The darn thing was made of real, honest to goodness rubber; a heady, pungent odor that took me back through the years. There I stood once again before...my mother's middle dresser drawer, happily extracting one of her bras to take away for my own use while the family was away for the day. It was a heavy duty, industrial strength garment, providing the kind of the support needed by Carrie Nation as she wielded her massive ax against a solid mahogany bar in a den of iniquity. Were it to be made of. "Stop this right now," Mrs. Tucker scolded her husband. "He's an employee for Christ's sake!"Tuck was relentless. "Do you know how I got Liz to marry me, Victor?"This was becoming embarrassing. Had he started drinking early this morning? "No, Sir," I felt obliged to answer.He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. "I'm hung like a horse," he said."TUCK! Shut the fuck up!" Mrs. Tucker shouted at her husband.Fortunately, we were arriving at the office. I followed them upstairs. They went into. More

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