. anyway Dippy had never been known to screw around with any of the members of his "Troupe." One rumor had it that he was completely impotent, another that he had a two-hundred pound wife ensconced in a mansion on a big estate on Long Island somewhere. Nobody knew anything for sure about Dippy except that after work he disappeared into the canyons of New York like a rabbit up a magician's sleeve... and was never known to screw around with his actresses. Tiffany obediently unbuttoned her dress and pulled it down so that her girlish but shapely breasts swung free, rising in comely succulent arcs from her smooth-skinned torso."Ice 'em!" Dippy snapped."Wh - at? Wha'd you say?" Tiffany stammered, taken completely off guard. She stared down at her breasts as if she had never seen them before."Put ice on 'em," Dippy spat at her. "They're sagging already. Get some ice packs. Freeze 'em the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. You wanna stay away from silicone, right, kid?. Escorting Darren inside, one of the security guards blocked the doorway where they had just entered and the other disappeared down a long hallway. Looking around, Darren saw antiques lining the hallway and the entrance where he stood. Gold encased pictures of an artist he had studied about in school hung scattered about. Beneath his feet lay a Persian rug. A few minutes past and the other gentlemen appeared in the hallway motioning for Darren and the security guard to come to him. Entering into a new room, it was more modern, snow white and in the center of the room sat something huge but shielded from view by a sheet that was draped over it. In the corner was a table of heavy oak and behind it sat a woman in her late forties to early fifties. Dainty, well built physically, yet a determined and serious look on her face. Motioning to the chair, she softly spoke. "Sit young man. We have business to discuss." Darren joined her with the two guards on either side of him. "Why am I here?".
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