The Making of a Gigolo (11) - Renee Zimmerman

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Chapter Seven

This was Renee's first celebration of the 4th of July in Granger. She was a little shy, at first, but then began seeing people she knew. Children ran up to her for hugs, and their mothers and fathers smiled and waved at her. Mirriam also waved, from a line of tables set up on the grass. Lots of women Renee knew were at that line of tables too, and her nervousness disappeared as she walked over and was welcomed.

She looked around for Bobby, but didn't see him. She felt embarrassed, for some reason, asking Mirriam about him. Her date had gone superbly, as far as she was concerned. That night, as she lay in bed, thinking about what had just transpired, she could still remember the feel of her small hand in his larger, stronger one. He had been a perfect gentleman, and she'd had fun. She was now having trouble thinking of him as a "gigolo". He was just Bobby, and he was unique, among men.

A woman she'd never seen walked up, holding a baby, about a year old. Just seeing that baby reminded her of Bobby, because of the black hair, and blue eyes. It even had the same little forelock of hair on its brow.

"Felicity!" said Mirriam, standing up. "It's so good to see you here."

"You know Chester," sighed the woman, smiling. "He's like a little boy himself, when it comes to fireworks." She looked around. "Is Bobby here?"

Renee heard that special note in the woman's voice ... that note that said her question about Bobby wasn't as casual as she had tried to make it sound.

"He's around somewhere," said Mirriam. "I can't keep track of him anymore." She got a crafty look on her face. "Would you like me to hold Charles, while you go look for him?"

"Would you?" asked Felicity, obviously happy at the thought.

"I'd be happy to," said Mirriam, a strange note in her own voice.

Renee watched as Mirriam took the little boy, who wiggled and squirmed in her arms. Felicity walked off.

"Aren't you a handsome thing," cooed Mirriam to the baby. "So big and strong!" she added, as she sat down and started letting the little boy stand up and sit down on her lap. She took his hands, and helped him stand. He gurgled and smiled, and then his knees buckled and he sat, only to struggle up again, with her help.

An old man ... a very old man ... strolled up to Mirriam.

"Well, I see she foisted him off on you," he said, smiling. "I suppose she's off kicking up her heels."

"Good evening, Chester," said Mirriam, somewhat formally. "Do you want him back?"

He waved a hand, carelessly, and sat down.

"I get to see him all day long," he said. "Enjoy yourself. Besides, it's about time for a diaper change, if I know my son." He said that with what sounded like an inordinate amount of pride, to Renee's ears. She was puzzled. The man had to be in his seventies, at least, but appeared to claim this baby as his son.

"I don't suppose you brought one of those fabulous rhubarb pies of yours this year," said the man, hopefully.

"I did indeed," said Mirriam, beaming. "Would you like me to get you a piece?"

"You're busy," said Chester. He turned to Renee. "And who might this lovely young woman be?" he asked.

Mirriam made the introductions, and Chester, to Renee's astonishment, said: "Ahhhh, so you're the woman who brought Granger up a notch."

"I beg your pardon?" she said, hesitantly.

"This town has needed a good preschool for years," said the old man. "It's a wonderful thing you came along and gave them one. I hear very good reports about it."

"Thank you," said Renee, a little weakly. She had been under the impression that no one, other than the parents of what she thought of as "her children", even knew she existed.

"Having paid you a compliment," said the old man, "do you suppose I could beg you to get me a piece of that pie, so Mirriam can spend some time with my son?"

Renee's puzzlement increased. This man was obviously claiming the baby as his own, which meant he was married to the much younger woman who seemed to be the baby's mother. She pushed her curiosity aside and jumped up to get the pie. Mirriam told her which basket to get it out of. There were paper plates, plastic forks and napkins in the basket as well. She'd never had rhubarb pie before, and had never had an interest in trying it either. When, in the process of getting Chester a piece, she got some on her thumb, it was just natural to suck it off. She found it to be sweet and delicious. By the time the old man had taken three bites of the pie she served him, she found herself taking a bite of a piece she got for herself.

Felicity walked back up, and folded her arms.

"Chester!" she barked. "How many times to I have to tell you to wait for dessert?"

"It's Mirriam's rhubarb pie," he said, as if that explained everything.

