Blog : Risky Business #2

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TheScribe1 63M

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5/4/2022 11:45 am

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5/5/2022 3:10 am

Risky Business #2

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My Words Are A way Into Your Mind...Be brave And let Me In.

TheScribe1 63M

5/4/2022 11:46 am

The Janitor

With the sounds of the congratulations still ringing in her ears, Pamela Thompson strutted down the corridor towards her office. She had just closed THE deal of the century, and the promised bonus would more than double her salary this year! At 28, she was on the fast track to making full Partner in less than five years; and NOTHING was going to stop her! Accepting the, “Well done!” and a fresh coffee from her Secretary, Pamela sat in her chair and swivelled to look out of the panoramic windows of her corner office. She had made Senior Executive in less than two years, and, despite what some of the bitches down in Admin said, it was NOT through sleeping with the Senior Partners! She was sharp, smart, sassy and damn good at her job; and not afraid to let everyone know it! She drained her coffee cup and rose to head to the bathroom; she had a meeting in fifteen minutes and wanted to freshen up and check her makeup. As she pushed through the heavy door to the Executive Ladies Bathroom she was, as always, impressed by its grandeur. The marble fixtures and fittings gleamed white against the black onyx tile work, while the gold taps added their own sense of decadent luxury. Beautiful as all these things were, they were not the thing that had impressed her most on her first visit; that was the array of perfumes, hand creams, and beauty products that were left for use on shelves set into the far wall. Each one had been selected by someone with taste AND a total disregard for their costs; some of the bottles of Dior and Givenchy cost well over $200 each! She hummed happily to herself as she stroked on a little more mascara; today felt like a Dior day so she would slip one of the bottles into her suit pocket to use before her meeting. Satisfied she looked good, and smelled divine, she walked back to her office to prepare.

By the time her clock showed six pm, Pamela was starting to feel the effects of her day. The buzz of her big deal, plus the successful meeting afterwards, had worn off slightly and tiredness had crept in. She sighed after checking in her diary; tonight she had arranged to go to dinner with Anthony, and she really wasn’t in the mood now. Pamela knew he was a potential big client, so with a huff she headed back towards the bathroom to give herself a quick once-over before heading for her car.
As she came out of the bathroom and walked towards the elevator, she passed a stooped old guy pushing a service trolley filled with cleaning materials. She grumbled, as she had to step closer to the wall to avoid him hitting her with the cart, and mumbled under her breath, “Can’t get decent staff,” as she pressed the button to call for the elevator. She was still muttering as she stepped into the car, not noticing the dark and calculating look she received in return from the man.

The rest of her week passed exactly as she would have wished. She was on a roll, nothing seemed able to stop her from closing deal after deal! Twice she had received congratulatory calls from the Senior Partners; they had their eyes on their new brightest star! Pamela was contemplating finishing a little early on Friday so she could escape to her parents. Their house on Cape Cod was perfect for winding down and it had been a while since she had seen them. The plan set in her mind; she was more than a little annoyed when her phone rang while she was collecting her belongings to leave. She answered with a curt, “Yes?”, the rasping voice in her ear adding to her annoyance.

“Is that Ms. Thompson? Good evening, Ms. Thompson, this is Janitorial Services here and we have a small problem that requires your assistance. Might I suggest you come and see me prior to leaving today, as this can be quickly dealt with I’m sure.”

Pamela looked at the phone in her hand in disbelief. Janitorial Services? What the hell could SHE help them with? She glanced at her watch and growled back at the caller.

“I can’t possibly think of anything that I could help you with, so take it to the appropriate department. Please don’t call me again with such matters; I have better things to do!”

She slammed the phone down and strode from her office. Who WERE these people, and didn’t they know who she was? The drive to the airport did nothing to cheer her up but, once on the plane, two very large martini’s put her into a better frame of mind, and she looked forward to putting her feet up for the next forty-eight hours.

The man who had called her replaced his receiver with a small shrug; he would have to take this to the next step.

Feeling full of energy after her weekend, Pamela touched up her lipstick in the Executive Ladies Bathroom and decided today was a Givenchy day. She collected a large perfume bottle from the shelf and dabbed a little on both sides of her throat before pocketing the bottle and heading for her office. Her diary was fairly quiet today, so she looked forward to writing up the figures for last week; seeing her ability defined in dollars always put a smile on her face!

