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Exploration by
Penman F/f
Copyright (c) 2002, all rights reserved, Not for Sale
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The
early evening air was almost heady with the fragrance of the
skilfully-nurtured roses that filled the flower beds that
decorated the west lawn, against a backdrop of a substantial
area of woodland, made up of deciduous trees whose leaves spoke
softly as the gentle breeze gave them voice. The sun had not yet
slipped down behind the woodland canopy. A subtle, slightly
hypnotic hum of insect activity blended with the whispering
trees to create a bucolic symphony of natural sounds,
interspersed occasionally by the busy, yet not incongruous,
chatter of the different bird species to whom this was home
territory. Silently, Samson and Delilah moved slowly, without
clear motivation, round their territory, raising their heads
occasionally to cast a broader gaze over their domain.
Outside
the house, a quiet murmur of conversation blended peacefully
with the surroundings as Eleanor and Michelle worked their way
slowly down a bottle of New World Chardonnay and shared their
news, their thoughts and all the other facts and imaginings that
form the substance of dialogue between two very close friends.
Their quiet, soft voices blended perfectly with the general
atmosphere, whilst their giggles occasionally countered the
excited chirping of the birds.
As
the sun finally settled behind the woodland treetops and a hint
of refreshing coolness began to displace the comforting warmth
of the day, Eleanor placed the bottle and the glasses on the
tray, called Samson and Delilah and went back into the house
through the French windows in the drawing room. Michelle put the
chairs back under the table and followed her friend into the
house, closing the doors behind her. She turned for an instant
and looked admiringly, without a hint of envy, at the beautiful
place that was home to James and Eleanor, also to Sophia Louise,
now a blossoming teenager, who had inherited many of her
parents’ traits, but who was by no means a clone of either her
mother or her father. Few people who met Sophie remained unmoved
by her nature and presence. Michelle turned again and headed off
to the kitchen, where she and Eleanor set about preparing a
salad whilst they continued their endless conversation.
“OK,
Rosie”, enquired Michelle, “what did
James give you for your birthday?”
Neither
Michelle nor Eleanor could explain how this affectionate name,
used only between them, had come into being and neither would
have felt it at all necessary to do so. Rosie was Eleanor’s
name when they were chatting, just as and Michelle had, somehow,
come to be known as Maisie. Eleanor dabbed a spot of mayonnaise
from the corner of her mouth with her napkin and looked across
at Michelle with the expression of someone who has just arrived
at the check-in desk 100 miles from home, only to remember that
the passports are still in the sideboard.
“Maisie…..
I’m so sorry, it completely slipped my mind.
I’ll show you when we’ve finished here.”
The
two young women finished their supper and Michelle set the
filter machine going to make coffee whilst Eleanor went off to
meet the ravenous cravings of two perpetually hungry labradors,
half of whose bodies gyrated at an increasing frequency as the
two bowls drew nearer and their fresh water bowl was placed by
their sides.
Eleanor
returned from the annex into the kitchen, stacked the dishes
into the washer and then took a tray from the cupboard by the
sink and put out the crockery they needed for their coffee. She
then slipped out of the kitchen to the dining room and returned
with two generous measures of the Armagnac that both of them had
come to appreciate.
The
conversation continued in the drawing room for a good hour
before Michelle reminded Eleanor once again that she had not yet
been allowed to see this birthday present -that
had actually left Eleanor completely speechless. Eleanor put her
cup down and smiled.
“Right,
Maisie, come on, let me show you something that will take your
breath away.”
Michelle
put her cup down and looked quizzically and affectionately at
Eleanor. For a brief moment, she was aware of a feeling with
which she was by no means unfamiliar, as she took in, once
again, the amazing loveliness of her best friend. She smiled,
relaxed by the Armagnac, and allowed her thoughts to wander for
a short while. Eleanor looked up at her and returned the warm
sign of their deep friendship. She felt so comforted by this
young woman who had come to mean a great deal to her and with
whom she had shared so much in her life since coming to live at
Pendene Manor. She, too, looked with tenderness at the warm,
friendly and far from unattractive countenance of her best
friend, framed in long, wavy honey-blonde hair that always
looked so very slightly unkempt, but in a manner that actually
enhanced her attractiveness. She felt totally safe and at peace
with Michelle and her love for this woman was never in question.
