He wrote a pamphlet espousing the exact diet you’re on. He wasn’t a doctor, but a doctor friend of his talked to him about this diet in terms of w...ight loss and diabetes. He was basically the father of the modern diet.”“Hang on! Did you say his name was Banting?” I asked, incredulous.“Yes. Why?”I laughed, “The Swedish word for diet is banta. That HAS to be related!”“Supposedly, people asked each other in the late 19th century, ‘Do you bant?’ to ask if they followed his diet.”“Holy shit!” I. I know absolutely nothing about housekeeping. I can't cook, and can't even mix a drink."Cradling her breasts she said, "These are my breasts. They are soft and flabby. Although I have only been naked for a few hours, lacking their usual support, they hurt already." Slaves don't have breasts," Cathy said harshly. "They have tits or boobs. Which do you have, Slave Vangie?" I have bags," she replied sadly. "I'm afraid they're gone for good. They would have to be twice as good as they are for them. John nodded weakly and followed Candy’s lead as she led him towards the bank of elevators in the other wing of the huge hotel. Where previously John had thought, or perhaps expected, that as the older male he would take the lead, now he could feel a subtle change in the relationship as young sexy Candy, dressed to the nines and swinging her Celine bag, led the way. During the whole evening Candy had been flirtatious, teasing, and playful, but at the same time somewhat reserved and demure, a. ‘Deke, I wasn’t complaining. It was more like… bragging. Showing off a trophy. I’m gonna feel that all day and think about last night.’ ‘Oh,’ I said, trying to understand. ‘You did good, Baby,’ she assured me. ‘In fact, I kinda just want to stay in bed all morning.’ ‘We should move it back to your room, first,’ I suggested. Miranda rolled onto her back and folded her hands across her abdomen. ‘Yeah, about that. Are you sure? I mean, what if someone comes by for a surprise visit?’ ‘Would we be.