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My Secretary, Mandy
by Ronin722 (buck_nekid2003@yahoo.com)

***

An office interaction between a boss and his secretary. 
It's an introductory story that may develop into a 
series. Prominent themes are spanking, force, and a bit 
of power-play. (Mdom/F, reluc)

***

I'm not sure why it is, but as soon as I cum, I need to 
lay back and relax. So when I slid out of Mandy's sweet 
little pussy and leaned back against the headboard of 
the bed, I couldn't help smiling about my current 
situation. Mandy, typical to her status in our 
relationship, immediately twisted around from where I 
had been fucking her doggie-style to start cleaning my 
cock. 

I don't even remember how or when that started; it just 
seems as if almost from the beginning, she knew that 
she was expected to clean my cock whenever I fucked 
her. And, believe me, there's nothing better in this 
world than sitting back and having your softening cock 
lovingly licked and sucked on; having all the fuck-
juices from us both cleaned off of you. And there's 
nothing more submissive, in my mind, than watching a 
woman do exactly that. 

The first day she walked into my office, reporting from 
the secretarial pool, it was obvious there was 
potential there. Mandy's not your stereotypical 
secretary that you normally read about in stories like 
this. She's plain. She's not ugly, but there are no 
really stand-out features, either. Her nose is too big 
for her to be beautiful, and it has a bump on it. It's 
not a zit, just a bump about half way down the length 
of her nose. 

She wears glasses and her eyes seem too big for her 
face. And ears, poor girl, that look as if you stuck a 
cable up her ass, you'd get HBO. There's no body in her 
hair and it just hangs straight down, when she wears it 
down, but it's often up in a '50s-style bun. 

Over all, her face seems long and drawn and...plain. 
She's thin and, while not anorexic, really too thin. 
There's no ass and she's almost completely flat. On a 
side-note, I actually like small breasted women with a 
tight little ass, but DAMN! There such a thing as too 
much of a good thing. To top it all off, there's her 
personality. She has none. No laughter, no bubble, and 
she speaks softly, when she does speak. She's your 
stereotypical librarian and even goes so far as to 
dress like one. 

So, how did we get from that first day of her walking 
into my office with me thinking she may not be there at 
the end of the day to now, with her lovingly running 
her tongue over my nut-sac while holding one hand over 
her pussy so my seeping cum didn't drip out onto the 
bed? Simple; I saw the potential that she may be a real 
fire-cracker in the sack. Oh, and she's an incredible 
secretary. 

Ever watch one of those movies where the boss is 
reading something and wants to make notes and half-way 
through asking his secretary for a pen, he realizes 
she's handing him one? Yeah. That's really fucking 
annoying, by the way. By the end of the first month, 
she knew where everything in my office was located. No 
matter what I asked for, she would tell me exactly 
where it was or go and get it for me. 

One day, when she had just retrieved a file that I 
asked for (yeah, it was in my office), I jokingly said, 
"Now if you could just find my keys..." She turned and 
walked away without saying a word. I thought I had 
pissed her off. A moment later, she returned with my 
keys from who-knows-where in my office. I was amazed... 
and intrigued. 

"Sir, perhaps you should give them to me in the morning 
when you come in and that way you wouldn't have to find 
them when you're ready to leave."

That was the first time anything personal had come up 
between us in the month she had been working for me. 
Oh, I'd tried to start conversations, but it seemed as 
if I were intruding. All got were one-word answers. At 
that point, I knew she was not married (divorced, I 
thought but I wasn't sure at the time) and had a soon-
to-be-teenaged daughter. 

I responded with my legendary witty repartee, "OK." 
Wow, talking about your snappy come-backs. I could 
charm the boss' personal Executive Assistant (not to be 
confused with 'secretary') out of her panties, and had 
on occasion, but this woman took all my game away. 
How'd that happen? Anyway, that was the start of it 
all. I never thought I'd be one of those bosses whose 
secretary picked up my dry-cleaning and fetched me 
lunch and such, but somehow, over the course of several 
more months, that's exactly what happened. The next 
thing I knew, she was making reservations for me. 

