Prologue thingy

“AHHHHHH!!!”

“That’s it Sophie, breathe and push. A big breath now, aaannnnd puuuush...”

“AAAAHHHH”

“You’re doing fine, I can see the head now. It’s almost over. Another big push now.” The midwife supported the head as it slowly emerged. The husband and about-to-be-father, Clive, looked green and was studiously avoiding looking lower than his wife’s chest. A hovering nurse kept a close eye on him more than she did the birth. There was money riding on as to whether he would pass out. His odds weren’t good.

Sophie screamed again and the new born slipped out in wash of amniotic fluid. The surrounding nurses moved in, well organised and experienced. One took hold of the baby, carefully lifting it up to the mother and her waiting breast. The midwife took the proffered towels and cleaned up the mother, checking for any untoward damage as she did so. Happy that the Sophie wasn’t bleeding out, she deftly clamped the umbilical and held out a pair of scissors by the blade to the father. “Do you wish the honour Clive?”

Clive looked down at the scissors and at the blood smeared umbilical between the two clamps. His eyes rolled up and his knees buckled as he collapsed into the expertly positioned chair. The nurse that had been watching him intently, ensured that his slow collapse into the chair would result in a position that would keep him in the chair. Happy that he wasn’t going to fall out and injure himself anytime soon, she pushed the chair into a corner, the castors smoothly gliding the chair across the easy clean medical grade floor.

The midwife gave him a cursory amused glance and cut the umbilical.

Sophie, tired and exhausted, looked down at the perfect little face on her breast as one of the nurses tenderly cleaned the bodily fluids from the new-born. “Is it a boy or girl?” Asked a weary Sophie.

The nurse paused in her cleaning duties and carefully parted the new-borns legs, “It’s a bo...” she trailed off, sentence unfinished.

The midwife looked up from the paper work she was filling out. “It’s not rocket science you know...” She glanced at her wrist and added the time of birth to the triplicate form in front of her. The nurse still hadn’t answered and she looked up again. The young nurse wore a look of panic. The midwife put the forms down and gently moved the nurse out of the way and took a look herself. It was a boy, nothing unusual to warrant such a panicked look, and then she spotted what had flummoxed the nurse.

“Gail, can you go and get Doctor McDowell please. She needs to sign off the paperwork.” The other nurses paused in their work at the unusual breach of routine. “Today please Gail.”

Gail hastily departed the room.

“Is everything okay?” Asked a nervous, slightly terrified Sophie, “Is my baby okay? My baby’s okay?”

“Your baby is fine, Sophie.” The midwife soothed, even as she knew it was anything but...

Fast forward 14 years...

“Anne and Terry asked me if you are interested in doggy sitting for a week.”

“I don’t know mum. What am I supposed to do?” Lydia asked.

“Take him out for walks, feed him. Generally look after him for a week. A bit like having a Tamagotchi.”

“Mine died after three days.”

“Maybe a bit more effort this time?” Her mother dryly remarked, “Plus you were six at the time.”

“I don’t know, what if he bites?”

“Dogs only bite it you give them cause too love. Plus it’s some spending cash for you. Why don’t you pop round and speak to them. See if you get on?”

The idea of money was tempting. How hard could it be, really? “Okay, I’ll pop round mum.”

Lydia grabbed her coat and left the house. It seemed pointless to walk to the street and back up next doors path, so she just stepped over the low fence that separated the two properties and knocked on the door.

Mrs Fonesecker opened the door. “Oh, hi Lydia! Did your mom speak to you about baby-sitting Henry?”

“Err yes...”

“Come on in and meet him.” Mrs Fonesecker beckoned her in. “He’s in the living room, watching TV.”

Lydia had never been in the Foneseckers house before, but apart from the colour of the walls and furnishings, it was the same as Lydia’s house. All the houses on the street looked the same from the outside, so it stood to reason that they were all the same on the inside.

There was a jet black dog lying sprawled out on a dog cushion on the floor. It looked like he was indeed watching the TV. Though Lydia couldn’t see what interest a dog had in the ‘Create and Craft’ channel.

“What breed is he?” Lydia asked for want of something to say.

“Henry’s a black lab. Though the colour slightly gives the game away.” Mrs Fonesecker smiled as she said it. “Henry, come meet Lydia.” Mrs Fonesecker held her hand out and Henry ambled over. She ruffled his head and he licked her hand in return. “Go ahead and stroke him. He won’t bite.”

