Chapter 1

The time is the post-feminist future, and the patriarchy is back. There is a new world order. A vaccine for AIDS, has been invented, but not one for the internet, which crashed, virus ridden, in 2011. The world economy is rewards those who own it: a small elite of white men. Equal opportunity in the areas of race and gender are over, legislatively and practically. The glass ceiling is low. Very low. Women and people of color can't vote, or own real estate, stocks, bonds or even have savings accounts; checking accounts are allowed, with a male co signer.

Upper class white girls, try to get married, in the early twenties after two years of finishing school - and simply try to be good little wives keeping to a elaborately styled, often corseted or girdled, Stepford look. Having, and taking care babies, keeping house, with the help of a colored maid, and looking tastefully pretty for their husbands in their tasks in life. Time out the home is devoted to excising, salon visits and shopping for new cloths. Girls are raised to understand that their husbands will screw around on them, beginning usually and after she swells up with her first, but that's never a an accepted cause for a hissy fit, or even a murmur. As her mother will remind her, that's his right; what she must try to is to entice him back to bed for another baby, by dieting, excising and getting her figure back.

After she has raised the children though, husband isn't held back from dumping her: no-fault divorce has been replaced by 'her fault' divorce. A wife's 'unattractiveness' is a recognized, a common ground for divorce, and is usually exercised when the children are in their teens, and she is approaching her late thirties. Then, she is on her own on the streets, or still in his guardianship, at his option, forever.

White girls from poor, working class, or low middle class families, -- can try repetitive, menial factory work (hand made thing are fashionable, and within reach again), or if they are very pretty and very lucky, office work, where the most common job is secretary or Secigirl, the highest they can rise to would be Executive Personal Assistant to an powerful executive. Typing, photocopying and filing are now at heart of office work, since computers can't be trusted any more. Very pretty light skinned Black girls with refined featured might make a shop assistant or a waitress at the high class bar or restaurant, but that rare. Dark, coarse featured girls might find some work as anonymous cleaning fillies on crews sweeping, scrubbing and mopping large buildings or have to settle for factory or farm work. Some and the darker girls with wider noses and thicker lips, who are slim and full busted, and high assed might find work street whores, and are ruthlessly managed by their black pimps; which is also what any pretty white girl who can't keep an office job might well be relegated to.

Upper class boys, have every privilege and go on to be corporate executives, lawyers or physicians; lower class men loiter the streets as petty drug dealers or pimps, languish in jail from time to time, or most of all serve long, overseas tours in the Army fighting and dieing in foreign wars.

Yes, its back to the future; welcome to a new world.

I. The Belt & the Key.

"There he is," Lana breathed. Her small fingers were tight on the tube of brick red gloss, pressing like a cock on her pouting lips.

Cindy gasped out, pressing her small breasts on Lana's arm, "O God yes," she said in a horse whimper, freshly darkened lashes fluttering with exictment.

Kathy, who was beside them, gave the two other girls a snide look, and stepped sideways, and a tiny bit away from the mirror, to see him better. Their boss, Mr. Brinson was just stepping out of his office, having given his Personal Assistant Lauren some instructions, and a quick pat on her backside. The secreteries by the mirror in the long-room watched him walk out of his office, eyes no longer on the reflections of their carefully painted faces in the mirror, but on his long powerful strides, as he moved towards the elevator.

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped in, greeting a scarlet mini-skirted blonde girl who was in it, with a chuck under her pretty chin, "Hi Deanna. Looking forward to this evening?"

"Oh Mr. Brinson. Sir! Yes, of course sir, are you coming by?" She simpered, and stepped to him, heavy braless breasts, swaying in her sleevless silk shirt, which she had tied up to expose her belly stud. Her stiff right nipple brushing his elbow. "That would be so hot, sir!" said said.

The doors closed, with swoosh and Lana sighed softly in frustration, thumbs running on her hips, as the elevator went up. "She is such a forward little ho," she hissed to Cindy.

Cindy nodded. "I can't belive she goes braless; her cow titts are so saggy!" she whispered back, just as Miss Witherspoon, their office manager, gave Lana a stinging snap of her leather strap, on her spadex clad ass.

"That's enough chattering. Back to your seats, you three." she said coldly.

Kathy sniggered softly, gald it wasn't her that got the shot.

Lana yelped a "Yes Ma'am, sorry Ma'am," and all the girls hurried back to their seats.

