DEANNA - BOAT TRIP

Funny what can come out of a chance meeting in the corporate 
break room.

I was there, standing over the sports section spread out on the 
table, sipping a Coke, when Deanna Shannon walked in.

"Hey Eric, I see you're taking a few days off before the 
conference." Deanna would know this, because she ran HR for the 
office. She even knew how much was on each of our paychecks.

"I'm taking the boat up there. The scenic route," I said. The 
conference was a two-hour flight for most of us, who would leave 
the morning of. But I planned to get there the slow way, along 
the coast and across the bay. It would be a nice opportunity to 
relax, which airports and seats in coach are not known for.

"You've got a boat?" she said, sounding impressed. This made my 
morning. Deanna was the kind of woman a guy felt good about 
impressing, even if he had no chance of romantic involvement. 
She was a brunette, gorgeous really, with impeccable fashion, 
good business sense, and good manners. She didn't flirt with the 
guys, but was always friendly, and didn't seemed to mind if the 
guys flirted with her a little. I think in her mind it was just 
part of keeping good rapport in the office. She had never dated 
anyone here. None of us saw it ever happening. Still, having her 
think well of me was a good thing.

"It's my uncle's boat", I admitted. "But it's _nice_. 43 foot, 
two levels, leather furnishings, bar, the works. Sure beats a 
cubicle."

For a second it looked like Deanna was doing a little math, 
figuring out how a mid-level guy like me could afford what my 
uncle calls a yacht.

"Wow, Eric, I'm envious." She could really make you feel good 
about yourself like that, even if she was kidding you. Her 
charisma, as much as her hard work and brains, had taken her a 
long way.

"I'm really looking forward to it," I said. I would leave in six 
days.

Everything up to this point had been quite normal, and even if I 
were to go back in time and replay this day, I would still 
expect her to wish me a pleasant trip and be on her way.

But she didn't do that. Instead, she asked me if I was going by 
myself.

Why, yes I was. Since Janine and I had split up last month, I 
had been as single as a guy can get. So naturally I wondered: 
was Deanna just curious whether I had a companion, and nothing 
more to it? Or did was she looking for an opportunity to come 
aboard? Sometimes hidden meanings in what women say are very 
tough to figure out. If they're there at all.

As far as I knew, Deanna had absolutely no romantic interest in 
me. But like many guys, I sort of straddle the line between 
optimist and fool. I wanted to take her question and run with 
it. Invite her aboard. Just me, Deanna, the boat, and three days 
of possibilities. Such things are never completely out of a 
guy's mind.

But it still surprised me when she said: "do you think I could 
come along?"

Now that was a conundrum. My wish was granted: what would I do 
now?

Pros: Okay, forget the sex fantasies for a moment. Deanna was 
quite easy on the eyes, and I had always gotten along well with 
her. It might be nice to have someone to talk to; and this trip 
could start a good friendship, a real one, outside the office. 
Even career-wise, there could be advantages to knowing her 
better, and making a good impression. Plus, to see her out of 
her work clothes, in a swimsuit perhaps, was something to 
anticipate.

Cons: I really needed some time away from people: coworkers, 
friends, neighbors, family. The boat would be great for that... 
unless I took someone along. And really, I didn't know much 
about Deanna outside the office. Was she high-maintenance? 
Jekyll and Hyde? Would she hover around me 24/7, needing someone 
to talk to? (About a jerk boyfriend that she can't bring herself 
to dump? That would suck.) Was it just infatuation that made me 
want her aboard? Subconscious wish for something that couldn't 
happen realistically? Was the anticipation better than reality 
would be?

I chickened out in a way, telling her I'd have to think about 
it. Nothing personal, but I had to give it some thought. She 
said if I change my mind, let her know; and in any case, keep 
quiet about it. A man and woman from the same office spending 3 
days and nights together would create unwanted rumors. I agreed.

I was leaning more toward turning her down, for lower risk and 
effort, but I wanted to gather some more facts if possible. It 
took a few days of talking with friends, trying to stealthily 
steer the conversation where I wanted without seeming to be too 
interested, before I found out Deanna had actually dated a guy 
one of my friends knew. He had a boat, and would take her on 
trips while they were going out. He was a jerk (ah-Ha!), but she 
stayed with him 12 months, longer than usual, because she loved 
being on the water.

Holy shit.