Felicity took her baby back. Chester finished his pie and stood up.

"My undying gratitude is yours," he said, bowing to Mirriam.

She blushed at his praise.

"I'll save you another piece," she said, looking at Felicity. "For later."

"You're spoiling him," warned Felicity, but she smiled. She turned to her husband. "We have to make the rounds," she said. "I still haven't found Bobby."

"Well, then," said Chester, taking her elbow. "We'll just have to make the rounds."

When they were gone, Renee couldn't keep her curiosity at bay any longer.

"They're married?" she asked Mirriam.

Mirriam explained the story about Chumley Steel and Pipe, and Chester's marriage to Felicity. It was the kind of gossip she loved, and which wasn't really inappropriate for her to speak of. It was just history, to her reckoning.

"Wow," said Renee, when the story was finished. "They seem so happy."

"I think they are," said Mirriam, looking off in the direction they had left. "I think they are," she repeated.

A gaggle of girls rushed up to the table, making all kinds of noise. Some of them worked for Renee, and greeted her enthusiastically. It was more noise than Renee was comfortable with, though, and she got up to go explore the square, saying she'd be back later.

The reason Felicity hadn't been able to find Bobby was because Jill Trimble had collared him first. She'd taken him to a big oak tree, in the farthest corner of the square, and put the tree between them and the crowd. It wasn't dark yet, but the area was heavily shaded.

"You haven't been by to see us in weeks," she complained.

"I've just been busy," he said, smiling.

"We miss you," she said petulantly.

"I miss you too," he said, putting his hands on her waist.

"I can't kiss you here," she complained. "Somebody might see us."

"I don't care," he said, grinning, and squeezing her waist.

"I know you don't," she said, pouting. "But I have a reputation to uphold."

"I see," he said, smiling. She'd had his baby out of wedlock, and been the talk of the town for a while. She and Christy did such good work in their photography studio, though, that people ignored her indiscretions, for the most part. "Is Roger still behaving himself?" He was talking about Jill's ex-husband, who was a mean and spiteful man that had gotten another woman pregnant while they were still married, and had flaunted it in Jill's face. Jill's original intention had been to get pregnant with Bobby's baby to be spiteful back at him. That had changed though. She'd ended up having Bobby's son because she wanted to have Bobby's son.

"Roger will always be Roger," she said dismissively. "He hasn't spoken to me for over a year. I think he finally realized that I don't care what he thinks about anything."

"Good," said Bobby.

"I hate you," she said softly.

His eyebrow rose. "Why's that?" he asked.

"Because I can't help doing this," she said.

She leaned up to kiss him, and it was a powerful kiss. Then she pulled away.

"Don't neglect us, Bobby," she said firmly.

"Yes Ma'am," he said, smiling.

It was after Bobby and Jill left the tree, and rejoined the throng, that Felicity saw him. Carrying her baby, she walked to him. They were right in the middle of a group of people, but she acted like there was nobody around.

"I've been looking for you," she said.

Charles reached for Bobby, who took him and held him, bouncing him in his arms, while the baby laughed.

"I'm glad," he responded. "It's an honor to be looked for by a woman like you." He kissed Charles on the forehead.

"Chester would like to have more children," she said, her voice normal. She said it with the same emotion in her voice as if she'd said, "Chester would like to have a sprinkler system installed in the lawn."

"And what would you like?" Bobby asked her.

"I would like to give my husband what he wants," she said. Her eyes supplied the passion that her voice did not contain.

"I'll clear some time on my schedule," said Bobby, smiling.

"Make time for Annie too," she said.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Bobby, to his second woman that night.

Renee had stood, surrounded by people, and watched as Felicity saw Bobby and went up to him. It looked like they were just having a casual conversation, but Renee's feminine intuition was going crazy. The way Felicity looked at Bobby ... the way she held her body ... the way she touched her hair while she talked to him ... the fact that she stood less than a foot from him ... all of those things said that she was interested in Bobby as a man, and not just as a casual acquaintance.

She watched Bobby too, and saw the familiarity with which he held, and cuddled Felicity's baby. In an explosion of understanding, Renee realized that Bobby was holding his own child ... that Felicity was one of the women Bobby had spoken of, without naming. It was obvious, now that she thought about it. Chester was much too old to be this baby's father, and he knew that as well as Renee did. Yet, he had claimed the boy as his own.