Kathi sat down quickly, and began to type, trying to focus on the black letters on the onion skin, the keyboard, and the recorded voice of Mr. Brinson on the Dictaphone at the same time. She stopped, half whimpering to herself, unable to take her mind off his swift strides to the elevator. It was just the Friday of her second week at Rayper & Phalson. The first week and half, she had just been getting used to the job, working out the rules and where she fitted in, trying not to get too strung out or dtized up. And she had been okay, until she had actually seen Mr. Brinson nude at shape&slim hour in the gym, a couple of days before. O'ma'God. That had totally flipped her out. She didn't know what it was, it just had. Earlier, he was a large, but sort of vague presence in her mind, but now he was at the center of her world, she couldn't stop thinking about him, suddenly.

Of course, the thing was, as a secretary girl she didn't see much of Mr. Brinson. All the Secigirls would be in their seats, working when he came in around 9.30 or so, and he would step into the long-room for a moment, and Miss Whitherspoon would tap her strap on her table, and all twelve of the Secigirls would stand and go, "Good Morning, Mr. Brinson, Sir," and he would nod, and go into his office, and then you couldn't see him anymore, because the main office was behind a second wooden sliding door.

Occasionally though, during the working day, he'd walk through the long-room, where the girl's sat in rows, getting all of them totally freaked, batting their lashes, and shifting their butts, and lifting their tits trying to catch his eye. But usually, he'd do a round, and go back to his office, or stride to the elevators, as he had done today. And nearly each time, they'd be some girl in it, coming up or going down. Kathy thought of Deanna who'd just been there, all dolled up and slutty in elevator, rubbing her tits on Mr. Brinson, and seethed. She just hated any girl who tried that with him. Sigh.

Kathy took a sip of water, tried to clear her mind, and refocused on her typing. White out wasn't an office supply anymore; if you made a typo, you typed the whole oinonskin again. Orginals needed to be smooth and stackable, ready to be sorted into the slimest of files, now that they didn't have computers (what ever those were) any more. And you got slapped&strapped: a two quick, tight slaps across your face, when you lifted your hair and waited for it, and then three sharp, stinging shots on your backside, with the soft, oiled leather strap - bent over, spandex skirt rolled up high, thong split ass up - from Miss Witherspoon, the office manager — OM-- for wasting time and paper, if you did make a typo.

Kathi was one of 12 Secigirls on 5^th; Mr. Brinson's floor of Rayper & Phalson Fund Management. There were 8 floors in the building, each floor was a division. She knew that but not a lot more; except that Mr. Brinson was the only executive up here, and he was a Senior VP. SVP Fixed Income Investments; real important and busy, he had his own Personal Assistant girl of course. Kathi and the others were just Secretaries or Secigirls -- typing, filing and running errands for Lauren, the SVP's PA girl, under the supervisory thumb of Miss Whitherspoon.

Kathi stopped typing for a moment; pausing over a word. There were lots of big words in the report she didn't quite know, so she had to keep looking in the dictionary for the spelling of each one. Every time she flipped through the big book, she took a sip of water from the paper cup on her desk, almost automatically; all the secretaries, were required to fill their cups from a HiFem water cooler each hour. When her roomie Cindy and she had heard of this rule, it had seemed really silly; but now Kathy didn't quite know what it was, but she was totally parched for the water all the time! Usually, Kathy and the other Secigirls felt their thirst build, after Miss Whitherspoon made sure they all sucked their Hornical-SG 20mg lozenge, first thing in the morning. The Hornical soo sweet (it was even better than the Hormoteen pill that they had to take in high school), Kathi loved pouting her lips and sucking on it, but fifteen minutes later, her throat was totally dry, tongue almost hanging out, and she was panting softly like a bitch-in-heat. All the girls would wait out the first hour like that, just trying to lick their lips wet, keeping focused on their typing or filing. Then the electronic buzzers on their desks would go 'slurp time!' and the girls would all scamper to the HiFem cooler together, tottering in their heels, 12 asses swaying together in their regulation butt hugging black spandex mini-skirts.

Kathi always felt much better about herself after that first long gulp of water; her breasts swelled up tight in her demi-shelf bra, her nipple stiffening, and her whole mound throbbed down-there. That was nice, she felt a little slutty it was so strong, but she loved that ache, and now waited for it. But that feeling never lasted long. Just after the liquid trickled down her throat, she would begin to feel insecure and anxious, tense and high strung, and her calves would quiver in her 4inch high heels, and her ankles would wobble, and she would wonder if she was getting fat.

