Author's Note: Again, the musical inspiration for the majority of the chapter comes from the Village People's Macho Man. The rationale for using the song is discussing the 'idea' of machismo. It also becomes an anthem for Suzanne Gibbs! Another highlighted song is Batdance (Prince Rogers Nelson, 1989-OMST). The following chapter is about a jog that finally places Suzanne's feelings and frustrations in order.

Body, love to pop my body,
Body, love to please my body,
Body, don't you tease my body,
Body, you'll adore my body,
Body, come explore my body,
Body, made by God, my body,
Body, it's so good, my body

Special Agent Jethro Gibbs mumbled a reminder to Suzanne each odd exercise day: 'Just let them know where it goes every night…' The body looked amazing in soft light as his pre-slumbered squints adored his wife's body. Proud of her accomplishments, she belonged to Jethro and only him who explored, pleased, and satisfied every God-given desire; tease but don't advertise!

She was in top physical shape but never dressed provocatively. Suzanne wore the typical gear-running pants, a long sleeved flowing shirt and of course, her neon running shoes. On colder days, she donned a skull hat, close-fit gloves and an extra hooded sweatshirt for a run. The only pleasure Jethro received from the 05:15 phone call was that Suzanne worked 'Bravo' desk; her departure time was 1500 and expected time the next day was 0900.

'Let's go, Thump.'

On the move, Secret Service had the dubious honor to assign Suzanne a codename. The President was a fan of Ian Fleming's work and wanted a suitable nickname for his assistant. 'Thump' or 'Thumper' described both athletic prowess and innate principles her parents impressed upon her. It did not hurt she was a physically pleasant distraction, a nice view to watch as the sun shined over the Potomac. President Owens was 'Connery,' the first to exude and execute such physical charm, presence into 21st century executive leadership. The same was said of the Scottish actor who first portrayed the MI-6 commander.

Suzanne participated in both high school and college track. She ran in the spring, conditioned with a mixture of cross country and dance in off season. She credited dance for gaining confidence, for instilling graceful movement and providing overall joint fluidity. 'Mom enrolled me in ballet at 6 years old.' The competitive running stopped after college; the dance lessons since youth earned a spot in a Washington dance company. Again, it took work to stay in excellent physical condition.

There were benefits with exercise, such as alleviating nonsense from the doubting male forces. The energy songs were a stapler in the I-Pod shuffler, a motivator to set a pace. That morning, Macho Man happened to pop into the shuffle. She ran to the music, soaked up every single word to the song. Include in the definition stud, he-man, and sexually active (and least likely sexually satisfying), it was the landscape of the macho-man at the White House and throughout some Secret Service ranks. How dare a woman like Suzanne Gibbs display machismo traits? It was lonely, being the lone female with men, even the President, and their desires to prove fact from fiction amongst each other. So much for keeping the Boss company, she thought.

Suzanne Gibbs just wanted the respect she deserved, period. Screw the occurring themes, the distractors: femininity, masculinity, weight, emasculation. Judge on the contributions. The purpose was not to humiliate but to enlighten. At the workplace, egos aside, respect the fact her late father raised his daughter to become 'Army Strong,' to rise through all occasions.

You can tell a macho, he has a funky walk
His western shirts and leather, always look so boss
Funky with his body, he's a king
Call him Mister Ego, dig his chains
You can best believe that, he's a macho man
Likes to be the leader, he never dresses grand

Suzanne walked self-assured with the President of the United States with maybe a step behind him to answer a phone call. It was not a coincidence her smiling face was present in each snapshot. The hair was perfectly coiffed. During work hours, the well-tailored pantsuits and matching accessories complimented each detail, down to her perfectly French-tipped manicured nails. Mrs. Gibbs, as the press addressed her, spoke politely, always exchanged pleasantries and displayed impeccable manners. The comments were brief and generally about 'President Owens' or the event in general.

The team hated when Suzanne Gibbs ran alongside the President in general because of protocol. Her enthusiasm during the run embarrassed both journeymen and veteran agents. Several times it was requested to exclude Mrs. Gibbs from the running exercise. The pace with the predominantly male group were at par or even faster than the supposed individuals 'trained' for all contingencies. Owens viewed his aide's speed as a direct challenge to improve his mile. The President and Dash were beside her within a half-minute. The other agents, however, were dragging behind.

Hey! Hey! Hey, hey, hey!
Macho, macho man
I've got to be, a macho man
Macho, macho man
I've got to be a macho! (all right)

Macho, macho man (yeah, yeah)
I've got to be, a macho man
Macho, macho man
I've got to be a macho! All Right!

The President laughed, asked Dash in disbelief if 'Q' was really singing the Village People's Macho Man!?'

"Macha?"

"Marianismo, Mr. President." He glanced at Suzanne. "Unmistakably, questionably Marianismo—intellectually, spiritually, and at times physically stronger than men in Latin American culture."

'I got to be a mucho, mucho, macho, macho man…' Suzanne continued singing loudly and off-key, jogging in place as she flexed a chiseled bicep. 'Dig my muscles!'

'Come on, boys!' Suzanne jeered softly. To see Agent Collins, struggling in the back stretch and holding onto his calf was priceless.

"Talking 'about a mucho, Mucho Macho...yeah...I gotta be a macho man!" She screeched at the top of her lungs. The President soon joined her side, ready to continue on. "Don't tell me you're tired."

"They are." The President watched his Secret Service detail struggle to catch up. The lone chauvinist of the group, Collins, dogged and determined not to give in.

"Give 'em a break, Q."

"I say, hell, no!" She imitated the classic voice from a classic movie. "We still have another two miles to go, Mr. President!"

President Owens wanted a challenge to begin the week, and Suzanne was amped. The beginning run, at least from her athletic pursuits, seemed to be the roughest. Suzanne's past coaches were impressed with the natural speed at the middle and huge push towards the end. The energy conversation was in part of extensive dance training, as performers learned how and when to exert power.

Coincidentally, Suzanne's next musical selection was motivation. She selected the 'Batdance' as a final reminder for the agents to never cross, challenge, or test her endurance again. Emblazed on her t-shirt: 'All of this...and brains too' with the Georgetown Law logo on the back.

"Someone mentioned I was obese and could benefit from an exercise regimen like President Owens." Stretching for a brief moment, she noticed from the corner of her eye photographers awaiting a photo opportunity. "Let's see if they can keep up with me..."

'Oh, God, no.'

"Suzanne Gibbs..." She whispered. "Second B is for bitch..."

The music restarted on her headphones as did Suzanne.

"Let's roll."

-'She's great, isn't she?'

"She's moving!" Dash called the rear.

Ooh yeah, ooh yeah

I wanna bust that body

Ooh yeah, ooh yeah

I wanna bust that body right

-"I'd like to"

The group managed to get several clips of the President running at pace with Suzanne.

'Good Morning.' Suzanne greeted, continued with her pace. She forgave but did not forget. It was an attribute from her father.

At the turn, Suzanne picked up the pace and left both he and Dash with the press.

'Mrs. Gibbs runs with us several days a week...'

"She runs two speeds: fast and faster." The President panted heavily. "Does a seven minute mile. We've done three today."

About 100 yards into the run, Suzanne picked up her speed. Soon, she was out of the visual. The guests with their equipment became winded.

"Someone catch up with Thumper..."

Hey, we got the power

Oh, we got the soul
Hey, we got to sho'nuff get off
to make the devil go, go

"Thumper is out of range, Doc." An agent replied out of breath. "She's circling back."

"You...win, Gibbs!" The President moaned alongside Dash.