She was totting up the final balance when her Secretary popped into her office carrying a small envelope. She saw straight away it was Internal Mail and slipped her slim letter-opener under its flap to see who it was from. There was the usual Company crest, and then a scrawled, hand-written note from someone called Albert Warstock.

“Dear Ms. Thompson,

Despite my recent efforts to deal with a rather sensitive matter, you have so far ignored my requests to rectify the situation. I strongly suggest you come to my office at business end today to prevent it escalating.”

The end of the letter proclaimed that Albert Warstock was “Janitorial Services Manager”, and was situated in Basement Three. Pamela rolled her eyes, waving the letter at her Secretary in anger.

“Judith, do you have any idea what this is about? Why in Gods name would Janitorial Services be contacting ME about some problem? And who the FUCK is Albert Warstock? If this turns out to be some kind of joke, then heads will roll!”

Her Secretary pleaded ignorance before escaping back to her own desk. Pamela threw the letter into her in-tray, and got back to the important task of seeing just how much money she had made in the last week!

She had almost forgotten about the envelope as she prepared to leave for the night but, once it caught her eye, she decided she would go and see what this Albert Warstock had gotten so worked up about! Basement Three was unknown territory for her, a place she imagined all the lower paid staff hung out, so she left her coat hanging in her office in case the place was filthy; it had cost her a fucking fortune! Her ride in the elevator took a lot longer than she expected; it must be several storey's underground!

She exited the elevator into a dingy corridor, its only saving grace was the sign that had an arrow pointing towards Janitorial Services. Pamela was pleased that she wouldn’t have to wander around down here searching for the stupid place!

She followed several signs that led her deeper into this strange underground world, and by the time she came to a door marked “Albert Warstock, Manager,” she was more than a little peeved.

Without knocking, she pushed open the door and stepped into the small room. She recognised the old, stooped man from her encounter the previous week and was surprised to see him sitting behind the desk. He looked up at her with disapproving eyes at her abrupt entrance.

“I see manners don’t extend up to the Executive levels in this company any longer.”

His voice was quiet and rasping, one that Pamela associated with a lifelong heavy smoker. She raised an eyebrow at his admonishment before setting her face in its “All Business” mode.

“I want to know what this is all about Mr. Warstock; what is it you think I can help Janitorial Services with?”

She saw his eyes flicker slightly at the way she had sneered his department’s name, but he composed himself quickly and nodded at an old wooden chair.

“Take a seat, Ms. Thompson, and I shall explain everything.”

Pamela dragged the chair closer unceremoniously, making a show of wiping it with her hand before sitting. She didn’t like the way this man was looking at her; there was an almost satisfied glint in his eyes. She jutted out her chin and nodded sharply.

“Please explain, Mr. Warstock, and then I can get out of this God-forsaken place!”

Pamela knew she was trying to bait him, get a response, but he smiled enigmatically and shrugged under his too-large set of coveralls.

“You have been stealing from the company Ms. Thompson.”

The statement came out in such a measured tone, albeit with his broken, raspy voice, that Pamela took several seconds to grasp what he said. She felt the colour come to her cheeks; how DARE he accuse her of that! She almost spluttered in her angry denial.

“That is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard!” She stood and leaned on the desk to glare at him. “You should be VERY careful before you throw accusations of THAT nature at someone like me!”

Warstock leaned back in his chair, his eyes taking on a stony look that made her falter at the start of an intended rant. His voice maintained its even composure.

“Sit down, Ms. Thompson. I am not stupid; I have prepared a little something for you to see.”

Pamela dropped back onto the chair with a huff and a look of disdain. She folded her arms and tilted her head in a, “Well show me?” gesture of defiance. Warstock reached forward and turned his dusty computer monitor so that she could view the screen, his fingers moving over the keyboard in a surprising burst of speed. There was a flicker on the screen and then the unmistakeable image of the Executive Ladies Bathroom appeared before Pamela’s shocked eyes. She glared at the old man in fury.

“You have put cameras in the women’s bathroom? That is SO fucking illegal you will be lucky not to spend the rest of your life in prison, you fucking pervert!”

The old man opposite her smiled in the manner of someone without a care in the world, not what Pamela expected, before reaching into a file on his desk and withdrawing a sheaf of papers. He turned it so she could look down at its heading.

