Date: Tue, 4 Apr 2006 19:19:14 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Black <blackhunk33@yahoo.com>
Subject: His Grace, the Duke of Lincoln Chapter 1

	When I first met Alex at the American Embassy in London in the late
spring of 1999, I thought he was just another rich, English aristocrat.
I'd not have given him another look if he hadn't been so damned handsome
and well built.  The woman on his arm looked old enough to be his mother; I
later found out she was.

       His wife had died tragically of leukemia the previous year leaving
him with two boys (an heir and a spare) to rear.  His mother had been there
to help, but said she didn't want another turn at being a mother to two
boys, so she suggested that Sir Alexander Greville Curzon Howard, the 17th
Duke of Lincoln should send his sons (her grandsons) off to boarding school
in the United States.  She didn't consider the patrician schools for
English gentry in her native land to be of much value.  The boys were
spoiled enough, she said.  They needed a taste of democracy and the mixing
of social and economic classes that the United States would give them.

	The Duke wasn't convinced that they should go to public schools
over there, but he was sure that putting them in military academies or
boarding schools in the States would be the same as leaving them in
England.  Consequently, he had his secretary check on the public schools
his grandmother had attended when she was a girl in Oregon.  They would
live with their cousins there.  With the financial arrangements made, he'd
bundled them off, reminding them of their duties to God and Country, but
more especially to their privileged station as future heirs of the Duke.

	The boys weren't competitive with each other in the usual sense,
but Edward was keen to remind his younger brother that he, Edward would one
day be Duke, so he'd better be nice to his elder brother or he'd disinherit
him.  It was an empty threat, but Henry didn't know that until he was well
into his teens.

	 But, I digress.

	As an embassy guard, I was a U.S. Marine.  Dressed in my dress
uniform, I was trotted out for every embassy function as an example of
America's penchant to allow men to rise to great heights, regardless of
their color.  I'd found that to be generally true in the Marines, but not
always in my country of origin.  Racism still exists in the U.S.

	When Sir Alex walked into the reception at the embassy with his
mother, he was greeted by the American Ambassador and the English Prime
Minister.  I stood in the background, looking menacing.  It was my duty to
look that way in case someone got the idea that they could take a poke at
either of them.  The scanner at the entrance to the embassy kept out any
real weapons.

       It was always a struggle to remind the Ambassador that the world was
not a nice place, so his Marine guards were always armed and our weapons
had real bullets in them.  He'd go out of his way to remind us that those
loaded weapons could be taken away from us by a skillful antagonist.  Thus,
we'd be facing someone with a lethal weapon, even though we'd screened the
attendees for such contraband.  I thought that was bullshit, because we'd
all been involved in several black operations for a Special Ops unit.

	The commander of our unit would listen attentively, roll his eyes,
and they'd be off on a tear.  The argument was never settled.  They had
their opinions and they wouldn't budge.  The commander reported to his
superior officer, not to the Ambassador.  Therefore, the weapons were
always loaded.

	The Duke and the Dowager Duchess of Lincoln were received by the
Ambassador and the Prime Minister.  They made small talk, but I noticed
that the Duke kept looking at me.  When they moved on, the Duchess was
escorted away by two of her women friends.  The Duke walked up to me and
looked closely at my battle ribbons.

	"You were in Desert Storm, too, I see," he began.  "I served there,
too, but as a jet jockey I believe you call them."  I nodded.  "We should
take time and share war stories," he continued.

	"I'm sorry, Sir," I responded stiffly.  "But, I'm on duty.  I can't
split my attention away from my duties," I indicated with a nod toward our
two luminaries.

	"Oh, yes, quite so," he responded with a blush.  "How careless of
me."  He paused for a moment.  "Are you on duty for the entire party?"

	"No, Sir."

	"Conversation later, then?"

	"I'm off duty at ten, Sir."

	"I'd be most honoured if you'd chat me up when you're off duty,
Sergeant Major," he smiled winningly.

	"We don't mix with the guests, Sir," I replied.

	"Surely, two veterans of the Iraq Campaign can converse," the Duke
sputtered.

	"I have my orders, Sir," I sighed.  "I'm very sorry."

	"I'll have a word with the Ambassador," the Duke said firmly.
"This is outrageous!"

