learn to do that?!"

She smiled up at me.  "You liked it?  I thought you might.  I can
see you did.  I told you, a teenage girl flooded with hormones
learns lots of things, and thinks she needs to know even more of
them.  I knew lots of things before I met you, and I've learned
more since.  You're going through your teenage girlhood right now,
honey.  I want to teach you lots of things I know."  

"Like how to deep throat a dildo like that?  What for?"

She let a wicked look pass over her face.  "There are lots of
things a girl need to know about how to handle men.  How to please
them with no great effort.  Even if a girl doesn't ever use what
she knows, sweetheart, it's great for her self-confidence.  You'll
want to know you can suck a cock like that as easily as your ass
already swallows a man sized prick. Tonight I wanted you to know
how it feels, so you'd know when you learn to do it yourself."

She paused, then decided to go ahead.  "You remember 'the Emperor,'
that huge dildo I use on you sometimes, with the big heavy veins
and the hairy balls, the one I ask you to wet down with your mouth
before I fuck you with it.  I thought so.  Well, I'll want you to
practice with that dildo as if it were part of a real man.  It'll
help you feel more like a woman.  And as a woman you'll enjoy it. 
It's so much bigger than own your cock there's no comparison, so
you won't feel the least bit threatened by it.  Really, making love
to it is a privilege!"  

"And I've just had it re-mounted as a double dildo, so the back
part pushes deep into my vagina and the shank rubs on my clit when
it's mounted or its balls swing.  So when you manage to swallow the
head and push that monster down your esophagus, it'll feel to me as
if it were my very own cock you were sluicing down.  It's possible
for you to give me an orgasm by cock sucking it.  And it can cum
too!  It'll  squirt whenever I think it's ready, so you can have a
warm reward delivered directly into your tummy, as all good cock
suckers should.  Then if you're a dear and do well, I'll fuck you
with it too, and squirt into you, and believe me, we'll both feel
we're in heaven."

"But Tracy, why?"

I tried to ask it, but only a whisper came out.  Why was she doing
this to me?  She heard me and knew I knew the answers,  and she
just snuggled in against me contentedly.  Because she loves me and
wants to share everything with me.  Because the more feminine I
become, the less reason she has to feel jealous when I associate
with other women.  Because she loves making love to women, though
she also loves cock.  Because she had once been molested, so she
feels more secure with her girlfriend than with an all-male
husband.  Because she knows I love her and want what she wants, and
won't let myself get outraged or upset no matter how outrageous her
requests.  Because part of me now enjoys being a woman anyhow --
desiring women, I'd like to be what I desire.  Because if I'm a
woman, Tracy thinks, I would enjoy sucking on a cock to make my man
feel good.  Even if I have no man.

Were the hormones softening my brain?  Instead of feeling betrayed,
I wanted to kiss my darling.  So I did.  My thoughts were, she
really cares for me, as best she knows how.  She loves me!  And I
love her!  My prick was still in the afterglow of cumming deep in
her throat.  And my breasts were growing, just like hers, with deep
and powerful orgasms to come, and life was full!  I felt so well
cared for!  Not at all angry.  I tried again, but I couldn't muster
it.  Had she fed me a tranquilizer with tonight's hormones and
confessions?  If so I didn't care.
 
She read all of this in my eyes impassively, and was satisfied with
what she saw.  "You know?" she said, her head still in my lap,
looking steadily at me.  "I think it's time we got you that perm. 
Your hair isn't really as manageable as it should be.  And you need
to have your nails done too.  Nothing radical, nothing for those
secretaries at your office to whisper about too loudly, not right
away.  Clear polish for now, we'll save the pinks and reds for
another time.  Oh don't object, sweetheart, you'll be more of a
woman very soon, with nail polish the least of your concerns.  I
need you that way.  And you'll want to be -- I'll see to that."  

She smiled up at me, busy with her plans.  "But for now we'll just
get you a cut and curl, maybe, and presentable hands.  Your
cuticles are in terrible shape.  Incidentally, you'll need to
practice how to sit and move more daintily if you want to look
really lovely in my dresses.  Not that you aren't adorable now, my
pretty husband!  I'm very pleased with you."