The story goes (and might have been embellished) that Deanna 
always had these skimpy bikinis that would just about make the 
guy's eyes pop out. And word on the street was her breasts were 
fake. This confirmed something I had always suspected; but even 
hearing this, I was feeling ashamed for myself and protective of 
her for all this gossip being dished out. Infatuation again? But 
the clincher was at the end of my friend's story.

After a few trips, he continued, Deanna would wait until their 
boat was out of sight of shore and just peel everything off.

My mind was made up; she was going.

I told her the next day. Many of the "cons" I had thought of, if 
they even came up, could be mitigated by just being in a 
different part of the boat from her. If they came up. I mean, 
seeing her in a string bikini would make up for a lot of 
irritation. And if she got comfortable enough to take her top 
off... well, that would make up for just about anything.

I gave her directions to the marina, and made sure we agreed on 
a few ground rules, so she wouldn't be surprised and upset about 
being in the middle of the water for three days with no TV, 
shopping, or cell phones. She was OK with that, and said she was 
bringing about 20 paperbacks. Cool. I would take care of food 
and drinks, so being able to occupy herself was really the only 
preparation she needed.

The day we departed, I was waiting at the marina when a yellow 
Lamborghini pulled up. Some dude in shades glared out the window 
as his passenger (on the opposite side of the car) struggled 
with his/her baggage. Then he leaned over (to kiss her?) and a 
few moments later, sped away.

Deanna stood there with her bags, like she had been dropped off 
at the airport. I trotted over to help her, and already I knew I 
had chosen correctly by inviting her. She wore cutoff jean 
shorts that had seen a good many wash cycles, and a tight yellow 
crop-top shirt that stretched over her breasts. Unfortunately, I 
could tell she was wearing a bra underneath. Did her breasts 
seem too big? Interesting how knowing she had implants changed 
my impression. I was never much for the pneumatic silicone look 
some models have. She had lovely bare legs, bare midriff, and 
her hair tied behind her in a long ponytail.

"Here, I'll take those," I said, and pointed out my yacht. OK, 
my uncle's yacht. She ran on ahead as I came back with her 
stuff. What a gorgeous ass; the shorts were cut high enough that 
they revealed a hint of the curve of each buttock. Needless to 
say, she had never looked like this in the office. You can leave 
some stuff to the imagination, but it's better to see the real 
thing. I felt extremely privileged.

I showed her the important stuff (fridge, drinks, bathroom, her 
cabin) and she soaked it all up, like an 8-year-old kid in Toys 
R Us. She really did love being on the water. I did a final 
walkaround, making sure the boat was in good shape and I had 
everything I needed.

There was one thing I thought I was forgetting, but I couldn't 
make out what it was. Probably I was just rusty; I hadn't sailed 
since last fall. I had done everything on the checklist. I 
untied and then we shoved off.

As we rode away, I was at the helm, and she leaned on the 
railing next to me, watching the shore recede from view. A 
steady, pleasant breeze swept through the cabin. "Oh, this is 
great," she gushed. "Thank you so much."

"Just think," I said, "you could be in the security line at the 
airport right now. Or in three days, at least."

"I don't miss that," she said. "If I could go like this, I'd 
never fly again." My head was swelling at that point. Deanna's 
personal transportation? Was there a career in that?

She said, "Now you haven't told anyone I'm with you, right?"

"Of course not," I said. "I like my job." Now there was always 
the chance people would notice we both had the same days off and 
would put two and two together. I confess I hadn't thought that 
far ahead. But she probably had mulled this over.

She seemed to be in a thoughtful mood. "You know, there are many 
men at the office, most of them in fact, with whom I wouldn't 
consider doing this. Without naming names." She leaned forward a 
bit, staring into the distance. Her back made the slightest arch 
leading from her shoulders down to her ass. I managed not to 
stare. I think.

I said, "It's like going to happy hour on a Friday, or to the 
Christmas party. A chance to get to know your co-workers." Now 
that wasn't really true, because people didn't pair off male and 
female in those cases. But I couldn't really finish the thought, 
however, because something I had forgotten was tickling my mind. 
Some sort of preparation for the trip. What was that one thing I 
had overlooked?

We stood there in silence for a while, lost in our thoughts. Had 
I run out of small talk already? I couldn't think of anything to 
say. After a while, I realized that was not a problem. Deanna 
was exuberantly happy just watching the water, the coastline, 
the clouds. It looked like she would really be a low-maintenance 
companion.