Lydia cautiously reached out. She hadn’t had many dealings with dogs before. She ran her hand down the back of his spine. Lydia hadn’t known what to expect, but Henry’s fur felt soft and smooth when she had expected it to feel rough.

Henry turned his head and licked Lydia’s hand. She snatched it back with a nervous giggle.

“It’s okay. He won’t bite. Hold your hand out, let him sniff it.”

Lydia did as she was told and Henry sniffed out her hand before licking it. His tongue was rough and Lydia let out a giggle.

“See, he likes you. Have a seat.” Mrs Fonesecker pointed to the couch. Lydia sat; Henry jumped up on the couch beside her and dropped his head with a thump onto her Lap.

Mrs Fonesecker spoke. “He loves having his head stroked and scratched behind the ears.” Lydia dutifully stroked his head, which was surprisingly heavy on her lap. Henry let out a contented rumble. “I told you! He likes you already. What Terry and I were wondering, would you be interested in looking after him for a week? Henry that is, not Terry.

“I don’t know, I have never looked after a dog before.” Lydia decided not to mention her short lived experience with her Tamagotchi.

“Oh he is no bother. Just take him out for a walk in the morning and at night so he can do his business and make sure his food and water bowls are topped up. You can either take him home or Leave him here. Up to you, whatever you find easiest.”

Lydia pondered the request. She was a little bit terrified; she had never had so much responsibility before.

“The other option would be kennels, “Mrs Fonesecker carried on, “But to be honest, we are really not keen on that option. He ignored us for a month the last time we put him in kennels.”

“If you think I...”

“You’ll be fine!” Mrs Fonesecker interrupted “I’ll leave out a list of what to feed him and when. And I will leave you details of his favourite walks. The week will be over before you know it.”

“Okay I’ll...”

“Outstanding. He obeys verbal commands, you just have to be firm. It works on boys as well.” Mrs Fonesecker winked. “Henry! bed!”

Keven balefully lifted his head from Lydia’s lap and slunk off the couch to his bed on the floor. “See! He’s no bother at all. He also obeys ‘stay’, ‘sit’ and ‘lie down’. Amongst others. Are you up for it?”

“I th...”

“Brilliant! I’ll speak to you more about it just before we go.”

Lydia entered her house, a little bewildered. Not quite sure how she had come to be roped into doggy sitting for a week. Her mum called out to her from the kitchen. “Did you get the job love?”

“I think so.”

“You either did or you didn’t.”

Lydia sighed, “I did mum...”

“So you know what you are doing?”

“Mrs Fonesecker is going to go through all of that before she leaves.”

“Did they say where they are going? Anywhere nice?”

“I don’t think so. To be honest, I never asked.”

“You need to ask these things.” Chided her mother.

“Do I?”

“Don’t get stroppy with me young lady. Have you done your homework?”

Mrs Fonesecker handed over a bound folder with clear plastic pockets inside to Lydia. Each pocket held an A4 sheet of paper with neatly printed out instructions. “His menu for the week is in there. A few Google maps of his favourite walks, a contact list of where we can be reached and when in case of emergencies. Number for the vets-You shouldn’t need that, but it’s better to have and not need than it is to need and not have, and all that jazz.” Lydia nodded dumbly as Mrs Fonesecker charged through her list. “As I said, it’s up to you whether you take him home on leave him here. If you leave him here, make sure you leave the TV on low. He likes ITV the most.”

Mr Fonesecker broke in, “Yes, yes, she knows all that love ... The taxi is outside, we don’t want to miss our flight.” Mr Fonesecker tried, unsuccessfully to herd his wife out the door.

“And make sure you lock the door every time you leave.” Mrs Fonesecker carried on, ignoring her husband. Lydia nodded. It was all she could do against the verbal onslaught. And then they were in the taxi. Waving. Henry whined his tail flat as he watched then go. Lydia stroked his head.

