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.