After a couple hours, we rounded a point and I cut the engines 
in a calm, open part of the water. Now the only sound was the 
lapping of the water against the hull. "Deanna, make yourself 
comfortable. In a little while I'll start lunch."

"Great!" she said. We climbed down to the main deck and she 
hopped downstairs to her cabin, returning with a large white 
beach towel. There were plenty of these on the boat; they were 
full body length, but with the quality of a high-end bath towel. 
She spread it out on a raised area of the deck that was designed 
for sunbathing. She hadn't changed her clothes, though; 
apparently she was just going to enjoy the warm weather, and 
sunbathe for a while. No bikini. I was disappointed. Well, time 
to stop gawking at her and get lunch ready.

But when she was done smoothing out the towel, she pulled her 
shirt over her head, then folded it neatly. I was stunned. Her 
bra was low-cut, red and lacy, the sort of thing a woman only 
reveals in the bedroom. About half her bountiful breasts were 
covered; her cleavage plunged all the way to the bikini-style 
strap connecting the cups. The material was sheer, with an 
opaque floral pattern that kept some secrets and teased the eye; 
still, I could see hints of dark areolae. Wow. How many more 
surprises were in store? I tried not to stare, tried to focus on 
her face. Did she expect me to leave, let her sunbathe in 
private?

Deanna evidently had no problem standing in front of me wearing 
this. If the number of men she trusted enough to take a boat 
trip was small, like she said, then I would have guessed the 
number of men she'd want to show so much skin would be zero. Why 
me, I wondered; but that question was shoved aside by the more 
important issue of what would happen next.

I was starting to feel lightheaded. She had turned to face me, 
and was about to unbutton her jeans, but paused. "You don't 
mind?" she asked. Not like a "do you *mind*, I need some 
privacy", but more like "are you okay with this?"

Damn right I was OK with this. "No dress code," I smiled, trying 
to look nonchalant as possible. She unzipped her cutoffs and 
wriggled out of them, leaning toward me as she did this. The 
view of her breasts barely contained by the red bra would give 
any man vertigo. Her briefs were bikini style, and matched her 
top: red, lacy and diaphanous. What was I supposed to do here? 
Play it safe and excuse myself? Go get two glasses of champagne? 
Strip her down and fuck her hard? I mean, I could see her bush 
through the sheer panties.

The most sensible conclusion: maybe she just preferred 
sunbathing in lingerie instead of a swimsuit. Nothing else she 
had done indicated any sort of romantic interest. It would be 
bad to read this situation wrong.

She was folding up her cutoffs, which looked so small by 
themselves I was surprised she ever fit inside them. She was 
turned mostly away from me now. Then she reached behind to 
unhook her bra. And funny enough, the thought of seeing those 
bouyant breasts in a few moments reminded me of that to-do item 
I had forgotten.

"Deanna, just a sec," I said. "I haven't shown you the life 
preservers. Down this way." I led her into the cabin. She didn't 
re-hook her bra straps, but instead left them hanging at her 
sides. Her back was basically bare.

As it turned out, there were only two vests aboard, for me and 
my ex, Janine. Both were those neoprone over foam dealies. 
Janine's was too small for either of us. Deanna was the right 
height, but we couldn't get it to click shut over her chest. She 
seemed a little embarrassed about it, but I insisted it was my 
fault: I should have been prepared. "Well, if I fall in, you'll 
have to rescue me," she said, tapping my thigh to punctuate the 
point. The effect of this nearly naked woman flirting with me 
gave me instant wood. I hoped to heaven it wasn't too 
noticeable. I put the vests away and we went back out.

"I'm going to lay out," she announced, as if that hadn't been 
apparent. If she wanted me to leave her in privacy, she should 
have been more explicit. I didn't want to miss this. She 
shrugged out of her loose bra. Her breasts were perfectly round, 
nipples straight ahead, and bloomed out of an otherwise thin 
body. They were almost certainly implants, but three cheers to 
her doctor.

"You'd better not be getting any ideas," she scolded, but still 
with a hint of a smile. "I'm only here because I trust you."