It started out business-related; dinner with a client, 
flight and hotel reservations when I had to attend 
conferences, things like that. The next thing I knew, 
she was making reservations for my dates; dinner and a 
play, weekend get-a-ways with flights, a cabin and a 
car. She had all my credit card information and kept me 
straight on the company-related expenses as well as my 
personal expenses. All this within the first six 
months. It was almost scary how natural it was to rely 
on her for practically everything. 

Three things happened at the eight-month-mark that were 
rather significant. First, Mandy's daughter, Cynthia, 
had a birthday coming up. To this day, I have no idea 
how I knew, but somehow, looking through some 
information, I had come across it and the date had 
stuck. So, it seemed perfectly natural to me, I bought 
her a present. Nothing outrageous, just a CD and 
brought it to the office wrapped up one morning. 

When I gave it to Mandy and told her that it was for 
her daughter, she was completely dumb-founded. She 
stumbled over the "you didn't have to do that" line 
several different ways until I was finally able to 
reassure her that it was no big deal. She acted like no 
one had ever taken an interest in her, and certainly 
not her daughter. 

And then, she started to open it, which brought about 
the second significant act. I reached up and popped her 
hand, playfully, I thought, and scolded her, telling 
her that it was for Cynthia, not Mandy. 

"How do you know her name?" she asked.

Now, before you go down the conspiracy-theory path, no, 
I'm not telepathic/clairvoyant/have ESP. If anything, 
I'm closer to the idiot-savant. Pieces of seeming 
useless information sticks in my head for some unknown 
reason. Don't play Trivial Pursuit with me; it's not 
pretty. 

"Well, Mandy, I'm the boss. I know everything." 

She looked up at me as if she were ready to cry, and 
slowly said, "Yes, sir." 

I tried to reassure her that it wasn't anything she had 
to worry about, the artist was some popular female 
vocalist at the time and there shouldn't be anything 
inappropriate, but if there was, just let me know and 
I'd find something else. Talk about 'no good deed going 
unpunished'. 

The third, and most drastic even came the morning Mandy 
came into work, actually crying. I had just finished a 
major project the day before, a week ahead of schedule, 
and given Mandy my noted and files to put together into 
a presentation for the VP. If all worked out, it would 
mean a nice bonus and another rung on the ladder for 
me. Mandy had accidentally destroyed the vast majority 
of my work. Most of my notes were gone; the memory 
stick with several write-ups was not working and the 
sketches of several proposals was unreadable. 

It was a comedy of errors, starting the previous 
evening when it was raining and someone had 
accidentally knocked the file out of her hands on her 
way home from work and culminated with a bowl of 
spaghetti falling on what was laid out to dry. I kid 
you not, 'the dog ate it'. Yeah, her dog went after the 
spaghetti and two pages of notes were now somewhere in 
the digestive track of a Golden Retriever. 

Ready for this? No big deal. The electronic data I 
already had a copy of on my computer at work; it just 
needed to be prettied up. The notes and such were more 
for reinforcing the ideas and information I already had 
and therefore weren't key to the project. They, like 
the sketches, could be reconstructed without too much 
effort. All in all, instead of being a week ahead of 
schedule, I would be on-time. But no matter how much I 
tried to explain that to Mandy, she seemed to be on the 
verge of a complete collapse. 

Finally, I'd had enough of trying to console her and my 
patients wore out. Grabbing her by the shoulders, I 
shook her hard enough to snap her head back and forth. 

"Knock that shit off! If you want, I'll beat you later 
this afternoon, but right now, I need you to help me 
start putting the packet back together." 

Ok, somewhere between grabbing hold of her, which, up 
to this point I'd never even touched her, and telling 
her I would beat her later, I probably crossed the line 
and images of lawsuits started shooting across my mind. 
Oddly enough, it seems not only was it not 
inappropriate, it was exactly what she needed. She 
stopped crying, gathered her composure, looked me in 
the eye and said "Yes, sir." Turning around, she walked 
out of my office to her desk and for the rest of the 
day she was a flurry of activity. By the end of the 
day, we were probably a third of where we needed to be.

I had started my routine of preparing to leave when 
Mandy walked in and stood docilely in front of my desk. 

"Come for your beating?" I said jokingly, continuing to 
get ready to leave for the day.

"Yes, sir." 

