Beachside Bookshop
Romantic Story #4
© Copyright Cupideros, April 27, 2014
5,217 words


Contemporary Erotica Romance
When Surf Summerman’s bookstore assistant graduates from college and heads off to Wall Street he needs to find a new one.  His prospects are narrow because he has a particular need for a sassy, bitch book assistant that is a hottie model type.  Not many of those around, so Surf Summerman goes looking at a strip club for a girl.  Will he find what he’s looking for or just be distracted by another beautiful babe in a skimpy bikini?  Read on. 



The Bitch I'm going to marry stands, or rather sits right across from my cash register at the Beachside Bookshop.  She is on this huge wall-size beach poster, covering the philosophy tomes.  She has straight shoulder-length black hair.  She wears a black bikini bottom and the bra top is laying beside her sexy hips as she reads a book.  She is sitting on the beach not giving a damn whether the surf will come up or her husband will walk by and she'll miss either.  Her back is to the photographer so I don't exactly see her face, but from the reaction of guys on the far left and right edges in the picture--she must be a looker.  Larry, the six foot, 200 lbs., brown haired retired cop, thinks I'm crazy.  I allow him his opinion and to read through my detective section books free long as he stands guard at the bookshop when it's open. 

I own Beachside Bookshop. I specialize in surfing books and classic literature.  Where I can find a book that blends my two interests, I'm hooked.  The Awakening was one such book, but that had a downer ending depending on how you view it.  I definitely want a girl friend or wife that can swim.  The woman across from me is not one of those wiry types of broads that eat toast.  No.  The woman I wants has big bones and can fill out a pair of low-rider pants, thong or no thong showing.  I love a beach woman with hips.  She'd be stripper-big if you know what I mean.  The kind of girl that can give you a nice warm lap dance and make you dream about waking up in bed cuddled in her loving arms.  She'd be about five feet, eight inches, without heels, and one hundred and twenty-two and half pounds.  Blue eyes and she have this naughty and nice style.  You have to know what you want in life to get it from the universe. 

I live near the beach so my prospects are rather good, except for one thing.  I want to date or marry a girl that reads books.  Yeah.  You heard right.  Date or marry a girl who read books.  It's not so easy to get that around here.  We have models, starlets, and incredibly smart girls like my former book assistant who just waved bye bye to me and drove off for the big apple to start her Wall Streeter job.  Alissa was five feet, four inches.  She had sunspot red, ear-length hair and a wiry thin build.  Her mind could calculate-estimate the number of pictures in a 1970 edition of Britannica after just viewing six pages of the "A" book.  Yeah Alissa was a bitch for leaving in the lurch this time of year.  She knows I need an assistant when the massive public library's used book store sale happened next week.  I can't exactly shut down my store.  I need a new assistant and I hate women who are shy and lack a backbone to stand up for what they want or believe.  I must be crazy to want the woman in front of my cash register.  She looks like she's turned down hundreds of men.  She looks like having a man for sex is no big deal.  She looks like well--she doesn't need a man at all.  She looks like a Bitch!

Don't feel sorry for me because I have long dirty-blond hair, a half inch beard to cover up my weak chin, and a rectangular face that belongs on Wall Street.  My name is Surf Summerman.  I used to be a famous surfer in my younger days.  I'm thirty-five now.  All I surf now is book after book; to see if it is valuable, readable, and collectable.  I highly prize wisdom and you find that in books a lot.  Bitchy women have a lot of wisdom, everyone knows that.  Sure they drive people away too.  But what most do not know is Bitchy girl’s capacity for spiritual awareness.  Bitches never let on about this.  Only when you cuddle with them at night, after a long session of sex, where you've licked and tossed her pussy salad all from top to bottom, inside and out, will a Bitchy woman tell you something that should have been obvious as the front cover on a book.

Alissa stands there shouting.  "I told you I was going to Wall Street when I started working here two years ago.   If you wanted time to find a wife or girl friend who reads books, I gave you two years to surf, Surf. You can't expect me to be selling old dusty books when I want to make a lot lot of money." 

The Bitch was right.  I don't know what I'm going to do.  I put in ad in the two nearby college phone directories:  "Bookstore assistant, part time, good hours, excellent pay, able to stay over the summer."

No takers.  Strange replies.  Too many shy book assistant applicants.