Renee felt a tightness in her chest that was both unfamiliar and uncomfortable. As Bobby handed his son back to the woman, and she treated him with a brilliant smile, Renee decoded that feeling. She was jealous! She was jealous of the look in that woman's eyes, and of her smile, given to her clandestine lover ... her gigolo!

Renee was not happy about the conclusion that settled into her brain. She did not want to be jealous ... of Bobby or of any other man, for that matter. Yet, she had to admit that it was some form of jealousy that was making that tight knot in her chest. It demanded some kind of action. At the same time, she wanted to deny it ... to push it out ... to banish it from her mind and body.

Bobby turned and saw her. He started toward her. She almost turned and walked away from him, but her legs wouldn't obey the command to move.

"Hi," he said. He was so casual ... so normal ... so ... Bobby.

"That's your baby," she heard her mouth say.

Bobby looked over his shoulder at Felicity, who had rejoined her husband. Chester had taken the baby, and was holding him, bouncing him just like Bobby had, while Felicity talked to the people facing them.

"I thought we were finished talking about that stuff," he said.

"I want another date," her voice said, to her horror.

"Do you?" he asked.

She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide. At the same time, she realized that her subconscious mind had done what it had demanded her to do ... take action. She did want another date, if only to claim some part of this man's time. She let her hand drop. It twitched, but she ignored that.

"I do," she said, this time on a completely voluntary basis.

"How about I pick the activity, this time?" he asked, his lips not quite smiling.

"What would that be?" she asked.

"How about we go to the drive-in?" he suggested.

Renee had never been to a drive-in movie theater. In her family, that was considered low-brow. She'd heard all kinds of stories about what happened at drive-ins. But that idea also appealed to the jealous part of her. She doubted very much that Bobby had ever taken Felicity Chumley to a drive-in movie. She was disgusted with herself for even thinking that.

"What kind of movie would it be?" she asked.

"Don't know, and don't care," said Bobby. "It's not about the movie. It's about spending time together."

"I want to have fun," she said.

"If it's not fun, we'll leave," he said immediately. "We'll just go do something else, until you do have fun."

"Okay," she heard her voice say. "No funny business," she warned.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Bobby, for the third time that night.

Renee kept away from him after that, at least in terms of sitting next to him or standing next to him. She sat with the women at Mirriam's table, and tried to submerge herself in the welcome, casual conversation.

Still, she couldn't help but look at him when he was there, and her eyes strayed out in the crowd, looking for him when he wasn't there too. It was very disturbing to her. What was even more disturbing was that she kept seeing children ... some of them her own clients ... who looked like Bobby.

Bobby eventually wandered back to the tables occupied by his mother and her friends, to get some pie and maybe a piece of cake. It was about time for the music and dancing to start, and he wanted dessert now, in case he got asked to dance. Prudence was there, and he asked her, as usual, how Constance was doing.

"The same," she said, her voice dismal. "It's been almost nine months, and I can't get her to leave the house. She mopes around all day and does nothing."

"She loved him," said Bobby gently.

"I know that!" snapped Prudence. "I loved Harry too, and I grieved for him when he was gone, but life goes on!"

"You grieved for him for a lot longer than nine months," said Bobby, still gently.

Prudence looked at him and scowled.

"I was a fool. You know that. It took you to teach me that."

"I'm just saying that you had a rough time of it too. Are you so surprised that Constance is going through the same thing?" Bobby sat down beside the woman who still called him, once every so often, to come love her and leave her limp. Or had anyway, until her son-in-law had been killed. Bobby hadn't been to her house in those nine months.

"It isn't the same thing," said Prudence, stubbornly. "In the first place, she was only married to him for a short while. And she had nothing to do with him dying." Prudence looked at him. "A dozen people have tried to talk to her, but she won't listen." She frowned. "In fact, practically everybody has tried to talk to her except you. Why haven't you talked to her, Bobby?"

"I've stayed away," said Bobby, "because I know she had a crush on me, back before Tim, and I didn't think it would be helpful if I tried to talk to her."

"But don't you see?" said Prudence. "She did have a connection to you. And you helped me understand things. You need to go see her."