Huh? I'm usually pretty good on my feet, but I've gotta 
admit, that caught me off-guard. She wasn't joking. So 
I stopped what I was doing and gave her my full, 
undivided attention.

Looking down at my desk, she started in her soft voice. 
"I know I should be fired for what I did, and if I had 
any self-respect at all, I'd quit for having ruined 
your project. But I need this job. I have to have it. 
But I also know I need to be punished. So if you want 
to beat me, I'm ready."

Right. I was back to seeing those flashes of lawsuits. 
Maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe it was something 
else... "Blackmail" is such an ugly word...

"Mandy, I was just joking. There's no way..." She cut 
me off.

"No, sir! What I did was careless and wrong and I must 
be punished. I know I should at the very least be 
docked pay, but I can't afford that. I'll work this 
weekend without being on the clock, but that's 
recompense for what I've done. It was a childish, 
inconsiderate thing for me to not take proper care of 
such an important project so it's only right that I 
receive the punishment of a child. I must be beaten." 

I'm a fairly intelligent guy; you don't have to hit me 
with a baseball bat to get an idea through to me. You 
don't have to, but sometimes it helps. This wasn't for 
me; it was for her. She needed absolution.

"All right, Mandy, if you think that's what's 
necessary. But this is neither the time, nor the place. 
Go gather your things, get your car and meet me at the 
gas station down on the corner. You can follow me to my 
place where we can continue this conversation. I don't 
need the rest of the office hearing my belt smacking 
against your ass."

"I-I... didn't think... I'm so stupid..." 

She stood there babbling. This chick had no self-esteem 
what-so-ever.  She had just told me I could... should 
beat her and now was apologizing to me because she 
hadn't thought about the rest of the office hearing me 
beat her. My cock was so hard I thought I would pass 
out from the blood-loss. 

"Sir?" she said meekly, "I don't have a car. I take the 
bus into work everyday." 

Sometimes, I'm such a retard. Here she had worked for 
me for nearly a year and I had no idea she didn't even 
own a car. Mr. Compassionate and Considerate, huh? 
Maybe not.

"You've got to be kidding me. You don't own a car?" It 
slipped out, ok? I didn't mean it the way it sounded; 
it just took me off-guard that she didn't own a car. I 
mean, how did I not know she didn't own a car after 
nearly a year of working together? How was she going 
nearly every day to get me lunch, do my shopping, get 
my laundry if she didn't own a car? Help me out here...

She was barely whispering. "No, sir. I'm sorry. I-I..." 

"Gather your things and be ready to go in five minutes. 
You'll ride home with me and I'll put you in a taxi 
when I'm done with you."

"I'll pay you back for the taxi..." she trailed off.

"No, you won't" I said as a matter-of-fact. "I think 
we've already established that you can't afford it." So 
far, there had been no real indiscretion in all of 
this. Ok, maybe the part about the beating was 
bordering on it, but we really hadn't crossed the line 
of no return...yet. "If you feel obligated to pay me 
back for the taxi, then you'll do what I tell you, when 
I tell you." 

"For how long?" she asked.

Ok, I was thinking this was going to be a very 
enjoyable night. Truth be told, I'm kinda into the 
whole bdsm thing. It's never been the staple of my 
existence, but I've always enjoyed it on those 
occasions when I've found someone else that enjoyed it. 
But at the same time, I wanted to leave her an out, in 
case she changed her mind somewhere along the way. I 
thought I would take her home, slap her ass a little 
bit, fuck the shit outta her and then put her in a 
taxi. 

I would worry about the awkwardness of tomorrow morning 
tomorrow morning. As the old saying goes, there's only 
enough blood in a man's body to run one head at a time, 
and right now, the lit'l buddy was doing all of my 
thinking for me. So I answered her question by saying 
"How long? Until you feel you've sufficiently paid me 
back." 

The instant change in her was absolutely amazing. "Yes, 
sir." was all she said before turning and walking out 
to her desk. All the indecisiveness and 
apprehensiveness was gone and in its place was the 
focused employee that she always seemed to be when she 
had a purpose and knew what it was she had to do. I 
realized that, socially, she was a sheep. She needed 
someone to make her decisions for her and once made, 
she could perform under someone else's direction. It 
was a revelation to me. 