You can't go around putting an ad in the college directories: "Bitchy Bookstore assistant, part time, good hours, excellent pay, but you have to stay over the summer.  Must be willing to tell people where to get off at if necessary."  It's kinda of like a fairy tale announcing up front: "Prince wanted to rescue a very fair, pretty Princess locked in castle dungeon and he must risk his very life to fight terrible, grouchy fire-breathing, six-clawed dragon to acquire the key to the castle dungeon."  You can imagine how many Princes and Heroes show up then!

Romance.  Ah Romance.  Don't worry about me.  My eyes are quick, and I can see things others miss, like when the next wave is brewing in the sea.  That's how I got my nickname Surf, which I changed to my real name, Surf.  My skin is a leather tan; although, I could model surf boards, golf clubs, fashionable formal black suit, long as the collar is cropped off in the Chinese style.  I don't try to give a sexual look to the ladies, but I guess it's the way my closed-lip smile brings out the crow lines above my cheeks.  And I never show my perfectly white teeth until the perfect time to win her heart.  I am five feet ten inches; a good height is good for a book store owner. I have a deep faith if you know what you want, you'll find it anywhere. 



I've gone through looking for a bookstore assistant before and all it reminds me of is my former girlfriend.  I got a little depressed.  I don't want to go back to distracting myself with baseball season (starts tomorrow) and drinking beer at the games.  I lost fifteen pounds these last four months.  I just locked up the bookstore early for the day.  I am heading off to the local strip club tonight.  Pretty girls always distract me and they encourage me to watch my weight. 

I'm taking a book, too: The Scarlett Letter.  The first stripper babe that comes to my private table and offers me a lap dance, I'm going to marry her, black hair, brunette, ginger or blonde.  What are the odds of a stripper babe or Bitchy girl visiting the Beachside Bookshop?  I got to get out there and find that girl over the philosophy tomes.  I have got to make it happen.  Search for love.


I went home and changed to more formal clothes.  I like a nice pair of silver metal cufflinks on a white, almost see through shirt and a cummerbund around the waist to draw attention to my flat six pack abs.  I'm really into classic black and whites.  I like thin white stripes on a black polo /dress shirts undone to the first or second buttoned draws the women eyes my way.  I wear a Nautical H20 resistant watch that tells when the surfs up.  I love to see a pretty woman in a fuchsia and black top trim bikini swim set, but that hasn't happened yet.  I'm keeping my fingers cross with Ennie this regular girl at the strip club.  She got the body to show it off in style.  Though I don't know if she likes to read or not.  Damn shame a good-looking available man like myself can't assume a gorgeous-hottie broad like Ennie loves to read!


I arrived at the Glitzy Ladies Strip Bar.  The music throbbed and rocked the entire one level bar.  I don't know why they up the music so high.  The girls are hot enough to make a man blind.  He doesn't need to be deaf too. 

"Hey, Surf," said the doorman Steve.  "We hopped some big ones out on the beach early this morning.  You should come out of retirement.  Stop resting on all your BaJa World Championship savings."
I flashed my suntanned smile.  I gave him a surfer's handshake.  "I'm retired now," I pulled out my book.  All I do now is read books, collect books, sale books."
"The Awakening," Steve questioned.  "Sounds like a zombie novel."  He slapped my back as I went in.
"It is a zombie novel of sorts, but she comes out of it."  I tucked the book back inside my jacket.  I didn't want to offend the owner.  Several people waved to me.  It's kinda of hard to completely disappear after winning the Baja.  I watched a short hair blonde curl up and grasp the silver strip bar with her legs and hang hands free.  Only her upper thighs and pussylips seemed to be holding her several feet over the shiny black stage.  The Glitzy Strip Bar always allowed for lap dances.  I settled in and from the edge of my private seating, I got a good look at the stage.  Some raunchy rap song played while the short blonde shook her ass and spread her legs.  She ripped off her white bikini bottom and had an even skimpier white thong underneath.  Her meaty lovelips bulged out and the camel toe was visible a mile away.  My eyes fell right into her sex.  But she wasn't my type.