Eleanor
stood up and held out a hand.
“Come
on”, she said, in the manner of a very proper young Miss who
is about to show her best friend her new dolls’ house, “I
have something to show you.”
The
two women giggled conspiratorially as they headed out of the
drawing room and across the hall. With an artificial slowness,
as if savouring the anticipation, they went up the ancient
staircase and walked round the landing to the Master bedroom
door. Ceremoniously, Eleanor opened it and invited Michelle to
close her eyes. Eleanor then took her hand and led her gently
into the bedroom and closed the door before putting a hand on
each of Michelle’s shoulders and guiding her gently to the
right of the ivy-framed window.
“OK,
Maisie, you can open your eyes now.”
There
was a stunned silence for what seemed an age as Michelle opened
her eyes and looked at the large portrait hanging in a polished
oak frame. Now, something of Eleanor’s lightness of spirit had
evaporated as the atmosphere was transformed into what could
only be described as awe in its true sense. Michelle reached a
hand out to steady herself against the foot of the bed and
gasped, audibly. She was completely immersed in the picture for
quite some time before slowly turning to Eleanor. With a harmony
of thought and action not uncommon amongst friends who love one
another as these two women did, they found themselves looking at
one another and, almost simultaneously, each reached out to the
other to brush away a tear that was beginning to form.
“Eleanor”,
said Michelle, the lightness of girl pals temporarily suspended,
“I don’t know what to say. Do you mind if I sit down for a
moment, please?”
Eleanor
led her friend round and the two of them sat on the edge of the
bed. Slowly, Michelle found she was able, once again, to focus
her mind and she drew her gaze away from the portrait to look at
Eleanor. Her hand brushed against Eleanor’s fingers, that were
spread out on the duvet, supporting her. Eleanor looked at
Michelle and took hold of the offered hand. A slow trickle of
tears was moving down her beautiful face and it was no more than
a matter of moments before Michelle was fully in tune with her
and the two of them were in a close, tender embrace, comforting
one another.
After
a couple of minutes, as tears flowed almost silently onto loved
and trusted friends, the two of them sat upright and held hands
at the edge of the bed.
It
had cost James dearly to pluck up the enormous courage needed
for the huge gamble he had taken and to put his plan into
action. He had gathered together dozens of photographs from
albums in his study and assembled them into a very special
collection. He had then placed this set of pictures in his
overnight case and had gone off to the Cumbrian hills,
ostensibly for a weekend’s walking with some friends from
schooldays.
In
point of fact, he had been with just one friend from schooldays,
and not primarily to enjoy the delights of Blencathra. His
friend, Simon, would have been written off by the school as a
complete disaster had it not been for a new art master who had
been appointed during the year when they had been preparing for
their GCE examinations. His keenness of eye had not been
confined to works of art, for he had not taken long to identify
a latent talent in Simon. This he had encouraged, nurtured and
developed by persuasion and cajoling -
even pressure that some might have thought tantamount to
oppression!
After
the GCE’s, through which Simon had managed to scrape with just
two C passes and one A distinction, the two boys had parted
company, since Simon had never returned to school and the
letters James had written to him had never been answered. In
fact, that is how the situation would have remained had it not
been for the most unlikely of coincidences.
One
day, whilst Eleanor had been shopping in Birmingham, James had
been walking round an art gallery when his eye had been drawn to
a pencil drawing of a nude female subject. For some reason, he
had not been able to take his gaze away from this picture. It
was not a feeling of anything remotely pornographic that had
attracted James’ attention, for the picture could easily have
been displayed to an audience of any age, being totally free of
anything distasteful. It had been the exquisite subtlety of the
way in which it had been drawn, almost giving life to the female
shape so sensitively portrayed there, that caught James totally
off guard. However, that was not the end of James’ surprises
for, on closer examination, he recognised a familiar name in the
bottom right-hand corner of the picture -
Simon Hepplewhite!
Without
any real sense of optimism, James finally withdrew from the
magnetism of the portrait and went down to the main entrance,
where he spoke to the young lady at the enquiry desk. He could
hardly believe his fortune when he was told how he could contact
the artist -
which he had done within a matter of days.