“It’s okay Henry. They are coming back.” Henry let out a forlorn bark as the taxi turned from view. Mrs Fonesecker had locked the door behind her, probably more by habit than intention, so Lydia firmed her grip on Henry’s lead and led him to her own door. Henry followed at her side, slouched like a morose, sulky teenager. With the door shut behind her, Lydia bent down and released the catch of the retractable lead from his collar. Henry looked about, nose high, sniffing. “Come on.” Lydia made for the stairs Henry following after a moments pause. Jumping on her bed, she held out her arms and Henry slowly climbed up, prodding the duvet cautiously with a foreleg.

He slumped to the bed beside her and Lydia wrapped her arms round his warm body. He licked her face. “Argh, stop it!” she commanded, laughing. She had been dreading this for the last few days, but now that it was here, she wondered why she had been so worried. Lydia curled up alongside Henry. His breathing was strangely soothing, his body comfortably warm and his fur silky smooth. It was like having a teddy bear with a pulse. And a smelly wind problem.

She woke up to her mother calling her down for tea. She rubbed her eyes and looked down to see what the unusual weight on her stomach was. Two big brown eyes stared back at her. “Get orff!” She gently pushed his head off her stomach. “I’m not a pillow...” Henry made to get up as well “No! Stay! Lie down!” Henry slumped back down on her bed. “Good boy!”

Lydia stopped off at the bathroom on the way downstairs and her tea, to relieve her bladder and wash her hands.

She took Henry out for a quick walk before school, so he could relieve himself. She was supposed to bag and bin his poo, but no way was she putting her hand in a flimsy bag and touching that! “Come on! Back home or I will miss my bus.” She left him in front of the telly, ITV playing and ensured the door was locked, twice, before nipping back home for her schoolbag. She waited patiently if a little bored, with the rest of the kids for the school bus.

Henry was excited to see her when she got back after school. He was waiting at the door and jumped up against her, trying to lick her face. “Eurgh” she fended him off. “Get down.” He barked towards the still open door. “Okay, okay, give me a minute will yah!” she dumped her bag and grabbed his lead, clipping it onto his collar. The door shut with a solid click behind her as the lock engaged. A brief press on the leads handle allowed more length to play out and Henry, raced over to the fence, sniffing the ground as he went.

It was quiet at the local park, so she let him off the lead. True to what she had been told, he

did indeed follow basic verbal instructions and they raced around each other on the grass. Lydia resolved to bring a ball or something next time. Her phone buzzed. It was her mother, checking up on her and telling her that her dinner would be ready shortly. So they headed home. She left Henry at his own home, setting out his dinner as per the instructions she had been left.

After tea her mother asked if she had done her homework. She hadn’t but said yes anyway, before excusing herself from the table. Her parents took forever to eat. Lydia tried to be really quiet sliding the key into the lock, but he was still waiting at the door, bouncing up and down when she slowly eased the door open. She laughed. “So you heard me then? Your hearing must be really good.” Henry barked once and tried to lick her face again, “Argh, stop it!” she chased him around the house for a few minutes till she ran out of steam. Though he stood ready, staring at her, his eyes bright and tail wagging furiously. “No, that’s enough! I’m knackered.”

It was weird, and a little exhilarating, to be alone in someone else’s house. Lydia wandered through the rooms, looking at the pictures on the walls and in frames, taking guilty enjoyment in opening cupboards to peer inside. Inevitably, Lydia found herself in the Fonesecker’s bedroom, where she found the temptation to have a nosey, too great to ignore.

The bedroom was clean and relatively sparse of knickknacks. No posters on the walls, no discarded clothes abandoned everywhere and makeup scattered across every flat surface like in her bedroom. The white duvet was pristine and flat. It looked to be fresh on. She glanced towards Henry. “Stay!” she commanded and then, just to be sure. “Lie down!”. Henry slumped to the floor in the doorway.

“Good boy.” As much as he was soft and cuddly, she had noticed that he had a tendency to leave some black hairs behind wherever he lay. Hairs which would be rather obvious on that white duvet were he to lie on it.

She opened some drawers on the bedside cabinet.” Eugh.” It was all blokey stuff. She slid the drawer shut and moved to the other side of the bed. Lip balm, tissues, nail file. You didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to work out which side of the bed Mr and Mrs Fonesecker used. Lydia carried on down the drawers the thrill of looking into someone else’s life secretly enticing. A pack of batteries, several packs as it turned out, of different sizes. Some ... She didn’t know what they were. She moved on to the next drawer. A masquerade ball type mask that covered the nose and around the eyes. It glittered with sequins and had feathered edges. She lifted it up to her face and tried to look at her reflected image on the mirrored doors of the built in wardrobe. The mask was really pretty, but it was too big for her smaller face. She put it back. There was a really fluffy scarf. She draped it around her neck, though it didn’t stay there very well as one end had a solid funny shaped bit of rubbery plastic at the end, which ruined the point of it being a scarf in Lydia’s eyes.