I slid back a little away from the crowd and opened up my book.  I started reading.  I loved how the novel just increases in intensity.  A woman showed up and asked if I wanted a lap dance.  I stared her up and down.  "You're Ennie right?"
"Yes."
Ennie leaned her five feet, six inch frame closer over the table.  Ennie gave me a better look at her hot bod.  She had straight shoulder-length black hair, parted slightly off center, curious black eyes and an oval face with high cheek bones.  She was a nice thick-boned girl.  She put both elbows on the table finally and reached over and grabbed my book.  "The Awakening, Kate Chopin.  Why would a surfer be interested in a girl who can't swim?"
"Because he wants to give her some swim lessons," I said, snatching my book back from her.  "You're a stripper.  Strippers don't read."
Ennie climbed onto the table.  She knew how to fill out a pair of pants.  She wore red and pink panty, red across the band at the top, and the rest a light rosy pink hue.  A pink so light I thought I saw her thick clitoris pulsating in tiny flutters as she crouched down, her wide long legs on either side of my suntanned cheeks.  I knew a female come-on when I encountered one.  This Ennie didn't just want to make money; she wanted a man too.  She wanted a particular part of a man, tonight.
"You let me give you a table dance, and I'll read more than that book with you."  She closed her legs and rolled her back, standing. She towered down to me like a confident Bitch. I stared up at the bottom of her pussycrease, the bottom of her small breasts.  Her curious blue eyes said come closer so I can Bitch slap you back into your place.
"All right.  Surf's up.  Do your thing, Ennie."
 


Ennie wore a matching red bikini top.  The rosy pink hue of her bra failed to hide her protruding nipples.  In fact, I saw the goosebumps on her breasts the bra material was that thin.  She fit herself to the music playing for the stripper on stage.  She sashayed her hips and turned away from me and walked to the edge of the private booth and put both her hands on the wall.  She pumped her ass up and back and looked over her shoulders.  Her straight shoulder-length black hair danced on her white shoulders.  She bent low and stuck her bubble ass out and raised her hips slowly.  The rise in my pants reached maximum wave high.  The blood cruising inside my aroused penis wanted to help Ennie's hips swing from the inside out!  She turned around and bit her lip.  She pulled her black hair behind one ear.  She model walked back to me and tucked her thumbs inside her panties.  Then she pulled downward.  I expected her unconcealed ya-ya to come into view.  Another thong, all white was underneath.  My eyes shot wide open.  My balls tightened.  I squirmed around in my nice slacks, thankful they were black.  Black always hides spills. 

The tiny cloth caught under the sexy hills of her vagina.  She bent low and kicked off her red rim and pink panty bottom.  Ennie placed them right over my forehead and nose.  I inhaled by instinct.  She turned on her bubble asscheeks, lying across from me on the table.  She was like my meal.  Her long thick boned beautiful white body at perfect eye candy level view.  Ennie arched her back to the upbeat in the music.  Her dark locks of straight hair pooled on the table before me.  Her small breasts seemed to grow a cup larger.  My eyes slid from her head, up her feminine neck, up the mounts of breasts and curved downward where her silver belly jewelry dangled.  She had there three pearl drops linked to her belly somehow.  From there it was all down hill to the tiny thong clinging to her wide hips.

She swung again like the surfer spinning on a wave.  Now her face leaned downward directly in front of my face.  She parted her coral lips.  Her bright white teeth disappeared, and for a moment I imagined standing putting my hardcock deep into her mouth.  Ennie was pulling out all the stops.  "I want you Ennie.  We can leave right now."
She spun around again laying back prone in front of me.  She lay on her belly.  Her thin waist rested right in front of my chest.  She reached down discreetly.  She felt my strong need dancing in my pants.  "You're almost ready for me," Ennie cooed.
"Almost," I combed my dirty-blonde hair back.  I'm more ready for you Ennie than I was for the Baja Championship."
Ennie laughed.  She spun around and was off the table and sat on my lap. 
I nuzzled my nose in the back of her neck.  She smelled like a bowl of flowers.  Underneath her white thong, she steamed and pressed my pants with her cuntheat.  She wiggled her ass and I found myself reaching for a handkerchief.  She quickly hopped up.
"This has never happened before," I stammered.
Ennie laughed.  "It happens every time I give a lap dance.  I guess they keep the heat turned up at these private dance booths." 

