Dear Ann Landers,
Our office is what you might call a real swingin' little group. It turns out that four girls, including myself, have been played like crazy, one against the other, by a junior executive. He is tall, dark, and handsome, and has the morals of an alley cat and is also loose of lip. When I came to work here several months ago, I fell like a ton of teakwood. Nothing I saw or heard discouraged me. I knew he was dating three other girls in the office, and I knew, too, he was blabbing about how he had scored. I thought surely he'd be discreet about me because I'm the only girl who is not married, but I was mistaken. Four of us gals had dinner together, and we had an old-fashioned, shoes-off, hair-down tell all. The dirty dog, it turns out, has been using the same line on all of us, right down to the romantic phrases and pet names. I'd like to fix his clock. Any ideas?-Fuming

Dear Fuming,
His clock seems to be working just dandy. You're the one who is getting the works, dummy. 95