Bizarrely, one of Henry’s collars was there as well. There was even a fixed length of lead to go with the collar. There were some, what looked like bits of black Velcro strips, and an old camera. Not really very interesting. She slid the drawer shut.

Lydia slid open one of the mirrored doors. Some drawers and suits and coats. More bloke stuff. Boring! She slid open the middle and remaining side. All women’s clothes and dresses. Lydia pulled out some hangars at random. Mrs Fonesecker had some really beautiful clothes. She held up some of them in front of her. As beautiful as they were, Lydia knew they wouldn’t hang well on her smaller, less formed fame. She put them back. The drawers on opposite side of the wardrobe had a few jumpers, T-shirts, socks and a lot of really nice underwear. She imagined herself parading in some of the pieces in front of Mr Fonesecker. She giggled at her daring. It was getting late. Lydia slid the drawers and doors shut and chased Henry out of the doorway, making sure the door was shut behind her.

She didn’t bother with a lead between the houses as she was starting to trust Henry. Lydia did her homework and went downstairs to wish her parents goodnight. She showered and slipped into a fresh pair of panties and nightie. Pulling back her duvet she slipped into bed, inviting Henry to join her, which he did. Lydia pulled the duvet over them both and cuddled up to Henry. She was really starting to like her night time cuddles. She had always struggled to see the attraction of boys, wondering why girls and women bothered, but with the company of Henry, she was starting to see the attraction. She imagined herself dressed in some of Mrs Fonesecker’s lingerie, in bed with Mr Fonesecker. Wrapped up in his arms ... It made her feel really good. She stroked and cuddled Henry tighter. He chuffed in her ear. She imagined it as a male moan of pleasure, which had the effect of exciting her even more. She felt herself hardening. It was doing that a lot lately. As nice as the feelings were when it did that, it was also uncomfortable. She slipped a hand between her thighs and squeezed her thighs together.

Henry licked her face. “Stop that!” She chided.

The next morning’s regime followed the previous. She took Henry out to do is his toilet, left him off at his house with ITV on and went to school. After school she took him out to the park with a ball and they laughed and cavorted around on the grass. She made him lie down on the grass, till she threw his ball, and then teased him by not releasing him straight away to go fetch it. “On you go!” And he would burst into action, tearing off down the park like a sleek black military missile. It was getting late and her mother would be texting her soon, so she clipped on his lead and reluctantly took him home. She checked what his evening meal was, and dished it out before heading round to hers for her own. After she helped her mother with her dishes and fended off more tiresome homework enquiries, she slipped back round to play with Henry some more before she took him back to hers for the night. As usual, he was very pleased to see her, even though she had only been gone an hour. She sat on the couch for a moment, his head on her lap as she idly scratched behind his ears. The TV content was a bit monotonous and she was itching to do something else. She’d had a disturbingly enjoyable dream last night about Mr Fonesecker, and she didn’t know why. She had been dressed in Mrs Fonesecker’s clothes, wearing the mask and he had come into the room, said how beautiful she looked, before stepping close to envelope her in a very intimate hug.

His face had moved closer to hers and she knew, just knew, that he was going to try and kiss her. She had turned her head away and yet, his lips still found hers. It was ... wonderful. Even though it was so wrong and that he was so old. She had really liked the dream. She thought of what she had done the previous night. Wondered what he would really do if he caught her in his wife’s clothes.

The temptation was too much; she dislodged Henry from her lap and headed upstairs. Henry following, padding softly behind her. As per the previous night she stopped him at the doorway, telling him to lie down, which he did.