Ennie hopped back up on the table and squatted down in front of my face.  I kept mopping up the copious amount of mangoo off my thighs, slacks, and now empty balls.  Ennie pulled her skimpy white thong aside and flashed her slippery looking-gooey gash.  "Seems like we both got off.  Look what you did. I don't normally get this wet giving a table dance.  She rubbed her fingers down the river of her cunt lips.  She said, "Say Ahhhh."
I said, "Ahhhh," as I stuffed my white handkerchief in my jacket pocket.

Ennie dragged her forefinger seductively down the length of my tongue.  "That's a taste of what's waiting for you when you come back.  I have to go for now.  My shift's up.  Come visit me next week sometime."
She pushed my book aside and sat down fully on the table booth.  Her crotch lined up with my face like a coming wave to surf.  She draped her arms around my neck and entangled her fingers in my long dirty-blond hair.  "I can't wait for you to return."  Her sweet breath so hot and tingly on my lips drove me wild.  I wanted to fuck her right then and there on the bar table. 
"You're such a Bitch.  But I want to hire you, anyway, naughty Ennie."
"I love what I'm doing too much.  But if you don't have time to see me, next week-- We'll hook up again, if it's meant to be."
I said hoarsely, "I believe in making my own fate, destiny." 
She grabbed my book, The Awakening.  "I never finished this when during my literature degree.  I just used my notes from the class."
I laughed. 
We both said simultaneously, "Just repeat back what the professor said and get your A."
She flipped her shoulder-length black hair.  Her hair smelled real good.  Even after eight hours working.  I imagined her in my bed after eight hours of lovemaking.  If she smelled this good, it's going to be fantastic.  Ennie was a nice Bitch.  Able to turn it on or off at will.  Can't go wrong with that kind of Bitch Girl.
"Hey, I want that book back," I yelled after Ennie scooped up the money I put on the table for her lap dance and strutted off.   I downed the last of my Pierre.  Now I'm going to have to close Beachside Bookshop's doors next week for the book sale.  Surf Summerman, you're losing your touch with women, running your business; let's hope you can still spot good books to collect.

I left the Glitzy Strip Bar, my wallet lighter, my heart heavier, my favorite book gone and no assistant.  What a night.  But Ennie...that nice slutty Ennie chick already won my heart.


***

The square where they hold our book sale is around a small concrete concert stage in the center of town.  Our city loves books and in every park there is a man or woman who contributed to the book or library business.  In the center of our concert stage center, was William Webster.  No one writes or reads without consulting the man.  He left a legacy for all of humanity to love through the brightest and murkiest times of our lives. 

The lady who runs the massive public library book sale, Mrs. Phillips, doesn't look half bad for a thirty-eight year old matron.  She's never married, loving books too much.  This doesn’t stop her from obsessing over me.  Seems in my younger days she had a crush on me, but I never noticed her.  That is how it is for the famous, they're too busy with life to live.  "Hi, Mrs. Phillips.  I see you expanded the tents over the books.  That's a great thing.  I lost ten pounds last spring searching for books."
"Surf Summerman.  I don't know what I see in you, still." Mrs. Phillips stood up an economics table card that got knocked down accidentally.
"Maybe it's my old childhood charm. I never did grow up, Mrs. Phillip.  I'm still looking for the Bitch of my life."  Saying that, I knew I opened up a potential for her hopes, but I quickly shut it down too.  "And Mrs. Philips you're so nice, I love that about a librarian.  Bitchy Librarians are no good for society.  You make our fair city, worthy of a revisit."
Mrs. Phillips quickly turned her dowdy frown into a smile.
I watched as her eyes turned inward trying to puzzle out what just happened.  I smiled and walked over to the feminist section.  No better place to find a bitch than the feminist or women's studies section.   Right away a woman caught my eyes.  She slipped into a floral blue and white sundress before attending the library sale; she wore big bumble bee sunglasses and straw summery hat.  She was reading a book by Susan Brownmiller.
"That book will make you hate all men," I casually said.
From behind her large bumble sunglasses she said, "Have you heard the Never Ending Cycle Joke: There is an Asshole who fucks over a nice girl; the nice girl turns into a Bitch who then fucks over a nice guy who turns into Asshole?"
"That is a never ending cycle.  Doesn't really bother me though," I chuckled loudly, as I picked up a book, The Women's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets."
"Why not?" she asked.
"Why not?  Because I love Bitch Girls!  I got my mind on one right now.  But she's gone this week."
The woman in the blue and white floral dress lowered her glasses. 
Ennie stared at me. Her curious eyes said come closer so I can bitch-slap you back in your place.  She smiled more from the lower lip downward, her coral lips parting just enough to show even upper and lower teeth.  Somehow I imagined her giving me a good blow job again.  Her straight short black straight hair swinging back and forth covering her tempting face; she made me want her all the more.  Even in her floral blue and white dress, Ennie looked like innocence won the battle from her belly button up, but from her belly button downward naughtiness took all the spoils.  "No way in Baja.  You actually read, a stripper?"
"Don't be an asshole, Surf.  This is why I took a week off.  I always do every year."
"Strange we never met here before."
"I wear these large sunglasses so some of the men won't see me," Ennie smiled.  "I don't like explaining to their wives where I met their husbands before," Ennie explained.  She gave a smile that broke off into a giggle.
"That'll take some explaining, I bet," I said.  "That's exactly what I'm looking for in a book store assistant.  An enlightened Bitch who knows how to handle people.  I'll pay you more than what you earn at the Glitzy Strip Bar."
"You can't afford that running a book store, Surf,"  Ennie said and slowly put back on her sunglasses.
"No wait, Ennie.  I'm serious.  You're perfect for the job."  Her ass wiggled seductively as she gently glided into the romance section. 