	Whatever turns your crank, I thought smiling at his back.  My smile
widened when I checked out his ass.  Damn, that was nice, just the way I
like them: high, round, and muscular.  I scanned upwards, delighting in his
broad shoulders and the tailored fit of his dinner jacket.  He was a
delicious looking specimen of manhood.  I needed to find out more about
him.  The Duke might be a good fuck sometime in the future.

	I'd been fucking men since I was 13.  It started with a couple of
my friends in school.  But, word got around that I, Derek Jackson, was
incredibly hung.  The girls and women flocked to me, but I couldn't have
been less interested if I'd tried.  Oh, I'd bedded a few, but they all had
issues about my dick being too big and they were always way too much drama.
By the time I left high school and joined the Marines, I'd given up on them
entirely.  Man butts made my dick hard, not sloppy women cunts.  Besides,
men were always up for it, women seldom were.

       I've always been big for my age.  In 1999, I was 37, 6'4", 212
muscular pounds, and a Sergeant Major in the Marines.  I'd served for 19
years, since I joined up shortly after high school.  As there were no funds
available to send me to college, I opted for a military career.  The
Marines agreed with me.  The training was tough, but not that difficult for
someone of my size and musculature.  Promoted quickly due to my abilities
and leadership skills, I had been promoted three years before to Sergeant
Major and stationed at this plum assignment at the American Embassy in
London.

       The Marine Corps is my life, but I've been through enough ugliness
in Special Ops units that I knew I couldn't continue in that line of work.
My reflexes were slowing down enough for me to notice, even if my strength
continued.  That's a formula to get yourself or your comrades killed.
Although I hadn't firmly decided, I was edging toward running to the exits
when my 20 years were in.  Soon though, I'd have to decide what I was going
to do with the rest of my life, besides live on my pension.

	Evidently, the Duke got his way.  He told me over coffee in the
kitchen that he'd tried with the Ambassador, but the Ambassador deferred to
my commanding officer.  Although it was highly irregular, my commander said
that if we stayed out of sight from the other guests, he thought it would
be fine if the two of us conversed about our Desert Storm experiences (for
the sake of international relations).  I had to grin at that last part.
That was exactly what I had in mind!

	I'd changed into civilian clothes after my commander told me that
he'd agreed that the Duke and I could meet, but I had to be out of uniform
in case someone should notice us together.  The Duke had shed his tie and
dinner jacket as he walked into the kitchen.  He smiled when he saw me at
the table.  I rose, shook his hand, and offered him coffee and a pastry
tray of goodies.  The Duke looked me over quickly, lingering on my
granite-like, square pecs and the heavy tube running down the inside of my
right leg.  Purposefully, I made my dick jerk just to see his reaction.
His smile spoke volumes.  My attire was a polo shirt and Levis.  He smiled
directly at my dick, but declined the coffee and pastries, agreeing to a
glass of champagne when I pressed him.  Not wanting to make him feel
uncomfortable by drinking alone, I poured champagne into two crystal
flutes.

	"Now then, Sergeant Major, how long have you been in the Marines?"
he asked.

	"Passed my 19th year, Sir, zeroing in on 20," I replied.

	"And after your 20th years?"

	"I've been thinking of retiring, but not sure what I'd do if I did,
Your Grace," I nodded.

	"Stop with that title nonsense," he laughed easily.  "Only the
English care about that.  How long were you in Desert Storm?"

	"Uh, I'm not sure I can say, Sir," I hedged.

	The Duke thought for a moment.  "Special Ops, wasn't it," he stated
as a point of fact rather than a question.  I didn't answer.  "No matter,"
he continued.  "I flew 32 sorties while I was there, only got shot at once.
Damned lucky they missed," he laughed.

	"I'm sure it was," I allowed.  "They weren't anywhere as fierce as
Saddam's propaganda would have led us to believe."

	"All obfuscation," Sir Alex observed.  "They lost so fast against
the coalition that there was no hope for them after the first couple of
days."  He looked into my eyes and smiled.  "I'm sure you had a hand in
softening them up for us, Sergeant Major Jackson."

	I had to avoid his stare.  The man could see right into my soul.
All he'd have to do is ask the question and my face would give away the
answer.  "I'm out of uniform, Sir.  You should call me Derek."

	"And you should call me Alex," he replied with an expansive smile.

	"Isn't that a bit irregular, Sir, being a duke and all?"