"I could just go kidnap her," said Bobby, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, go in, put her over my shoulder, and bring her here."

"That might not be a bad idea," said the mother of the woman they were talking about. "In fact, I think that's a great idea!"

Bobby held up his hands.

"Now wait a minute. I was just kidding. I can't do that."

"Of course you can," said Prudence. "I'm her mother. If I tell you to do it, you can!"

"She's a grown woman, Prudence," said Bobby.

"Well, I was too, and it took you to shake me out of it," said Prudence. "At least go talk to her. She'll listen to you. I know she will."

Bobby wondered if he was doing the right thing as he approached the house he was so familiar with. It was almost dark and the fireworks would start soon. If he was going to talk her into going to the square, he'd need to hurry, or there'd be nobody there when they got there.

He didn't need a key. People still left their doors unlocked in Granger. He went in, and went toward Constance's room, where Prudence was quite sure she'd be. The door was closed, and he knocked on it.

"Constance?" he called out. "It's Bobby."

There was silence from within. He knew she was in there, because light spilled onto his shoes from under the door. He tried the knob. It was locked. He knocked again.

"I know you're in there," he said. "Open the door."

"Go away," came a faint female voice through the door.

"I can't do that," he said. "I promised your mother I'd talk to you."

"Go away," came the voice again.

"Open the door, Connie," he said.

"No!" At least she had the energy to yell.

He looked at the door frame. The molding wasn't as tight as it could be, having separated from the jamb over the years. He pulled out his pocket knife and picked the carving blade, which was shorter, but also slimmer. He inserted the tip of the blade in the crack between the jamb and molding and pushed. He felt the tip of the blade engage the latch, and felt it move. The blade wasn't long enough, so he pulled the knife out and opened the longer blade. When he slid it into the crack he had to push harder, but the door popped open.

Constance was lying on her bed. She was a mess. He could tell at once that she hadn't bathed for a long time. Her hair was stringy and oily, and the room stank of stale body odor. She looked pale and thin.

"How did you get in?" she asked, listlessly.

"You wouldn't let me in, so I came in anyway," he said.

"Go away," she said.

"Nope," he said. "I was sent here to get you and bring you back to the 4th of July celebration."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said.

"I've been authorized to put you over my shoulder and carry you there, if that's what it takes," he said.

She looked at him. Her eyes were hollow and dark.

"I want to die," she said.

"I think that's a bit extreme," said Bobby calmly.

"I'm too chicken to do anything about it," she said.

"You stink," said Bobby, stepping toward her. "You need a shower, and to wash your hair. We have to hurry, or it will all be over."

"I told you I'm not going," she said, with a little heat in her voice.

"And I explained that I'm expected to bring you back," he said.

She wouldn't stand up, so he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. She wouldn't take her clothes off, even when he threatened to do it for her, and she didn't make a noise as he began unbuttoning buttons. She wasn't wearing either a bra or panties, and his nose wrinkled at the smell that wafted off of her as he got her naked.

Since she wouldn't stand in the shower, he laid her in the tub. She reacted violently when he turned on the water, which was cold, at first, but he held her in the tub. She started crying, but he held her there anyway, until the water warmed.

He was afraid she'd let herself be burned, so he tested the water several times. He wanted it hot, but not too hot. Eventually she sat and sniffled.

"I hate you," she said finally.

"No you don't," he replied, picking up the soap and offering it to her.

She wouldn't take it.

"I'm going to wash you," he warned.

She didn't react.

There was nothing sexual about this bath. She sat, as he manipulated her, this way and that, lifting an arm. She hadn't shaved her armpits either and he almost grinned at the black hairs sprouting there. She reacted when he forced his hand between her legs, and her hands went to his wrist to stop him.

"You going to do it yourself?" he asked.

She nodded, and he handed her the soap.

"Your back side too," he ordered, when she finished.

She glared at him, but rolled to slide a soapy hand into the water and wash between her buttocks.

"What kind of shampoo should I use?" he asked.

"Prell," she said, with a little more tone in her voice.

He didn't ask her if she wanted to wash her hair. There was a drinking glass by the sink, and he just used it to pour water over her head. She rubbed her eyes clear of water, but didn't say anything.