Lydia slid open the wardrobe door on the side that belonged to Mrs Fonesecker, and pulled open the drawers. She had seen a really nice black chemise the previous night and she had an irresistible urge to try it on. She found the chemise and carefully lifted it out, remembering how it was folded for when she put it back. It felt so smooth and soft to the touch. The label telling her it was pure silk. She shortened the shoulder straps as far as they would go and quickly slipped out of her school blouse and bra. Dipping her head through the centre, she let the soft and very sensual silk fall down around her body. Even with the shoulder straps shortened, it still didn’t fit properly, but it was as close as she was going to get it. She looked at her reflection in the mirrored doors. She could clearly see the outline of her nipples under the silk. She ran her hands down over her front, following the contours of her burgeoning breasts.

The feeling was exquisite. She imagined her hands were the hands of Mr Fonesecker. That it was his touch ... She reached up under the chemise and undid her belt and the button of her black school trousers, letting them fall to the floor. She stepped out of them and turned right, then left, studying her reflection. She so wanted Mr Fonesecker to see her now, as she stood almost naked in his wife’s lingerie. She tried a sultry pout. It didn’t work. She tried a seductive, beckoning smile. That didn’t quite work out either. She licked her lips provocatively. Only it just looked stupid rather than provocative. She gave up. She remembered the mask and opened the drawer next to the bed that it was in a pulled it out. She settled it in place and tied the ribbon behind her head. It hadn’t shrunk any since the previous night, nor had her head grown any, so her eyes didn’t line up with the eye holes, restricting her vision. She turned her head, deciding to look out just the one eye instead of trying to look out both at the same time.

Lydia loved how the sequins sparkled and the way the feathers lent an air of decadence. She rubbed herself through the silk and her panties, craving something that she didn’t fully understand. Her neck looked too open, top bare. She pulled out the furry scarf and wrapped it once around her neck. That looked so much better, but that hard rubbery bit was a pain, the weight of it kept pulling the scarf undone, no matter where she draped it. She slipped to the floor, leaning against the bed, which allowed her to place the heavy end of the scarf on the duvet behind her head. She had to admit, even to herself, that she looked hot. Her hands dipped to her groin and she rubbed herself between her legs as she watched her reflection. She had never wanted to be touched by a man, as much she did right at that moment.

He could have done anything he wished to her right there and then, and she would have let him. She looked up at the famed picture of Mr and Mrs Fonesecker up on the wall. That seemed to fire her desire even more, not quench it, though the picture was just a little too far away for comfort. Then she remembered the camera. Maybe there was a picture of him on there, maybe something more revealing ... She felt her pulse speed up. One hand still rubbing between her thighs, she opened the bottom drawer with the other. There was the camera. She hoped there was still some life in the battery. She moved the collar aside to reach the digital camera. Something flashed silver. There was a disc on the collar. There was writing engraved on it. “Bitch“. She hadn’t known they’d had another dog. Lydia wondered if she had been killed by a car or something. Or maybe it had been the dog before Henry, and for sentimental reasons they had kept the collar. She shrugged, it wasn’t important right now.

The power button was easy enough to find and the lens extended when the power came on. There should be a button to view any stored photo’s. That looked promising ... She pressed the button and the lens retreated back into the body. The view screen changed from the scene of her hand rubbing herself to that of a smiling, happy face. One that was wearing the same mask that she was currently wearing and doing a much better job of it. But that wasn’t what made her gasp out aloud and her little stiffy jump and jerk under her panties.

Mrs Fonesecker, and there was no doubt that it was her, mask or otherwise, in that picture. Had the tip of a large, and very hard cock in her mouth. The photo, from the downward angle, appeared to have been taken by the person who’s cock or more precisely, the tip of whose cock, was currently residing in Mrs Fonesecker’s mouth. And she was definitely, without a shadow of doubt, not in the slightest bit bothered by that fact, judging by her wide and contented smile.

Lydia moaned as the feelings between her legs intensified as she looked at that picture. There was no way she could tear her eyes away. The feelings between her thighs took on a life of their own and she dropped the camera as her stomach clenched as pleasure the like of which she had never experienced before, spread through her body. Even that useless bit of flesh that got hard and stuck out at awkward times, was emitting glorious waves of pleasure. And something else.

She felt something wet convulse out of it along with the muscle spasms. Nothing had ever come out of it before. Not even pee. Her panties were soaked. She quickly lifted the chemise away from her panties, terrified that she had stained it. It looked as though she was lucky. She pulled it over her head, the lace edges catching on the mask. She removed both. Looking down, she was expecting to see red staining her cotton panties but there was just a white sticky mess. She pulled some tissues out of the box in the drawer and mopped up as much up as she could, trying to avoid touching her still stiff rod, which was still sending pleasure to the rest of her body every time it was touched. For a moment she panicked. Would the pleasure never stop? The terror seemed to have a fortunate side effect in that it calmed down the pleasurable feelings and they eventually disappeared completely.

