As Robin's eructation winds down, Jim gets to his feet, not certain whether he should approach her or not. For her part, Robin still has a death-grip on the table, her eyes tightly shut, as if the belch requires all of her concentration. "DAMN, that felt good!" she utters, as she finally catches her breath. "That was amazingly quick thinking, Jim; thank you!" "Glad I could help;" Jim grins, "but we don't know that this is over yet..." Worried, Robin looks down and takes stock of herself: She is clad only in Jim's jacket and her favorite leopard print thong; her breasts are the nearly two-and-a-half FEET in diamter each... but at least they don't sag. She also notices that her hands are fairly well dug in to the lab table. "I'm going to need a new wardrobe AND a manicure when this is over" she thinks. Jim walks up behind her, places his hands on her shoulders, and says: "Let go of the table". Robin...
Thu Jul 3 12:21:35 2003