He spent ten minutes on her hair, drawing clean water into the glass to rinse it, because the bathwater looked grey and scummy. She was willing to stand, then, and he splashed her with several glasses of clean water.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because you need to get out and see people," he said.

"No I don't."

"Then I'm doing it because you needed a bath," he said.

She stood, immobile as he dried her off. He was at her ankles when her voice fell from above.

"He's dead, Bobby."

He stood up, and looked into her sunken, hollow eyes.

"I know, baby," he said softly. "I wish he wasn't."

"He's never coming home," she moaned, her eyes filling with tears.

"I know that too," he said. "I wish he was."

Her emaciated body shivered, incapable of creating enough body heat, even in summer, to keep her warm. A tear ran down her cheek.

Bobby knew she needed a hug. He didn't want to hug her while she was naked, but her trembling body demanded it. She let herself be pulled against him, and then she bawled.

He held her, his hands flat on her back, not moving, except to come up and touch her wet hair now and then. He just held her and let her cry. Eventually her hands rose to lay on his sides. Eventually she ran out of energy to cry with.

"Why did this happen to me?" she moaned.

"I don't know, honey," he said. "I can't make it go away, and I can't explain it. All I can do is tell you that there are people who love you, and who are worried about you."

"I don’t want to see them," she moaned.

"You have to see them sooner or later," he said. "Let's get you dressed."

"But I don't want to go!" she wailed.

"Then we won't," said Bobby. "We'll just ride around, or something. You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," she said.

"I know, but you need to eat something anyway. We lost Tim. We don't want to lose you too."

"You didn't lose Tim," she said, with energy in her voice. "I lost him! You don't know how that feels."

"You're right," he said. "I don't. But I know how it would feel to lose you. Don't make me try to dress you. I'd rather just take you out of here naked."

"You can't do that!" At last he got some emotion, other than melancholy.

"Well it was hard enough to undress you. I'm not going to try to dress a woman who won't help me."

In the end, she dressed herself. He had to pick the clothing, but she put it on. He didn't have to carry her out of the house, but he had to threaten to, before she followed him, meekly, to his car. Her hair was still wet, but he didn't think that would matter.

Everything was closed. He'd forgotten about that. He told her he'd get her something and bring it to the car as they parked a block from the square. They could hear the music - Western swing, at the moment.

"You don't have to do that," she sighed. "It's a long way. I'll just go with you."

Whether it was because Prudence had prepped people, or because they just didn't know what to say to the woman they hadn't seen for nine months, and who looked like hell warmed over, what happened that night was almost mystical. People hugged Constance, and then let her go, to be hugged by someone else. In the midst of chaos and revelry, there was almost a quiet space around her as she let people hug her. The human spirit is a powerful thing, and some of that power seeped into Constance, that night. Words could not console her, but love is a different thing. A real hug contains love. Anyone can tell the difference between a polite hug, and a genuine one, and Constance got a lot of genuine hugs that night. She did eat something, and realized she was starved.

She didn't dance, and she didn't engage in a lot of conversation. Her mother left her alone, for the most part, and so did everyone else once they had hugged her. When the fireworks started, Bobby just stood behind her chair with his fingertips on her shoulders. When it was over he offered to take her home.

Constance was filled with emotions. There was the pain of loss, the anger, disappointment, both in the world, and in herself. Uppermost in the emotions raging inside her was the desire to be loved, by the man she loved. It wasn't absurd that some of that transferred to Bobby.

When he took her in, she clung to him.

"Make love to me," she moaned.

"I can't," he said, petting her hair.

"I need this," she cried.

"Maybe, someday," he said. "You'll need that again someday, but now isn't the right time for that. You have a long way to go. You're not leaning over the cliff, right now, and that's good."

"I love you," she moaned. "I've always loved you."

"And I love you too," he murmured into her hair. "That's why you have to listen to me. This is not the time."

"Will you stay?" she asked. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

He did stay. They sat on the couch, and she leaned against him. She fell into an exhausted sleep, so deep that, when he carried her to her room, she didn't waken. He put her in bed, and got a chair, putting it beside the bed.

With his feet up on the bed, he leaned back, and slept as well.