Ennie bit her lip.  She took off her big round dark sunglasses.  "Do I look like I belong in the Beachside Bookshop, Surf?  She inserted the left handle of her sunglasses inside her mouth and pouted.  "Come on.  You want to screw me.  Just admit it.  There's no need to hide that fact, by hiring me."
"I'm confused," I said.  Although I think she accused me of hiring girls to sleep with them.
"I heard your first wife of two years left you.  You hired her.  I'm not going to be your hired help-girlfriend on the side."
"Alissa wasn't fucking me!"
"Happened too many times, Surf.  Older man and younger woman."  She slowly took her sunglass handle out of her mouth and it looked to me like she withdrew a man's dick.  She placed the large saucer sunglasses on her face again.  Those sunglasses covered her entire face, except for her thin nose and wide lower coral lip smile. 
I walked around to her side of the book sale table.  Before we had four neat rows of books separating us.  "Ennie I love you.  I just want to be with you, even if you don't want to be my book assistant."
Ennie kept casually looking at romance books.  She picked up a romance cover where a woman seemed to be scolding a handsome man on horseback.  "That's me.  That's you if you marry me," she pointed to the risqué book cover.
"I like not having to take care of a woman.  I want a woman who can handle herself.  Your independence spirit doesn't scare me, Ennie.  It's excites me."
Ennie stopped moseying forward.  "You really like Bitches."
"I do," I responded.
"Good because I donated your book 'The Awakening' to the public library book sale.  I saw a girl of fifteen buy it and leave about an hour ago."
I stood shocked.  "That was my favorite book! You--"
"You Bitch?" Ennie responded, and adjusted the big straw hat on her head.  "I can't have some other women competing for your love and attention, Surf."
"That's--That's the strangest, most beautiful, gutsy thing I've heard in ten years."
"Well, get use to it, Surf."  She hooked her arm under mine.  Now let's go back to my place and see if you're as handsome in bed as out."

I really didn't want to go; I wasn't in the mood.  Now I had to perform.  Gosh I thought What a Bitch.  But then I smiled.  "Lead the way, Ennie.  Lead the way."

At her place, I lowered her hipster panties first.  I then reached up from my kneeling position and lowered her black bandeau bra over her waist and hips.  I made her lift first one leg and then the other.  As each leg lifted, her sex parted, and I licked quickly between her thick cuntflaps.  Her juicy cunt flaps.  She was as good taste wise as she was last week. 

Ennie put her hands on her hips and said, "Treat me right, eat me right!"  
Her tone had an authoritative arrogance, command to it.  I don't think of myself.  I let my hands roam over her upper midriff and over her small breasts.  Her curious eyes bitch-slap you back in place.  "Maybe I can be submissive some times, if you want."
Ennie grabbed two handfuls of my dirty-blond hair.  She growled more than cooed and mashed my lips into the soft pink folds of her cunt.  She smiled more from the lower lip downward, her coral lips parting just enough to show even upper and lower teeth. I slurped at her sexsandwich.  Already I was slurping cuntcream from her hot overheating twat.  My tongue thrashed around in her perfume garden.  I overturned pussyleaf after pussyleaf.  I showed Ennie that a real man knew how to eat a girl’s pussy.

