The shouting voice again, “Who the fuckin hell are you? And where’s Carol?” I had no idea what was going on. I shook my head, looked up and saw...this… this woman standing in the doorway, fairly large build, tall, took up most of the door entrance. And with a very, very angry look on her face. She was wearing a short grey skirt, matching jacket and a white blouse. Again the red faced woman shouted, “Can you talk? What’s the matter with you? I asked you a question, who are you? And where’s my. “Ooh! Twenty two, sir. Thank you, sir.” SWAK! This was working out much better. “Aah! Twenty three, sir. Thank you, sir.” Once again, I stopped upon reaching the decade mark of thirty. Examining her rear once more, I noticed that despite the lesser force, my belt had done a number on her flesh. I decided that maybe it was time to spare the rod. “Do you have any hand lotion in your bag?” “Yes, sir; why do you ask?” “I think that when I sooth your tender this time, a little lotion might be. More

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