You're totally safe here, I assured her. And she wasn't done 
undresssing. She gingerly stepped out of her panties, which 
hardly looked like anything at all pooled on the deck, and that 
was it. Deanna Shannon, the successful, glamorous head of human 
resources, was standing naked in front of me. And she'd be with 
me for three more days.

She hardly seemed self-conscious at all. She picked up her 
folded clothes, then hopped downstairs to place them in her 
cabin. Good move, I thought, locating the cabin downstairs. I 
would have to thank the boatbuilders. When she climbed back up, 
she gradually revealed herself, full-frontal, from the head 
down. Cascade of glossy black hair (hm, she had undone her 
ponytail). Warm face, delicate neck and shoulders. Full, soft 
breasts, and no they weren't too big at all, they were the right 
size, even for her slight frame. Stomach nearly flat, medium 
hips; not a curvaceous Italian type. Neatly trimmed bush. And 
the legs... Deanna was not a tall woman, but any woman's legs 
seem long when she's naked. She had also taken off her shoes. 
Not a stitch of clothing covering her anywhere.

Deanna crossed her arms, giving me a stern look, but tempered by 
bright eyes and a mischievous grin. Along with shedding her 
clothes, she was showing layer of personality I had not seen. 
"If you keep staring at my breasts, Eric, I'm going to have to 
give them names."

"They do draw the eye," I said, which I thought or hoped was 
charmingly witty.

"But you seem like you've never seen implants before."

"Well, no, actually." Then curiosity got the best of me: "How do 
they feel?" Immediately I wished I could take that question 
back; it sound creepy. Instead I tried to elaborate: "I mean, 
are they heavy, cold, hard....? How do they feel to you? Not 
me."

She laughed, sensing my chagrin. "I got used to them right away. 
They feel normal. Which is good: I paid a lot for them. Top 
quality."

"Um, they look great. I hope you don't mind my saying that. Uh, 
in other words, please don't fire me." Uh oh; I was floundering 
here.

"Eric, it's OK. I'll tell you if you start making me feel 
uncomfortable. I promise." Then, amazingly, she put her hands on 
her hips and stepped toward me. "And they feel real in a man's 
hands too. You can touch if you want."

I hesitated, and she sensed my reluctance. "Go ahead," she said, 
reaching for my right hand and cupping it under her left breast. 
I could not believe this. I think most of my brain shut down and 
went into a fugue state, and all that existed was Deanna and me 
and she was naked and I was touching her tits.

"Lift it," she said. "It's not that heavy." I did, and she was 
right, it felt bouyant and warm and perfectly natural. With my 
left hand, I tried the other, and she didn't mind, and I found 
myself caressing all parts of her breasts, from where they 
cleaved away from her upper chest, below the collarbones, to the 
sides, the cleavage between them; and her areolae and her 
nipples, which were getting hard from the attention.

My dick was rock hard, too, and in my jeans had no room to pop 
up all the way. Good for that; this was not supposed to be a 
romantic or sexual occasion. But she was getting turned on by 
this too. Maybe she was a tease, and did this stuff for fun: see 
what she could get a guy to do without actually having sex with 
him. If so, this could be a long boat trip.

I evidently spent too much time with her nipples, because she 
gasped and then grabbed both my forearms, sweeping them down and 
away. "Sorry," she said, eyes wide, with a silly grin. "One 
thing the augmentation did is make them much more sensitive. I 
think I let you play a little too much."

"Sorry," I said. Shit. Did I get too greedy and kill the golden 
goose?

"Let's have some lunch," she said, and I went below deck to 
prepare it. I had a sinking feeling that when I returned, she 
would have all her clothes back on and we wouldn't talk to each 
other for the rest of the trip except for necessities. In any 
case, it had still been a surreal experience, one I was glad I 
didn't miss out on. I got the food and trays and brought them 
back up.

She was laying down on her towel, shading her eyes, and sat up 
when she noticed me. Still naked. I wanted to touch those 
breasts again. I wanted them in my mouth.

"I'm... sorry about what happened," I said. "That was a little 
weird. I wasn't very smart about it."

"It's OK," she reassured. "I mean, what would I expect you to 
do? My breasts are always sensitive when they're bare. Even 
laying out like this, the sun and the wind. It makes me hot. 
That's why I like being naked like this."

I wasn't sure how to ask this, but I had to know. "But being 
aroused for all this time, wouldn't it drive you crazy?" It's 
not as if Deanna had a boyfriend here to help let off some 
steam.

