“Well… I’m a smelly farmer and I just thought that you would be more comfortable with me if I didn’t pong,” Clem replied.With a giggle, Demp...ey then said, “Clem, you’re a farmer, not a French tart. Please stop doing that.”“Huh?” Clem replied in a shocked voice.Continuing to chuckle, Dempsey then persevered, “Clem, I know the kids at school gave you a hard time about being a smelly farmer. I also know that your hyperhidrosis gave you the nickname of Clammy Clem. Truthfully, that never bothered. Please do not duplicate, copy, print, distribute or exchange this piece without the expressed written permission of the authorThe flames were flickering brightly; As If Dancing with life. The fireplace had already captured the heat from the fire. Ryan was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace leaning back on the edge of the couch. Ryan sipped a cup of coffee slowly, allowing the aromatic vapors to fill her senses. All of Ryan's senses were accepting what the evening offered; the heat. More

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