	"Derek, you have no idea how boring it is to have people address
you by title instead of name," he sighed.  "I feel like a piece of meat, as
my dear grand-mama would say.  She was American, you see.  A real piston
that one," he laughed again.

	"We do tend to the informal and speak our minds, Sir," I smiled
back.

	"There's too much Marine Corps in you, Derek.  You just can't avoid
calling someone Sir!"

	"That's true, Sir.  Training will do that."

	"Yes, it does," the Duke grinned.  "Just what can you tell me about
your Desert Storm experiences?"

	"Not much, Sir.  Most of it is still classified."

	"As were many of my sorties over Iraq," he agreed.  He reached into
his pocket and pulled out an embossed business card.  "I know you were
Special Ops, Sergeant Major.  I know you've had intensive training in
warfare that most of us would consider barbaric."  He raised his hand
before I could object.  "I also know that you're able to drive any vehicle
with wheels or tracks.  Also, you could probably fly anything with wings.
How am I doing?"

       Again, I didn't reply, but he could read me like a book.  I have no
idea what the connection was between us, but he certainly saw through me.
I'd had training on how to avoid body language and facial expressions that
would give away information, but with him, there was a freeway of
information transferred between us without words being spoken.

	"Should you decide to retire from the military, I have a job that
is perfectly suited to your skills," the Duke continued.  "Don't lose that
card," he indicated pointing to the business card still in my hand.  "It
has a number at which I can be reached day or night."

	"Was this an interview, Sir?"

	"In a manner of speaking, yes, Derek, it was," he revealed.  "We
have a connection that I'm sure you've felt, too.  Don't let it get away."
With that, he rose, shook my hand again, turned on his heel and left the
kitchen.  I sat back stunned.  What did he mean?  Was the Duke gay?  My
gaydar said that he could very well be.  But, how had he seen it in me?
Did I smell like dick?  I smiled at that, remembering how I'd dicked and
flooded the young captain this afternoon.  I'd showered and shaved before I
donned my dress uniform.  He didn't smell the captain's hungry ass on my
breath either, I decided.  I'd taken particular care in that regard.

	Perplexed by the events of the last few minutes, I left the table,
put the glasses in the sink, returned the champagne bottle to the bucket,
and left the kitchen.  I made my way to my quarters and was about to slip
into bed when there was a soft knock on my door.  "It's me," I heard the
captain whisper.  I walked the few paces to the door and opened it slowly.
He pushed his way inside and quietly shut the door behind him.  He rushed
into my arms and kissed my neck.  "Don't ask, don't tell," he whispered
huskily.

	We repeated our gymnastics of the afternoon.  I rimmed and fucked
him senseless.  Even after I'd blasted a hot load up his ass and sucked him
off, he wanted more.  I reminded him of the military's stance on gay
people.  Neither of us could afford the scandal.  He was a West Point
graduate on a fast track to high rank, and I was a Sergeant Major
approaching my probable retirement date.  This was conduct unbecoming an
officer AND he was fraternizing with a non-commissioned officer.  He'd be
pilloried in the village square if we were in bygone years.

	The Europeans sure had it right.  Being gay didn't prevent them
from recruiting and retaining gays in the military.  Americans can be so
unenlightened.

	"I need it, Derek," he nearly whined.  "You got the biggest,
hardest, hottest dick I've ever sat on.  Besides, you're a really great
fuck," he purred.  I'd been told that many times, so that didn't turn my
head or change my mind.  "Please, Derek!  I need another fuck.  I know you
take longer after you've shot off, and I really need to be pounded hard
like only you can do."  He hesitated looking for me to weaken.  Evidently,
he saw it.  His big hand squeezed my cummy dick.  "I promise to return to
my quarters as soon as you cum in my ass again."

	I sighed.  Captain Trevor Montrose was a very good fuck.  I'd been
pumping and eating his tight hole since the week he'd arrived nearly six
months ago.  He had the kind of ass the Duke had: high, round, and hard.
In the captain's case, I also knew he was tight.  I hoped to find out soon
if the Duke was tight, too.  I smiled to myself.  Here I am about to
power-fuck this hot, white man's bubble butt and all I can think of is
getting my dick into some England blueblood's ass. What was it about that
aristocrat that I was fixating on?  I shrugged internally and got back to
the sweet ass of the captain.  I'd think about it another time.