Ten minutes later, I strolled out of my office, not 
completely sure what to say. Mandy stood up from her 
desk and moved past me to secure my office. It never 
dawned on me before, but she was always there when I 
arrived in the morning with a fresh cup of coffee on my 
desk as if it had just been made. And she was always 
there when I left in the evening. Obviously, she was 
adept at tiding up after me and securing my office; she 
did it with a practiced ease. Minutes later, we were 
riding the elevator to the garage with neither of us 
having spoken a word. 

I'd like to think it's chivalry that causes me to open 
doors for women. Feminist have said that it's the male 
contempt for women that causes it; a display of 
superiority, attempting to reinforce the antiquated 
notion that women are helpless without a man to perform 
such simple tasks as opening a door. I think most 
feminist just need to get laid. I do it as a very 
simple expression of appreciation for a woman that I 
respect. 

Here was a woman about to get into my car to ride to my 
house so I could beat her ass and probably suck my 
cock, as well as most likely fuck me, and I thought the 
very least I could do was open the door for her to get 
it. It was obvious she was not used to such treatment. 
She looked at me almost as if she half-expected me to 
slam the door on her as some sort of joke as she was 
trying to get in. If she hadn't been mistreated in her 
life, it was obvious no one had ever treated her well. 

I suddenly felt very sorry for her, this plain-Jane 
sitting in my car as we headed towards my place. And a 
bit of guilt that I was about to take advantage of her 
as it seemed so many others have. But just for a 
moment, and then the lit'l head reminded me that this 
girl probably hadn't had a cock in her in years. It 
would probably be as tight as fucking a virgin. Yep, 
only enough blood in the male body to run one head at a 
time...

Amazing, all this way and she never said a word. She 
didn't look around or seem remorseful or regretful. 
Purposeful. That's what it was, she had a purpose; a 
focus. And she was completely acceptant in it. For 
thirty minutes, through stop and go traffic, she never 
said a word or looked around. Amazing. I couldn't help 
stealing glances at here. Now, I was more intrigued 
than anything else. I kept thinking that at some point, 
she'd put a stop to this. She'd open up the door while 
we were stopped and hop out, or ask me to pull over so 
she could catch a cab. And then we were pulling into my 
driveway.

I have a nice house. I've done pretty well for myself 
in the few years since college and getting my MBA. 
Nothing outrageous, but not to shabby. I have a 3,000 
square foot place with a fantastic kitchen (I like to 
cook) and a sunken great room that I've turned into 
something of an entertainment area; a TV big enough to 
make you feel like you're actually IN the football 
game, not just watching it. The stereo can make you 
hearing-impaired for several days. 

There are a couple of different game-systems, depending 
on who's over and what we want to play. And my bar, 
nicely stocked with all the good stuff (for display, I 
usually have cheap-stuff under the counter for large 
groups). 

Yep, I have a kegerator. Heineken on tap. And, in case 
you're wondering, no, I've never been married. Does it 
show? The house has four bedrooms; the master suit is 
overhead, in a loft-style, then there's a guest suit on 
one end of the house and two bedrooms with a bathroom 
at the other end of the house. One bedroom I turned 
into an office, of sorts. Like I said, nothing 
outrageous, but I do all right. 

Mandy followed me into the great room, then turned and 
stared at me. I'm not sure which of us was more 
awkward. So I offered her a drink. Sometimes I'm such a 
dork. "Hey, I know you're here for me to whip your ass, 
but would you care for a Coke first? Glass of water? 
Nothing? You're good?" Yeah, it didn't come out like 
that. It was more like "Uhhhh, would you 
like...uhhhh...thirsty? I have some, ummm, I have 
some..." and I couldn't think of a single thing I had.

"I think we should go ahead and get this over with. I 
need to get home to my daughter."

Wow. Talk about getting a face full of cold water. I 
didn't get it. It was her idea. Why was she now acting 
like she was doing me some sort of favor? It kinda 
pissed me off a bit. Suddenly, I got the feeling as if 
she were treating me like a perv that was coercing her 
into something. 

"Fine. Let's get it over with then. Turn around, bend 
over the back of the couch and put your hands flat on 
the seat cushion." Amazingly, she did just what I told 
her. She never even hesitated and I started to think 
maybe she'd done this a time or two before. Yeah, I 
know, 'glaring glimpse of the obvious', but I was 
beginning to get the feeling that, maybe not for me, 
and maybe not now, but maybe this girl got into the 
whole 'beating" thing. 