James
had sat in the old kitchen of the rambling Cumbrian farm
property and had talked long into the night with his friend. Zoe,
Simon’s wife, who was very different from Eleanor -
but with a quality of subdued wildness and a physical appearance
that grew on the observer -
had given up trying to keep up with the two men and had left
them to their beer and conversation. Once they had gone over
every last detail of just about everything they had done during
the intervening years -
in much the same way as boys would gather in excited small
groups in the Common Room on the first day of the winter term,
recounting adventures from their ‘summer hols’ -
James eventually got around to the main reason for his visit and
recounted the disastrous events that had rocked the Penbury
family eighteen months previously. He then produced the
collection of photographs of Eleanor and Alastair and passed
them across to Simon. The artist worked his way through them
slowly, occasionally looking up at James with expressions of
complete empathy. Eventually, after a long period of silence, he
put the photographs back into their box and closed it. He looked
at James again and smiled.
“You
didn’t think I would refuse, did you?”
After
a lengthy debate, enlivened only slightly by the emptiness of
several cans of beer, James had finally conceded to Simon’s
insistence that he would not accept a fee for this work. Nothing
would budge him from his position and James knew full well that
he would never find a comparable artist. He had been obliged to
accept this generosity, albeit with great reluctance.
Late
on the Sunday afternoon, James had embraced Simon with great
warmth and had hugged Zoe with very genuine affection for this
kind woman -
who exhibited no evidence whatsoever of the wild thing she had
once been, before her union with Simon had finally banished the
spectres of self-doubt that had blighted both their lives up to
that time. The couple smiled and waved enthusiastically as
James’ Range Rover disappeared along Mungrisdale towards the
A66, on the way to the M6, home and James’ precious ladies.
James smiled to himself as he memorised the name of the builder
who was carrying out part of the barn conversion work that was
to add a new dimension to life at Beckside Farm.
Several
weeks had elapsed before the telephone on James’ secretary’s
desk had rung and the message had been passed on that the
consignment was ready for shipment. With her usual mature
efficiency, Heather had put James’ detailed plan into action
and had arranged for collection at Beckside Farm and delivery to
the office on the following day. She had brushed away more than
one tear herself as James had shown her the charcoal drawing of
Eleanor cradling a sleepy Alastair, who was feeding contentedly
in her arms. Somehow, using a technique that James could not
understand, the artist had succeeded in depicting the scene,
with a long, broad chiffon scarf draped over Eleanor’s
shoulders and enfolding their child’s head, in exactly the
same manner as he had in the portrait of Zoe that had caught
James’ eye in the gallery. This was a drawing that was Old
Master, yet totally modern in its freshness. Only the senseless
would walk way unmoved from this very private portrait.
The
atmosphere in the Master bedroom now changed like the profile of
Atlantic breakers, peaking in exultation and reaching troughs as
the memories flooded back. Michelle was reluctant to say
anything, for fear of opening up wounds and inflicting further
pain on Eleanor, but her fears were unfounded, for Eleanor had
healed well and, far from re-awakening bygone pains, what they
were admiring was a reminder that little Alastair would always
be with Eleanor and James and, by extension, with those who were
close enough as friends to be privy to this private family icon.
The
shadows were lengthening in the bedroom and, eventually, Eleanor
stood up and held out her hands to Michelle.
“I
hope you didn’t mind me showing you this, Maisie”.
“Mind!
… Eleanor, I don’t know what to say, honestly. There
aren’t words for what I feel.”
The
two women embraced again and Michelle closed her eyes as she
rested her head on Eleanor’s shoulder. The hint of Eleanor’s
fragrance both comforted her and prompted her to hold on to her
friend more closely. Eleanor responded in a perfect complement
to Michelle’s expression and felt the softness of her
friend’s breasts against her body. She sighed slightly as a
deep sense of comfort filled her.
Eleanor
asked Michelle what she would like for a night drink and then
went off downstairs to prepare herbal teas and settle the dogs
for the night. Methodically, she made her way round the house
and checked all the doors before returning to the kitchen. She
picked up the telephone and rang her friend Cathy to enquire as
to how Sophia Louise and Elizabeth had been getting along.
Comforted with the knowledge that the two of them were tucked up
sound asleep after a day that had, miraculously, given the lie
to the rumour that teenagers have boundless energy, she
confirmed that either she or James would be round the next
evening to collect the two girls and bring them back to Pendene,
to allow Cathy and Michael to enjoy a rare quiet weekend
together.