She laughed. "I do this," she said, spreading her legs slightly 
and tapping one finger on her bare pussy. "Now you never, EVER 
tell anyone about this. And though I don't mind being naked 
around you, if you see me getting myself off, I hope you can 
give me some privacy."

"No problem," I said. "The way you look, I may need some private 
moments, too."

"Oh, you," she said impishly. "Let's eat." We devoured chicken 
sandwiches, salads and strawberries. I had made sure we would 
eat well. We chatted about various things during the meal, and 
then I cleaned up and she returned to sunbathing.

I stripped down and changed into swim trunks. I wasn't about to 
walk around with my pecker hanging out, however equitable that 
would seem. I went up to the helm to check our location and the 
surroundings. Everything A-OK; only a few clouds offshore. I was 
about to go back down when I saw Deanna relieving some of the 
pressure built up by the sun and air on those amazing breasts. 
Her right hand was at her pussy, probably with a finger inside. 
Her left hand attended to her left breast, pulling, kneading, 
and twisting her nipple. Well, only a woman knows exactly how 
she likes it. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open. She 
couldn't see me anyway unless she craned her neck upward.

So much for giving her privacy. I watched the whole thing, 
listening to her sigh and moan. I reached behind me and found a 
tissue box; and still kneeling down, I pulled my swimtrunks down 
to my ankles. My dick was rock hard, and as she fingered 
herself, I stroked as well, trying to hold off, trying to wait. 
When she came, shuddering a few times and then relaxing, I let 
myself go too, spurting into a wad of tissue. I watched as she 
stretched, eyes still closed, and went to sleep.

After my climax wore off, I felt very guilty. I didn't give her 
the privacy she asked for; instead I had jerked off to her. She 
came here hoping for an understanding, confidential friend and 
instead got just another guy who wanted her body. Even though I 
felt contrite, part of me wanted to step out of my trunks, walk 
down there, and just kiss her all over until she woke up.

I must have stayed where I was a long time. When I pulled up my 
trunks and climbed down, Deanna was already awake and laying on 
her stomach, reading a paperback. Her beautiful bare ass was 
open to the air. I dreamed of raising her hips, parting those 
luscious thighs and fucking her wet pussy from behind. My dick 
hurt.

The rest of the afternoon, we mainly did our own thing. She read 
and slept and soaked up the sun and masturbated. I read the same 
sentences over and over again between peeks at Deanna. And I 
went up to my secret spot near the helm, in full view of my 
passenger, and jerked myself off too.

That night, we stood at the railing and gazed at the stars. 
After a while, she rested her head on my shoulders and put her 
arm around my waist. Her breast pressed against me. Some 
coworkers we were. "Thank you for a wonderful day," she said, 
and gave me a warm hug. But no kiss, of course. And when we went 
to our separate cabins, my biggest case of blue balls ever 
continued.

I stayed up for a little while in my cabin, propped up in bed. 
One of the luxuries my uncle had sprung for was a flat-panel 
television with DVD player. For a while I watched a movie, muted 
with subtitles out of courtesy to my guest next door.

After about half an hour, Deanna opened the door, peeking in. 
"Hey, I don't have a TV!"

"Uhhh... captain's privilege?" I joked.

The dim light of the bedside lamp threw her voluptuous features 
into light and shadow. "And you've got a much bigger bed than I 
do," she accused.

What the hell. Everything else had gone right today; go for it. 
I scooted to one side and opened the covers. "Room enough for 
two."

She pondered this for a moment. "Now you know this doesn't mean 
I'm going to sleep with you," she said. "Even if I do, uh, fall 
asleep next to you. You know what I mean!"

"Don't worry," I said. "We've been cool all day. I think we have 
a good working agreement here."

"Great." She climbed in next to me. "Whatcha watching?"

At that point I no longer cared what was on the screen. She was 
soft and warm, and her hair smelled faintly of conditioner. I 
had ditched all my clothes and was naked under the sheets, and 
of course so was she. I had a silly thought about all the 
milestones of a sort that I'd hit today. Some time along with 
Deanna. A hug from her. A kiss. Seeing her in lingerie. Topless. 
Naked. Seeing her get herself off. And now in bed, just inches 
away, neither of us wearing anything at all.