After that first long drink of water on the hour, all the girls had to 'slutup, ' at the long mirror by the cooler. That was the rule. There weren't mirrors in the girls pissrooms any more; there was 3 minutes after 'slurp time' for the girls to primp with the common tubes of EyeCandy lip-gloss, pencil liner and rouge pads, kept on the shelf by the mirror. Miss Witherspoon had said it had all been called "makeup" once, but that was like way back when, when the hag had been young, obviously! Giggle! "Slutup," was what Kathi knew, from the huge EyeCandy cosmetics campaign, "Slutup the Slut in you!" and the one they had now, "Slut! You need to Slu'Up!" And slutup, it they did. But there was always a lot of hissing and bitching as the girls preened, since there was so little room in front of the mirror, and you had to wait. The Secigirls would look at each other's asses and tits, and snicker, whispering catty comments to each other as girls in front re-did their lips, eyes and cheeks.

You felt Miss. Whitherspoon's sharp eye on you while you waited, all the girls did, it was as if she enjoyed watching the girls jossling with each other to slutup, but some times, she would give a girl quick stinging shot in her butt with her leather strap and say, 'don't be such a pushy bitch, ' with a sneer. Kathi didn't like that really, but that was pretty much the way it went on any SVP's floor, the office managers were was strict, even stricter than high school mistresses, but a Secigirl gig at Rayper & Phalson was such a good job: it paid $4.75 an hour before tax, and you got a whole 25 cent raise if you worked at it, and got a positive evaluation at the end of the quarter. And it was safe, clean and came with Femclean medical benefits. With the huge girl-unemployment, and what they called the 'bimbo-bulge' on the TV news, she had been really scared she'd not get it, or this or any office job, and have start stripping at a neighborhood Thong & Heels or Pussipoles for dollar tips; they only paid $1.75 an hour basic and no medical at all. Or worse start hooking on a street corner for some ugly, rough Black pimp, like some white girls she knew from high school were doing already, hair bottle bleached and teased, tongues studded and noses ringed, bellies tattooed with their pimps name, wearing in just those pussiprinter hot pants, that were so tight on the crotch, they dug into your slit, and brightly colored plastic thigh-high boots, sucking for $5 and getting fucked for $10 and getting God knows what kind of puss-itch and stuff from their Johns.

Kathi shuddered, really glad it wasn't her. She was better than that, she had always known that — she was a kinda pretty, heavy cupped white girl, who had stuck it through high school, and she deserved more. Kathi resented admitting it, but she had been clueless about getting an office job, at a place like Rayper & Phalson. It was Cindy who'd known how to get an gig like this. She had a whole set of back issue of this hot rag called Personal Assistant Magazine, which they said in the old days actually had a 'web site' and all — what ever that was; Cindy said it had been something inside computers-- called 'www.pamagazine.net.' That magazine told you what offices were looking for. Cindy's mags were pretty worn and dog eared, Kathy was sure she had been fingering her pussy while reading them all through high school; its not like she was getting dates and getting done, so she must have been. Giggle! So sure, okay, Cindy knew what the 'corporates' wanted. So Kathy listened to her, and Cindy had got them both dolled up just right, not the street walker white-ho look, just a notch above that, and with their typed up resumes, and thong'n'heels glam shots clipped on, they had both made the first cut, with Amy Sue, the HR SVP's PA girl who'd look it over. Then before she knew it, she was on her knees in Mr. Nash's office, on 4^th, the HR SVP himself, down by his cock, while Amy Sue watched, and made notes. Kathi had licked his balls quickly, first, before deep throating him, thinking other girls might not have stopped to do that. It was that, or some thing — she really didn't know, but it had been okay. God she had really sucked, knowing fifty or so hotties had made the first cut, and were totally sluttedup and dolled out, milling around in the lobby. Mr. Nash hadn't given her much time, hadn't even bothered to cum in her, of course, but he had cupped her heavy tits while she was sucking, pinched and pulled on her nipples. She opened wider, when he did that, going 'O'ma'god' in her head, taking his thickness deeper, and he pulled out, saying "good girl." Only seven girls, including Cindy and she, had been hired.