“That is a copy of your contract of employment Ms. Thompson. If you would care to turn to page fifteen, you will see in the third paragraph a statement that you accept the company may carry out CCTV surveillance of its employees from time to time. On page seventeen, there is also a statement stating you understand that theft of company property will lead to INSTANT dismissal upon evidence of said theft being available. I take it that is your signature on the very back page?”

Pamela blinked and looked from the papers to him several times before she found her voice.

“Yes it is, and how in hell did YOU get a copy of that?”

Warstock steepled his fingers and smiled at her again, only this time with a more smug edge to it.

“I have been charged with maintaining watch over employees since the policy was initiated ten years ago. My authorization comes directly from Mr. Grieg,” Pamela blanched at the mention of the most senior Partner and Chairman of the Board “and, through that, I have access to anything I need to carry out my duties. If you would kindly sit again, I still have things to show you.”

His spindly fingers danced again over his keyboard. The image on the screen changed to a view from the other end of the room, and Pamela felt slightly sick when she saw herself fixing her hair in the mirror. She watched as she walked over to the shelf of toiletries and puffed a burst of one of the perfumes at her throat before pocketing the bottle and leaving the room. She could feel the old man’s eyes burning into her face before she dragged her own away from the monitor. Warstock’s face had set into a grim look of condemnation.

“That footage, and others I have collected over the last three months, clearly shows you systematically carrying out a series of blatant theft of items that belong to the company. Do you have anything to say?”

Pamela could feel her face drain of blood, and she dropped her eyes from his to avoid his look of contempt. She mumbled quietly, the impact of what he had shown her starting to sink in.

“I thought it wouldn’t matter. I can pay for everything if that will help?”

There was a snort of derision from across the desk, and Warstock leaned forward onto his elbows, his eyes glittering under shaggy grey brows.

“You think you can buy yourself out of THIS, girl?”

Pamela could sense the change in him, the aura of being in charge flowing across the desk, and she knew she was in big trouble. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him, trying to keep her face neutral.

“So what is it you wanted to talk to me about? If you wanted me sacked you could do it, so I guess you think I can help you in some way?”

Warstock heaved his hunched frame out of his chair and walked around to her side of the desk. He stood directly in front of her, his eyes taking on the darkness of someone enjoying inflicting misery. Pamela swallowed heavily and waited for him to speak.

“According to your contract you have a tidy salary, Ms. Thompson. Six figures is not to be sniffed at! The talk in the company is that you are a high flyer, and have the interest of the Board as a potential Partner. How badly do you want to keep all that?”

Pamela watched him lean back against the desk. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, and he was almost invading her personal space. She was desperately thinking of something, anything, which she could use as a bargaining chip; and coming up empty. She sighed quietly and tried to keep her voice calm.

“My career is everything to me, Mr. Warstock, so what is it I can help you with?”

Albert’s eyes roamed over her for a few seconds making her skin crawl, before, to her horror, he lifted a scuffed boot and tapped it against her knee.

“You can start with raising that expensive skirt and showing me those well-toned thighs.”

Pamela’s mouth dropped open in shock and dismay. She could see in his eyes he was DEADLY serious, and the way he was shifting against the desk told her he was enjoying every second of this. Trying to control the shaking in her hands, she reached down and gathered the hem of her skirt. Her stomach felt full of lead as she drew it slowly up her thighs, cursing that she had chosen to wear stockings that day.
Warstock gave a raspy growl in his throat at the sight of the pale skin above the stocking tops. This was going to be better than he had hoped! He raised his boot again and tapped it against the inside of her right knee.

“Now spread them apart, I want to see what pretty panties you are wearing!”

Pamela thought she was going to throw up. She glanced up at him and he licked his lips when her eyes met his. Trying to show a little defiance, she parted her legs wide, raising the skirt higher to reveal the small, black lace pair she had chosen that day. She sneered at him with disgust.

“Happy now, you sick fuck? Is this what turns you on?”

Warstock laughed and shook his head slowly. He reached down and unbuttoned his cover-all, aware she was watching him, and reached inside his pants. He gave a small sigh when he eased his engorged cock from the confines of his clothing, chuckling quietly when he heard a gasp from the seated girl.