	Captain Montrose prepared to slip out of my room after midnight,
well and truly fucked and filled.  As he was dressing, I saw cum dripping
from his creamed hole.  "You'll soil your underwear with your ass leaking
like that," I cautioned.  "Get that pretty butt over here and let me fix
it."  He grinned over his shoulder and bounced back to the bed, turned, and
sat on my face.  I didn't object at all.  I loved eating his fucked ass and
licking out as much cum as I could from previous loads.  We'd made a habit
of fucking at least twice each time we got together.  He loved my big dick
up his manhole and I loved to nut inside him.

	The first time I ate his ass after I'd fucked him, he thought I was
incredibly kinky.  But, after the first time, he was cleaning off my cummy
dick like he was made for it while I tried to drain enough from his ass
that he wouldn't dribble cum all over his shorts and trousers.  However,
more often than not, rimming his fucked ass made my dick hard and I had to
fuck him a third time.  Neither of us regretted that.

	After squirting my fifth load of the day up his butt (two this
afternoon and three tonight), I pushed him out the door and tumbled into
bed.  I was scheduled to relieve the night guards at six in the morning.
And it was already morning!

	Another month passed before the Embassy threw another party.  This
one was for the Fourth of July.  All the other embassies had been invited
as well as several prominent English businessmen and women.  Sir Alex
arrived unescorted this time.  When he saw me in my dress uniform again, he
smiled broadly.  After going through the receiving line, he walked over to
me and grinned.  "Sergeant Major!  What a pleasant sight to see you again.
Have you been considering my offer?" he queried.

       I'd been thinking about it constantly.  I was as curious as a cat.
"Yes, Sir, I have," I replied.  "Could you spare a few minutes after I get
off duty to answer some questions?"

	"Surely," he beamed.  "I'll just clear it again with your
commander.  Same time, same place?"  I nodded and he walked away,
remembering I was on duty and shouldn't be distracted.

	However, I was very distracted.  When the luminaries walked away
from the receiving line, I posted myself near the entrance to the Grand
Ballroom.  I scanned the room to see where Sir Alex had gone.  As expected,
he was schmoozing with other ambassadors and others in his circle of
nobility.  What was I thinking, trying to get into the pants of a Duke?  I
nearly didn't show up for our meeting at 10 p.m.  However, my curiosity got
the better of me and I joined him in the kitchen again.  This time, I was
the second to arrive.  Sir Alex checked out my body again with the look of
a cat spying a mouse to chase and eat.  Hopefully, he'd eat me the way I
loved it!

	"So, Derek, what kinds of questions do you have?" the Duke asked.

	"I hardly know where to begin, Sir," I stammered.  "The offer to
work for you is appealing.  I do have to think of my future, and my 20
years will be up in October.  I'll have to let them know 90 days before
that if I'm retiring.  That would be the 20th of this month."

	"You wish to know exactly what you'd be doing for me and the pay, I
should wager," Sir Alex nodded with a slight grin.  Yes, he could see right
through me.  But, then, he was a Duke and had a large staff which he'd
hired.  He was used to this sort of thing, I decided.

	"Yes, Sir, among many others," I admitted.

	"Okay, let's start at the beginning," the aristocrat smiled
genuinely.  "I'm in need of a chauffeur and bodyguard.  My current man is
getting too old to do both now, so I've found another position for him.
I'd like you to start as soon as possible, but I wouldn't expect you to
begin the day you muster out; so I'd be happy to give you a reasonable
amount of time to collect your possessions, etc. in the States.  Starting
pay would be the same you are making now, plus 10,000 pounds sterling per
annum.  Your room and board are paid for by me.  Any expenses you incur on
my behalf or in the performance of your duties will also be paid by me.
What other questions would you have, Sergeant Major?"

	I was thunderstruck.  At the current rate of exchange, I'd be
making about 50% more than I was making now.  That was a very large
incentive.  "Sir, is there anything I should know about such as threats on
your life or property?  Any dealings with, uh, well, unsavory characters
who might endanger your life?"

	"Other than my duties in the House of Lords, no," he laughed.  I
smiled.  Clearly, Sir Alex was a politician with connections, but I was
still concerned about the hazards.  "I'm sorry, Derek.  I should have been
more serious about an answer," he said, reading me again as clearly as if
I'd spoken the words.  "My business dealings will make some people unhappy.
That's part of the territory.  But, I don't see any of them taking actions
that would compromise my safety.  Most likely, they'd go after some part of
my businesses to make their point."