Both of them had been straight out of high school, with no Executive Entertainment Certificate (an EEC was a six week, $1000 course), or TeenSeci badge, you got if you interned at an office, while in high school. Some girls whose mothers were PA girls had managed to intern summers for a badge, but not Kathi, her mother was just part of a Floorwipe girlcrew, they scrubbed and mopped at different places all over town; she was the only white girl working on it, with bunch of fat, old, forty-something, Mexican sows.

Her mother had always wanted her to do better than that; and she was going to. She knew she would really have to work hard to keep this job too; just the week she had been hired, Amy Sue, who'd watched and taken notes at her job interview had been fired for getting fat. The porky-pie had been keeping to her hiring weight apparently, so her boss hadn't noticed, but then one day, he'd wanted to butt-fuck her, after a real long while apparently. When Amy Sue had stripped, bent over, spread wide and lifted her ass high for him in his office, he had seen the cellulite on her upper thighs and just said, 'your done here!' Of course, he had made her spend the rest of her last day bringing in Topfloor Secigirls to try out as her replacement. But then he had settled for a 4^th floor girl, one of his own, this 27 year old tight bod Melissa, who every one said definitely had had the hots for him for awhile. Then he got Amy Sue to explain every thing he liked carefully to his new girl, before having Miss Cottage-Cheese-thighs clear out her desk and leave, with her $20 of severance pay.

It was a story that Kathi actually liked, because it showed that at least there was a chance of clawing up, here, at Rayper. If you watched your ass, and didn't let it lard out! Giggle! Kathi knew she was going to really work her butt off; but all the rules! It was worse than high school; they were such a pain! She sighed, pouting, remembering the first one: being told that her dirty blonde locks would have to be dyed brunet, and trimmed not longer than to six inches below her shoulders. Miss Witherspoon had laughed at her whining. 'Only Topfloor Secigirls, Temp PA girls, and PA girls are allowed to go blonde, my dear, and that's a salon styled, platinum dyed blonde. Office girls, and Secigirls aren't. But you can cut, and shape it within the allowed length, and blow dry it straight; lots of girls do that. Okay?" Then tapping her leather strap on her palm, she reeled off, like she was reading it out, what was to be Kathi's kit.

"For you, its Girltight triple-dart - that's front, back and sides--Oxford shirts, two ply, double stitch, button down, soft cotton, no starch; plain white demi-shelf bras from Girltight since you are a D cup - As go braless, Bs underwire with a full cup bra (lots of B-cups prefer to go braless but they have to get permission), and Cs bra in pushup half-cups- and no girl pads, ever, and yes, Topfloor Secigirls who've faked up to a full D or DD, are allowed braless if they are firm, and have a pencil-test note from HR, so don't you whine about that to me. And PA girl follow their SVP's preferences, don't you ever imagine you are up there, ever, okay? Alright, here is the rest of it: 11 inch black spandex skirt, pull-up, no side zippers, again from Girltight or Gapgirl; crimson-neon thong, cotton-spandex from EyeCandy, crimson is the floor color, its different on different floor - don't get confused about that, and it's a thong, not a G-string, not a V-string not a tanga — again, it can be different on different floors, and don't even ever think about some slutty scarlet-lace wisp with out permission now — but looking at you, I can see you'd want to." Miss Whitherspoon galnced at her with faint disgust, and went on, "4 inch ankle-strap sandals, plastic or pleather from GirlTight is good, some thing simple from ButtUp is also fine, its not like you can even think to afford leather, black, but you can choose the strap pattern — not those clear plastic platforms from Hookers ever, Mr. Brinson hates them, and of course..." she took breath, obviously relishing the last part: "Your Pussibelt, nice and snug — go get it fitted today at Girltight- underneath your thong at all times," and she sniggered out long and loud, finishing with a hiss.

That had shocked Kathi. She'd only heard of that vaguely in high school and never really understood it. "A pussibelt?" Cindy, who was, of course, like this 'know-it-all' on all the office stuff, didn't know either what a pussibelt really was, so they had been both a bit freaked when they took their Pussibelt vouchers, Miss Witherspoon had given them, right away, that afternoon itself to Girltight, the giant office girl apparel place, right across from Gapgirl downtown. After they'd gotten their shirts and skirts, and her new demi-shelf bras —- Ohh they were expensive! But her tits lifted up so hot and high in 'em!! -- Cindy had gone up nervously to the counter and shown the pussibelt voucher to one of the salesgirls, Latoya. She had been really nice about it, and smiled and taken them back to a change room, and measured them both down-there, and between their thighs, in detail, quickly but carefully, with a set of steel rulers and calipers, and brought in a few belts. They were some kind of Teflon like mesh, with a narrow thong-panty triangle shaped mesh over the crotch, quite airy really.