Pamela could not take her eyes off the huge, throbbing cock twitching in his hand. It was the biggest thing she had ever seen in her life and it pulsed like some kind of abhorrent snake. She could see dark veins running across its girth, and, when he stroked it lazily, it lifted its swollen head as though seeking prey.

Warstock coughed to get her attention, extremely pleased at the reaction his cock was causing.

“Now, pretty girl, you will masturbate for me. I want to watch those manicured fingers push into that over-pampered pussy of yours until it drips. Do it right, and please me, and you get to walk out of here tonight.”

Pamela was still partially mesmerized by the enormous throbbing cock in his hand, and it took a second for his words to filter through to her consciousness. Their impact made her shudder, and she looked up at him with tears already forming in her eyes.

“Please don’t make me do that. I have money saved, lots of money, I can pay for your silence.”

Warstock grinned and shook his head slowly.

“I don’t need your money. Right now you need to worry about what I am going to do with THIS,” He stroked his cock firmly, to cause a small dribble of pre-cum to glisten under the fluorescent light. ”So get those fingers inside those panties and show me!”

Pamela whimpered quietly and slid her hand down inside her underwear. She started to rub her clit slowly, without a great deal of enthusiasm, and yelped when Warstock whipped out a hand to slap her across the cheek.

“Don’t play at it, girl. I want to see you get nice and wet for me, put some feeling into it!”

She rubbed faster, the sight of that big, gnarled old cock hovering menacingly only two feet away scaring her into at least LOOKING as though she was enjoying it.

To her amazement she found there was a little moisture building between her pussy lips, so she used this to spread over her clit to make it easier. Pamela was trying to hold back; it didn’t feel right that she was becoming turned on by this ugly sick fuck, but her pussy was betraying her! Her fingers pressed harder over her clit, rolling it under her fingertips before dipping into her now VERY wet pussy. She hated him, hated what he was making her do, but the telltale tingles were building up too fast. Warstock was breathing heavily as he pumped his cock in his hand, the ache this stuck-up little bitch was causing in his balls told him it wouldn’t take long. He could see her hips were starting to shake a little; perhaps she wasn’t such a fucking innocent after all?
He stepped forward so that the tip of his cock was inches from Pamela’s nose, the speed and grip of his hand as he pumped making him grunt, and he knew he was going to shoot a fucking huge load over this girl. When his balls contracted and he started to cum, Warstock growled and aimed the thick globs directly at her face. He knew there would be a lot, but even he was pleased by the amount that hit her cheeks.

Pamela felt the first splash of his cum on her chin and her pussy went into spasm. As more landed, coating her in his reeking seed, she moaned and felt her own orgasm start. She sobbed and wriggled at the same time, disgusted at herself for cumming, and hating the man who was covering her face in his filthy issue.

Finally empty, Warstock chuckled and used her hair to wipe the sticky remnants of cum from the end of his cock. He leaned back against the desk with a satisfied smirk.

“There, that wasn’t so bad was it?”

His laugh was a raspy burble in his chest as Pamela looked up at him with a tear and cum-streaked expression of misery. She sat there trembling, the urge to scream at him curtailed by the thought that, if she opened her mouth, some of his cum would run inside. Pamela listened with a sinking heart as he outlined what he had planned for her.

“I have fifteen recordings of you helping yourself to items from the bathroom. That means that you will come here fifteen times and I will decide what I want to do with you. When I send you an internal memo saying you are required, you will dress in something pretty for me, to keep me interested. If you fail to turn up, the recordings and ALL my files on your misdemeanours will be on Mr. Greig’s desk before you can blink. Do you understand?”

While Pamela absorbed the information, Warstock returned to his side of the desk. He could see her mind was whirling, and waited patiently for her to confirm she knew her position. The receipt of a small nod made him smile expansively, revealing his stubby, stained teeth.

“Good girl. You can go now, and wait until I call for you again.”

Pamela rose slowly and walked from the room, her whole focus on getting to a bathroom and scrubbing his foul semen from her face.

Over the next week he called for her three times. That scary cock of his spewed cum over her face each visit, and, despite herself, Pamela always fingered herself to orgasm. The following week he had her expose her breasts, and, to her horror, he covered her chest with what seemed like even more stinking semen. Within a month, she had visited him nine times, and each time resulted in her leaving dripping with semen, with a pussy that dribbled all on its own. She started to despise her own weakness, and, when she started to dream about his cock, she thought she would lose her mind!