Then she looked up at me appraisingly, almost as if I were a
business proposition, or a roast in the oven.  "Yes," she said
tenderly as if to herself.  "You're coming along nicely!"

end two



                           Three

The next day I took off from work and went with Tracy to her beauty
parlor, where she ordered up a deluxe makeover.  She had me dress
in a simple blouse and skirt for this first excursion out in
daylight, and a loose cardigan sweater with a large flower pattern. 
I objected, and she just looked at me, and I acquiesced.  Of course
I had to dress like a woman.  A man can't walk into a beauty parlor
and walk out looking pretty!  I was very lightly made up, not much
more than mascara and lipstick, because it was all coming off
anyhow.  So I wasn't in deep disguise.

Within a minute one of the women under a hair dryer glanced up,
looked at me attentively, and broke into a smile.  It was our
across-the-street neighbor Beth!  She knew me!   She put down her
magazine.  "Hi, Tracy," she said affably, "I see your girlfriend is
finally out in the open."

"Yes," Tracy said.  "Time enough.  Say 'Hi' to Beth, sweetheart."

'Hi!" I said obediently, my mind whirling.  No place to hide!  
Then I had to ask. "Beth, what do you mean 'finally'?  You've known
about me?" 

"Of course, dear girl!  For a long time now we've seen you in your
pretty lingerie and hairdo and makeup getting ready to greet Tracy
when she gets home, and then the two of you enjoying a social hour
in your living room, sometimes being much more than merely
sociable."  She smiled radiantly at me.  "Our living rooms each
have huge picture windows facing each other, remember?  And you
never pull the drapes.  When I called Tracy months ago to suggest
it, she just told me to enjoy the show with my husband, and even to
invite our friends.  She thought it would help you get over feeling
ashamed, at least later on when you found out.  Everybody knows
about you, honey!  Do enjoy your journey toward your true gender! 
The neighborhood association has already decided to send you
flowers when you have your final operation."  She smiled again at
me, then returned to her magazine.

I turned to Tracy, shocked!  "The whole neighborhood knows?  And
they think I'm one of those women in men's bodies, who want to have
women's bodies?  For how long have they been thinking this?"

Tracy replied in quiet, level tones.  "Honey, lower your voice. 
They admire you for your courage.  And they've all known for
months. And aren't you going to have a woman's body?  Don't you
already, the way your bra has filled out?  And by what you were
saying so timidly just yesterday, aren't you right now more of a
woman even in your own mind, now that you know the whole
neighborhood thinks that's what you are?  But here's Marge -- she's
the beauty operator who'll see that you leave here looking
absolutely gorgeous!"  

A few hours later came my second shock.  It was quite disturbing,
what they'd done.  The perm, cut, and curl they gave me wasn't even
androgynous.  It made me look cute and a little helpless, a darling
layered style Tracy called it.  It surrounded my head so my face
looked much smaller, even petite, and I had to say, a little
mischievous.  It was almost shoulder-length in back, and they
finished it turned up to almost cover each ear.  I had to agree
that the effect was feminine and even a little flirtatious, yet
very smart.  They pierced my ears, and when I objected they advised
me that the studs wouldn't be especially noticeable if I kept my
hair styled exactly as it was.  And they did my nails, with clear
polish, true, but they gave them such a beautiful oval shape and
such a high gloss there could be no question they were a woman's.
not a neat man's.

The studs in my ears prevented me from brushing my hairdo into some
semblance of a male style at work as I'd hoped, and finally forced
my transformation into the open for the first time, at least at
work.  I went in to work the next day braced to ignore whatever the
secretaries' reactions.  Some gawked, and some smirked.  "Love your
new hairdo," one said to me with a broad smile.  "It really changes
your whole look!  No time this morning to put on your makeup?"  I
didn't ask what she meant, because I knew.  I was very
uncomfortable.

That afternoon Connie, as office manager technically my supervisor,
came into my office, closed the door, sat down, and explained how
they all felt.  "It's a good thing your wife called us this morning
before you got in to warn us that you've transitioned, that you
intend to look like a woman from now on," she said.