Lydia stood and hobbled to the bathroom, where she flushed the sodden tissues down the toilet and wiped herself with a flannel. Her panties were soaked. She tore off some toilet roll and placed it between her flesh and the sodden gusset of her panties. She tore off another strip for between her panties and trousers. It was late and if she didn’t hurry, her mother would start asking questions. She quickly dressed, slipping her arms through her bra straps and adjusting her small burgeoning breasts to sit comfortably in the cups. The toilet roll strip she stuffed down the front of her trousers. She checked the chemise. It looked as though she had managed to avoid staining it. She folded it the way it had been and put it back in the drawer. The mask went back in the bedside cabinet drawer. As an afterthought she grabbed the camera and took it with her.

“Come on Henry.” Henry followed her down the stairs. Lydia put on her shoes and coat, slipping the camera into one of its pockets. Henry picked up his lead in his mouth. She smiled having forgotten about it “Thanks Henry”.

Lydia locked the door behind her, Henry leading the way to her own front door. She had hoped to slip past her mother, but no such luck.

“You are late tonight love.”

Lydia panicked but her mouth took on a life of its own: “Henry poo’d in the kitchen. I had to clean it up.”

“That’s why I have never liked pets. All that extra work, for what, I ask you.”

“Yes mum ... I need to go...” Once her mother got on one of her high horses, there was no stopping her. She was still moaning about the down side of having a pet when Lydia was at the top of the stairs and almost out of earshot.

Safely in her room she removed her jacket as Henry jumped onto the bed. She pulled a fresh pair of panties out of her drawer and her nightie from under her pillow. Henry watched as she headed to the bathroom. For the second time that night she stripped and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before stepping inside. Even now, her body was still shaking. She couldn’t help but touch herself, marvelling at the feelings that had taken over her body. She wanted to experience that again, and soon. She thought back to the image of Mrs Fonesecker with the cock in her mouth.

It wasn’t really the first time she had seen a hard male cock. You couldn’t surf the internet for five minutes these days without seeing one. And then there was the pictures that everyone, well, mostly the boys, shared at school, but those were porn stars, they weren’t normal human beings, were they? Normal girls didn’t do that sort of thing did they? She knew that the older girls talked about it, and doing it, but she had always thought that was pure fantasy and they had never done so. Now she wasn’t so sure. Her little fleshy rod was hard again and sticking out from her body.

Her specialist at the hospital said they would remove it when she turned sixteen. Which was less than two years away. They said they couldn’t do so before hand, because they had to make sure she was certain that she was a female. Which to Lydia, was the most stupid thing she had ever heard. Of course she was female, she just had ... extra bits. Bits her mother had drummed into her from an early age that she should never tell anyone about, other than the doctors at the hospital. She had been looking forward to having it removed, so she could go swimming and change in front of the other girls, but now as she stroked it, she wasn’t so sure she wanted it gone. The pleasure it gave was awesome. Absolutely fucking awesome. In fact, as she continued to stroke it, it was starting to make her feel good again.

Hell no! She was not getting rid of this! It felt really good when she pulled the skin back, revealing the purple tinged head before she pushed it back over again and repeated the process. Really good. The pleasure was building and this time she was sort of ready for it. It jerked in her hand again in accompaniment to the pleasure she experienced. Little jets of that sticky white fluid spurted out again, splashing against the Perspex side of the shower and slowly dribbling down, mixing in with the shower water. This was the second time something had come out of it. The doctors had said it was ‘operationally inactive’ whatever that meant. None of them had ever really explained what they meant by it to her. What she could gather by looking at pictures on the internet; was that boys had something similar, which they peed out of but she peed out of her vagina like every other girl. It was all so confusing, as every time her parents took her to see a specialist, it left her with more questions than answers. And it was really embarrassing having all those men look and prod at her private parts. How was it gynaecologists were always men? She had once asked that of her mother during one of her many examinations, only to be shushed by her mother and told in no uncertain terms, to let the ‘grownups’ speak.