On July the fifth, Bobby spent four hours at Jill's house. While he took care of Jill, Christy watched the children. Then Jill took over, and Christy dragged him to her bedroom. They all rested and ate, and Bobby played with Steven and Jillian, who seemed to think they were brother and sister, read them two stories from their favorite story book, and put them both down for a nap. Then he made love to both women again.

The conversation while they were making love was remarkably similar.

"Are you on the pill yet?" asked Bobby, as he pushed deep into Jill.

"No," she gasped.

"You know I'm going to get you pregnant again," he warned.

"I don't care ... just don't stop!" she panted.

With Christy, it was simply reversed.

"You know you're going to get me pregnant again," she gasped, after her pussy finished rippling around his thick, hard penis.

"You want me to pull out?" he panted.

"I want you to go long enough that I can have another orgasm just like that one," she puffed.

He left both women soaked in virile sperm, and neither woman cared to get up and let it drain out of her.

The next day, the scene was the same, except that it took place at the Chumley mansion. One difference, though, was Annie's pillow talk.

"I've missed this so much," she moaned, as Bobby thrust deep into her famished pussy.

"I don't see why you don't get yourself a boyfriend," said Bobby, as he ground the base of his prick against her clit.

"Boyfriends are too much trouble," she moaned. "They want to be with you all the time and they want you to do things for them all the time."

"You could get this whenever you wanted it," he said, fucking her with long strokes that made her breasts jiggle.

"If you'd come around more often, I could get it whenever I wanted it anyway," she gasped, thrusting her hips up at him.

"I'm going to get you pregnant again," he moaned.

"No you're not," she gasped. "I went on the pill."

"Ohhhhh," he sighed, jetting her full of little, wriggling sperm cells. He felt some sadness for them, because they would languish and die in her body.

Of course, the whole point of Felicity spreading her legs in welcome to him was the opposite, for him to get her pregnant again, and she was much more enthusiastic about it in private, than she had been in the park in front of people.

"I love this," she moaned, as her pussy squeezed his thick stalk. "I love our baby ... I love you."

"I love making babies with you," he panted, and filled her up with sperm that would not, he hoped, be wasted.

Felicity had let Annie go first, that day. Part of that was because she had read somewhere that a man's second ejaculation, in a short period of time, was more potent than his first. Another reason was that she wanted to keep him there, in bed, so she could accept his gift twice, and it wouldn't have been fair to Annie to make her wait that long. They had become a strange mixture of employer/employee, and best friends, since giving birth to Bobby's babies on the same day.

As they lay there and talked, while she exulted in the heavy feel of his semen soaking into her, she asked him about his family. He gave her the update, which included Suzie's desire to go to college and become a doctor. "That's wonderful," she said. "If we can afford it," he added, thinking nothing about it.

The second time he spurted inside her, she lay there, while he propped up her hips with a pillow, and kissed her goodbye. She said she expected him to return to the mansion for four more days before taking a break for a while, to see if their mating had been successful.

Later that evening, when she climbed into bed with Chester, she was horny again. She was always horny for Chester after she'd been loved by Bobby.

She sucked lovingly at her husband's penis, even though it took a long time for him to cum. She didn't mind a bit, and relished the sound of his sighs as his penis gave up its meager supply of nectar to her mouth.

Then, as they cuddled, getting ready to fall asleep, she told him about Suzie.

It was their last scheduled night, when Felicity, after welcoming Bobby's thick spunk into her womb, lay with him, kissing his chest.

"Chester and I want to do something for Suzie," she said.

"What?" asked Bobby, still panting from the exertion of trying to fill her with life.

"A scholarship," she said. "For college and medical school."

"That's a little extravagant," said Bobby, shocked.

"Not if she comes back to Granger to practice," she said. "It would be something we could do for the community."

"We're talking a heck of a lot of money," said Bobby.

"We have more money than we'll ever spend," said Felicity. "You've brought us so much joy, Bobby. And Suzie could do so much good for this town if she came back here."

"I'll tell her," said Bobby. "I don't know what she'll say, though."

"Why don't you just have her come for an interview," said Felicity. "Let us talk to her about it."

"Okay," said Bobby.

"I'm ready again," she said, sucking at one of his nipples.

"It's a little quick," he complained.

"I'm paying you to be quick," she said, reaching for his penis. "Except I want you to make it last and last this time."

Bobby groaned.

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