"She did what?" I asked, startled.

 She ignored my question.  "Obviously this is your business, and
Tracy's, whatever you two have worked out with each other.  But
you're disturbing office routine, because the girls need to get
something settled."

I waited.

"None of us can respect a man who isn't a man, or who is pretending
to be a woman just for the novelty of it.  It's insulting to all
women."  

I started to insist that we all owe our colleagues due respect, and
that I meant no disrespect, but she held up a beautifully manicured
hand.  

"I know," she said. "Whether colleagues are men or women or a
little of each.  As sort of their boss, you've had the girls'
respect, and I know I have yours.  But not if you're playing at
being a woman for kicks.  Any woman can resent that!"  

I began to look grave, and again she held up her hand.  "No, hear
me out.   On the other hand we can feel great affection for any man
who is really trying to be a woman, a woman born into the wrong
body and transitioning for example, because it's difficult, and
deeply touching, and also I must say, it reaffirms our sex's
importance when an almighty man wants to be one of us.  It's
flattering.  So if I may ask, which are you?"  

I was silent for a moment.  Then I realized what the answer had to
be, tried to smile at her, and nervously fluffed up my new hairdo
with both hands.  Avoiding her eyes, I said, "My wife has wanted me
to be a kind of woman all along, it seems, and she's recently made
that quite clear.  I try to want what she wants.  Recently I've
made lots of concessions.  I want to be her dearest girlfriend at
home and I'm trying very hard to be just that.  Now I guess it's
spilled over into the workday.  Is that a good enough answer?"

She thought about it.  "Yes," she said.  "It's sweet, and loving,
and really very romantic.  In a way I envy Tracy.  Maybe I'll tell
her that!"  

Then she stood up and held out her hand  "Welcome to the club,
honey. I really do love your hairdo.  Let us help you any way we
can.  I think to show your good faith you should go the rest of the
way with us, and really become one of the girls.  Tracy told me you
use makeup all the time at home now.  Why not here too, now that we
all know about you?  And do feel free to use the Ladies' Room.  In
fact looking the way you do, I don't think you have any choice any
more." 

What she was saying was logical, but I did feel a little pressured. 
Was I really ready to be an all-out full time woman at work as well
as home?  Since I was already known in the neighborhood, that meant
to be full time all the time.  No more pretending I was a man
anywhere.  How far did I want to go to satisfy Tracy?  Or to fit in
here at the office?.  

Suddenly Connie pressed her cheek to mine affectionately, and I
realized I had to respond.  "Thank you, dear."  I said. "This means
a great deal to me."  Tears actually came to my eyes as I said
these words, and she noticed them I'm sure.  I struggled to find
more to say, something typically woman to woman, to set our new
relationship on the right road.  "And I really love your nails,
Connie.  Who does them?"  

"Helene," she replied.  "Right here in this building.  Let me call
her for you!"  She picked up the phone, and that night when I came
home my nails were as red as the lipstick I also wore home,
borrowed from one of the girls in the Ladies' who thought I looked
a little undressed without it.  Tracy saw and smiled and said
nothing.

A few days later I borrowed another of Tracy's dresses, went out
with her to buy more outfits, and then went out shopping on my own. 
That was how I began wearing women's clothes all the time,
everywhere, and to avoid looking foolish used my feminine gestures
and movements all the time, sometimes amusing Tracy by exaggerating
my limp wrists and waggling way of walking.  

Outside of working hours Tracy and I were together constantly. 
Each night we bathed together, and she mounted me and I entered her
under water.  It became increasingly obvious that the regimen of
hormones was making my penis softer.  Even when fully erect, it was
now barely able to penetrate her when called on to try.  On the
other hand my breasts now bulged out noticeably, and my nipples and
areola were now cone-shaped, sagging toward hers as I leaned
forward to be caressed by her exquisite fingertips until,
blissfully, I felt the flood tide of an orgasm overwhelm me.  

True to her promise, she taught me to worship "the Emperor."  At
first I felt foolish and uneasy as she pushed my head down onto her
massive cock and said, "Lick me, honey!  Suck on me!  Swallow me!" 
I did what I could.  A few days later I successfully slid it down
my throat and swallowed, and Tracy squealed, so I swallowed again
and she squealed again.  Now no question, I was one of the girls! 