The movie ended. We were both ready for lights out, so I shut 
everything off. "Good night, captain," she said, leaning over to 
kiss me on the cheek. As for the captain, well, his staff was at 
full attention.

I nodded off pretty quickly, and as far as I know so did she. 
Some time later I woke up, still lying on my back, but now 
Deanna, still asleep, was partially on top of me. Her head was 
on my shoulder; I could faintly feel her breathing. Her right 
arm was across my chest, and her breasts pressed against me. Her 
thatch of pubic hair brushed my hip. One of her legs crossed 
mine at the upper thigh, not that far south of my dick, which 
was once again getting hard. How much more of this could I take?

My right arm was pinned under her body, but my forearm and hand 
were free. I could actually reach over and touch the small of 
her back, her hip, and her ass. I started gingerly doing this, 
ever so delicate, hoping not to wake her up. Her skin was so 
warm.

I was caressing her left cheek, down to where it starts to 
become her upper thigh, not too far, just a couple of inches 
away from the grand prize, just out of reach. She still slept, 
but let loose a very soft "Mmmmmmm" and moved against me, almost 
imperceptibly, just shifting her weight a bit, in a way that I 
enjoyed a lot.

I tried to be careful with this, just enjoying the feel of her 
bare skin on my fingertips, but she was gradually getting more 
hot and bothered. Her leg moved up along mine and bumped my 
erect dick and tight ballsack. Her pussy was grinding up against 
me and I could feel warmth down there, even heat, and it seemed 
like she was getting moist. Her breathing was deeper and more 
frequent, and her arms, which had just sort of been splayed 
across me, started embracing me tighter.

The room was nearly pitch dark, with only some moonlight coming 
in through the window. I could only see her silhouette when she 
woke up and lifted her head. She said nothing; just lowered her 
face to mine and kissed me, open lips, on the mouth.

As far as I was concerned, that was my signal. I lifted her up 
to straddle me, and then switched off kissing her and kissing 
those lovely breasts, or fondling those or the globes of her 
perfect ass. Speaking of which, that ass was bouncing against my 
boner as she swayed, and I really wanted to be inside her before 
I came.

Aside from kissing me and moving her body, she was happy to let 
me do most of the foreplay, winding her up, licking her nipples 
and touching her everywhere my hands could reach. I decided I 
had waited long enough and started playing with her pussy, just 
a few seconds before guiding a finger inside. She froze for a 
moment as if she had been shot in the butt; then started moving 
and breathing even harder.

Then she took my member and guided me in. What happened next was 
nothing to write home about: I lasted five strokes. As soon as I 
was inside her I knew I wasn't going to last long. I exploded 
inside her and then I was no good for a while.

Later on I found out how to make her really come hard. But that 
first night I had to rely on my fingers, lips and tongue on 
those gloriously sensitive nipples of hers.

As we fell back asleep I wondered if when I woke up that this 
was all just a dream.

It was not.

Deanna spent the next two days on the boat just as naked as the 
first; and we made love, a lot, in all sorts of different ways. 
After the trip, it seemed silly to sneak around, and we started 
dating openly; two years later, I married her.

She still loves hanging around naked. Inside the house, she 
sometimes has a pair of boxers, sometimes a little wispy bikini 
brief, usually sheer; but much of the time wearing nothing at 
all. She likes to garden in the nude too; and Bob, the retired 
guy next door, doesn't mind the view at all.

As for really getting naked in public, Deanna doesn't do it that 
often. There was a Halloween party where she dressed as Eve, in 
only a fig leaf; and she got so much attention the other women 
might as well have been invisible. Now some guys put on a mask 
and get the idea that they're anonymous and can do anything they 
want; so it wasn't too long before Deanna lost her fig leaf and 
a lot of guys were trying to feel her up. So we actually went 
home early.

When she agreed to go on the boat trip, did she already have 
snagging me in mind? There seemed to be no reason for that; but 
who knows. Many women are inscrutable, and many women plan 
ahead. If that's true, then I'm glad I was hooked. After four 
years, I'm still totally infatuated.

I'm totally faithful, and so is she. But she does enjoy working 
outside with the tomatoes, giving Bob great views of her tits, 
her ass, and her pussy. I don't mind that at all. Sometimes she 
muses how fun it might be to give Bob a more up close, personal 
show. Can't say I wouldn't be interested to see that either. But 
there's plenty of time for that.

  
dboat