Eleanor
picked up the tray and went back upstairs. She placed the tray
on the chest of drawers, then picked up Michelle’s clothes and
placed them on a chair before going over to look out of the
window. Sounds of bathing drifted out from the bathroom and
Eleanor smiled as she thought of James heading back home from
Australia after a very busy fortnight in the Antipodes. She
heard Michelle climb out of the bath and dry herself and turned
to greet her as she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a soft
bath towel and with a hand towel wrapped in turban fashion round
her head. Eleanor smiled …..
“I’m
just ready for that bath,” she whispered to Michelle. “Can
you unzip me at the back please, Maisie?”
She
turned and Michelle unzipped the back of the light summer dress.
Eleanor turned round and kissed Michelle softly on the cheek,
smiling at her with a warmth that radiated from her sparkling
pale blue eyes. “Thanks for staying with me these past two
nights, Maisie. I love it when you are here.”
Michelle
was unable to say why she slipped her fingers under the top of
Eleanor’s dress and slowly lowered it, neither was Eleanor
really aware of why she simply held her arms out and then
stepped out of the dress, which Michelle then threw casually
over the back of the chair. The girls’ eyes met and wordless
communication between them set both pulses racing slightly, with
a mixture of uncertainty and something they could not define.
Michelle placed her hands on Eleanor’s shoulders with the
lightest of touches and leaned forward very slightly. There was
just a hint of a blush in her cheeks as she looked down and
whispered ..
“Rosie,
you know I adore you, don’t you?”
Eleanor
looked at her and hesitated momentarily before taking gentle
hold of Michelle’s hands…..
“Yes,
I do know, Maisie, I’ve known for some time. I feel just the
same and I don’t ever want to lose what we have.”
Michelle
wrapped her arms around her best-loved friend again and kissed
her cheek. Eleanor entered willingly and warmly into the embrace
and held Michelle’s shoulder with one hand and rested the
other hand in the small of her back.
The
two women released one another and Michelle stood back slightly,
looking enquiringly, first at the bed and then at Eleanor.
“Rosie,
is this where James…..”
Her
words voiced an unnecessary question, for Eleanor had already
anticipated what was going on in Michelle’s mind. She smiled
at her and walked slowly to the tall wardrobe. She leaned
forward and Michelle felt more than a twinge of envy as she
looked at her friend’s beautiful shape, partially bent over in
her elegant but simply-styled oyster briefs. Eleanor reached to
the back of the cupboard and turned round. Michelle let out a
gasp as her eyes fell on the cane in Eleanor’s hand. Eleanor
smiled reassuringly.
“Maisie,
don’t worry, this will never visit you as it did me that
day.”
“But
Rosie, I don’t understand…how could he? I know he worships
the ground you walk on. He is devoted to you and would give
everything for you. So why did he do this to you?”
Eleanor
turned to put the cane back in the cupboard and then turned back
again to address Michelle.
“Maisie,
James is not just my husband, my lover, the father of our son
and daughter. He is my Master. He has an uncanny ability to see
what needs to be done in a situation. I’m not saying he always
finds it easy, but he has courage and principles. I know he
would never do anything unless he believed it to be necessary.
When he believes that, he acts. I’ve never known him get it
wrong in all the time I’ve known him. If you want evidence of
his courage, the proof is there behind me…”
Eleanor
pointed over her shoulder to the portrait and Michelle looked
up. When she looked back down again, Eleanor continued…
“That
took far more courage than caning me. Not only that, he did not
cane me out of anger or for any reason other than that he loved
me and that he knew that he had to release me from the horrible
grip of the memory and guilt from the time when those boys drove
off with Sophie.”
Eleanor’s
voice cracked very slightly and she paused for a moment to take
a breath. Instinctively, Michelle moved forward and embraced her
again and kissed her cheek.