Ennie embraced the back of my head, and screamed out her passions.  Her cunt trickled girlyoils onto my tongue, and lips.  Her hips became more frisky and decadent, heaving forward her clitbutton onto my wet, tongue. 
"This is much much better than buying books," Ennie cooed.
She was like I envisioned, all innocence up above her belly button, but wanton learned sexual woman from her belly button on down.

I gave her my best I-love-pussy-eating kiss, but it didn't matter.  Ennie's head was thrown back.  Her back arched.  Her weight held only by my strong hands on her bubble asscheeks.  Her legs quivered and quaked.  Her clit peaked out and rubbed herself on my tongue before Ennie exploded in a long sigh of her sexual release.

Her pussy juices flooded my chin.  Then and there I knew I'd won the battle of getting not only a wife but a new bookstore assistant as well.  I lowered my face and gently teased and licked the inside of her wet thighs.  I watched her grasping pussy clutching for something hard to hold, something to suck.  I rose back up and Ennie smiled at me. 
"You eat pussy like a woman, not like a man who learned it from books."  Ennie rubbed her hands on my shoulders.  She hugged me.  She kissed me passionately and hopped up and threw her slim legs around my waist, like I was a stripper pole.  I walked her gently over to her bed.  I laid her down.

"Now I'll show you how I learned to fuck without books as well."  I lowered my pants.  My tummy tickler came into view."
"What a cock!" Ennie said.
Her expression gave me more confidence than my seven inch cock every enjoyed. "I love you, Ennie.  Don't you forget that, no matter how good the sex gets," I warned.
Ennie's joy bubbled up in her lower-lip-open laugh.  Her blue eyes smiled and I rose on top of her.  Gently I placed my arms around her and she grabbed my sex. 
"This Bitch loves to put her man's cock into home base," using the old symbolism from childhood.   She embraced me as she made an open mouth 'O' expression of delight and pleasure. 
We sank into one another and let our juices mingle before moving.  Then after a minute of just sensing our inner sexual beauty.  We began fucking in earnest.  I pushed against her and grinded into her hips, making sure her clit got some attention.  
Ennie focused her hip movement on tight circles.  She sucked me into her body and fucked me hard.  We basked in the warmth and passion of the other.  Our speed of fucking increased with each thrust and hump, until finally we banged against one another.  Her headboard creaked and banged against her wall as we turned her regular bed into a waterbed of back and forth and up and down movements.  Inside her she melted around me, as my heart melted for her.

All I finally could think was to feel her heat boiling my hardsex.  Her body was strong.  Her legs and thighs wrapped like a vise around my hips.  I wasn't going anywhere until she came and came hard.
Finally that is exactly what we both did. 

Ennie squirted. 
I gushed out gallons of manseed.  This time we both forgot all about the cleanup as we milked the passion out of the other and finally collapsed on the bed. 
I panted, "I guess that means you're hired, Ennie."
"Long as I can keep working the strip bar," she replied.
"No way," I explained.
"Then you'll need to seal the deal with a ring," Ennie crowed.
I reached into my pants pocket and brought out the ring, I bought earlier that day.  "I fantasized about going down on one knee and giving you this, but I'm guessing lying next to you is even better than one knee.  Will you marry me, Ennie?"
"A bitch never makes a snap romantic decision," she replied.  She waited a second glancing at the huge ice rock.  "Yes, Surf.  I'll marry you, and become your book assistant."
I hugged Ennie and kissed her.  She rolled over on top of me and kissed me a long hard time.  "Its fate we were meant for one another!"
I didn't want to spoil her philosophy.  "All I can't let you escape for another week, Ennie."

Ennie and I got married.  Ennie worked as my assistant and equal owner in the Beachside Bookshop.  She's got a good head on her shoulders and a volcano between her legs.  She still strips at least once a week, but only for me in the bedroom of our new house.  Now I guess my surfing days are really over.  I look forward to settling down and telling my children, the stories of the great Surf Summerman winning the Baja World Championship.

--THE END--


 



 












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