Deb at 44

Exulting in every ounce of her flesh, Deb

lets her sensuous shoulders and arms sing

their own brash song of delight at being

present just as she is, right here, right now,

right along with everybody else.

Her foot flirts outrageously with the entire

room, and she leans back her head and

allows the rapture of her laughter to rise to

the rafters, she allows the pleasure of her

presence to radiate out from this unbridled

body of hers, as loaded with roundness

and ripeness as a peach tree in August,

sinfully rich as whipped cream on a

chocolate mousse, soft as a trampoline

bounced on by feather pillows. Deb's

laughter

gives "voluptuous" back its good name.