"You just spray it when you shower and it dries out clean, super quick, Missy," the salesgirl said, smiling very respectfully.

The crotch triangle mesh was like a rolled spring, it pulled out, and clipped on the phlexichain that went tight in the butt crack, behind, but when the lock, just between your thighs was popped, the mesh triangle rolled right back up, all the way, coiling into the low riding, thicker, phlexichain hipbelt. Latoya knelt behind Kathi, and fussed with the buttchain quite a bit, making it really tight, putting some links back into the hipbelt or some-thing, then widening Kathi's butt-cheeks very carefully, saying, "lift your butt high, Missy, please? -and pulling the chain tight again. "Okay now Missy, that's going to cut a tiny bit, till you get used to it," the salesgirl said, then even she blushed a little, (Cindy and Kathi had been flaming from the start) and went: "it got be real real tight, right, Missy, they don't want your... your... boyfriends or anyone who be shouldn't be, pulling it aside now," and looked up very shyly.

Kathi and Cindy both giggled, nodding, even though the both of them didn't have boyfriends. Then the girl moved to work on Cindy's belt, and Kathi got a good look at her. Latoya, kind of filled out her tight Calico patterned shift, it seemed really tight on her ass; she wasn't a babe or any thing, but okay cute for a mulatto, well she was bit of a darky, and her nose was wide, but she did have a sweet manner.

Hands on Cindy's belt, Latoya said, as if she just remembered again, in a matter of fact way, "mine dump me right when I be belted here, Missies"

Kathi exclaimed. "Oh wow! Just liked that?" nodding sympathetically.

Latoya looked down for a moment, as if thinking about it, then looked up -- she was on her knees behind Cindy, pulling her butt cheeks apart and pushing them up gently, saying "lift up a bit, please Missy?' and when Cindy did she began to tightening the links -- and then said, "Yes Missy, my younger sister Kaesha gone told Abdul I be belted here, and he say to her, okay, 'I be doing you now bitch, ' and he dumped me. He got her knocked up already, now." Then she sighed.

Cindy laughed quite hard, her phlexichain cleft butt shaking, and said 'that's so typical isn't?' in a snotty voice,.

Latoya nodded quickly, snickered softly, and said, "yes yes yes Missy, you be so right, it sure is. I did get big and drop one last year, already, Missy."

Cindy sniggered. "Whoes git was it? That boy who dumped you?"

Latoya blushed darker brown, and her lashes flickered. "No, Missy, I think it was Jamal, one of the pimps, I not sure, I be gang raped."

"Oh," said Cindy, quietening down.

"So is one of the White Mastas here doing you now, then?" Kathi asked just to be friendly, and change the subject.

"No Missy, I not be done at all yet, here. Mastah Richard — he be our manger- he be doing Latisha right now. He says to me, 'loose 10 pounds off your big black ass girl, ' and then, he say 'maybe, ' he would give me a go month after next." Latoya lowered her eyes, ran her palms tight over her ass as she spoke, as if she could feel her fatness.

Cindy was like "Aww..." but they both could see how she really, really needed to squeeze the fat off her butt, which was kinda big even for a colored girl who'd dropped a git, so they nodded and Cindy said, 'you keep at it, girl, ' and Kathi went, 'you go girl!'

"Thank you so Missies." Latoya said, and then snapped their belt locks closed, and looked up, enquiringly.

"Oh its tight!" Kathi yelped, 'cos it was.

"Yes Missy, it like a new leather shoe, they say, Missy, if you've ever had those, I've never, but it going be stretch and mold to you down there, believe me!" And Latoya looked so understandingly and smiled, still kneeling, her own fingers going to her crotch under her very short calico shift, and then nodded and nodded.

But its when they turned to look in the mirror, Kathi parting her thighs a little to feel the fit, stroking her ass cheek with her hands back, that she really got the other part, the part you couldn't really see, the little pleather tongue piece, inside the crotch.

Cindy went, "Oh its! Ohh!!" like a real ditz.