Maybe this wasn't absolution, maybe she was just horny. 
Yeah, all along I had been pretty sure I was gonna get 
laid outta this whole thing, but now I was beginning to 
think she was gonna get laid outta this, too. Know what 
I mean? 

So I decided to play with it a bit to see how far this 
would go. Bending over the couch had caused her skirt 
to ride up a bit, but not enough. Quickly reaching 
down, I grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it up 
and over her ass, exposing a pair of white granny-
panties. Not much of a surprise there. But it did get a 
reaction from her. She gasped and started to straighten 
up when I put a hand on her back and held her in place. 

"Now, seriously, you didn't think this was gonna be 
with your skirt in place, did you? Seriously?"

Nothing from her. Good.

"Since you're about half gun-shy, why don't you reach 
back and pull your panties down, yourself. That way, I 
can get a good appreciation of that tight little ass of 
yours." Ok, here's the line. If she pulls down her own 
panties, she knows she's getting fucked...and she wants 
it to happen, pretty much the way it's playing out. If 
she balks, I have to figure out a good cover story...

Turning her head, she looked at me over her shoulder 
and I could see I'd called it right. She was making a 
decision. And there was something else; a mixture of 
anger and fear...and desire? She turned back, looking 
straight forward as if she were hiding by looking away. 
"If I can't see you, you can't see me, either." And 
then she slid her panties down. Not far, about half way 
down her thighs, but it was enough. "Yep, she's mine." 
I thought. 

Wow, what a view. For not having much of an ass, she 
had a fantastic ass. Ever see one of those women that 
seemed to be made for ass-fucking? I mean, whatever 
they do, it seems like their cheeks spread apart and 
opens up that sweet little puck as if it's an 
invitation? "When's the last time you were fucked?" 
Naa, I didn't think, it just came out. 

She bolted straight up, whipped around about to say 
something when my hand flew up and caught her flat on 
the side of her face. I hadn't really intended to do 
it, it just came naturally. She had done something I 
didn't want her to do, and on top of that, she was 
confronting me. If I didn't stop that now, it was gonna 
be a different kind of night than what was running 
through my head (no pun intended, of course). 

I have to admit, it kinda took me by as much surprise 
as it seemed to take her. And now she was sitting on 
the floor, holding her cheek and looking at me as if I 
had just... well, as if I had just slapped her. 

"Stand up, turn around and lean over the couch with 
your hands flat on the cushion." I sounded very calm. 
Inside, I was still trying to figure out what I had 
done. Better yet, what should I do next? But on the 
outside, I was ice cool. And, as surprising as the slap 
had been, she was just as surprising when she stood up, 
made a show of deliberately turning around and bending 
over the couch. 

She made one small change to my orders, though. Before 
putting her hands on the cushion, she very purposefully 
pulled her skirt up and bunched it around her waist. 
She was letting me know she could take anything I could 
give her. Nice, a challenge; I like a good challenge. 

"Let's try this again, shall we? When's the last time 
you had a thick, hard cock sliding in and out of your 
tight, wet" and then I leaned close to her ear, "cunt? 
You know, hands on your hips, pile-driving in and out 
of you?" Standing back up, I started undoing my belt 
and pulling it out. "Getting the shit banged out of 
you? A man pumping your pussy until his cock starts 
throbbing and pulsing, and he fills you with his seed?" 
Doubling my belt, I let the first one fall, not hard, 
just a little attention-getter. "When's the last time 
you were fucked?"

Meekly, barely more than a whisper, "About a year and a 
half ago, sir. Just before I started working at the 
company." 

Ahh, such sweet music. Another swat, this time a little 
harder but still not bad; just enough to make her jump 
a little. "And who was the guy? A boyfriend? Your 
husband? Or are you a slut that takes in one-night-
stands? I mean, here you are, bare-assed, panties half 
way down to the floor, skirt flipped up on your back, 
bent over, waiting for the next swing of my belt, 
knowing I'm gonna fuck the shit outta ya. So who was 
the last guy?" And this swing put a mark on her ass. 
She jumped. She yipped. But her hands never left the 
cushion. 