When an internal memo arrived that told her she was to dress like a whore and be in his office at eight pm the next day, Pamela dreaded what he might have planned for her.

She had searched her wardrobe for something that could possibly be considered “slutty”, and, with it packed into a discreet bag, she spent the whole of the day distracted with thoughts of what he was going to make her do. At seven pm, she took the elevator down to the lower levels, heading for one of the plain bathrooms to change for her encounter with her tormentor.

She slipped into a very short, black skirt, thigh-high hold-up stockings, a shirt that was way too tight and gaped, revealing her breasts in their half-cup bra, and outrageously high heels that made her totter when she tried to walk in them. She darkened her make-up and finished off her look with startlingly bright red lipstick. Satisfied that she would be able to grace ANY street corner, she made her way slowly to his office. She knocked and entered, finding him with his back to her as he looked through files in a cabinet. When he turned and saw her his tongue came out and licked his lips with glee.

“That look suits you, girl. I think you have missed your true calling!”

Pamela gave him a withering look.

“Very fucking funny. Can we just get this over with so I can get out of here?”

Warstock looked at her with raised eyebrows before moving from behind his desk. His hands were already opening his overalls, and Pamela groaned when he pulled out his cock. It was already hard, and she swore it was bigger than ever. It throbbed and twitched as he moved towards her; the way his eyes devoured her revealing he liked the way she looked. She flinched when he stood close, that horrible pulsing lump of flesh pressed against her hip, but it was his words that made her tremble most.

“On your knees, little girl.”

With a whimpered “Oh, God” she slowly lowered down, the floor hard and cold through the thin nylon of her stockings, trying not to look at the huge phallus now level with her head. His voice had an even raspier sound as he whispered instructions.

“Give me one of those pretty hands.”

Pamela swallowed hard and raised an arm up to him.

He took her hand and wrapped it around his cock, her fingers unable to circle it completely. She groaned as he started to use her to rub up and down its length, the throbs and twitches it gave under her fingers frightening. She still refused to look at him or his cock, keeping her eyes on the floor and hoping that her hand would be enough to satisfy him tonight. When he reached down and lifted her chin, she knew that was not going to happen.

“I have watched that pretty mouth for long enough, it’s about time I felt it.”

Pamela looked at the thick, engorged head of the thing in her hand and shook her head slowly in fear.

“Please, I can never fit that in my mouth! Let me rub you some more, I’m sure you will cum that way?”

Warstock shifted his hips forward and tutted.

“You will at least try girl, or I will find somewhere ELSE to put it!”

The thought of that enormous, ugly cock being pushed inside her made her shudder, so, with a small sob, Pamela moved her head forward and kissed its tip. She whimpered as he gathered her hair in his dirty, liver-spotted fists and growled down at her.

“Open those lips wide, honey. Lets see how brave you can be.”

As she parted her lips slowly, he jabbed his hips forward, making her whine as the huge girth of his cock stretched her jaw almost to the breaking point. Warstock gave a deep sigh and started to fuck her face.

Pamela heaved and dribbled, his cock pressing her tongue down and rubbing over the back of her throat. She was happy that he didn’t try to force it deeper; in the back of her mind, she had a vision of her choking to death impaled on him. He started slowly, but she could feel the throbs and twitches building in him with each thrust and knew he would become more insistent. Almost unconsciously, her hand had gone down between her thighs and she flipped two fingers into an already-soaking pussy in time to his movements. His raspy growls and laboured breathing were louder, and his hips started to move faster as his excitement built; Pamela coughed and gagged as his cock grew even larger.
She wriggled on her own fingers, aware she was dripping from her pussy as much as from her mouth, as she waited for him to finally finish with her. The tightening of his hands in her hair and the strangled growl were the only warnings before her throat was swamped with cum. She heaved and tried to pull back, but he held her head tightly as he pumped what seemed like gallons into her struggling mouth. The feeling of being helpless took Pamela over the edge, and she gurgled into her own orgasm. After an eternity, he pulled out of her mouth and Pamela fell forward, retching and spluttering in her attempts to breathe. Warstock leaned against the desk with a satisfied smile, enjoying the sight of her groaning on the floor with his cum dribbling down her chin. He calmly tucked away his softening cock and tapped her head with a dusty boot.