"Doesn't it feel good you can do this?" she asked. "Doesn't it make
you feel important?  From now on I'm going to leave it strapped to
that little padded chair over there in the corner, so each evening
when you get home you can get on your knees and deep throat it all
by yourself.  Get lots of practice.  Imagine it's whatever your
heart desires.  Maybe for fifteen minutes each day.  Long enough to
get a man to cum.  Then a few times each week sit down on it and
get used to feeling it way up inside you.  Try to learn to live
especially for those moments."

So that too became part of my coming-home routine.  Mostly I
imagined it was Tracy's cock, or tried to imagine it was some other
woman's.  But it was so obviously masculine, with its veins and
hairy balls, that now and then it would cross my mind that it was
a man's, and I'd feel a little ashamed.  When I told Tracy that,
she said, "Ashamed to be a woman?  Concentrate more on who you are
and what you're doing."  So I did.  I still didn't like it whenever
it crossed my mind it was definitely a man's penis, not a woman's. 
But I got used to it.  And Tracy loved sucking me off too, taking
my frequently limp cock into her mouth and tonguing it, or deep
throating whatever dildo I was wearing to fuck her.

Then came Tracy's hard time.  The company let all of her associates
go and asked her to carry their burdens, before she'd managed to
hire and train an assistant.  Her work took long, wearying hours,
and sometimes when she got home she could barely stand.  She had
little or no time for her new girlfriend.  One night I told her to
quit, it wasn't worth it, we didn't need the money that badly.  She
just looked at me and said, "I can't, honey.  It's what I do, and
I'm proud that I do it well.  I'll have help before too much
longer, and then it'll get easier."  Then she went straight to bed
without even eating.  

So I took over the household, did all the shopping and cooking.  I
gossiped with a few women at the supermarket as if I were one of
them, introduced by a neighbor had seen me coming and going and
somehow assumed I was Tracy's cousin, staying with Tracy while her
husband was away somewhere.  Beth joined us one morning and set
everyone straight.  After that some of the women grinned mockingly
or else turned away tense when I came near, but others showed me
real affection, happy to have me for a sister.  I looked for ways
to take over Tracy's chores, and discovered the neglected lingerie
hamper.  There were so many tangled items that day that hand
washing simply wasn't practical.  So despite her warnings I put
them in the machine.

That's why when Tracy came into the house barely able to move, yet
had to ask whose undies I was washing, I could truthfully answer
"Ours."  I was now her girlfriend husband, and accustomed to it. 
There was nothing odd in the reply.  "Ours," she repeated, as if
the concept were slow to sink in.  Whose undies were being
processed back to cleanliness and godliness?  Ours.  Today must
have been an especially rough one for her.  "That's good," she
responded finally, despite hearing those delicate things being
swirled in a machine.  Then, "Start a bath for me, would you Hon? 
I'll be up in a minute. I just have to gather myself together here
first."

"Sure," I said.  "Would you like me to join you in the tub?  I'd be
happy to!"

"Just me this time, love," she said.  "Tonight above all I need a
good long soak in those perfumed bubbles and that bath oil.  Please
don't mind that we won't slide around on each other tonight.  I
just need to feel pampered."

I did as she requested, and when she'd worked her way upstairs and
into the bathroom she seemed crippled.

"You've got to quit your job!"  I said to her sternly, a little
frightened in fact.  "No job is worth your coming home like this. 
Just look at you!  That's terrible!"

"That's sweet!" she said, throwing me a wan smile of appreciation. 
"You care! "  She unbuttoned her dress and peeled it off and set it
aside, then shrugged her teddy off onto the floor, then her
panties, and then she stepped into the tub.  I picked up the teddy
and panties for her as I always did and tossed them into the now
empty hamper.  They were both damp, as if she'd had to rinse them
out at the office before beginning the trip home.  An accident with
a period just now getting under way?  One of those long meetings
you can't leave even when you must?

end 3/6
Vickie Tern@AOL.COM

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