	"It's an intriguing offer, Sir," I allowed.  "I'll have to think
about it. The Corps has been my life.  It'll be a tough switch to being a
civilian.  Are you sure you want me?  There are, no doubt, other more
qualified and certainly younger men to do the job."

	"No, Derek.  I want you!" he smiled softly.  I'd have to be blind
not to see that pick-up line.  I sat back in my chair and surveyed him
intently.  "May I suggest that you take some of the vacation you're granted
each year and come out to my country home for a short stay.  You'll get a
feel for the place and for me and the staff.  I keep a place here in the
city, too, at a Gentlemen's Club not far from here.  You'll need to see
that as well."

	"I assume I'll have a uniform of some sort," I asked.  He nodded.
"And my quarters?"

	"You'll be staying closely by me, probably in an adjoining room for
the sake of security," he ventured.

	"Are you sure you aren't on some hit list?"

	"Well, it's possible, but I don't know of it," he replied.  "As the
Duke of Lincoln," he explained, "I have certain obligations to the Crown.
Not all persons in my country love my cousin the Queen as much as I do.
Kidnapping or killing the Duke of Lincoln would be a rather large feather
in the cap of radicals of many stripes.  My sons in your country are being
guarded as well for the same reasons."

	"I see.  So, there are no specific threats, just the ordinary ones
for someone of your station," I summed up.

	"Precisely," he agreed.  "I don't expect you ever to have to draw a
weapon to defend me, nor get physical with the rabble.  But, there is that
chance.  Therefore, you need to be in top condition, just as you now are
Sergeant Major."

	"I assume facilities would be available to continue my physical
training and marksmanship?"

	He nodded.  "You'll train with me.  I have a shooting range and
what you call a gym at the house in Berkshire."

	"May I call you with my answer?" I inquired.

	"Yes, of course.  And use my private number, Derek.  Time is of the
essence here, dear boy.  I hope you decide in my favour," he added, rising
from his chair.  "Always a pleasure," he amended with a genuinely sexual
smile.  Sir Alex turned on his heel and left.

	Again, I sat heavily, wondering what was going on.  This man had me
completely confused and intrigued.  Was I being offered more than
employment here?  The signs were certainly there.  The only way I was going
into this possible job was after I did a great deal of research on Sir
Alexander Greville Curzon Howard, His Grace, the Duke of Lincoln.  With
help from the Embassy's intelligence staff, I'd be able to sniff out even
the most salacious dirt on him.

	With a sigh, I turned out the kitchen light and went to my
quarters.  As usual, Captain Montrose was loitering nearby.  He needed to
get fucked as much as I needed to nut a big load up his hungry ass.  I
nodded my head and smiled as I unlocked my door.  He followed discretely,
closing the door behind him.

	As he discarded his clothes in a heap by the door, I asked,
"Captain, could you do me a large favor?"

	"Anything, Derek, anything!"

	"Besides the obvious (which you'll get for sure)," I smirked
shucking my clothes nearly as rapidly as he had, "I'd like you to do a
complete investigation on someone who has been attending frequent functions
here at the Embassy."  Trevor's mouth had closed over the precum-dripping
head of my dick.  I moaned in appreciation.  He nodded his head as he
sucked and I continued.  "The Duke of Lincoln has offered me a position
with him, if I decide to retire in October."

	The randy officer pulled away momentarily.  "A security risk?"

	"I don't think so," I replied.  "But, he has been awfully chummy.
He seems to have the run of the Embassy, except for the secure places, of
course.  Anything and everything, Trevor."

	"Right after I finish with this delicious, chocolate dick," he
moaned resuming his blowjob.

	I lifted him up on the bed and lay atop him.  "Sweet talker," I
smiled, kissing him ardently.  "I'm glad you're back from that assignment
up north," I added pushing his knees into his chest and diving tongue first
up his fragrant, hungry asshole.  I rimmed and chewed and ate his manhole
until he was begging me (too loudly) to fuck him good!  I clamped my big
hand over his mouth and told him to keep it down or we'd get busted.

       He nodded with wide eyes.  "Sorry, Derek," he apologized for his
loud outburst.  "But, I've really been missing this monster dick of yours.
Two weeks was nearly an eternity."