“That
was as much my fault as yours, Rosie. I still feel the pain of
that day every time Sophie comes to the boutique. I have
sometimes wanted so much to get rid of the guilt too, but it
just stays on and…”
Michelle
stopped in mid-sentence and looked at Eleanor. The gaze was
returned and Eleanor’s mind-reading skills were quick to
decipher what was happening. She hesitated before placing a
finger lightly across her friend’s lips… Slowly, she removed
her restraining finger and placed her hand on Michelle’s
shoulder and looked deep into her eyes. There was a subtle
change of atmosphere as feelings were aroused in Eleanor that
were similar to, but most certainly not the same as, those she
had experienced a few years earlier in that very room. She
became acutely aware of her love for Michelle and of her sense
of responsibility towards her, yet she was not entirely prepared
for words that escaped almost without her conscious knowledge
from her lips…
“Do
you want to do something about it, Michelle?”
The
expression on Eleanor’s face had lost its lightness, which had
given way to affectionate concern. She continued to hold
Michelle in her gaze. Her friend looked shyly down and remained
silent for quite some time before she looked up again.
“I
don’t know, Eleanor … I’m afraid and irresistibly drawn at
the same time. But I know I couldn’t take what you did.”
Eleanor
smiled softly and maintained her compassionate hold on
Michelle’s gaze.
“Nobody
but James will ever use that cane, Michelle.”
A
flicker of a smile crossed Michelle’s expression and she
relaxed visibly.
“Can
I think about it, Eleanor, please?”
“Of
course you can. There is no hurry. We’ll talk about it after
I’ve had my bath.”
Eleanor
brushed a light kiss across Michelle’s lips before picking up
her towel and heading off to the bathroom. Slowly, she reached
round and unclipped her bra, then she stepped silently out of
her briefs. She looked at herself for a moment in the mirror and
reflected on past events. Outside the bathroom, she heard
Michelle move to the bed and sit on the edge.
Several
minutes later, as Eleanor soaked up the relaxing warmth of the
bath, she heard Michelle start to move around again. Having been
brought back to an alert mental state, she finished bathing,
stepped out of the bath and dried herself very slowly and
deliberately. After she had powdered herself and creamed her
lovely long legs, she walked over to a cupboard by the door and
took out a pair of cream high-cut panties, which she slid up
over her shapely behind in an elegant manoeuvre. She then picked
a simple cotton night-dress out of the drawer, lowered it over
her body and adjusted it before putting her towel over the airer
and walking back out into the bedroom. Michelle was standing by
the chair she had moved into the wide space in front of the
window and was looking directly at Eleanor, who moved wordlessly
towards it. She held Michelle in that same warm and
compassionate gaze and took her place on the chair. She held out
a hand to Michelle, who accepted it readily as she watched her
friend. No word was exchanged between them and, a few moments
later, Michelle released Eleanor’s hand and slowly lifted the
night-dress before lowering herself across her lap. Once she was
in position, she rested her palms and toes on the floor and
closed her eyes. Eleanor looked down at the lovely, quite
rounded shape of Michelle and placed her left hand at her waist,
holding her securely in place. Her pulse was racing slightly
once again and the new species of butterfly was becoming very
active. She noticed how Michelle was trembling slightly and ran
a soothing hand down over her pale blue French knickers. She
continued to stroke the girl’s bottom for several minutes and
used her other hand to massage her waist lightly. Gradually, the
signs of nervousness began to fade, until Michelle was
motionless, apart from her breathing. Eleanor took a firm hold of Michelle’s waist again and
brought her other hand softly onto the centre of the
lace-trimmed silky blue fabric. She paused…
“Michelle,
are you ready?”
Michelle
uttered no sound, but nodded slightly and closed her eyes, her
mind no longer in turmoil, but preparing, with that familiar
mixture of apprehension and excitement, for what was to come
next….
Eleanor
transferred her gaze from the back of Michelle’s head to her
bottom and settled into the sensation of the warmth of her body
as it formed a continuous shape with hers. Very gently she
whispered to Michelle to lift her hips, which she did. Silently,
the beautiful undergarment slid down off the roundness of the
slightly plump bottom, exposing the pale skin with a very faint
bikini brief shape from the summer’s sun-bathing. Eleanor
re-established her grip and rested her hand in the centre of
Michelle’s right buttock….