She was almost sobbing. A little sniffle, like a kid 
trying not to cry. "I've never been married, sir. He 
was my boyfriend. He took me and Cynthia in and in 
return, I cooked, cleaned and let him have me whenever 
he wanted."

Did you, now? Well, that was interesting. "Really? So 
he took you in and in return, you let him fuck you 
whenever he wanted? And did he have you suck his cock a 
lot, too?" This one landed low, just off the butt, 
right where it meets the thigh. And it curled around, 
popping the edge of her pussy. She may have cum, right 
then. I know it hurt, but at the same time, the way she 
bucked and hunched, it was like she was either on the 
verge of cumming, or did. 

Without even realizing it, we had worked into a rhythm. 
I'd ask a question, or a series of questions, and then 
marked when she was supposed to respond by giving her a 
swat from my belt. I still find it amazing the natural 
order of things, even when you don't try.

"Yes, sir."

"'Yes, sir'? That's it? Come on, now, you're smarter 
than that. You don't think that deserves a better 
answer than that? Maybe a bit more detail?" And then I 
started swinging. Each swat punctuated a statement. I 
was swinging hard, too. She had to know I expected more 
from her so I couldn't let her get away with a pile of 
shit like this. "You sucked his cock." A swat. "How 
often?" A swat. "Are you a cum-whore?" A swat. "I know 
you drank down his seed." A swat. "I can see you're a 
submissive little bitch." A swat. "But tell me how much 
you enjoyed it." A swat. "Tell me how much you enjoyed 
pleasing your man." 

I was getting into it, now. My cock was like a hound-
dog, straining to get out. And her ass was absolutely 
beautiful, with thick, red welts popping up in a mosaic 
across her ass and down the tops of her thighs. She was 
openly, freely crying now, jumping and twisting with 
every swat, but she'd grabbed hold of the cushion and 
never let go; never got up. My belt rained down on her, 
crossing back and forth on her ass. I made sure that 
every so often, I popped her pussy, as well. And each 
time, it was exactly what she wanted; what she needed. 

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I tore open my 
pants, dropped the belt and, just as my pants hit the 
floor, I grabbed hold of her hips and shoved inside her 
as I pulled her back onto me. An animalistic 
grunt/growl came out of me as I rammed into her; 
sheathing myself inside of her. It was absolute bliss, 
but it was a bit of pain, as well, shoving myself into 
her that way. At the same time, she screamed out, 
probably for the same reasons, and for the first time, 
let go of the cushion. 

She stood up, my cock still deep within her, and fitted 
herself to my body. And started convulsing as if she 
were having a seizure! I swear if felt as if she were 
pissing all over me. Maybe she was, but she was 
cumming, too. An earth-shattering, defining-experience 
kinda cum. And that's all I needed. I started pumping 
inside of her, shooting my cum as far up into her as I 
could get myself. It felt like I came for fifteen 
minutes. When the euphoria finally started to subside 
and I was getting my breathing back under control, I 
realized she had one hand wrapped up around my head, 
pulling me in to her, and the other was holding my ass, 
as if she were trying to keep me lodged inside of her. 

All I could hear was a quiet "thank you, thank you, 
thank you" over and over. At first, I thought I was 
imagining it, or it was something my head was 
producing, but I realized it was her. Yeah, here I was, 
just beat her ass 'til she'd probably be black and blue 
in the morning, fucked her for about thirty seconds and 
dumped a huge load up inside of her and she was 
thanking me. 

"Holy fuck, that was incredible!" Yeah, that's what I 
wanted to say, but what came out was "I need to sit 
down." And it wasn't too powerful. 

"Yes, sir." is all she said and then turned around, 
popping my cock out of her pussy, took my arm and 
guided me around so I could sit on the couch. She 
wasn't trite or pissed or sarcastic. She was just back 
to being in the role she knew. As I sat down, she 
walked off (I realized somewhere in the tussle, she'd 
lost her panties) towards the kitchen. When she came 
back, she handed me a glass of juice, kneeling down, 
onto the floor. 

I was just about to tell her she should sit on the 
couch with me when she took my cock into her mouth and 
started cleaning me...

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 60