Kathi, though, managed to just ask, very softly, cheek brick red, "its got a..." and she moved her thumb down, half pointing and pressing, right where her clit was, but it was now under the mesh, and the pleather tongue, under that.

Latoya nodded, she was blushing dark brown again, a her smile was sweet and shy, even through her thick, parted lips. Her was breath quck. "Yes, that's special in our model. That's why all the big office orders come here, they say. It's a health and safety thing Missy, the pleather nubhood keeps the mesh from scratching and cutting you down there, you know, right there, where you're very sensitive?" Then she smiled up again, still on her knees, and her ass moved in a tiny grind on her heels. Then she was off, saying, "please ring the bell if you have any questions or anything Missies."

After that they'd giggled over the belt and the tongue-piece, with Cindy saying, "well its good she is belted, or else that filly would have dropped a whole litter pretty soon!" and they had both laughed at that, because they had been on Hormoteen right from high school, but they knew colored girls never knew to take theirs each day, and always got knocked up really young. Then they dressed up in the new stuff again in the change-room, checking the fit of the fresh, crisp white shirts, giggling over how many buttons to keep undone, with Kathi really enjoying showing off her new D cup demi-shelf to Cindy, who didn't have bras on her shopping list, since she was an A.

It was only later, on the way out, that Cindy had remembered to ask for the keys to the belts at the counter. Latoya had gone off shift by then, but the other girl Latisha, okay she was cuter, much slimmer, a pert breasted B cup, who was obviously enjoyed being braless, she was nice and stiffnipped high yeller may be even an octoroon —Kathi could definitely see why the manager would prefer her to Latoya- checked and said 'Oh yes, Missy its stamped and ticked off, we'll send the two sets of three keys to Rayper.' And that was that; they never ever got the keys to their belts, and Kathi could not, for the life of her, figure out how she would date any more. But there it was.

Miss Whitherspoon's tinkled her full large key-ring when she said, casually, the next morning, which was Kathi's first full day: "Well, good, my dear, you've got the dress code right. Now read the HR book. Take notes; and know it inside out. It is your bible here. But its going to take awhile for a girl like you to 'get' all the rules and policies obviously, so here are my Secigirl bimbi-lights.

Miss Witherspoon cackled at her joke, making Kathi wonder if bimbi-lights were like hi-lights for Secigirls.

Then Miss Witherspoon went on, not explaining that: "Now that you are belted, keep track of your period cycle — I'll get it from medical next week also, but you count it out as well. When you feel like you are PMSing, and I've never known a Secigirl who didn't PMS hard, get the bellypatch from me, or from Miss Reinhardt when you are done exercising, at 5:30. There is a diagram in the HR book, look over it carefully; it tells you where exactly your belly-patch goes. And the side that says, 'BitchQuell' faces out; I've actually had girls try to paste it the other way, come up to me, with their paws lifted, going, 'oh Miss Whitherspoon, it keeps falling down my to pussy.' She laughed, spiting out the 'pussy.' And don't expect your BitchQuell bellypatch to fix cramps, or back ache or swollen breasts. That's normal, and we don't want girls getting addicted to painkillers and the like; so none are allowed. You can loose your Femclean medical, if you take Bloatease, and if any one cats you out. Your bellypatch is expensive, and it is not for that kind of pampering; it is help you adjust your attitude, and watch yourself at work. It helps you bite back any bitchiness, that may bubble up towards any of the executives, (or me and Lauren) when you are PMSing.

"You are here to do what you are told; if you really don't get some thing, and that will happen a lot, I'm sure, you can ask, very respectfully, for it to be explained again to you, — but there will be no back-talk or mouthyness. You may get bitchedup, but never let that affect your attitude towards your superviousers here. Now, it does take a few cycles for your bellypatch to really take effect, so watch it at first. Talk to the older girls about that."

She paused and took a deep breath. "Okay, next item. Put a tampon in the day the before your period is due, that's why you have to keep track, you have to use the ones from the DownThere! Dispensers in the shower stall area, they're a specially Hornical infused ones of from FreshRag, it's the only brand your Femclean medical allows. Wear the button, when you are on the rag, for heaven's sake." She tossed Kathi a large white and red button; "I'll not hesitate to slap&strap you right away, right way, if I catch you without it when it should be pinned on your shirt." She took a breath and asked, "Clear so far?"