	"What will you do when I retire and leave?" I asked.

	"I have no idea, but I know I'll never find a bigger, better lover
anywhere," he sighed.  "Now, fuck the shit outta me, Sergeant Major!"

	Not one to disobey a direct order, I plundered his ass four times
before he finally staggered from my room, his asshole red hot from the
pounding he'd gotten from me.  Despite the cooling actions of my tongue on
his asshole, his butt was nearly in flames.  It was so red!  As he left, he
again promised to get all the dirt on the 17th Duke of Lincoln.

	The days dragged by as my 90-day notice date approached.  I'd have
to decide soon one way or the other.

	"Rich as Croesus!" Captain Montrose began.  "Oil, banking,
shipping, real estate, and investments in God knows what else."

	"I assumed as much.  Nothing nefarious in his acquisitions?"

	"None that I found.  He's very old money and has done nicely with
his inherited pile," he said.

	"And his personal life?"

	"Deceased wife, two boys going to school in the States, Oregon to
be exact," he replied, checking his notes.  "Mother still living, father
deceased.  His mother comes from nobility and barrels of cash herself.
Grandmother was an American heiress, uh, timber I believe.  Yes, timber,"
he confirmed riffling through more paper.  There was a twinkle in his eye.
He was holding back something for a grand revelation.

	"And?" I pressed him.

	"Rumors abound that he fancies the men," the intelligence officer
crowed.  "Methinks he fancies you, dear Derek."

	"Bullshit," I protested.  "He doesn't.  He merely wants a chauffeur
and bodyguard."

	"I've seen how he looks at you, Derek.  My gaydar works just fine."

	I signed.  "Does he chase the boys or pay for companionship?"

	"Nope," Trevor replied, checking his notes once more.  "He's one to
work it clandestinely.  He did have an affair with one of the other young
Lords, but the other guy's wife found out about it, but didn't know with
whom her husband was having a dalliance.  They ended it.  He was quite
devastated, if you believe the reports I got.  So now he's set his sights
on you."

	"That's so wrong, Trevor!  It can't be.  Your reports must be
wrong.  He was married and has two boys!"

	"And that means exactly zilch!  With the aristocracy, you make
babies to continue the title, despite the fact that you'd prefer to have
nothing to do with women on a sexual basis," he opined.  "He's been working
our side of the street since he was about 14, from what I've gathered.
Furthermore, his marriage was an arranged one.  The two families agreed
that the daughter of the last Earl of Greenwich should marry the heir
apparent to the Duke of Lincoln.  The Greenwich family married up and the
Lincolns got even more money and property as her dowry."

	"How tawdry!" I laughed.  "Marrying for money and position.  Tacky!
How scandalous!"

	"And common," Trevor sighed.  "It happens everywhere."

	"Anything else?"

	"He's not a security risk, neither to us, nor as a security risk
himself.  That's not to say that someone of his position isn't being looked
at as a potential kidnap victim, being closely related to the Queen like he
is, but, no, the kidnap potential is there for nearly all the members of
Parliament.  With all his money, he's got to be high on someone's nefarious
list.  However, no attempts have ever been made on his life or property,
not even during the ugliness that England had with the IRA."

	"Okay, Trevor, and thanks.  Now I have to think about what to do
about his job offer."

	"Take the damned job, Derek," he said.  "I won't like it because
I'll miss out on our `night maneuvers', but this is the chance of a
lifetime.  You don't want to look back at this opportunity later, wishing
that you'd jumped on it.  Do it, Derek."

	I acknowledged his opinion and reported for duty in the
Ambassador's office.  I know I was distracted during the entire time I was
on guard.  But, I was deep within the Embassy, so there were no security
issues I should have been on alert for.

	At the end of my shift, I returned to my quarters and sat on the
bed hard.  As much as I wanted to get into bed with the handsome Duke, I
wasn't sure that was such a good idea.  The best scenario would be that
we'd be lovers and fuck like rabbits every day for the rest of our lives.
But, what was the worst that could happen?  Well, we could get it on and
then one of us (probably him) would end the sexual relationship.  I'd still
have to face him everyday as his chauffeur and bodyguard.  That possibility
really sucked.  I'd sleep on it and decide tomorrow.


Flames ignored; constructive comments welcomed at blackhunk33@yahoo.com

No part of this story may be reproduced without the author's consent.  All
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