“Same time tomorrow girl; I could get quite addicted to that!”

For the next few days the pattern was the same. She would be on her knees within seconds of entering his office, his vile cock pumping in and out of her sore mouth before making her take his huge load of cum. Every time Pamela would leave with self-loathing at how she had fingered herself to her own orgasm. What the fuck was wrong with her?

She had been keeping count; she had only two visits left to go and she would have paid for her mistake. Over a week went by and no internal mail called for her. Pamela was starting to think that maybe she had somehow got the number wrong, when one arrived to shatter her hopes. He wanted her dressed like a whore as always, but this time she had to be there at seven am tomorrow morning! The thought of having to go through the day with the smell and taste of him still on her made her want to vomit.

Being dressed as a whore so early in the morning made the whole thing feel even more bizaar as she tottered towards his office; at least after today there was only ONE more time she would have to do this! She steeled herself mentally and knocked on the door. His rasped, “Come in!” made her shiver as she turned the handle and entered; the sight of him standing there with his huge cock swollen in anticipation made her moan quietly. She crossed the room and sank to her knees in front of him, her mouth opening in response to the pressure of his cock against her lips. As usual, he started off slowly, enjoying the feel of her, and Pamela hoped it wouldn’t take long before she could get away. Warstock had other ideas.

He was watching her closely, smiling when he saw her hand go under her skirt again in response to his harder thrusts. No matter how much she loathed him, she couldn’t help herself, and something about that appealed to him. He held her head and pumped slowly; letting himself, and her get closer to release. The surprise in her eyes when he suddenly pulled out of her mouth quickly changed to one of fear as he pulled her across to his desk and forced her face down against the stained wood. She squealed and wriggled as he pulled her panties down to her knees, and when he pressed his huge cock against her pussy Pamela became almost frantic. She twisted up to look at him, her eyes already brimming with tears. as she begged him to stop.

“Please! Don’t, Mr. Warstock, don’t make me do this!”

Warstock growled down at her, his urge to push into her strong, but he had something else in mind.

“You will fuck yourself on me. I know you are wet, I can feel it, so be a good girl and ride nicely; do it right and I will call us quits!”

Pamela whimpered and shook her head. His cock would split her in two if it went too deep, but if there was a chance this was the last time then she HAD to try. She bit her lip hard enough for the skin to split and eased backwards slowly. The pressure of his enormous, pulsing, filthy cock opening her up made Pamela gasp. It felt as though a telegraph pole was being pushed inside her, and she writhed, open-mouthed, as he held her hips and helped her take more of it. She knew she could never take it all, it was a physical impossibility, but it seemed to go on and on in its quest to fill her completely. When the engorged tip bumped against the top of her insides Pamela came. She wailed and thrashed as the orgasm ripped through her, tears coursing down her cheeks in shame when she lost all control.

Warstock grinned like a Cheshire cat and started to move. He could feel every rippling inch of her pussy wrapped so tightly around him that he, too, had to bite his lip to stop from cumming; he wanted to make this last! She was almost limp on the desk, small mewls and shudders accompanying each of his thrusts as he quickly built to the point of bursting. He felt her cum at least twice more before he couldn’t hold back any longer, and with a thrust that made her scream, he exploded inside her.

Much to Pamela’s surprise, Warstock had been as good as his word. After she had finally recovered from being fucked, he had handed her the copies of the disks showing her thefts. That had been over a month ago, and all would have been well if she had not started to have the dreams. Every morning for the last week she had woken crying and whimpering, shocked to find her fingers pushed so far into her pussy that she was nearly fisting herself. She was starting to think she needed psychiatric help; that sick bastard had twisted her mind! After three weeks of dreams, she knew she had no choice.

Warstock watched the CCTV recording and felt a stirring start immediately. Pamela Thompson was washing her hands at the sink before turning to look directly at the camera. With a small smile on her face, she crossed to the shelf and collected ALL the bottles of perfume before turning to look directly at him again. With exaggerated slowness, she tucked the bottles into her exposed cleavage; the last two she tucked into her panties. She walked closer to the camera and blew a kiss, her lips mouthing silently at him.

“See you very soon, Albert.”

My Words Are A way Into Your Mind...Be brave And let Me In.

rondiri 65M