His voice cut the air, “look only at the mantle-shelf, and do not release your grip, or I shall add another stroke for each time you do so and we do...’t want that do we?” through a vail of tears she grunted “no sir!” but prayed that she could be strong enough to stay the course. She focused on the clock, its little balls swinging to and fro, in its glass dome, regular and steady, its hands reading a quarter to five as the horrible secretary lifted her skirt folding it onto her back, cool air. “Hold it,” I instructed. I knew Bob was getting more than an eyeful of my ass. After I counted to ten, I asked him to let go. We repeated the process for my other leg. Then, I lay on my back on the grass and thrust my ankles upward, instructing Bob to grab them and push down. I looked directly up at Bob as he held on to my ankles and pushed down. Oh my! He had the bluest of blue eyes. I was mesmerized. I counted to ten and asked him to let go of my ankles. I lowered my feet and rested, then we. More

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