Neither
woman noted how long the spanking actually lasted, but within
ten minutes, the smacks had built up from what were almost
brush-like strokes to firm, stinging swats, which spread right
across the two cheeks and out to the hips, also down to
Michelle’s thigh tops. The skin had turned quite vividly pink
and the wriggling movement of the spanked buttocks had left
Michelle feeling very exposed and vulnerable, yet without any
will to interfere with Eleanor’s loving attention. Gradually,
the intensity of the spanking reduced, to the point where, once
again, Eleanor’s hand was stroking the warm skin. Eleanor
paused and listened to the quiet sobs coming from Michelle,
whose body shook slightly as the tears flowed. Eleanor released
her grip on Michelle’s waist and whispered to her to stand up.
Slowly,
Michelle rose to her feet and stood in front of Eleanor. She
allowed her French knickers to slip to her ankles and kicked
them casually off and directed them onto a stool by the dressing
table. Eleanor rose and took Michelle by the hand before leading
her to the bathroom.
“Bend
over the edge of the bath, Maisie”, she whispered, evoking an
immediate response.
As
Michelle bent over the edge of the bath, Eleanor opened a drawer
in the vanity unit and took out a jar of cold cream. Carefully,
she removed the lid and placed it on the top of the unit, then
she walked the few steps to where Michelle was waiting and went
down on both knees.
Eleanor
lifted Michelle’s night-dress and then applied a large amount
of cream to the fingers on her right hand. Michelle winced
slightly as the cold met the warmth, but her posture became more
and more relaxed as the cream was worked delicately into the
full expanse of her bottom, covering every bit of warm skin. A
feeling of deep relaxation and comfort filled her as the sting
subsided and Eleanor’s kind and skilful hand went about its
task. Eleanor leaned back slightly and dabbed a small amount of
cream right at the base of Michelle’s left cheek. After a
further inspection and a slow brush of her hand across the
bottom and then from base to spine, Eleanor stood up and walked
back to the vanity unit. She placed the lid back on the jar and
returned it to its drawer. She then wiped her hands with
meticulous care on tissues. Having thrown the tissues away, she
rose and turned round to where Michelle was standing, with tears
streaming down her face. She walked across to her, took her by
the hand and led her out into the bedroom. She pulled back the
duvet and helped Michelle to climb in. As soon as she was happy
that Michelle was safely in bed, Eleanor walked round to the
other side and joined her friend. She turned to Michelle and
smiled at her. Michelle moved the upper part of her body towards
Eleanor and moved a pillow onto her shoulder, where she then
rested her head and closed her eyes, still streaming with tears.
Eleanor reached round carefully and took a handful of tissues,
which she used to soak up the freely-flowing tears. Every now
and again, she would run her hands through Michelle’s
luxuriant hair and kiss the crown of her head. Very slowly, the
tears began to subside and Michelle nestled into the pillow,
close to Eleanor’s neck. She reached her hand over towards
Eleanor’s arm and brushed lightly over her right breast.
Eleanor shivered slightly and smiled as Michelle’s hand folded
very lightly to the shape of the breast. The two women lay
silently in that position until nothing was to be heard but the
gentle sound of two contented women at total peace with
themselves.
So
deep was the sleep that neither of them awoke as the gravel
crunched under the tyres of James’ car. Downstairs, Samson and
Delilah recognised a familiar sound and roused themselves to go
to the annex door. They knew their Master would never retire
without greeting them and their confidence was not misplaced.
Very
quietly, James placed his bags in the hall, went to greet the
dogs and then ensured that the house was completely locked up
before making his way silently up the stairs. He smiled to
himself at how surprised Eleanor would be to see him home
earlier than expected.
The
door handle turned noiselessly and James crept into a room
bathed with the light of the half moon that was shining through
the translucent material of the fabric lining the windows. He
looked across to the bed and his eyes fell upon Michelle, asleep
in his wife’s arms. He stopped in his tracks and thought for a
moment. A brief frown gave way to the warm smile of a confident
husband as the beauty of the picture of the two women worked its
charm on his gentlemanly sensibilities. He turned, in complete
silence, and left the room, closing the door behind him, before
heading to the single guest room on the opposite side of the
landing.
Eleanor
stirred slightly and noticed, from her half sleep, how the thin
curtain at the slightly-open window was fluttering slightly in
the breeze. She smiled to herself and dropped easily back into a
deep and comforting sleep as the shape of a barn owl glided in
ghostly silence past the window and into the tranquil darkness.
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